Potatoes to Gold Page 2
PART II
Green Seas of Darkness
Tucked up in bed and still very cross, I keep my eyes closed while Granny says prayers. First, she thanks our Father in Heaven for keeping us safe and well-fed; then she asks Him to care for the less fortunate and for the souls of those who have gone before us. Finally, she asks Father in Heaven for strength for the new day and courage to face whatever it may bring. After ‘Amen’, I tell Granny that I don’t want to go to Boarding School and Granny does what she always does when I worry. She tells me a story.
‘When I was a girl, like you, I didn’t want to leave my home and family neit’er. T’ey was only t’inking of me of course but I couldn’t imagine anyt’ing good comin’ of it. Me fat’er–God rests his soul–told me t’at life was like ploughing a field for plantin’: “If you don’t look ahead, you’ll end up in a ditch,” he’d say. ‘I was put on t’at ship and cried and cried for days and days but I wasn’t alone Catie. T’ere were ot’er girls like m’self and we became friends. We even forgot what it felt like to be hungry. But I never forgot me home or me family and t’en I got a new home and a new family. I married your grandfat’er–God rest his soul–and I was t’ happiest girl in t’ colony. He was all courage and kindness, and handsome too! So you see Catie, I was put on t’at ship, all full of woe, and now here I am wit’ you and t’ luckiest old Granny t‘ere be.’
‘Tell me about the green seas of darkness Granny.’ I’ve heard it before a hundred times but it’s still my favourite.
She tells me about her voyage from Dublin: the wild wind tangling her hair, sea spray and tears mingling. By the time their ship had sailed out of Plymouth and into the Southern Ocean, Granny’s tummy was used to the rhythm of the waves and her fear had been replaced by boredom. Except for that grey day when a wave–the size of a hill and the colour of liquorice–crashed over the deck and dumped freezing water down the steps, drenching the girls on the lower deck.
‘We were bleatin’ and shiverin’ like lambs left out in t’ rain. Matron McHale scolded us bitterly and t’reatened to cancel t’ plum pudding from our evening meal if t’ raucous kept up. Well, the mood changed in a snap to song–and even dance–as we busied ourselves unlocking our sea chests and dressing in fresh, dry smocks.’
Granny’s voice grows fainter.
‘We felt like princesses we did, having our own sea chest wit’ its own key. Inside each one was a Bible; a letter to say we were of pure character; new sets of clot’ing; needles and t’read for sewing and of course t’ere was yards of calico for our female needs.’
Granny drifts off then but I know how the story ends. Ninety-nine days after they set sail, the ship anchored in Sydney Harbour. That ship was their last link to the Homeland and Granny said she and her friends, and even Matron McHale, huddled together, all weeping and wailing.
I fall asleep wondering if that’s what it would be like going to Boarding School and dream of locked chests, waves like watery monsters, and faces of friends I’ve never met.
At first light I wake to the familiar sounds of Father chopping wood for the stove and the boys whistling into empty sauce bottles. Granny is curled up under her kangaroo skin and I wonder how the nights can be so cold when the days are so hot, and so dry!
Granny stirs and I remember what she told me last night, about looking ahead. I ask our Father in Heaven to give me courage to face the day because I know what I have to do.