Sydney Cove by J.H.M. Abbott — Read

PATRICK spent a troubled night ashore. Having duly taken charge of young Jem Campbell--a bright little fellow of eleven or twelve, with a sort of frailness about him that called for tenderness--he hired a private room at the George, and ordered their meal to be served there, having little inclination to mix in the noisy assembly of military and naval officers who were supping in the coffee-room. He was too dumbfounded by the extraordinary discovery of Mary Urquhart as one of the unfortunates aboard the Lady Penrhyn to desire anything but his own company, and quiet in which to seek bewilderingly to surmise as to the reasons for this strange encounter.

It was incredible, unbelievable, that the sweet girl should have come to be herded with criminals and abandoned women in the hold of the prison-ship. As he had said to Dr. Bowes, he would have as soon expected to meet his dead mother in such circumstances as her. A girl such as she was could never have done anything that would bring her within reach of the law--it was preposterous, absurd, to entertain any such idea for a moment. Then what was it? How did she come there? What utterly malign influences could have been at work to make such a thing possible? The more he debated it, and worried and tormented himself over it, the less able was he to arrive at any possible solution of the problem.