Free Not the Same Sky by Evelyn Conlon

remembering Charles Strutt’s instructions, moved to their classes. Those who didn’t were reminded by the others. And so a stream of girls with neat dresses and no bonnets came up from below and moved towards the tables where classes would be taught. The sub matrons, who had now been designated as teachers, organised seats and lines and looked more confident than they felt. Julia Cuffe’s teacher cleared her throat and got on with the class she had planned, concealing from them that she had worked out the exact things to say and how often to repeat them. Matron had told her that it got easier with each class. She needed to wipe her brow but decided not to. The girls watched her intently, even Julia. One of them thought that she could do that too. But when a moment of doubt came to her, she thought no, she would watch the teacher carefully and maybe she could do that in the future, if she was allowed.
    There came from the room the steady sound of a voice, warming to the way the plan was working. And there came too, an inexplicable sensation, an emotion, gratification.

CHAPTER 10
    The Thomas Arbuthnot had been at sea for over two weeks when an unexpected problem arose between Charles and the captain. It was a hot day, and tempers were frayed. Charles wanted to make a wire grating for the main hatch—‘One that can be kept open all day to circulate the air,’ he said.
    The captain bristled. There had been moments like this before. Sometimes a difference of opinion would erupt between them about such things as washing days, which might be interfering with work the captain thought more important than clean clothes. It had happened last week. The sailors were caulking and so Charles agreed to postpone the washing until the next day. The caulking was not complete on the following day, but he proceeded with the washing. The captain’s fury was out of proportion with the inconvenience. He gave vent to his anger, which was not good for discipline. Thankfully none of the girls heard, or so Charles hoped, but you could never be sure, there was always a stray girl around going from one place to another or sitting on a step trying not to be seen, thinking something that was best not talked about.
    Nor did the captain like that all the decisions regarding the girls were made by Charles. He was also dismissive of the sermons given by him on Sundays. Charles knew this. And while accepting that he was not a proper pastor, he did think his leading of prayers was not so terribly unworthy, and certainly did not warrant the half sneer on the captain’s face. It was difficult to pray when such a temporal thing as a sneer was before you. He had enough things to be concerned about anyway. As he gave his Church of England service on the poop deck, he kept his ear attentive for sounds from below, where the girls, most of them Catholic, were also supposed to be praying. But Charles doused his annoyance. Overenthusiastic pride could explode on a journey such as this. Just when things were going smoothly a crisis could erupt, not just with the girls, but the crew also. And Charles knew that he and the captain would, when the time came, praise each other for reaching journey’s end, remembering only the neatness and accomplishment of their arrival. And this would be best achieved if they pocketed their little rages.
    Charles said again, but quieter this time, ‘It would help the air to circulate?’ He inserted the sound of a question mark to allow the captain a degree of decision. It worked. The captain backed down over the necessity of making the grating, although he grumbled a little over the expense and the diversion. Why was it necessary he mumbled, they were young girls, they could put up with a bit of heat, they would be fine. And they weren’t paying.
    The wire grating was made quickly and cheaply—quicker and cheaper than the grumble. Charles would pocket that too. But he would have to learn how to get the captain on his side, to