Mystic Mountains

crew's amusement.
    Isabella was silent. She would never feel anything but heartsick at being brought to this hostile land. Some women had stolen with one purpose in mind: to join lovers and husbands already transported, and these few were cheerful at the prospect of being reunited with their menfolk.
    Her thoughts were interrupted by a shout. "That there 's The Rocks." The first mate jerked his head towards the cottages and shacks sprawled on the hillside. "If any of you ladies is interested in working in the public houses and rum taverns, that's where you should head," he said, amid coarse laughter from his mates.
    "Gawd, let 's 'ope we've seen the last of pubs, eh?" Gracie said as Isabella huddled closer to her side. Gracie had made no secret of being a whore in London. To most of the women, whoring was the only means of supporting themselves and families apart from thieving. Isabella shuddered and Gracie patted her hand. "You'll have no need to end up over there, you wait and see."
    "I hope to God I don 't, Gracie." For a period back there in Stepney she had expected to spend the rest of her days as a whore. Most of the young girls in that slum had resorted to selling their bodies to save themselves from starvation.
    But for good or evil, that scum of a gentleman had put paid to that expectation.
    She grimaced as Gracie went on blithely, "I saw it in me tea leaves, you're gonna make yer fortune 'ere in the colony." She chuckled at Isabella's skeptical look.
    "Oh Gracie, what am I going to do without you?" Isabella shook her head. The thought of their impending separation made her feel sick.
    "You'll do a treat, ducks, yes you will."
    "I only wish I was as certain," Isabella muttered. She 'd been lucky to end up with Gracie when the prisoners were split into mess groups at the start of the voyage. Gracie had been her protector and her mentor. Not even a childhood spent foraging for sustenance in Stepney, or the violence during her stay in prison, prepared her for the hardness and cruelty of some of the thieving harlots on the prison ship. Gracie held Isabella's hand when they'd peered through the scuttle holes to get their last despairing glimpse of London, knowing they'd never see it again.
    Gracie now tapped Isabella beneath the chin and grinned again, showing the many gaps in her teeth. "You 'll get a good master, don't fret, then all your troubles will be over."
    Isabella had a feeling her troubles would never be over.
    Dazedly she watched as the boat dropped off the last woman and turned to head back to the ship for the next load of human cargo. The haze caused by the swirling dust gave the scene a sense of unreality. Sweat seemed to seep from every pore in Isabella's skin, soaking her ragged clothing, but she'd grown used to almost every form of human discomfort. What was a bit of sweat? The wind raced across the wharf, the flying dust stinging her cheeks, bare arms, and ankles.
    The harbor was a cauldron of activity. Longboats ferried cargo to and from the dozen or so ships bobbing at anchor in the cove, most bound for exotic and oriental ports. At first sight of it the startling scenery had lifted the convicts' flagged spirits after weeks of endless ocean, but that first sense of exhilaration had soon dispelled.
    Gracie nudged her. "Buck up dearie, 'ere's the nobs."
    Isabella tried to stop her fingers shaking as she wiped at her dry, cracked lips. Soldiers, lined up and armed, stared at the unkempt women as if they were no better than the rats that had swarmed below decks.
    "Stand to one side," one of the soldiers ordered and another waved his truncheon.
    "What do they think we are, a load of stupid sheep?" Isabella moaned.
    "Ah well, we should be used to it by now." Gracie sighed as they all moved to where they'd been directed.
    "They 're looking at us as if we're creatures on display at the fair. You'd think they've never seen a female con before."
    There were men everywhere, not just the soldiers. They lurked around corners and on rooftops, treating the arrival of a shipload of women as a spectacle. 
    " 'Tis a fact that we've been brought here because they have a shortage of women in the colony, Bella. I s'pose that lot's waiting to find out which of us they're gonna own, eh?" Gracie jerked her head towards a motley group of men standing openly surveying them, eyes gleaming.
    It took some time to bring all the prisoners to shore. Isabella was close to fainting with the heat before the final boatload was