Page 15 of Lizzie’s Spirit
The young girl was led in procession to the door of the convent, which opened to receive her; the nuns within appeared all dressed in black with a large piece of black cloth thrown over their heads, which was so thick as to conceal even the form of their bodies; they had truly an inhuman appearance.
At this moment, a person pressed forward through the crowd, crying loudly in distress; she was soon known to be the mother of the young woman.
Room was made for her to pass; she arrived at the spot where her daughter stood to take her last embrace.
“Enough!” cried Elizabeth, tears streaming from her eyes.
“Is there no one to help this girl? Surely no one here wishes this!” Taking out her purse, she withdrew the contents, five gold guineas, and held them aloft.
Oh, she wished it so, that five guineas could buy the girl’s freedom.
Both Darcy and Captain Grant stepped forward.
The captain spoke rapidly to the mother, who motioned towards a swarthy, dark-skinned man standing towards the rear of the crowd—her father, who was preventing a younger man from stepping forward.
The young man cried out, “Isabella, no! Here is money for the priest and your father!”
The captain again spoke rapidly, this time to the father and young man.
“It’s not enough; the father says five guineas and the meagre sum the young boy has are not enough for the priest and himself.
The girl has been promised to the nuns—there’s little that can be done. There’s shame if she withdraws.”
Until that moment, the girl had supported herself, but the sight of her mother and her lover totally overcame her; her head fell on her breast, and she sobbed aloud in an agony of grief.
At this, Darcy stepped forward and asked Captain Grant what price would purchase the girl’s freedom.
The captain gave the sum but explained that the boy, who was the girl’s betrothed, and the girl could not remain in Funchal.
The girl had been inducted into the convent; to flee from it would be a sin against the church.
At that moment, a great flare erupted in the sky: the recall to the vessels—the wind had veered to the south.
“We must leave immediately.” Colonel Macquarie took his wife’s arm and beckoned for Mr. and Mrs. Bent to follow. He turned back to Darcy: “Save them if you can. You have my support. But there’s little time. See to Miss Bennet; she’s much distressed.”
“Captain, take Miss Bennet to the beach; she must be taken to the Hindostan . I’ll follow shortly.” Darcy turned back.
Elizabeth allowed the captain to pull her away.
She saw herself in the young girl, both forced into marriage—for the girl, to Christ; for herself, to Collins—to save their families from ruin or censure.
But how could there be a loving God if He should force a young girl against her will to wed His Son? She could not explain it.
Some short time later, Elizabeth stood on the beach, waiting to board one of the flat-bottomed boats of the natives.
Already, Mr. and Mrs. Bent, their children, Hannah, and their baggage had departed the shore for the Hindostan .
She was the last of the party to leave. As she swung over the stern of the boat, she heard a young woman remonstrating with the boatmen.
“Let her come,” she called in Portuguese.
Isabella ran quickly to the boat and swiftly climbed on board.
Looking further along the beach, Elizabeth saw Mr. Darcy board another boat together with the young man from the church—Isabella’s betrothed, Raimundo—to be taken aboard the Dromedary .
On board the Hindostan , she called Isabella to accompany her to where Sgt. Monogan was standing on the upper deck. “Sergeant, take this young woman to Harshita and see to her care. She travels with us to Rio de Janeiro. Tell all she is under my protection.”
Climbing to the quarterdeck, Elizabeth looked out upon Funchal, which, as the Hindostan raised anchor and pointed seaward, would fast become yet another retreating cloud on the horizon.
The Island of Madeira was certainly one of the most beautiful and romantic places she had ever seen; to persons long at sea, and who had suffered illness and bad weather, the sight of Funchal is the most gratifying imaginable.
Yet, after a few days on shore, the lack of fresh air and the great heat, the total exclusion from all kinds of exercise, the hardness of the very steep roads and their being paved with small, sharp stones, and, above all, the filth of the inhabitants became so disgusting that she could never reconcile herself to witness it with indifference—all of which served to show how many comforts were necessary to make life agreeable for someone accustomed to living in England.
A sudden fear gripped her: New Holland was a raw, unknown place.
If Madeira, which had been settled for some four hundred years, could alienate her so, how would she find the colony at Port Jackson, settled for a mere twenty years?
Elizabeth went below to find the children; they were her sweet comfort on this long, long journey.