The Lamerton Workhouse Orphanage Read online

  The Work House

  By S.G.Read

  Andrew McDay was a mere twenty eight years old, he had been to all the best schools and knew a lot of things but he did not work, all he did was sleep, gamble and drink, much to his fathers annoyance. Not that his gambling was a problem, he often won and it paid for his drinking but his father Clarence McDay wanted him to get a job and to start doing a fair days work for a fair days pay. Just like he had had to do when he was young. He was quite willing to cut off Andrew’s allowance to make him work but the gambling and drinking would still continue. He wanted to send him somewhere where he could not gamble or drink with such ease.

  A chance encounter with an old friend led to an offer which Clarence found quite acceptable. A workhouse orphanage in a little place called Lamerton in Devon. It was in the middle of nowhere and had nothing nearby to talk of in the way of inns; his son would find it hard to go out drinking and gambling from there! The old friend was none other than the man in charge of that workhouse orphanage and several others. He was given money to run them and if he could get the beadle who ran that particular orphanage to take less money, he got to keep what he did not give them. Hence no money was spent on clothes and education for the children and as little as possible on food, as the beadle who had just died like to live well at the children’s expense.

  Little did Andrew know when he came home in the early hours that his life was about to change dramatically. Clarence did not say anything to him when he came in, he stayed in bed and waited until midday when Andrew emerged from his room for something to eat before he broached the subject.

  ‘Good afternoon Andrew.’

  ‘Good afternoon father, not at your club then?’

  ‘No I have news for you.’

  ‘News?’

  ‘Yes news; I have found you a position.’

  ‘A position as in work?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘A little place called Lamerton.’

  ‘Which part of London is that then, I cannot recall hearing the name before?’

  ‘Oh it’s not in London.’

  ‘Where is it then?’ Andrew asked suspiciously.

  ‘Devon.’

  ‘Devon!’ Andrew gasped. ‘But that is miles away.’

  ‘It is probably well over a hundred miles.’

  ‘And what if I do not want to go to work in Lamerton?’

  ‘I cannot force you to go but if you should refuse the position, I will stop your allowance from now on and that means that you will need to win well at your card game tonight to afford somewhere to stay when you decide to finally go to sleep.’

  ‘And if I accept I keep my allowance and have somewhere to sleep tonight?’

  ‘Tonight you will be sleeping somewhere on the road between Lamerton and London!’ Clarence answered. ‘Certainly not in this house! But you will keep your allowance as long as you work in the Lamerton orphanage. I have paid for your coach to Lamerton and I have arranged for you to be able to get money from Tavistock after you have taken up residence. Now I will be off to my club. I have worked hard to get where I am today and I expect you to do the same.’

  Clarence left him standing there with a leg of chicken half way between the plate and his mouth, where it had been for a few minutes now. Andrew looked at the chicken and put it back on the plate, suddenly he was no longer hungry. He started thinking and decided to cash in the coach fare; if he won well tonight he might just be able to stay. He walked to the stable and saddled his horse.

  ‘Come on Hopscotch we need to make some money.’

  He rode to the ticket office and walked in, like a man on a mission.

  ‘I understand a ticket has been paid for travelling to Lamerton.’

  ‘It has Master Andrew.’ The clerk answered.

  Even though he was twenty eight he was still thought of as master.

  ‘I would like to cash it in.’

  ‘Your father said you might try that Master Andrew but I cannot give you the money for it, my hands are tied.’ The clerk answered apologetically.

  Andrew turned on his heel and walked out again. He was damned if he was going to Lamerton but everything was stacked against him, he had money in his pockets but it would not last long and he could not get any more money from his allowance, until he took up his position. He sat on Hopscotch and thought.

  ‘Well I am blowed if I am going to leave you behind Hopscotch; at least you are mine, so it looks like we are riding to Lamerton.’

  He wrote a note to his father and packed his bags so that they could be sent on later, making sure he had enough to wear between now and then. By two in the afternoon he was on his way to Lamerton, it was not going to be a quick journey but at least he was not stuck in a coach with God knows who. He did not ride as fast, as he was used to but rode to conserve his horse’s reserves. Hopscotch liked to ride like the wind but it was a long way to Lamerton. In the end as he rode they picked up speed, which they both preferred; in his mind he could see himself sleeping at Winchester later that night with a beer and maybe a game of cards. It grew darker and darker as they rode but they reached Winchester before it was totally dark and rode into the stables of an inn. He took the saddle off Hopscotch and rubbed him down before giving instructions to the boy there to make sure he was well fed, only then did he go inside for refreshment himself. He took a beer and a large plate of food before thinking about gambling and when he went to bed that night his pocket book was swollen with his winnings. He was not a stupid man and there was always a possibility of a visit from a cut throat in the night. He made sure they would make plenty of noise should they get through the chair which was jammed against the door handle by piling various things on it. He was woken by a loud crash and had his pistol pointing at the door long before it was fully open. In fact it never did fully open, he heard footsteps retreating down the hall outside his door, as other doors opened to see what was going on. He reset his alarm and returned to his sleep but he found that sleep did not come easily after the intruder had woken him and by six thirty in the morning he was eating breakfast in the bar downstairs. He saddled Hopscotch himself and tipped the boy a sixpenny piece for looking after him then they were on their way again but slowly, conserving Hopscotch’s energy for a while as they headed for Yeovil. Yesterday had been a long ride in a short time and he did not want to wear out the horse, besides he had heard that there was a good inn at Yeovil.

  Again he unsaddled the horse when he arrived and rubbed him down with great affection, he was a good horse. With the horse looked after, he looked for food himself and then spent another good evening on the card table, this was starting to be a good trip! No one bothered him that night and he slept right through but once again he was awake at six thirty in the morning and eating breakfast. Now he headed for Exeter and another early finish with hopefully another game of cards but as he approached Exeter, a highwayman rode out pointing his raised pistol right at Andrew’s heart.

  ‘Stand and deliver.’ The highwayman cried.

  Andrew acted more terrified than he thought he could, being completely nervous and unable to do anything the highwayman told him.

  ‘I cannot stop from shaking with that pistol pointed at me.’ He declared. ‘It might go off!’

  The highwayman moved the pistol slightly, so that it no longer pointed at Andrew and as he did so Andrew drew his pistol. With Andrew’s pistol pointing at his heart and his own pistol pointing away, the highwayman had a problem.

  ‘If that pea shooter of yours moves by so much as an inch you will be a dead man.’ Andrew said quietly. ‘In fact the only way to stay alive is to discharge your weapon where it is.’

  He wai
ted and the highwayman thought about it then fired his pistol into the trees. Andrew walked Hopscotch forward until he was close to the highwayman. He could see a pair of blue eyes through the mask and it intrigued him.

  ‘Take off the mask.’ He ordered, at a range no one could miss from.

  When the highwayman did so Andrew got the shock of his life, it was a woman.

  ‘Well that was a surprise! Do you make a living at your trade lass?’

  ‘I get by.’ She answered.

  ‘I am Andrew McDay and you are?’

  ‘Beth Conibear, what happens now?’

  ‘Well I would search you to see if you had more weapons but as I am a gentleman I will just ask you to discharge any that you have.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘So that I can ride on in peace without you shooting me in the back!’

  ‘I wouldn’t do that!’ She answered clearly distressed at the accusation. She took out two more pistols and fired them into the trees. ‘Satisfied?’

  ‘I am satisfied Beth Conibear, now you have a good life and don’t be fooled by someone simpering again; it could be the death of you.’

  Beth smiled. ‘I will remember that Andrew McDay. I will remember you as well and thank you for not having me hanged.’

  Andrew looked at her closely. ‘It would be a waste of a pretty woman.’ He answered.

  ‘A word of advice for you, don’t go through Exeter. I have robbed everyone who has come through today so to arrive with your money might make them think that you are the highwayman!’

  ‘Thank you for the advice.’ He answered and galloped away.

  Beth turned to watch him go, put her mask back on and loaded her pistols.

  Andrew thought about it as he went and decided to heed her warning, skirted round Exeter and took the road for Lamerton. Later he had to stop for the night in an inn but there were no cards just a meal and a hot bath.

  He was up early again and arrived in Lamerton at ten AM. He stopped to ask a local man for directions, then followed the directions, passed the turning to Tavistock and found the orphanage. A young man limped to the gate on a crutch.

  ‘What do you want?’ He asked.

  ‘I want to come in, I am Andrew McDay and I am the new beadle.’

  The young man opened the gate and Andrew rode inside only stopping when they were inside the stable, where he started to take the saddle off Hopscotch.

  ‘I’ll do that Mr McDay: It’s my job!?

  ‘And you are?’

  ‘Old number seven.’ The limping young man answered.

  Andrew hesitated. He liked Hopscotch to be well treated but stopped when he heard a scream from inside the large doors that he had just passed.

  ‘Well make sure you do it right old number seven, I will be back to check!’ He took his change of clothes out of his saddle bag and walked to the large doors. Another scream issued forth which caused him to hesitate but he opened the door and stepped into what was obviously a workroom.

  A large man was lashing someone with a whip and Andrew looked at the object of his punishment only to find a little girl who looked to be unconscious yet the man did not seem ready to stop. The end of the whip settled next to him prior to hitting the girl again and he put his foot on it, leaning to put more weight onto it as the man tried to move it. When the whip would not move the man turned and saw Andrew standing on the end of his whip.

  ‘And who pray is stopping a man from doing his duty.’ The man asked belligerently.

  ‘I pray am Andrew McDay and I am the new beadle of this orphanage. Who pray are you?’

  ‘I am Zachariah Boyle, the foreman of the workforce and therefore your employee.’

  ‘And what did this’- He looked closer at the inert form to make sure that she indeed was a little girl. –‘little girl do to deserve such a whipping as that?’

  ‘Number forty one let go of the corner again. She was warned!’

  ‘Do you think she can hold the corner any better now?’ Andrew said sharply. ‘She is my property to do with as I see fit until she is old enough to leave here, as it is I do not think she will live past the night. I value her at three pounds, well she was worth three pounds before you beat her to a pulp and that much will be deducted from your wages, if she does indeed die!’ Andrew glanced at the working children and saw numbers on all of them. ‘You, number six and number fourteen next to him, carry her into my room and lay her on my bed.’

  ‘Yes sir.’ Number six answered and the both moved to obey.

  ‘Well Zachariah I think I need someone to take her place and you are all I have.’ Andrew continued.

  ‘Surely you don’t mean me to hold the corner?’

  ‘Oh no, number fourteen will do that when he gets back you will do the job that number six and number fourteen was doing, both of their jobs.’

  ‘There is no way’- Zachariah started and Andrew drew his pistol.

  ‘Kindly get working or I will put a ball where it hurts!’

  Zachariah decided to work, like all bullies he was a coward at heart. When number six and number fourteen returned Andrew sent fourteen to hold the corner but gave number six the whip.

  ‘If he stops work whip him and if he gives you any reason, point this at him and pull that thing there.’ He pointed to the trigger of the pistol he was giving number six and the boy’s eyes lit up. ‘Of course if you shoot him, just because you want to they will hang you but you decide what you want to do while I look after the girl.’

  ‘Number forty one.’ Number six replied.

  Andrew did not answer; a number instead of a name that had to change but he could not do everything at once. He walked through the door which the two boys had carried the stricken girl and looked in each room until he found her lying motionless on a bed; his bed. He lifted her head using her shoulders to look at her wounds, he doubted if she would recover from them but still sat her up and pulled the ragged dress she wore over her head and dropped it onto the floor. It was all she was wearing and the wounds on her back and on her arms where she had tried to defend herself were red and angry. He rolled her on to her stomach and searched round for something to treat them with but only found brandy. He used that to clean the wounds and then tore up one of his shirts to bandage her with. When he turned her over again her little eyes looked at him so he gave her a sip of brandy for medicinal purposes. He had often heard that said but never actually had to do it before. He pulled the sheets over her and watched her eyes close again before looking round the rest of his new lodgings. There was only one bed but there were two armchairs and a large footstool which he could put between them to sleep on. He considered moving the girl on to them but he could not bring himself to, he would be the one on the armchairs!

  He searched for a medicine cabinet but failed to find one and walked back out to where number six stood with his pistol pointing at the working Zachariah.

  ‘Where is the medicine cabinet number six?’

  ‘There might be one upstairs where Mrs. Hunt is looking after the babies sir.’ He pointed upstairs using the pistol barrel.

  Andrew followed the stairs up and then followed the noise of crying to its source and found a room with five babies in it all crying and an old woman who was asleep. He moved nearer and was taken aback by the smell emanating from the cots the babies were in. He walked past to where the woman was asleep and saw the gin bottle, she was drunk!

  He walked to the first cot and looked down, this baby needed changing and the chances of waking the woman to do it were slim so he set about changing him himself. He knew it was a boy, by the stream of urine which shot out when he took the nappy off. He avoided most of it by turning the baby slightly. He had seen one nappy changed a long time ago so after he had dumped the dirty one into the bucket which already had dirty nappies in it; it still took him some time to fit the clean one. He had to do all the babies one after the other until they were all clean then he fed them with whatever milk was available in a dirty saucepan. It was quiet whe
n he finished save for the woman’s snoring. He looked in the medicine cabinet in disgust but took what might be useful then left the woman sleeping. He took the bottle of gin from her hand before going back downstairs. He was going to do something about her as well as the bully below but it was all going to take time; where was he going to find someone to look after the babies when he was new to the area? He stopped halfway down the stairs to look over the children working below and noticed that Zachariah was no longer there working, number six was doing the work he had been doing and there was no sign of Zachariah or his pistol. He stood the bottle of gin and the other things he had taken from upstairs at the bottom of the stairs and walked over to where number six was working; the pistol was on the floor next to him.

  ‘Sorry sir.’ Six said without stopping work.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘He just walked out sir, said I could shoot him if I wanted to.’

  ‘And you did not want to?’

  ‘Oh I did sir, most definitely but it didn’t seem right just to shoot him when he wasn’t doing anything but going.’

  Andrew picked up the pistol. ‘Good boy: You should only shoot someone as a last resort, as it is pretty final; usually.’

  Andrew moved in beside number Six and started to help with the washing.

  ‘Come on, the sooner we get these finished the sooner you can rest.’ He declared as he worked.

  As he worked he looked along the row and saw a line of thin children bar one who was thin but with a pronounced bulge just below where he assumed her belly button would be. He assumed that someone had been showing her new tricks but she still worked as hard as the others, in fact harder as though her life depended on it.

  When the large items were finished the smaller children rested while the others started on the smaller things. The water was emptied and replaced with clean hot water making Andrew wonder what was heating the water.

  ‘You two take number seven’s place.’ He ordered. ‘Number seven come with me.’

  ‘I worked hard sir am I to be punished?’ She asked.

  He looked her up and down, she was a pretty young thing and obviously someone else thought so as well.