Except for a clanging pot and the sound of someone chopping wood in the distance, the place was eerily quiet.

After the last woman entered, and the gate was closed and locked, the whiskered man stepped forward. “I am Mr. Hutchinson, superintendent of the Cascades Female Factory,” he said in a high, reedy voice, “and this is Mrs. Hutchinson, the matron. As long as you are imprisoned here, you will be under our command.” He shifted from foot to foot, speaking so quietly that the women had to lean forward, straining to hear. “Your personal effects will be taken from you and returned when you are released, unless they are deemed too foul, in which case they will be incinerated. Utmost cleanliness and submission are expected at all times. You will attend daily chapel at eight in the morning, after breakfast, and at eight at night, after supper. Lateness and absences will be severely punished. Profanity and smoking tobacco are even graver offenses. It is our belief that silence prevents disruptions and bad influences. Talking, laughing, whistling, and singing are strictly forbidden. If you break this rule, you will be punished.”

Hazel glanced furtively around. The courtyard was damp and shadowed, pocked with puddles. It smelled of mold. The walls rose twenty feet around them. Ruby was whimpering. Her diaper sagged, sodden, and she needed to be fed.

“You’ll be assigned to one of three classes, depending upon your sentence, reports of your conduct filled out by the ship’s surgeon, and our assessment of your character. Assignables—those of you who are well behaved and presentable, and who possess a useful skill or ability—will be accorded the privilege of leaving the premises to work in free settlers’ homes and businesses.”

Olive poked Hazel in the back. “‘Privilege,’” she scoffed. “To be worked like horses and treated like dogs.”

“If you fail to perform your work, show signs of insolence, become intoxicated, or attempt to run away, this privilege will be revoked.” The superintendent spoke in a monotone, his voice droning on. “Crime-class prisoners are employed at the prison, making and repairing clothing and working at the tubs in the washing yard. If you are found guilty of disobedience, profanity, obscenity, insubordination, sloth, or disorderly conduct, your hair will be sheared and you will be placed in a dark cell in solitary confinement, picking oakum until your sentence is served.

“If you become pregnant you may care for your infant for six months in the nursery before serving six months in the crime yard for the offense of unwed pregnancy. Older children will be sent to an orphanage. Mothers on good behavior may be permitted to visit on Sundays.”

Though Hazel knew that mothers and children would be separated, most of the women did not. Their cries and exclamations filled the courtyard.

“Quiet!” the superintendent barked.

Ruby’s whimpering turned into a wail. Olive whispered, “Should I feed her?”

Hazel pulled Ruby out of the sling and handed her over. “You’ll be Ruby’s nurse, then?”