When they were little more than two weeks from land, one of the escapees died, and his body was tossed overboard. Two days later the second man ended up the same way. A mere skeleton, one crewmember remarked. No news of Jake. He was obviously still alive, but how much longer could he survive such heinous treatment?

  ***

  They dropped anchor in Sydney Town on a hot, cloudless day. Maryanne waited apprehensively as a party of armed soldiers marched on board.

  The convicts, both male and female, were chained together and lined up on deck, where they waited fearfully for their fate. The wharves, built of split logs, stretched over a considerable distance. They were a hive of industry. All she could see of the beach was white sand. Strange trees, with smooth trunks and grey-green leaves stood tall and majestic as they lined a rutted track leading from the waterfront. No women came to the wharves, just tanned, bearded men. So, this was Sydney Town where she had been exiled for seven long years. How could she bear it? Especially now she had found love only to have it cruelly snatched away.

  A sudden loud commotion caused Maryanne to turn around. Dear God, she would never forget the sight of an emaciated, manacled skeleton, crawling on his hands and knees across the deck.

  Jake. She would have collapsed except Libby grabbed hold of her and held on tightly. His clothes hung in tatters. His hair and beard, matted with filth, gave him the look of a wild beast.

  “Get up, scum.”

  She screamed when one of the guards lashed out at Jake’s head with a booted foot. It took three attempts before he could stand upright, and he swayed so badly she feared he might fall over again.

  He kept shaking his head as if to clear it. When he lifted up one arm to push at the matted hair dangling over his face, she noticed his skin was raw and bleeding from having rubbed against the wrist irons.

  As he stumbled away, he turned his head to gaze at her. “I love you,” she mouthed the words. Those magnificent green eyes she had always admired, blazed momentarily, then he was gone.

  After they disembarked, the men were marched off to wooden barracks. The women, some of them heavy with child, remained on the docks, with a fierce, foreign sun scorching their heads.

  Maryanne wore a faded black and white print dress and though it was clean, she felt frumpy and washed out. Libby, similarly attired, looked like a bright peacock in comparison, because the sun turned her hair to a magnificent flame color.

  A number of settlers wandered over to assess the women, most of them rough looking men attired in woven smocks and blue trousers. They wore colorful neckerchiefs.

  A huge bear of a man strode up to Libby and swept off his hat. “You’ll do me,” he said grinning. “What’s your name?”

  “Libby.”

  “Irish?”

  “Yes, me darlin’ man.”

  “So am I. Name’s O’Rourke. I’m after a strong wench to help me run a tavern. I think you might be suitable.”

  Libby gave a saucy grin. “I’m good for anything. What about my friend?” She tapped Maryanne’s shoulder. “We’re together.”

  “I’m only allowed one assigned servant.” He swung around and bellowed, “Shane.”

  “What is it, O’Rourke?” A young Irishman strode forward. “Found yourself a wench, have you?” The youth grinned at Libby, before turning his attention to Maryanne.

  His eyes were a real forget-me-not blue color, his hair a mass of unruly, copper curls.

  He gave a deep bow. “Shane O’Brien at your service.”

  “How do you do.” Maryanne couldn’t help smiling at him.

  “How about getting her assigned to Captain Fitzhugh?” O’Rourke suggested.

  “I came to pick up stores not wenches, still…” Shane stared at her so intently Maryanne felt embarrassed heat rush into her cheeks.

  “Can you cook?”

  “Yes.”

  “She’s a parson’s daughter,” Libby explained with a grin. “Our Maryanne is educated, quite genteel, too.”

  “After being on a convict ship?”

  “Yes, she is.”

  “And you?” His blue eyes narrowed speculatively as he assessed Libby.

  “I do anything to stay alive,” she told him.

  A short, fat man with a pock marked face lumbered up to them. “Ah, me pretty harlot,” he leered lasciviously. Maryanne backed away from him. “Me thinks you know how to pleasure a man.” His hand shot out and grabbed one of her breasts.

  Shane sprang forward and knocked his arm away. “She’s already been assigned to Captain Miles Fitzhugh.” His eyes burned with fury. The man dropped a shocking oath before shambling over to another group of women.

  “Wait here, ladies, there’s some paperwork needs fixing,” O’Rourke went on briskly.

  “Shane.”

  “Yes, Maryanne.”

  “Thank you for saving me from that vile creature.” She shuddered with revulsion.

  “English scum.” He spat contemptuously over one shoulder before striding off.

  “Oh, Libby, if that dreadful beast had picked me I think I would have...”

  “Don’t say it, we were lucky. See what I mean, at least they’re clean and reasonably presentable. Do you see some of those other animals; must be the dregs of the colony.”

  “I know, Libby, the way they stared at us, as if we were stock at a market.”

  “We are.” The Irish girl tossed her head. “Do you think O’Rourke only wants me to serve in his tavern?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Course not,” Libby scoffed. “He’ll have me bedded before the day is out, like Shane will with you.”

  “But I’m being assigned to...”

  “It’ll probably be days before we get to where they’re taking us. Do you think Captain whatever his name is will care if Shane had you first?”

  “It’s disgusting, Libby. What about Jake?”

  “Forget him; he’s as good as dead. You saw him. How long could a man in that condition last on a road gang?”

  Jake was a strong man, brave and resilient. She had to believe he might survive or she would go mad. Even if they could never be physically together again, they were spiritually joined for all eternity. Jake did feel something special for her; she had read it in his eyes. If she focused on this she could endure anything

  It did not take long for the formalities to be completed then they picked up their meagre bundle of belongings and started after the two men. Maryanne waved to the other women, while Libby called out a bawdy comment to Bridget.

  Their conveyance turned out to be a large, heavily laden wagon pulled by bullocks. O’Rourke helped Libby and Maryanne into the back, where they sat amongst numerous barrels and crates.

  “Only come to town every few months for stores,” Shane explained.

  “I don’t come at all if I can help it,” O’Rourke chipped in. “I heard a ship with women on it was expected, and I didn’t trust the tastes of our young friend here.”

  “Well now, O’Rourke,” Libby exaggerated her Irish brogue. “Where are you taking us?”

  “My tavern is on the Nepean River, Fitzhugh’s place is near the Jamieson valley, another ten miles further on.”

  It took them three hours to travel to Parramatta. They passed gentlemen on horseback and rich families in fancy carriages. When Maryanne saw a convict chain gang toiling at the side of the road, she remembered Jake, and her heart constricted.

  A number of houses were built of white washed brick, and the hills were dotted with fruit trees. Flocks of sheep moving over unfenced pastures gave the area a picturesque, English village feel. Only the gaudy birds squawking and wheeling about them, and the tall green grey eucalypts, reminded her that this was a strange, inhospitable land, where she would probably spend the rest of her days.

  As they plodded on, getting further and further away from civilization, the countryside became more isolated and untamed. Would the natives attack them in this savage wilderness?

  “I’m frightened, Libby.”

  “So am I, God forsaken bloody place.”

  Once the sun started sinking like a fireball behind the mountains, the air became cold, and Maryanne shivered.

  “We’ll camp near the river tonight. Might even get us a kangaroo for supper,” Shane told them. “What do you think, O’Rourke?”

  “Good idea, it’ll be dark soon.”

  They finally stopped beside a sandy section on the banks of a fast flowing river. “You women get some driftwood for the fire,” Shane ordered. “O’Rourke and I will see about our food.”

  Maryanne felt a sudden surge of anger towards the brash young Irishman who put himself in charge of them. O’Rourke she summed up fairly quickly, as an easygoing man of few words.

  “Come on.” Libby gave her a gentle shove. “We better obey our young overseer.”

  They moved off dubiously, staying close together. Fortunately, driftwood appeared plentiful along the shoreline. How smooth and white the pieces felt against her fingertips.

  “You know, this place does have a savage kind of beauty,” Libby remarked. “I think I could grow to like it.”

  “Mm.” Maryanne watched some wild ducks flying overhead. Strange, raucous laughter coming from a clump of trees scared her witless.

  “What’s that awful noise, Libby?”

  “Don’t know, but let’s get back to the wagon, we’ve got enough wood.”

  The sinking sun spilling red and gold liquid into the river turned the water into molten lava. A shot ringing out loudly caused dozens of frenzied birds to soar skywards.

  By the time they arrived back to the wagon, O’Rourke had already started a fire. Shane skinned a small, furry animal with a vicious, single bladed knife Maryanne remembered seeing attached to a lanyard around his waist.

  “A tender baby wallaby.” He paused from his grisly work for a moment. O’Rourke, relieving them of their wood, threw several of the larger pieces on the fire straight away.

  Maryanne watched in fascinated revulsion as Shane hacked the meat into small portions before skewering them on to four separate sticks, which he handed to each of them. “You don’t get waited on out here unless you’re gentry.”

  “Where will we sleep?” Maryanne queried, gingerly poking her stick into the flames.

  “Under the wagon, Libby’s with O’Rourke, you’ll be with me.”

  “No.”

  “Oh, yes my silver haired beauty. I took you from the ship, so you’re mine until I hand you over to Fitzhugh.”

  “I’m not a common whore.”

  “Only sleep with gentry,” Shane sneered, with a sudden darkening of his eyes. “Out here, a convict woman sleeps with any white man who wants her.”

  Fat dripping off the meat, caused little spurts of flame to shoot up at them.

  “Come on, me darlin’, no brawling,” Libby interrupted them. “What sort of bird makes that awful laughing noise, O’Rourke?”

  “It’s a jackass. Sunrise and sunset you hear them mostly, aren’t bad for eating, either.”

  A sullen Shane proceeded to place a blackened pot on the fire. Once darkness fell, strange animal noises in the bush caused the hair at the back of Maryanne’s neck to bristle, and a sickening fear corroded her stomach.

  It was the oddest meal she ever ate. The meat had a pleasant smoky flavor, and the scalding black tea, liberally sweetened with a dark sugar, was quite the nicest she ever tasted.

  “This is lovely.” She pointedly ignored Shane and spoke to O’Rourke. “Do you always eat so well?”

  “Depends on who you get assigned to. At one place I went to, they fed us on scraps, not fit for pigs. We were only skin and bone, yet they expected us to work from daylight to dark. Thank God, my sentence had nearly expired. At other places, the servants eat the same as their masters.”

  “I didn’t know you were a convict O’Rourke.”

  “I’m an emancipist now, means I’ve served my time. Seven years for poaching, but I’ve been in the colony for twenty years.”

  “What about you, me darlin’?” Libby turned to Shane.

  “Transported for seven years, still got four to go.”

  “And they let you roam around freely?” Maryanne’s curiosity got the better of her hostility.

  “I’m a trustee, I need a pass to leave the property, though. Fitzhugh is weak, but isn’t such a bad sort for an Englishman.”

  “Is he rich?” Maryanne asked

  “Yes, got a grant of five hundred acres from the Government, then he leases hundreds more acres of crown land for ten pound a year as well. Course he’s rich, who bloody wouldn’t be?” Shane finished off savagely. “We should rise up and drive…”

  “Enough rebellion talk,” O’Rourke interrupted. “You’ll end up wearing a hangman’s noose for treasonous talk like that.”

  “Call yourself an Irishman,” Shane flared. “Satisfied to accept a few crumbs from the English.”

  “I’m doing better out here than I ever did in Ireland.”

  “Go to hell.” Shane strode off into the darkness.

  Silence reigned now, but Maryanne felt too worried about her own predicament to care about it unduly. Would she always be expected to satisfy a man’s lust? What of Jake? I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye, she thought sadly. Would they ever meet again? If he could somehow survive and gain his freedom, in an untamed colony like this, Jake would certainly make his mark.

  In the darkness, the blackness of the bush closed threateningly around them. After a time, moving as quietly as a ghost, Shane returned. O’Rourke stood up and walked off without saying a word. When Shane and Libby started whispering together Maryanne felt suddenly alone and isolated.

  She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, trying to remember the pretty fields and soft pastel colors of an English spring. She suddenly remembered Fiona. Dear God, her eyes sprung open again, because she couldn’t bear to picture the horror of Silas’ attack.

  When O’Rourke returned, Libby stood up.

  “Come on, Maryanne. There are things we women have to do before retiring.”

  Maryanne forced herself not to act like a frightened child and clutch hold of Libby’s skirt in the spooky darkness.

  “I’ve never seen such blackness,” she complained to the Irish girl.

  “Afraid the little people will get you, me darlin’?”

  “Of course not, there’s no such thing as little people.”

  “To you English there mightn’t be, but I’ve heard some strange stories over the years.”

  “It is superstitious nonsense,” Maryanne scoffed.

  “Have it your way. Now listen.” Libby caught hold of one hand. “Shane is quite a presentable young man, you could do much worse.”

  “No. Why should I let him have his way with me? It would mean betraying Jake.”

  “Forget bloody Jake. You’re an idiot if you spurn Shane. If you’re his woman, the other men will leave you alone he’ll make sure they do. Besides, he didn’t have to select you. Could even get into trouble for it, depends on what this Fitzhugh’s like. You owe him really.”

  Maryanne shuddered with revulsion on remembering the pockmarked man. “I suppose, but Libby, it’s all so immoral.”

  The Irish girl roared with laughter. “There speaks a true daughter of the church. Remember our pact?”

  “Yes.”

  “You want to survive. You’ll do anything to stay alive. Repeat it to yourself every now and again. Shane probably hasn’t lain with many women, so he won’t expect much. Just close your eyes, open your legs, and let him have his way. O’Rourke, now there’s a real bull of a man, he’ll be much harder to satisfy.” Libby’s crudity was quite shocking sometimes, yet Maryanne could not condemn her for it.

  The men sat by the fire with their backs turned.

  “Well, O’Rourke, here we are,” Libby caroled.

  The big man lumbered to his feet. “I was getting impatient.”

  “Ah, but I’m worth the wait, me darlin’.” Libby slipped her arm through his.

  “Goodnight, Maryanne, Shane.”

  “You two have the wagon,” said O’Rourke. “I’ve rigged a lean to for me and this flame haired witch.”

  After the other two departed, silence fell between Maryanne and Shane. He sat sulking. As she couldn’t think of anything to say she stared into the glowing fire. After a time, he stood up, tossed a huge log on the flames then turned towards her.

  “Time we were getting to bed; we have to be up at day break.”

  “All right,” she whispered shakily.

  “It can be good between us.” Stepping closer he kissed her hard on the mouth. “We sleep in our clothes on the road.” He pushed her on to some skins already laid out under the wagon then dropped down beside her.

  He dragged her roughly against him. His mouth claimed hers in a clumsy onslaught that brought tears to her eyes.

  “Don’t fight me.” He raised his head before nuzzling into the warm, soft flesh about her throat. “I’m mad for you.” His fingers fumbled at her bodice and when her breasts finally fell free, he trembled.

  She lay quietly as he suckled and squeezed, willing herself not to beat at his head, trying not to compare his rough inexperience to the rapture she had shared with Jake.

  Shane panted and moaned incoherently as he thrust desperately into her. He did not move away after he finished, just rested his head between her breasts.

  “It can be good between us, like I said. If Fitzhugh gives us permission, I’ll find a priest to marry us.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  I’ve given my heart to Jake she thought, and while even the faintest flicker of hope existed that he might still be alive, she couldn’t tie herself to another man. “I don’t love you.”

  “Love,” he sneered. “That’s got nothing to do with it. A man needs a woman out here.”

  “No.”

  “I saw you first, so you’re mine,” he retorted heatedly. “For God’s sake, I’m asking you to be my wife.”

  “I’m supposed to be flattered?” she flared.