The Wild Boy of Van Dieman's Land

By Clare Cohen

What do you think could be the worst thing that could happen to you if you were so hungry you stole a bun?

In Victorian England, any theft at all could see you hung or sent to the other side of the world to a penal colony where you would be taught a lesson you would never forget. Your wickedness must be punished.

Davy’s father dies and he and his family are destitute. In a moment of weakness, ten-year-old Davy steals a bun. Now his troubles really start. He is brutalized and bullied in the prison until his wild behaviour ensures that he is transported to the notorious Van Dieman’s Land. Once he is there, life just gets harder and he begins to earn his name of ‘The Wild Boy.’

Meanwhile, his sister, twelve-year-old Hannah has been left to find work and fend for the family. She takes work in service to the prison chaplain’s family where her ingenuity and courage ensure that she is on the same transportation ship as Davy. Can she save him from life as a convict in the harshest colony of all? Can she ever reunite their shattered family?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Dec 8, 2023
• ISBN: 9781398479302

Clare Cohen

A visit to Port Arthur, a Victorian penal colony in Tasmania, which was formerly known as Van Dieman’s Land, inspired Clare Cohen to combine her love of reading, story-telling and history to write this story. She began to imagine how a boy from Victorian London could have ended up on the other side of the world and what lengths his family would have gone to find him. For many years, Clare has helped adults to learn to read and enjoy literature, in addition to running two book groups.

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About the Author

A visit to Port Arthur, a Victorian penal colony in Tasmania, which was formerly known as Van Dieman’s Land, inspired Clare Cohen to combine her love of reading, story-telling and history to write this story.

She began to imagine how a boy from Victorian London could have ended up on the other side of the world and what lengths his family would have gone to find him.

For many years, Clare has helped adults to learn to read and enjoy literature, in addition to running two book groups.

Dedication

My visit to Port Arthur Historic Site in Tasmania was the inspiration for this story.

A visit there brings history to life.

To my grandchildren, Adam and Leon, who took me to Australia and to Alexa who brought me home again.

Copyright Information ©

Clare Cohen 2023

The right of Clare Cohen to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781398479296 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781398479302 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published 2023

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®

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Canary Wharf

London

E14 5AA

Chapter 1

1841

Come on dearie, don’t be shy, in you come and get warm. The words were accompanied by a not-so-gentle shove which propelled Hannah through the door into the hot and smoky atmosphere of ‘The Traveller’s Rest’, public house of dubious reputation just near the docks where her father had died only a few weeks earlier.

The hand that had shoved Hannah into the public house was rough and dirty, the fingernails were also filthy and badly bitten and Hannah shuddered as they pulled at her shawl.

Let’s see what we have here, dearie, don’t be shy, it’s only Old Mags wants a look at you. We’ve got to see what the cat dragged in before we let you lose in here, haven’t we? Look at you all nice and clean, all young and bright-eyed, what are you doing in here anyway? You don’t belong in here my dear, you really don’t, but if you want to stay, let Old Mags tell you what’s what, eh? A little something to warm me up and I’ll give you the lay of the land.

Hannah clasped her shawl tighter across her body and tried to look confidently at this creature who called herself ‘Old Mags’. Frankly, she terrified Hannah. She looked old and bloated, her clothes were tight and stretched dangerously across her body and she smelt of dirt, of alcohol and of poverty. Hannah knew that she herself was poor but comforted herself with the thought that at least she was clean and that she did have a family and a home to go to – although for how long she wasn’t sure.

The claw-like hands continued to paw at her and succeeded in pulling Hannah around to face her.

Wait a minute. I know you, dearie, you’re Ned Connor’s girl ain’t cha? Him that died on the ship not more than a month ago. What you doing here dearie? You don’t belong here, now do you dearie? Think what your pa would say if he could see you now.

What would her pa say? Hannah knew exactly what her pa would say:

Hannah, turn around and walk straight out of here. You walk straight back to your ma and the littl’ uns. You’re not to come in here again, you hear me? These places are not for the likes of you. Come in here and you’ll be no better than you should be and that’s not the way me and your ma brought you up. You’re a good girl and we want to see you stay that way. Go home now!

The thought of the upset that she would cause her pa made Hannah lose whatever confidence in herself that she still possessed. Suddenly she looked every inch the young girl she really was. Tears appeared in her eyes, her legs began to shake and she found herself sobbing in Old Mags’s arms.

No harm done, no harm done, crooned Mags. Tell Old Mags all about it, why don’t you? We’ll see what we can do to help.

I don’t know what to do, we need more money and now that Pa’s dead and Davy’s been…Davy’s been taken, I can’t make enough money to keep my ma and sisters in our lodgings and, and…

Come on, cry and tell Old Mags all about it. Come outside dearie, you don’t belong in here. Your poor dear pa not dead and buried two minutes and Old Mags lets him down. No, dearie, come outside and tell me all about it.

You know, sorry, knew, my pa? asked Hannah, shock and disbelief showing all over her face.

Your pa was a gent; a real gent he was. Never one to let a lady go without a little drink to keep the cold out.

Now the shock really did show itself on Hannah’s face. Her pa always liked a drink, whose father didn’t? But with this woman? If he bought her drinks, what else did he do with her?

No, dearie, nothing like that, don’t you worry yourself. Old Mags continued as if reading Hannah’s mind.

A real gent was your dad, just didn’t like to see a lady without a drink to keep out the cold on a bad night. Oh Lord, no, nothing like that, dearie, not with your pa.

Hannah believed her, after all, what man would want to spend time with Old Mags when they had her beautiful ma at home? Ma, with her long black hair, bright eyes and loving smile, of course Pa wouldn’t go with Old Mags.

Come on, dearie, tell me all about your troubles and woes and let’s see what Old Mags can do to help, eh?

You know about Pa don’t you? He had a terrible accident on the ship where he was unloading wool. Davy said they told him that he ran to help a man when the bale of wool he was unloading began to slip and he pushed the man out of the way but he slipped himself and…and…and the big bale of wool fell on top of him…

Once again her eyes welled up with tears as she remembered the dreadful sight of her father’s twisted body being carried home by the dockers, then to the undertakers where he had been laid out and the businessman who was buying the wool paid for his funeral and gave Ma a few coins as compensation for her loss.

Mags nodded. And now those few coins are spent, aren’t they? Could’ve been my story, you know. Except my pa, he just done a runner after my ma died having the littlest one. Left us all, and I found myself a gentleman friend, gave some money to my brothers and sister, but some died or ran away, I forget sometimes…

She began to drift off and look glassy-eyed.

Hannah saw now, close-up, that she wasn’t as old as she had first thought and a horrible thought struck her. If Old Mags had been like her once, then what would she become if she crossed the invisible line which her pa had so strongly drawn for her and entered the public house?

Old Mags fumbled in her pocket, drew out a grimy coin which she pressed into Hannah’s hand. Take it and be off with you. You’ll see, you’ll find honest work and get your Davy back from where he’s been taken. I can see you’ve got a bit of gumption about you.

Hannah gratefully took the coin and ran back to her ma and two little sisters, who were sleeping in the cold, bare attic room that was now their home. She would keep trying to find work and take care of them and make her father proud.

Chapter 2

1841

Sometimes, for no apparent reason, a little bit of kindness and self-belief can make all the difference to someone. The next morning Hannah woke with renewed determination to find work which would enable her mother and sisters to live a reasonable life. With her father dead and her brother in prison, she knew that the family, such as it was, would be relying upon her and so she went out early the next morning and began knocking on doors of the more affluent-looking houses in the area.

Please, do you have any work? I am eager to start work now. I am hardworking and honest.

Before too long, she was in luck. Mrs Arthur Welling had lost her maid-of-all-work, or skivvy, the day before when Cook had discovered that she was helping herself to lumps of coal which belonged to the household.

Once Mrs Welling had been told of the theft, there was no opportunity for an explanation or a second chance. The girl was dismissed without a character or reference and Mrs Welling urgently needed a replacement. She had Jenny as a nursery maid for Peter and Gracie, her two young