An Australian Family Saga

Cullen - Bartlett Dynasty by Janeen Ann O'Connell

Series Excerpt

They slept on bunks in a large wooden dormitory the second night in Van Diemen’s Land. With no shackles it was easier to find a comfortable position. Guards were around the perimeter rotating during the night. James Blay could not care less about the guards; he was sleeping in a bed that didn’t move, that was reasonably clean, and he was unfettered. He took a deep, satisfying breath.

Dawn broke through the cracks in the walls of the building at the same time as guards stormed in bellowing for the prisoners to get up. Blay fumbled around for the boots they gave him yesterday; he couldn’t find them. Panicked, he threw up the mattress, threw his blanket off the cot, got down on the dirt floor to look under the bunk, and turned the blanket over and over.

‘What’s yer problem convict?’

Blay couldn’t mistake the slurring speech of Toothless. Heart racing, colour gone from his face, he turned to look at the guard.

‘My boots are missing, sir,’ stammered Blay.

Toothless laughed. Cudgel raised ready to strike, he was stopped by the growl of the corporal.

‘What’s going on guard?’

‘Blay here has lost his boots, sir, and don’t know where to find ‘em.’ There were four guards in the dormitory; they doubled over laughing.

‘Well then, guard, I imagine someone in here has taken them unless you and your men were not watching the quarters all night and Blay slipped out and sold his boots.’

‘No sir, he did not slip out. We guarded all night long.’

‘Then search the quarters, find the boots and the thief, and we’ll have ourselves a trial and an execution. Or, we can go outside for a bit of fresh air and see if the boots turn up.’

Blay was relieved to no longer wear shackles, the chains would have rattled in synchronisation with the shaking of his body. He wanted no one executed on his account, but his boots were missing. The men in the quarters milled around, talking, and pointing in different directions at imagined suspects. Blay could not have been more miserable. He got down on all fours and looked under the bunk again, the boots were there.

The corporal and guards returned to the quarters as Blay was slipping his feet into the boots.

‘Find them, did ye?’ sniggered Toothless.

‘They appeared under the bunk when you were outside,’ testified Blay.

‘Take him out and give him 25 lashes with the “cat” for wasting our time,’ ordered the corporal.

Toothless grinned. ‘Told ye when ye and Tedder were snivellin’ at Woolwich that I’d make ye suffer, convict. Now tis the time.’

Grabbing Blay by the collar, Toothless threw him outside. It was raining a little. For some reason this brought comfort to Blay. The rain seemed appropriate.

‘Don’t rip his clothes,’ warned the corporal, ‘we are in short supply.’

‘Well then, Blay, best you take off your shirt real nice like, and be careful not to get it dirty or to rip it.’ Toothless was up against Blay’s face spitting his instructions.

Determined not to let Toothless, the other prisoners, or the corporal see weakness or fear, Blay removed his shirt, folded it, and placed it on a small bush on the edge of the clearing; he stood, doggedly. Looking into Toothless’ menacing and hate-filled eyes, seeing the cat o’ nine tales swishing around at his whim, waiting impatiently to make contact with its victim, Blay held the vision of his wife and sons in his mind.

With his back to the aggressor, they tied Blay’s wrists to a frame set up in the middle of the yard. He shook in anticipation of the coming agony. He had seen men – both convict and crew - whipped on the Indefatigable en route to this God-forsaken place. He’d been whipped too, but not with the “cat”. Picturing the blood, the tearing of the flesh, he heard the screams of agony. His screams. After the third or fourth strike the noise stopped. Toothless cackled with satisfaction.

Blay made no sound as the rest of the cuts penetrated the fair English skin on his back. He didn’t feel them; his brain took over the terror and he lost consciousness after counting twelve.

James Tedder’s heart pounded in his ears like soldiers’ feet marching to the beat of a drum. He’d been away from Blay for one night and the obstinate fool was tied to a frame waiting to be flogged with the cat o’ nine tails. By Toothless, no less.

‘What’s he done?’ Tedder asked the convict next to him.

‘Lost his boots for muster and found ‘em agin’ volunteered the man.

‘Why are they flogging him if he found them?’

‘Cos, he wasted the corporal’s and the guard’s time when he could na find ‘em.’

Jumping when the first strike hit James Blay’s exposed flesh, Tedder felt sick as Blay let out a blood-curdling scream.

Toothless leered at the assembled group of convicts forced to watch the punishment. He swung his arm back as far as he could and struck Blay an almighty blow. The scream Tedder heard after the first strike was a muffled groan compared with the second and subsequent screams. As Toothless got to work, the blood spewed from Blay’s back and the skin fell away in strips. Not one of the other 199 surviving convicts from the Indefatigable made a sound. Some had felt the wrath of the “cat” on the voyage from England. The marines and guards stood, quiet, motionless, cringing as the “cat” ravaged Blay’s back. Toothless was the only man present who gained any satisfaction from the punishment. Tedder knew Blay had passed out; he thanked God for the mercy.

Scanning the group witnessing Blay’s torment, Tedder noticed several men, who by their dress and stature were not convicts. As one, they frowned at the scene. With no obligation, they did not stay to watch Blay’s misery, they moved into the superintendent’s quarters, closing the door on the sorry scene behind them. All except one.

Tedder noticed him, older than his counterparts, wincing with each strike of the “cat” on Blay’s back.

Watching one of the loathsome guards take pleasure in making this convict suffer, the skin on James Bryan Cullen’s back prickled. He was about the same age in 1788 when Governor Phillip ordered his whipping. Shaking his head, he walked to the superintendent’s office.