Page 8 of Lizzie’s Spirit
“It will be only a short journey this evening,” said Mr. Bent. “We will stay the night at Kingston and pursue our journey early in the morning. And then a long day to Liphook in Hampshire, and thence to Portsmouth.”
“How do the children travel?” Elizabeth spoke to Mrs. Bent.
“I have experience with my youngest sisters, who, unfortunately, were restless and could scarcely sit still. But Henry and Beth seem of calmer disposition. In anticipation, I purchased some children’s books to read to them— Little Goody Two-Shoes and Tommy Thumb’s Pretty Song Book should keep them amused. ”
“Well, thank you, Miss Bennet. That is so thoughtful. I had the maid play with them in the park, so we should see them asleep before this evening. They were so excited about the journey but sad to bid farewell to Mother and Father Bent, their grandparents. It will be a long journey for the sweet little ones, and this is just the beginning. I trust we’ll be as sanguine at its end as we are now at the start. ”
The occupants of the coach fell silent, all adults therein were contemplating the journey ahead, ten thousand miles to New Holland, and a new life in an unknown land.
For a moment, Elizabeth felt some passing regret that she had so rashly agreed to leave England and her family.
But to stay and marry the loathsome Mr. Collins—she could not have him.
Cogito, ergo fugio —I think, therefore I flee!
The Druid’s Head at Kingston was a pleasant coaching inn, where Elizabeth shared a room with Henry and Beth.
They slept well and only disturbed Elizabeth occasionally during the night.
The next day was indeed long, being some forty miles, which necessitated three stops to change horses.
But the welcome at the Royal Anchor coaching inn, the fine dinner, and soft, clean beds provided ample reward for an otherwise arduous day.
The following journey was shorter, arriving at The George in Portsmouth at noon on the Wednesday.
The inn was spacious, with panelled bay windows and a fine frontage overlooking the street.
Mr. and Mrs. Bent were most fortunate to secure the very room where Lord Nelson spent his last night ashore before dying a hero’s death at Trafalgar.
Mr. Bent was particularly impressed by the condescension such an honour bestowed.
As a consequence, he felt even more the prestige of his appointment as Judge-Advocate for New South Wales.
On the Friday morning, the party gathered at the Portsmouth wharf.
They were met by Captain Pasco, who recommended the Bent family be taken aboard his ship, the Hindostan , rather than the Dromedary as originally planned.
He stated that the accommodations on the Hindostan were better suited for Mr. and Mrs. Bent, the two children, Miss Bennet, and their servants, whereas on the Dromedary, Colonel and Mrs. Macquarie had the superior cabin and the remaining cabins were too small for the judge-advocate’s family.
Mr. Bent agreed ; thus they descended into the captain’s barge for the journey out to the ship, which, unfortunately, was moored some distance away in the St. Helen’s Roads.
Mrs. Bent was a good deal frightened, for the sea was very rough.
“Do not be afraid, my dear,” declared Mr. Bent. “While the barge is indeed an open boat, ‘tis crewed by competent oarsmen, and the coxswain is Captain Pasco’s own man.” He grasped his wife’s hand and held her firmly to his side.
“Papa,” cried little Henry, pointing towards a 94-gun ship of the line, “so big! ‘tis our ship?” But his voice was lost amidst the spray of the surf and chant of the sailors. Elizabeth leant down and spoke so he could hear. “The Hindostan , our ship, is beyond that man o’ war, out in the St. Helen’s Roads.
But you must sit still, Master Henry, lest you fall over the gunwale; the waves are fierce and rocking the boat. ”
“I hold tight, Miss Lisbet,” replied the boy, gripping the gunwale with one hand, the other clinging to Elizabeth’s arm.
Little Beth buried herself under Elizabeth’s cloak as salty spray threatened to drench them both.
After an interminable time, they came alongside the Hindostan on the leeward side, where the sea was relatively calm, although large swells rocked both the ship and barge, knocking them together with a loud banging and grinding against the hull of the vessel.
Looking up, Elizabeth could see the closed gunports of a 50-gun two-decker of the Royal Navy.
A canvas bosun’s chair was lowered, and Mrs. Bent was hoisted on board.
Mr. Bent followed, then Henry held securely on a sailor’s lap.
Little Beth stubbornly clung to Elizabeth, who, with great trepidation, managed to clamber onto the canvas, clutching the child to her chest. They swung aboard, where a midshipman steadied both and escorted them to their cabin, a small affair with two cots each barely wide enough to take a child, let alone Elizabeth and the two Bent children, who she knew would snuggle with her rather than sleep alone.
The noise was excruciating: the creaking of the timbers, the slap of the waves against the hull, the roaring of the wind through the rigging, and the thump-thump of the pumps in the bilge.
All of the servants and baggage were soon embarked, but everything was in a state of confusion.
Mr. Bent found their cabin, which he and Mrs. Bent had to themselves, was not equal to his expectations, though quite tolerable.
He made alterations to his accommodation, which rendered it quite comfortable, with the installation of a good sofa, chest of drawers, and washstand.
Being a warship in service, Mr. Bent recognised the carrying of well-bred persons such as himself, Mrs. Bent, and Miss Bennet was exceptional and that Captain Pasco, who had begun life in the navy as a captain’s servant, gave them the utmost deference according to their rank.
Pasco, who still showed stiffness in his right side due to being severely wounded at Trafalgar, had been Nelson’s signal officer and had sent the signal: ‘ENGLAND EXPECTS THAT EVERY MAN WILL DO HIS DUTY’.
That evening, all of the party stayed in their cabins. Elizabeth took a tray of bread and cold meats for the children, read them some stories, curled up with them, and all were soon fast asleep.
At eight o’clock the next morning, they were piped to breakfast, the passengers assembling in the cuddy where coffee, tea, hot rolls, eggs and cold meats were set out.
“My dear Miss Bennet, let me introduce Mrs. Rebecca Pasco, my wife, who will be travelling with us to New Holland.” Mrs. Pasco was an attractive woman of some 30 years.
She stepped forward and curtseyed to Elizabeth, who responded hesitantly because, at that moment, the ship rolled on a large swell .
“My apologies, Mrs. Pasco, I’ve yet to gain my sea legs, though I can see you are much experienced with the gyrations of a vessel such as this.”
The lady smiled and assisted Elizabeth to a seat at the table. “Indeed, Miss Bennet, I’ve accompanied Captain Pasco on all his voyages since we married in ‘05, apart from my confinements in ‘07 and ‘08.”
“Why, your children are very young,” said Mrs. Bent, who entered the cabin, “do they travel with us?”
“Yes, they are currently in the Great Cabin. Young William is two years old, and Horatia—named after Lord Nelson under whom Captain Pasco served—is but seven months.”
“Oh, your William is of an age with sweet Beth, the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Bent,” responded Elizabeth, looking towards both Mrs. Bent and Mrs. Pasco.
“With your permission, ma’am, may Master William join us in the nursery?
It would be of no further inconvenience to amuse them and free Mrs. Pasco’s time with baby Horatia, as a babe of that age is very tiring. ”
Such a plan would inconvenience no one, and the ladies quickly agreed to it. They turned to their breakfast, though Mrs. Bent ate little and was clearly piqued by the constant motion of the vessel.
“Mrs. Bent,” said Elizabeth after they finished their repast, “there are two cots in my cabin, but the children and I are snug in one, which leaves the other free. Perhaps your maid, Hannah, could join us. It would be convenient for you, her being nearby, and she would benefit by relocating from the deck below, which, I daresay, is not so commodious as the deck we inhabit. Further, as she’s now supervising the children in my absence, it makes sense to allow her the courtesy of staying in my cabin. ”
“Miss Bennet, Hannah is but a servant. Surely you would wish your own space as a gentlewoman? ”
“Ma’am, we’ll be travelling together for some six months. The distinction of rank does not need to be preserved on board ship, particularly for the duration of this voyage.”
Mrs. Bent considered the request for some time, but the practicality of the proposal persuaded her it would be for the best and having Hannah nearby would be of no inconvenience and most certainly assist her sensibility and well-being.
Elizabeth went to the cabin and, having ensured the children were well-dressed against the morning chill, took them up to the quarterdeck.
She was wearing her woollen day dress and bonnet, tied securely against the wind blowing strongly from the west, which wind prevented the departure of the Dromedary and Hindostan from the Roads.
Unbeknownst to her, Elizabeth cut a fine figure with her tall, well-formed person and chestnut curls spilling from beneath her bonnet.
She was much admired by the naval officers and the officers of the 73rd Regiment quartered in the gun room but now exercising on the upper deck.
Some ten officers, four hundred and six rank and file, and seven and ninety women and children had come on board the Hindostan , the latter crowded in the decks below.
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