From her place
on top of the wall, she'd watched women haul buckets among the laborers. They dipped long—
handled ladles into their buckets and lifted a serving of water to the men's lips. They drank while they worked, never stopping. The women made their way among them while the British wielded
their whips over it all.
To get water, she would have to become one of them. Her pride refused but the urge to live
battled against it. Yet her options were few. Even taking herself off to work in a filthy factory was no longer open to her. Britain was five weeks across the ocean and she had no silver coin for passage. There was only thirst or grovelling left. No wonder the inhabitants of the inner fort looked at her with pity. They had already had their pride broken and they knew what her fate was going to be. Eventually, they would become her comrades.
"There's fresh water down by the supply gate."
So used to being ignored, she jumped when he spoke to her. Whoever the man was, he didn't
look at her. He had a small barrel in his hands and was carrying it down another of the stone paths which crisscrossed the inner yard. His steps were slow, much slower than he looked
capable of. But he was hunched over, his large frame dropping over his load. Just another pitiful example of how ill-treated the men were. A large man like him was most likely being starved on meager food rations. It wouldn't take long for his broad shoulders to be reduced to skin and bones.
"Watch me but don't follow too closely. The provisions are stacked up there, near the water gate..."
The last few words were difficult to hear because he was moving away. But the mere suggestion of water sharpened her senses. Casting a quick look back at the green, she found it still empty.
Setting off in the direction
he'd gone, Lorena went searching for water. She'd walked around the walls several times looking for where the water was brought into the fort but had failed to discover it.
At the lowest spot of the fort, there were two water gates. They weren't very large, only sufficient to allow smaller boats in. At low tide, the retaining walls were dry but now water lapped at them, filling the small dug-out area. A row of stone buildings sat facing it and another alongside it. She walked between them, losing sight of the commissioner's house and the green.
With the light rapidly fading, she could hear the guards herding the labourers toward the hulks.
The darkness didn't bother her. Let Mordaunt search for her. If she ended the day locked in a cell tonight, she would not be the only one. Laying her head on a soft pillow in the commissioner's house seemed ill suited to the surroundings. There was too much suffering
to ignore. It felt as though she was losing her grip on her own humanity to wallow in comforts while men were locked like animals inside those hulks. Joining them would not help, but her mind rebelled against bending to the man responsible for it all. There could be discipline without cruelty, she was certain of it.
It was cooler by the water gates, the ocean breeze blowing in to stroke her burning cheeks. She could smell the water, both salt and fresh. Large barrels were lined up on the far side of the tiny harbor. A hoist was attached to the stone wall that held the water back. Below rowboats bobbed gently in the current. A rope was strung through an iron wheel and it glistened even in the growing darkness. That was the well. The barrels were filled here and rowed out to the ships waiting in the main harbor. Moving toward the rope, Lorena tugged her gloves off. The line was still wet, telling her the workers had recently quit for the night.
Giving it a tug, she pulled until a tall, round bucket appeared. It was full of water. Sticking a finger into it she carried it to her lips to taste it.
Sweet relief filled her mouth with that single drop of fresh water. She was too thirsty to care about niceties. She cupped her hand and scooped up the water.
on top of the wall, she'd watched women haul buckets among the laborers. They dipped long—
handled ladles into their buckets and lifted a serving of water to the men's lips. They drank while they worked, never stopping. The women made their way among them while the British wielded
their whips over it all.
To get water, she would have to become one of them. Her pride refused but the urge to live
battled against it. Yet her options were few. Even taking herself off to work in a filthy factory was no longer open to her. Britain was five weeks across the ocean and she had no silver coin for passage. There was only thirst or grovelling left. No wonder the inhabitants of the inner fort looked at her with pity. They had already had their pride broken and they knew what her fate was going to be. Eventually, they would become her comrades.
"There's fresh water down by the supply gate."
So used to being ignored, she jumped when he spoke to her. Whoever the man was, he didn't
look at her. He had a small barrel in his hands and was carrying it down another of the stone paths which crisscrossed the inner yard. His steps were slow, much slower than he looked
capable of. But he was hunched over, his large frame dropping over his load. Just another pitiful example of how ill-treated the men were. A large man like him was most likely being starved on meager food rations. It wouldn't take long for his broad shoulders to be reduced to skin and bones.
"Watch me but don't follow too closely. The provisions are stacked up there, near the water gate..."
The last few words were difficult to hear because he was moving away. But the mere suggestion of water sharpened her senses. Casting a quick look back at the green, she found it still empty.
Setting off in the direction
he'd gone, Lorena went searching for water. She'd walked around the walls several times looking for where the water was brought into the fort but had failed to discover it.
At the lowest spot of the fort, there were two water gates. They weren't very large, only sufficient to allow smaller boats in. At low tide, the retaining walls were dry but now water lapped at them, filling the small dug-out area. A row of stone buildings sat facing it and another alongside it. She walked between them, losing sight of the commissioner's house and the green.
With the light rapidly fading, she could hear the guards herding the labourers toward the hulks.
The darkness didn't bother her. Let Mordaunt search for her. If she ended the day locked in a cell tonight, she would not be the only one. Laying her head on a soft pillow in the commissioner's house seemed ill suited to the surroundings. There was too much suffering
to ignore. It felt as though she was losing her grip on her own humanity to wallow in comforts while men were locked like animals inside those hulks. Joining them would not help, but her mind rebelled against bending to the man responsible for it all. There could be discipline without cruelty, she was certain of it.
It was cooler by the water gates, the ocean breeze blowing in to stroke her burning cheeks. She could smell the water, both salt and fresh. Large barrels were lined up on the far side of the tiny harbor. A hoist was attached to the stone wall that held the water back. Below rowboats bobbed gently in the current. A rope was strung through an iron wheel and it glistened even in the growing darkness. That was the well. The barrels were filled here and rowed out to the ships waiting in the main harbor. Moving toward the rope, Lorena tugged her gloves off. The line was still wet, telling her the workers had recently quit for the night.
Giving it a tug, she pulled until a tall, round bucket appeared. It was full of water. Sticking a finger into it she carried it to her lips to taste it.
Sweet relief filled her mouth with that single drop of fresh water. She was too thirsty to care about niceties. She cupped her hand and scooped up the water.
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