My sister, Mrs. Joe Gargery, was more than twenty years older than me. She had a great reputation in our village because she proudly told everyone that she had brought me up "by hand." At the time, I had to find out for myself what this meant. Because she had a hard and heavy hand, and because she often used it to hit both me and her husband, I decided that Joe and I were both brought up by hand.
Joe Gargery was the village blacksmith. He was a gentle, kind, and easy-going man with blond hair and soft blue eyes. He was as strong as Hercules, but he was very weak when it came to his wife. My sister, however, had dark hair and eyes, and a very angry, red face. She was tall and thin, and she almost always wore a rough apron. This apron was covered in sharp pins and needles, which made it dangerous to stand too close to her.
Joe's workspace, the forge, was joined to our wooden house. When I ran home from the churchyard, the forge was closed, and Joe was sitting alone by the fire in the kitchen. Joe and I were good friends because we suffered together. When I opened the door, he gave me a warning.
"Mrs. Joe has been out looking for you, Pip," he said. "And what's worse, she has Tickler with her."
I felt very depressed. Tickler was a piece of cane that she used to hit me.
"She went out in a terrible rage," Joe explained slowly. "Hide behind the door, old chap!"
I took his advice. Suddenly, my sister threw the door wide open. When she found me behind it, she immediately hit me with Tickler. Then, she threw me at Joe. Joe was always glad to protect me, so he caught me and safely hid me behind his large leg.
"Where have you been, you young monkey?" she shouted, stamping her foot. "Tell me right now!"
"I have only been to the churchyard," I cried, rubbing my arms.
"Churchyard!" repeated my sister. "If it wasn't for me, you would have been dead in the churchyard long ago! I have never taken this apron off since you were born. It is bad enough to be a blacksmith's wife without being your mother too!"
Later, we sat down to eat. I looked sadly at the fire. I felt incredibly guilty because I knew I had to steal from my sister's house. I was terrified of the man with the iron chain on his leg, and his dangerous friend.
My sister aggressively cut thick slices of bread and butter for us. Even though I was hungry, I knew I could not eat my slice. I needed to save it for the convict. It was our evening habit to compare how we bit through our slices, but tonight, I just held mine. Finally, when Joe was not looking, I quickly pushed my bread and butter down the leg of my trousers.
Joe was surprised that I was not eating. He took a thoughtful bite of his own bread and chewed it slowly. When he looked at me again, he saw that my food was completely gone. He stopped chewing and stared at me in shock.
"What's the matter now?" my sister asked sharply.
"Pip, old chap!" Joe muttered, shaking his head at me in a serious way. "You'll make yourself ill! It will get stuck somewhere. You can't have chewed it, Pip."
My sister was furious. "Has he swallowed his food whole?" she cried.
Joe nodded and told me he had never seen anyone eat so fast. My sister immediately pulled me up by my hair. As a punishment, she made me swallow a large cup of horrible, bitter medicine called tar-water.
That evening, it was Christmas Eve. I had to stir the Christmas pudding. It was very difficult to do this with a large piece of bread and butter hidden in my trousers. I felt a terrible guilt inside me. Every time the winter wind blew around the house, I thought I heard the terrifying man calling for his food.
Suddenly, we heard a loud noise outside.
"Listen!" I said. "Was that a gun, Joe?"
"Ah!" said Joe. "Another convict has escaped."
"What does that mean?" I asked.
My sister, who always liked to explain things angrily, snapped, "Escaped. Escaped."
"There was a convict who escaped last night," Joe added. "They fired a warning gun for him. And now they are firing a warning for another one."
"Who is firing?" I asked.
"What a questioner this boy is!" my sister complained. "Ask no questions, and you will be told no lies."
I tried to silently ask Joe to explain, but he was afraid of his wife. Finally, I asked my sister where the guns came from.
"From the Hulks!" she said loudly.
"And please, what are Hulks?" I asked.
She stood up in anger. "Hulks are prison ships, right across the marshes! People are put there because they murder, and rob, and do bad things. And they always begin by asking questions! Now, go to bed!"
I was not allowed to take a candle, so I went upstairs in the dark. I felt incredibly frightened. I thought about the prison ships on the dark river. I was sure I would end up there because I had asked questions, and because I was going to rob my sister. I was absolutely terrified of the hungry man, the mysterious young man, and my angry sister.
I barely slept that night. As soon as the dark sky started to turn grey, I got up and crept downstairs. The house was completely quiet, but every wooden floorboard seemed to shout, "Stop, thief!" or "Wake up, Mrs. Joe!"
I went quickly into the pantry. Because it was Christmas time, there was more food than usual. My heart was beating fast. I had no time to choose carefully. I stole some bread, some cheese, a jar of mincemeat, and some brandy, which I poured into a smaller bottle. I also took a meat bone and a beautiful, round pork pie.
With my pockets full, I carefully unlocked the kitchen door that led into Joe's workspace. I searched through Joe's tools and found a metal file. Then, I closed the doors behind me, stepped outside, and ran into the cold, misty marshes.