THE DEPRIVED... Chapter 4...Part 7.

A continuation of my book.

It was noticeable that the boys who had served a year and more on the ship had somehow learned to self-hypnotise to a degree that they could close the mind off and suffer no consequence of being seated in one position for many hours at a time. And it was this attitude which Sam learned to apply as his time served had reached over the year and into the second year of service. He had learned to become immune to the pain of the rope’s end and even to having a perverse liking for the sensation of pain and the pain he enjoyed the most was the secret pain which burned in him, the pain for revenge on all who had created this life he endured, to punish those who had a hand in the death of his father and the prostitutes, those w****s who had been the direct cause of his mother’s death and the system which had forced him out from his homeland, those English Lords who sat in their high seats of comfort. Indeed, that hunger which burned deep within him was the fire which caused him to live, to live in hate.

Yet Sam learned to smile with and at others, to become amiable to those who afforded him conversation. While his conversation gained him insight into others he did not give too much of himself away, as if what he learned about others and his astute judgement allowed him to perceive the weakness of others while his reticence to open up became his armour. In all, this natural evolvement, spawned through such inner hatred made him powerful to others, those like Master Bonsy and Dropend who relaxed their urge to punish him for every little offence and to leave him alone, then to even seek his company at times.

By the time Sam had served two whole years and a few months on the ship he had many followers and admirers and while he did not ask for them or cultivate close friendships, keeping himself aloof, he knew he exerted some influence over the boys, no matter his slim build or that he was junior in age to some. What effect he had on others did not go unnoticed by the ‘Crew-Masters’ or the ears and eyes of Mr. Cameron, whose noted reports fell under the scrutiny of the enlarged blue eye of the Governor who, in turn, decided that Sam was a dangerous person to have on board. And it was this decision which caused the Governor to stamp his approval on the form which stated that Sam was now fully adjusted to a Christian society and would be considered no threat to neither man nor beast and in this light was considered ready and able to be shipped off to the Penal Colony in Western Australia.

Once a month on a Wednesday at four o’clock in the morning after the ‘Sea-Wash’ the boys were made to stand in line as the names were read out of those who were about to embark on a ship which would carry them overseas to the Colonies. It was on the Wednesday that Sam heard his name called out along with four other boys, the small fair-haired boy Heathfield among them. The five boys were instructed to go down below and get dressed then hurry up back on topside and wait to be lowered to the waiting sailing ship which would ferry them around the coast where they were to embark aboard the convict ship which would see them arrived safely on the shores of Western Australia.

Sam hurried down to dress in his uniform and don his boots, to then present himself along with the other four boys. They were ordered to stand to attention while they waited as a small sailing ship drew up alongside and two prison guards climbed aboard to help the boys climb down the rope ladder, one at a time so each boy was manacled as he climbed into the small boat and made to sit down.

There were no goodbyes as the small sailing vessel heaved away from the prison hulk, its sails full to the wind and taking them away till the prison ship was lost to the mist with its ghostly shape being swallowed up. No-one spoke, none seeking to look forward with excitement as to where they were going. There was more an experience of apprehension as to what they faced. The boys had heard the rumours, fed to them by the ‘Crew-Masters’, the prison guards and from others like Master Bonsy, who filled their heads with tales of sodomy and of being boiled or burned alive by the murderous savages who would creep into houses and run off with young children. Sam had been philosophical about such tales, considering them to be no worse than he had experienced over the past two and a half years. In many ways it would be a blessing to die because the idea of serving a lifetime of hard labour had no living’s appeal at all.
The small sailing boat seemed crammed to capacity with the five boys and crew of five prison guards. Once beyond the estuary and out to sea there seemed to be an amount of calm and the sail was drawn in as oars were lowered so the boat moved swiftly as the oars sliced in time through the water. Sam noted that he could see the dim outline of the shore as the boat moved and this kept his attention until the order was given by the guard who stood at the stern end to pull to shore. The boat pulled into an inlet and beached where the boys were made to disembark and march in line up the beach to where a prison cart waited. Once secured on board the cart by a chain which connected each boy to the other, the horses were given their head and set off on a journey which lasted two days, the boys sleeping where they sat and only allowed, one at a time, to alight and relieve themselves once a day.

Plymouth was a thriving port town with a hundred or more masts to its dock so that the whole world and its assorted colours mingled and matched in a swarm of bodies coming and going, embarking and disembarking as ships came and went. Sam remembered the ports of Dublin and Liverpool, themselves busy and hurried but neither matched the business of Plymouth. There were the heavy-masted ships of the Royal Navy and sleek Clippers which brought exotic goods from the Orient and the hard-nosed Tramper vessels which boasted a lively crew who herded slaves from Africa, those savage people who were then moved on to the slave-traders. And among this melee moved the lines of convicts, hustled in leg-irons and herded aboard the ship which would take them all to a new world.

The leg-irons were removed as the prisoners reached the ship.
“Come on! get down there in the hold!” shouted one of the guards.
Sam was pushed up the gangplank by those behind him, along with the young boy Heathfield who clung closely to him as they reached the deck and were then forced to climb down the rope ladder into the dark belly of the ship where the boys were separated from the men, the men herded close together in the hold while the boys were led deeper in towards the stern where they were put into a large iron cage, filling it up with the boys until only standing room was left. Heathfield began to cry so that Sam glared at him, the look seeming to stiffen up the younger boy’s resolve so that he remained quiet. The guards, who carried guns, clubs and lanterns now climbed back up the ladder, pulling the hatch cover over the hold so that there was total darkness and the air became filled with the shouts and cries of men, the panic seeming to fill the air with fear and dread.
Sam stood with his eyes closed as the throb and hum of the engines vibrated the whole ship, increasing the fear of the men locked in down below. With a giant shudder, the ship seemed to jerk then roll in a giant swaying motion as the engine noise increased.
Those on the Dock stood and waved the ship away as it left its berth and moved out to sea and they watched as it disappeared over the horizon.

Sam continued to keep his eyes closed as if he were asleep, a technique he had learned from the times of deprivation he had experienced. Heathfield stood as close to Sam as he might, feeling secure alongside this older boy who seemed not to be concerned with whatever went on. The young boy tried to hold himself, to contain his fear as other boys in the crush prayed and cried in their fear. Heathfield began to smile, as if he gained this same strange joy of unfeeling which Sam experienced. He closed his eyes as Sam did, his hand reaching out to clasp the hand beside him.