You scan every face you pass, but you don’t see Sarah, or – even more unlikely – Da.
A boy in a cap shouts, ‘Hobart Town Gazette –read the latest shipping news!’ and you turn to stare. You’ve just had an idea.
‘So you can read, can you?’ Molly says and snorts, knowing full well that no girl of your position can. You didn’t learn enough letters on the ship to be able to read more than a few words, let alone a newspaper. ‘What’s of interest to an Irish girl in the Gazette, anyway?’
‘My da,’ you say. ‘He may have been transported here too. Perhaps I can find out if he was on any of the ships that have come in just now.’
Molly may seem prickly, but she has a kind heart. ‘Not much chance of finding him in the Gazette, love – they only report the fancy bigwigs who disembark. The police office has the records of every convict to have set foot in Van Diemen’s Land, though – a clerk there could tell you.’
Your heart rises. ‘Can we go there now?’ you ask eagerly.
Molly snorts again. It seems her sympathy only goes so far. ‘You’d have to pay a clerk to read the list to you, and I doubt you have two brass pennies to rub together,’ she says. ‘Anyway, we’re not to waste the master’s time with personal errands for missing fathers – I need you at the markets now. Come along.’
As you trail Molly through the markets, a basket of apples over your arm, you can’t get the idea of your da out of your head. Molly’s right, you don’t have two brass pennies to rub together, but you have something much better than that: your golden bracelet, which has been with you through so much, and is even now jiggling lightly inside your petticoat hem.
You could make it seem as if you’ve just lost Molly in the crowd – slow as she is with her stick, you could get away from her easily – and then run and get the list read. Imagine knowing that your da were here in Van Diemen’s Land!
Then you hear a sensible voice in your head: Imagine giving up your precious bracelet, only to find Da’s not even here. He could be dead, or in one of the other colonies, or back on a hulk. Then you’d have lost your treasure for nothing. Not to mention that they don’t take kindly to runaway convicts here. You could be put back in gaol, or even hanged!
You smile ruefully – that’s Sarah’s voice you’re hearing.
Still, you’ve survived this far. The sea breeze whips your skirts and hair. Maybe it’s time to throw caution to the wind.
To run away from Molly and find out if Da’s on the police office list, go to scene 22.
To stay with Molly and try to find Da later, go to scene 23.
Molly is shuffling further away with her stick, her back turned to you. You’re not due to meet the master for another two hours. You might never have a better chance to get away and search for Da.
I have to do it, you think. I’m going to do it.
The wharves are bustling, but the crowd is not so dense that you can simply disappear into it. You need a place to hide.
There is an ox-and-cart left unattended only a stone’s throw away, with a canvas cover over the cart. Quick as a cat, you dive into the empty cart beneath the canvas, peeking out through a little gap. Just in time! Molly turns around, and realises you are missing.
You had planned to come back to her after you’d had the shipping master’s list read, full of apologies and excuses, hoping she would believe that you’d become accidentally separated from her.
Now you hear her words from the other day ringing in your mind: You’re fair keen, aren’t you, girl? Planning to slip off and escape, are you?
Molly is suspicious – much more suspicious than you want her to be: she gives an exasperated groan, rolls her eyes, and begins pacing back towards you, her eyes now narrowed, muttering, ‘Knew it was a bad idea … me so slow, and her so fast … “I’ll help you,” she says. Not likely! Can’t trust those Irish girls.’
You stay flat and low beneath the canvas. There is a musty potato smell, and the cart beneath you is splintery. You chance a glance out every so often, and Molly is always still within sight, pacing and cursing.
Then you feel a jolt and a lurch: your cart is moving! Great – it is carrying you out of sight of Molly!
But it is also taking you in the wrong direction, away from the police office, towards God knows where. You’ll have to jump out. Already you’ve reached the end of the wharf area, and now the cart is picking up some speed. Molly is about four hundred yards away. You’ll have to jump now!
You roll back the cover and spring to the ground.
Crack! You land on an uneven cobblestone, and your leg buckles under you. You fall heavily sideways and your head hits the stony ground. You cry out, feeling blood trickle down your face. The pain in your foot is breathtaking. You look down, and it looks like a clay foot on a broken doll that has been stuck back on at the wrong angle. Vomit rises in your throat. You try desperately to crawl to the side of the road for some cover before Molly sees you.
Too late! You hear her
