Waving Their Futures Goodbye

There were five of them, sisters aged from fourteen down to six, and they had all stood by the gate of their Somerset farm and waved as the soldiers marched past. It had been Dora’s idea – she was the eldest – but the rest of them – Lizzie, Martha, Rebecca and Ruth – had jumped at the chance, especially as their 17-year-old brother Reuben was going to be one of the soldiers.

Reuben had told them that he was going to join the column of soldiers when they reached the nearby town because they were going to go to London and throw the bad king out of his palace and put a good king in his place. The rightful king was called James, which was confusing because that was also the name of the king he wanted to depose, but – as Reuben explained – the good James, also known as the Duke of Monmouth, was the son of King Charles who had died in February, but it was Charles’s brother James who had seized the throne and who wanted to change the religion of everyone who lived in England.

Reuben had told his sisters that, after the rightful king was crowned, he would probably be made an earl, possibly even a duke, and he would be able to live in a big house and have lots of servants. He would invite all his sisters to live in the house with him, and they would have beautiful dresses and jewels. As they grew older they would be noticed by other dukes and earls and all of them would make fine marriages and live in their husbands’ big houses and never have to do a day’s hard work in their lives.

As the band of soldiers had marched past the farm, the sisters had spotted Reuben and he had seen them. They all waved vigorously at him as he waved back, and the girls could also see several of the men who worked on their farm marching along close to Reuben. Not many of the soldiers had muskets – most of them had armed themselves with pitchforks, pruning hooks and the like. There were also several shop workers from the town whom they recognized – Billy the butcher’s boy and Nathan from the chandlery, for example, all carrying the tools of their trade as weapons.

And they had also seen Prince James, who they all agreed was very handsome and it was right and fitting that he should become King James. It was impossible to miss him, given that he was the only one of the brigade who was riding a horse, but they were delighted when he turned and looked in their direction, giving them a small wave and a hint of a smile.

After the men had gone they turned round and walked back up the lane to the farm, where their father stood and moaned about how was he supposed to run his farm when all his workers had gone traipsing off to London?

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But that had been months ago, and the girls’ world had turned completely upside down since that bright morning in early July. The marching soldiers had not gone to London after all. Instead, they had been involved in a terrible battle not many miles away and the awful news had come to the farm that Reuben was among more than a thousand young men who had been killed. Most of the rest had been captured and would not be coming back.

And then it all came crashing down on their own heads when men wearing uniforms of the King’s army came to their farmhouse and demanded that all the girls should climb into a cart and be taken away to prison. Spies had seen them waving at the rebel soldiers and they were therefore ordered to be arrested for being supporters of sedition.

They had originally been herded into a dark, damp cell underneath the local courthouse, although their stay there was mercifully short. The magistrate had allowed them, given their young ages, to be taken to the home of the local vicar, where his kindly wife had looked after them as well as she could, although under strict instructions that they were not to leave the house under any circumstances.

And now the King’s judge had arrived in town and was putting all the prisoners on trial. News had reached the town about what had happened at other places, such as Winchester and Dorchester, where the dreaded Judge Jeffreys had handed down severe sentences to the captured combatants and others involved in the rebellion. There had been many hangings and even the case of an elderly lady who was beheaded in the marketplace at Winchester for the crime of giving shelter to fugitives from justice. What would be the fate of the five young sisters?

They sat in a row in the dock of the court, alongside some of the young men they had cheered on their way back in July. How the girls wished that Reuben could have been among their number. One by one the men were called to face the judge, who wasted little time in declaring them guilty and pronouncing sentence.

Fortunately, none of the people they knew, either from the farm or the town, were sentenced to hang. It became apparent later that they had played little part in the battle, being too afraid when the time came to advance with their inadequate weapons on the heavily-armed enemy. This was especially the case after they had seen Reuben’s body being blown apart by artillery fire.

The judge therefore sentenced all the young men to be sent to colonies in the West Indies, where they would work all day in the blazing sun on the cotton and tobacco crops. The authorities knew that this was not far short of a death sentence – pale white men from England rarely lasted long under such conditions.

Then it was the turn of the sisters. The judge, dressed in his black robe and massive wig, struck terror into them just from how he looked, as well as the stern expression on his face. The two youngest sisters burst into tears and had to be comforted by their elders.

“Do you know what treason is?” he asked, and proceeded to give them his answer.

“It is when people take arms against their rightful king, who is appointed by God himself, and anyone who gives succour to a traitor is no better than a blasphemous traitor themselves. You stood there and cheered on the traitors against King James, so you must pay for your treachery.

“When I say ‘pay’, that is what I mean. This court decrees that each of you shall pay a fine of twenty pounds. If you cannot pay it now, you must do so when you can – a farthing a week if need be – but the fine must be paid”.

Of course, there was no way that a young girl, raised on a Somerset farm in the late 17th century, could pay a fine that huge. Their father, naturally, did what he could to help, but he was only a poor man himself whose first concerns were to feed his family and pay his rent. The judge’s sentence meant that all the girls were condemned to lives of poverty, with any money they might make in future being devoted to paying off their fines.

As they had stood at the roadside, waving and cheering at the soldiers and the now beheaded man on the horse, the girls had had dreams of rich futures draped in fine clothes and flashy jewels. Those few minutes had destroyed that dream, however unrealistic it undoubtedly was, and in its place was nothing but the prospect of unending misery. They all now burst into tears, with nobody but their weeping parents to console them.