CHAINS TO FREEDOM.✔

Chapter Eleven

I'm sure you've got it by now but just a reminder as it's been three weeks since I've updated. The italics are moments in the characters past.

Doctor Jack Wells was a portly little man, agile for his size and was bald as a tonsured monk. He rubbed that bald spot and pushed his glasses along the bridge of his nose.

"The legs not broke, Louis. Possibly the bone has been chipped or cracked." Doctor Wells turned to face Master Copeland. "There are other wounds on her back. The legs not my greatest concern, though. She has a fever and from the sound of her chest, I would say pneumonia."

He rubbed his double chin. His large brown eyes looked down at Jessica where she lay on the bed. "How long has she been unconscious?"

"I would say three or four hours. The moment she was hit with the hammer." Louis paused. "She did rouse while I was carrying her inside." He lifted his hand and touched the bite mark on his neck. "But not for more than a couple of minutes." Louis sighed, his eyes flicked from the doctor and back to Jessica. "Will she recover, Jack?"

"I can't say. She's weak and has been badly beaten." Jack paused to think. "We need to try to get some liquid into her and fight this fever. I'm going to bleed her then wrap her tight to sweat the fever out of her." His mouth twisted. "Then we wait."

*****

Doctor Wells wiped away the last bit of blood and pulled a blanket tightly around Jessica. He wiped his hands on the coverlet, and then picked up his bag. "I've done all I can," he said. "I'll come back in two days. The fever may have broken by then."

Louis followed him out through the door and into the kitchen. "Would you like to stay and have lunch, Jack?"

"No thank you, Louis. I must get back. Mrs. Flint is in labour. Child number five. A midwife is with her. I'm sure everything will be fine, but I did promise I'd call in on her." He held his hand out to Louis. "I hope everything goes well with the girl. You never know which way these things will end up."

Louis nodded his understanding and took the doctor's hand. "Thank you for coming, we'll see you in two days."

The pungent smell of damp timber and urine no longer repulsed Jessica. Her eyes had become well-adjusted to the dark. The sounds which once filled her with fear, no longer pierced her heart.

Only the tightness of the ropes that bound her touched her senses. The pain of the sharp prickly fibres rubbing on her swollen, tender skin, a reminder she was human.

She lay with her body huddled against the ship's hull, listening to the sound of the waves. For three months she had listened to this sound and still she was undecided if she liked it.

Jessica stared into the darkness. She fiddled with her hair, its rope like texture bringing tears to her eyes. She tried to remember how it once felt, but to imagine the touch of silky softness was not something her memory could recall with ease. She let the tears fall from her eyes and focused on the sound of the waves. They had been both friend and tormentor, their constancy certain.

Louis watched as Jessica sat huddled at the end of the bed. Her fingers entwined in her hair. Though she had her eyes opened, he knew she did not see him or the room she was in.

Jessica, he knew, was somewhere else.

Sweat rolled down her face. Tears filled her eyes.

Louis wrapped the blanket around her for the hundredth time. She continually kicked it off. He feared that they may not be able to get her fever down. He wiped her face with a damp cloth, tossed it back into the bucket of water beside the bed, and then reached for the glass of water. She must drink. He held the glass to her lips. She forced her head back against the bed head and rolled it fiercely from side to side. He placed his hand behind her head to hold it still. She fought against him and pushed herself still harder against the timber. Jessica flung her hands up on either side of her head.

"No..!" she screamed. Her eyes wide with terror. Her body so stiff that Louis couldn't move her. It was as though some invisible thing held her there. Jessica wretched violently. The stench of vomit filled the room. Once the spasm had finished, she lay with her eyes closed, her head upon the pillow.

She fought hard against the soldiers. They were too strong. She was tied crucifix style to the whipping post. A rag was forced into her mouth. Jessica gagged, she struggled to breathe. Sweat streamed down her face.

"Cane her for ten, Harper," the Ship's Master called. "The rest of you women take note! I will not put up with insolent behaviour. She!" he yelled and pointed. "Is an example to you all! Begin Harper!"

The pain cut through her like a knife. Jessica's body convulsed. Urine streamed down her legs. All strength was sucked from her body. She passed out as the fourth blow tore into her skin.

Louis touched her face gently with his fingers. He would never know the torment she was going through. Her skin was soft and supple. He pushed the hair from her face and sighed. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

He rang the bell for Mary. Jessica would need to be bathed and the bed linen changed. When he lifted her, he felt the contours of her body against him. His body came alive. Louis placed her gently in the armchair and waited.

Jessica lived in her own world for the next three days. Louis took note of some of the names she used. He realised they were people from her past. These names would give him some insight of who she was and where she came from.

Each member of the household, stood watch over her at one time or another. They tended her wounds. She was bathed with damp cloths regularly. Her journey back to consciousness was long and hard. Jessica's dreams were portraits of her life and those watching were sometimes drawn into being a character of her dream. Answering her when she demanded answers. Holding her when she needed to be held. They knew they were not really with her. They knew she was some distance away in another time.

Events like this really happened to the people who were transported to Australia as convicts. They were persecuted and tortured in the most horrendous ways for the smallest of crimes. Stealing loaves of bread to feed their starving families was one such crime. Australia's beginnings were built on the backs of these slaves for that's what they were. Beautiful buildings and bridges bear the names of the convicts who built them. Many died in the process or because of their treatment. There are documented stories of female convicts being forced into orgies to satisfy the soldiers.

Indigenous Australians were also slaughtered and tortured.  Dispelled from their land in the most despicable ways.  Their suffering must be acknowledged and the crimes against them should never be forgotten. Australia's beginning was coated in blood and pain :(

Copyright © 2018 Donna Fieldhouse. All rights reserved.