LETTERS OF A CONVICT GIRL,
AGE 11
Kate Walker
First published in Australia in 1988 by Martin Educational Pty Ltd.
Published by Kate Walker at Smashwords 2011.
Text copyright Kate Walker
1988
Cover Illustration: Portrait of a young peasant girl
by
Jean-Baptiste Greuze (1725-1805)
ISBN: 978-1-4657-1724-5
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without the prior written permission of the author or subsequent copyright holder. All characters are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Prologue
1
– Newgate, April 13th, 1804
2
– Newgate, May 9th, 1804
3
– Capetown, July 18th, 1804
4
– Port Jackson, September, 1804
5
– Parramatta, December 10th, 1804
6
– Parramatta, February 1st, 1805
7
– Parramatta, March 12th, 1805
8
– Hawkesbury River, November 25th, 1805
Epilogue
About
This Story
Kate
Walker’s Published Works
1.
Prologue
In the year 1799 Gerald Patrick O’Brien of Dublin in Ireland, was
sentenced to fourteen years in prison for his part in the Irish
Rebellion. The prison he was sent to was on the other side of the
world, in the new British colony of New South Wales.
Gerald’s
wife and two daughters were forced to leave Ireland and move to
London to live with relatives. There they earned their living by
taking in laundry.
Five years later in 1804 Gerald’s
youngest daughter, Rosie, was jailed for stealing a lace-edged
handkerchief. She was eleven years old at the time of her arrest and
these are the letters from her convict years.
~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~
Letter 1
Newgate
Friday, April 13th, 1804
My Dear Sister Laura,
Well, who’d have thought I’d be writing to you from Newgate Prison? Life is full of surprises to be sure.
Like Father Cluney coming to see me today. His weathered old face was as grim as one of his own gray church-stones. You should have seen him wag his finger at me.
“You’re too much like your father, my girl,” he said. To which I replied, “Why thank you, Father, but I fear you flatter me over-much. I doubt I’ll ever possess a heart so strong as my father’s! Nor a spirit so saintly!”
And that put an end to his going on about Da!
Poor Father Cluney just shook his head and said, “I’ll never understand the Irish.” How true! The English never will.
Next, he started on about Mrs. Hogbin. He says he’s guessing she will come down to the Old Bailey for my trial, to lay her charges and see me imprisoned. Can’t you just hear him, Laura, preaching doom and destruction, the same as he does in church on Sundays? You and I both know Mrs. Hogbin’s too much of a mean old maggot to be parting with the cost of the coach fare. She’ll not come. And without her say-so, no judge in all his wigs could send me as far as Dotteringham Pier.
I’ll be home in time to eat my share of Easter buns, so don’t go eating them all. And don’t go fretting over me now.
Newgate Prison is not as bad as they say. I’m perfectly well here and enjoying the holiday away from laundry work. There’s no lack of interesting folk to talk to. I’ve not been bored a minute.
Oh, the stories I shall have to tell when I get home. You’ll not believe the half of them!
We get two meals a day here and our bedding supplied. I share a blanket with an English girl named Gemma. She is a good deal older than me – sixteen – though you’d not be thinking it.
She’s such a sop she – sheds down tears all night long. But I put up with her sniffles because it’s the good Christian thing to do. And she doesn’t have lice like the rest of them.
Gemma is to stand trial for stealing a thimble. She says she only borrowed it – they all say that. I do, however, believe she is a dress-maker as she claims. Since coming here, she’s stitched dozens of tiny pink roses all around the hem of her skirt.
They are so lovely, I’m hoping we stay long enough to have her stitch some for me.
There is also a little lad in prison with us. His name is Tom, and he’s taken a liking to me. I’ve taught him to count on his fingers and say a few prayers.
“You should have taught his mother to pray!” Father Cluney said. Nothing I do pleases him Father Cluney – good thing I don’t try.
Little Tom’s mother is up for accosting a gentleman and will probably hang.
Father Cluney said he will carry home this letter for me and he’s eager to go now. While waiting for me to finish writing it, he’s been hearing some of the women’s confessions, and I think his poor old ears are about to curl!
Love to you and Ma.
Your little sister,
Rosie
P.S. Remember all those tedious reading and writing lessons Da made us suffer? Well, they’ve proved their worth at last. While I’m here we can send letters. Write to me soon. I never had a letter before and I think it would be grand.
~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~
Letter 2
Newgate
Wednesday, May 9th, 1804
Dearest Laura,
Father Cluney would have carried home the terrible news by now. I still cannot believe it. It is so unfair.
Mrs. Hogbin did not come down to my trial. The Magistrate just read the charge to the Court and asked me did I do it.
I said, “It’s like this Your Honor, the stingy old cow owed us six week’s laundry money and I was just after getting some of it back.”
That was that. He dropped his hammer. “Guilty,” he pronounced.
Oh Laura, I am being transported to New South Wales for fourteen years. Fourteen years! I shall be twenty-five when I get back – an old hag of a thing!
Father Cluney was there in the court and for once did not scowl at me.
Afterwards in my cell he told me not to despair, that it was God’s wish I was being sent away. First Da sent out there, now me! I only hope the Almighty knows what He’s doing sending us to that far away place.
It’s not all bad. One good thing has happened. Gemma has been sentenced to seven years’ transportation and little Tom’s mother got life, so I’ll not be going alone.
Pray for me Laura. And promise not to wash so much as a corset string for that old cow, Hogbin, ever again.
Your sister,
Rosie.
~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~
Letter 3