The Penal Colony

The Penal Colony

The charges of treason against the British Crown were alleged by John’s enemies but despite his most valiant effort to convince the magistrate of his innocence, he was convicted. Sentenced to live out the rest of his days on the Australian penal colony. where the lowest of the low were sent to rot away their remaining years.

           On a cold, foggy March morning, he was removed from his cell in the local jailhouse and taken to port where a convoy of three ships was waiting. Two were the massive trade ships used to transport the prisoners to the land down under, while the third was of the Royal British Navy that ensured the arrival of the convicts to their new home.

           John’s retainers let him take in the sight for just a moment before they marched him up to the second carrier vessel. He breathed in the salty air, glad to be outside of the dingy cell but the freedom was short-lived. The Bobbies placed a manacle on his arms, then yanked him down the stairwell and into the dark of the cargo bay. For a moment he couldn’t see anything except for the back of the officer's heads but his eyes quickly adjusted to the low light.

           Twenty cells lined each wall of the ship’s hull, each occupied by an inmate save for a single one in the back. The nineteen other convicts all stared at him, curious why a perceivably young, innocent-looking boy was aboard the ship. Surely, he hadn’t done anything to deserve the colony which was reserved in lieu of the death penalty. But the fact remained that he was there, and he was being shipped off to a different continent for some crime.

           The two men drug him up to the cell, unlocked the door, and thrust him inside. His foot caught on a loose board and he went sprawling onto the floor. His head connected with the wooden deck and he saw stars. The sound of the officers locking the cell and leaving brought tears to his eyes as he tried to blink away the lights for the better part of ten minutes. By the time he could see straight again the ship had started to sway; It had left the docks and started its eight-month journey to Australia.

           John curled up in the back corner of the cell, despair flooding in. Fresh tears welled up in his eyes and his nose began to run. He missed his family. He missed his life. He just wanted to be back in his small home with his five other siblings and mother and father.

*         *         *         *         *

           He had been aboard the ship almost two weeks before he noticed the girl who was in the cell across and to the left of his. She was a lithe blonde who had first captured his attention when she kicked an officer in the face. He had been bending down to administer her daily rations when she suddenly lashed out. Her foot passed between the two bars and connected with the bobbies round face. He had been sent reeling backwards and crashed against the opposite cell to the girls. The man who inhabited the cell quickly grabbed the officer’s keys and unlocked his cell along with three of his mates'.

           The four men went barreling up onto the deck and out of sight, but all the inmates could hear the sounds of a scuffle. Then four shots punctuated the air quickly followed by four splashes; The sounds of bodies being tossed into the ocean.

           A minute later, the captain of the ship came walking in. He was dressed in a white sailor’s outfit with a cream bicorn sat atop his head. In his hand two polished mahogany flintlock pistols were still smoking from their recent discharges.

The captain walked the length of the cells and back before he spoke: “Four men have just tried to escape as you heard. They are now dead – Shark food. If another soul tries to escape, the whole lot of you shall be punished.” With that, he swept out of the hall.

Since then nobody had tried to escape, but John’s interests where stuck fast on the girl. She hardly looked in his direction while he in turn couldn’t tear his gaze off her.

*         *         *         *         *

           The ship pulled into Botany Bay eight months and four days from the day they pushed off from the British Coast. During that time, John had staid enamored with the girl, yet he didn’t even know her name. She had kicked three more Bobbies during the voyage, earning herself a leg fetter.

           The boat lurched to a stop as it ran aground on the beach. John heard the delighted shouts of the sailors and expected to be escorted off the boat soon, but it was almost a day and a half before the criminals were taken off the boat.

           The officers came flooding down the stairs, each selecting a cell then unlocking the doors. John’s officer grabbed him roughly and marched him out onto the deck. The light was blinding and the heat stifling, but he was elated. After three quarters a year in the dark of the sip he was finally out in fresh air. He looked around and was astounded by the view. For as far as he could see in one direction a vast desert of sand stretched out, only broken up by a distant town, while in the other way clear water extended out. 

           He, along with the other convicts were filed off the ship and onto the boiling hot sand where the captain stood. Once everybody had gathered around him, he began to speak: “Here is your new home...If there are any problems the sheriff’s office is in the dead center of town…That is all.” He along with the sailors and officers all turned and started off for town, eager to have a decent meal and a bed that didn’t rock.

           John started off after them when he suddenly felt dizzy and collapsed on the ground. All around him the other criminals were experiencing similar things. Only two weren’t affected and they were laughing.

           “Haven’t got your sea legs yet mates!” One howled. The other snickered, then they turned and sauntered toward town.

           John tried to stand but fell. For the next twenty minutes he was incapacitated, but he finally managed to stand up and stumbled into town. He looked around and found a quaint clump of buildings that were all lined up along the main road.

           He shuffled into the nearest one. It turned out to be the best and only tavern in town. He walked up to the counter and ordered a water. He was given it but when asked for pay, he realized he hand no money. He quickly apologized.

           “It’s fine,” the waitress said. “It’s on the house.” She walked away, leaving the water on the table.

           John quickly downed it and walked out, giving the woman a smile as he did. The first thing he did after leaving the tavern was looking for a job. He walked up and down the strip of buildings but not a single one wanted to hire him. He finally reached the sheriff’s office. It was a shamble building with a wrap around porch and not windows. He pushed inside and found the inside to be much more impressive than the outside. Three cells sat in one corner while a separate room held a desk and muskets.

           He walked inside and found the sheriff, a tall, stocky man with a pig-like face. He looked up from his book when John walked in.

           “How can I help you, son?” He asked.

           “I’m…I’m looking for a job. You know of any places?”

           The sheriff grunted. “Only one spot where they’re offerin’ jobs.”

           He stopped talking, forcing John to prompt him. “Which is?”

           “Oh. Sorry. The gold mines. They always want new men.”

           “And where do I find this mine?”

           “Due south. It’s rather hard to miss seein’ as it’s a big open hole in the earth.”

           An awkward pause ensured.

“Well, thank you.”

           He walked out of the office and back out into the town. He struck out south and soon found the mines. The sheriff was right, it was a massive, angled hole where men bustled about, going in and out. Some pushed wheelbarrows full of dull gold while others held pickaxes and delved down into the hole.

           John walked up to the closest man and asked him where he could sign up for a job. The man grunted and pointed to a ten across the hole. John thanked him then picked his way around the gaping crack.

           When he reached the tent, he went to knock but realized there wasn’t a way to seeing as the tent was cloth. He instead cleared his throat loudly.

           “Come in,” a voice called.

           He pushed through the folds and into the spacious tent. Inside sat a fat man with thick eyebrows and three chins. The man motioned for John to sit down and he did.

           “Here for a job I presume?” The foreman asked.

           “Yes. Is there an opening?” John asked hopefully.

           The man scoffed. “Of course there’s spots. We never run out…Now for wages. I’ll offer you a pound a day along with a tent for yourself. How’s that sound?”

           For a second he hesitated. A pound a day wasn’t much, but he knew he needed the job, so he accepted. He was immediately given a tent and miners outfit which consisted of a thick jackets, a thick pair of pants, and thick soled boots along with a headlamp and pickaxe. He was instructed to set up a tent in the area west of the mines where all the other men were housed then head down in the mines. There were no instructions on how to do his job, but he figured it would be simple. He erected his tent quickly then donned his outfit and struck off into the mines.

*         *         *         *         *

           John had been in the mines a week and he hated it. The job was dangerous, the conditions horrible, and the wages low. He had already injured himself twice by dropping a rock with a vein of gold running along it onto his toe, and he cut his shin with the sharp end of the pickaxe. He had tried to argue for more money in compensation for the terrible conditions, but he had been refused.

           He dropped the last bit of gold onto the wheelbarrow then started the half an hour slog back up the incline to the surface. The wheelbarrow was heavy and hard to push, but he kept himself going with the though of his tent and bed. He could rest after this one last load.

           He finally reached the surface and started to wheel the barrow across the plains to where all the workers dumped their loads. He was halfway there when the thieves jumped him. They were waiting behind a clump of brown bushes, waiting for some unlucky miner to walked past them.

           When John did, they leaped out and quickly surrounded him. There were five of them, each held a pistol in one had and a knife in the other. Their clothes were grimy and stained but they looked well fed.

           “The gold,” one said.

           For a moment John was overcome with fear but he regained himself swiftly. He tried to think of a plan, but none came to him so instead of risk his life be simply gave in to their demands. “Here. Have it.” He pushed the wheelbarrow over to the man who had spoken. A look of shock came over the man’s face, but he quickly masked it.

           “Smart, kid. Now if you’ll be so kind as to not tell your superior that would be grand.”

           A man rushed up and grabbed the wheelbarrow’s handles and went to push it away, but John stopped them. “Wait! Take me with you. Let me join your band!”

           The leader cocked his head. “And why would we let you? I’d be more inclined to put a bullet in you.”

           “Please. I hate the mines and I can fight.” It was true, he had been in many scuffles during his time at school.

           “Well, we could use another,” another man spoke up.

           “True…Well fine. But listen to this…”

           “John.”

           “Listen to this John. You show any signs of throwing the group to the sheriff we’ll fill you full of lead…Understand mate?”         

           John nodded, then the band along with him turned off and ran off into the night.

*         *         *         *         *

           John had been with the outlaws for almost five years and had risen to the rank of third in command, just behind Nathan the captain of the bandits and Sam. He was well respected and had become a trusted part of the band. They had pulled over twenty heists and robbers while he had been with them and all were successes.

           “Now, the gold’s in the third wagon. Understand?” Nathan had been repeating the plan for the past four days. “The other four are decoys. Now John, your job?”

           “Distract the caravan while y’all rob it,” he said.

           “Sam?”

           “Take out the officers who are on the other wagons,” Sam said.

           Nathan continued to drill them but stopped when the wagons came into view. There were seven of them total, all held two Bobbies and a driver. The officers grasped muskets and scanned the horizon.

           “You’re up John,” Nathan whispered.

           John nodded then crept out from behind the hill the other bandits sat behind. He made it to the next hill then stood up and walked out onto the road. He ran the plan through his head as he did; Act like I’m lost, then take out the first two officers. Then join in with the others.

           Just as he was about to shout out to the wagons, his eyes caught a sight he never thought he’d see: The girl from the convoy. She was older but there was no mistake about it. It was her. She had the same beautiful blond hair and pretty stature. She was walking down the road holding a basket of what appeared to be bread.

           He continued to watch until she was lost behind the wagons. A wave of panic suddenly lit of inside of him. He had forgot to distract the wagons. He rushed out onto the road, but it was too late. The sounds of muskets firing and men screaming lit up then quiet desert.

           He grabbed his gun from the brush, determined to help but by the time he had, it was over. The wagons had passed, leaving four dead men along the road, including Sam and another outlaw member named Grant.

           John was horrified and afraid as he walked up to the remaining three. Nathan turned on him in a furry. “You…You screwed this up. You cost these men their lives.”

           “I’m sorry. I just…” John trailed off.

           “You what. Got caught up staring at that girl. Well since you obviously care about her more than us, you can join her.”

           “But –”

           “No. You’re off the band and lucky we don’t kill you…Now leave!”

           John hung his head and walked off down the road, not sure where he was going to go. He walked down the road, so engrossed in his sorrows he didn’t even realize he had caught up to the girl. She had tripped and was hastily picking up her bread.

           He looked up and a slight smile crossed his face, happy he had caught up to her. “May I help you?”

           She looked up. “Sure. I just fell and spoilt my bread.”

           He helped her pick it up then said, “Mind if I take you out for a meal?” The words just came rushing out from him.

           The girl looked at him in astonishment. “Sir I don’t know you.”

           “Why sure you do. You and I were on the save convoy from Britain.”

           “We were?”

           “You mean you don’t remember me?”

           “I’m sorry but no. What’s your name? Mine’s Samantha.”  

           “John. But you’re sure you don’t know me?”

           “No.”

           John suddenly felt a horribly feeling bloom in his chest. He handed Samantha the last piece of bread then ran off, crying. Crying from being off the band and her not remembering him.

*         *         *         *         *

           The screaming jarred John from his sleep. He was in his tent, trying to recover from the horrible day. He had just fallen asleep when the scream punctuated the still night air. He flung open his tent to see what the matter was and saw Samantha being wrestled to the ground by his three former outlaw friends.

           He jumped up, grabbed his pistol then rushed out to aid her. But in the dark he lost sight of them and turned helplessly in circles. “Samantha! Samantha!” He called out for her for several minutes without an answer. Then he heard a distant wail. He rushed off in the direction of it.

           He ran for five minutes before he saw them. Samantha was being held up by two of the bandits, Keith and Lannon, while Nathan leveled a pistol at her. To her credit, she was thrashing and twisting making it hard for the two men to control her but she couldn't quite get away from them.

           “Wait!” John yelled.

           Nathan turned to him and smiled. “This’ll teach you."

           He raise the pistol to her head about to shoot when he suddenly gagged and fell to the ground. John lowered the pistol he had just fired and said to the other two, “Let her go!”

           They laughed. Keith pulled out a pistol while Lannon restrained Samantha. John raised his pistol again and he and the bandit dueled. His first two shots missed, while the Keith's first struck his leg. John stumbled, but his third shot rang true, killing the bandit. His next ended the other.

           He rushed over to Samantha’s side. “So, how about that meal?”