FOOTNOTES:
[167] From Barnes' and Lempriere's account: compared, they differ in statistics; but Barnes copied his statements from the official records at the Harbour.
[168] Par. Pap.
Of 182 prisoners, 169 were sentenced in 1822 to 7,000 lashes; that is, all were punished, except 13: and received each, upon an average, 400 lashes—inflicted with the severity unknown elsewhere.
[169] It has been suggested to the author, since the above was in type, that the disclosures of this unfortunate being are not without a moral, which may compensate for the disgust their perusal may occasion. They are therefore given in a note, which the reader may pass over:—
"The Rev. Mr. Connoly, who attended this unfortunate man, administering to him the consolations of religion, addressed the crowd assembled around the scaffold, a few minutes before the fatal drop was let to fall, in words to the following effect: He commenced by stating that Pearce, standing on the awful entrance into eternity on which he was placed, was desirous to make the most public acknowledgment of his guilt, in order to humble himself, as much as possible, in the sight of God and man; that to prevent any embarrassment which might attend Pearce in personally expressing himself, he had requested and directed him to say, that he committed the murder of Cox, under the following circumstances:—Having been arrested here, after his escape from Macquarie Harbour, Pearce was sent back to that settlement, where the deceased (Cox) and he were worked together in the same gang. Cox constantly entreated him to run away with him from that settlement, which he refused to do for a length of time. Cox having procured fishhooks, a knife, and some burnt rag for tinder, he at last agreed to go with him, to which he was powerfully induced by the apprehension of corporal punishment, for the loss of a shirt that had been stolen from him. For the first and second day they strayed through the forest; on the third made the beach, and travelled towards Port Dalrymple, until the fifth, when they arrived at King's River. They remained three or four days in an adjoining wood, to avoid soldiers who were in pursuit of them, and were all the time, from the period they started, without a morsel to eat. Overcome by famine, Pearce determined to take Cox's life, which he effected by the stroke of an axe while Cox was sleeping. Soon after the soldiers had departed, Pearce occupied the place they had been in, where he remained part of a day and a night, living on the mutilated remains of Cox; he returned to the settlement, made signal, and was taken up by the pilot, who conveyed him to Macquarie Harbour, where he disclosed to the commandant the deed he had done, being weary of life, and willing to die for the misfortunes and atrocities into which he had fallen.
The reverend gentlemen then proceeded to state, that he believed it was in the recollection of every one present, that eight men had made their escape, last year, from Macquarie Harbour. All these, except Pearce, who was of the party, soon perished, or were destroyed by the hands of their companions. To set the public right respecting their fate, Pearce is desirous to state that this party, which consisted of himself, Matthew Travers, Bob Greenhill, Bill Cornelius, Alexander Dalton, John Mathers, and two more, named Bodnam and Brown, escaped from Macquarie Harbour in two boats, taking with them what provision the coal-miners had, which afforded each man about two ounces of food per day, for a week. Afterwards they lived eight or nine days on the tops of tea tree and peppermint, which they boiled in tin-pots to extract the juice. Having ascended a hill, in sight of Macquarie Harbour, they struck a light and made two fires. Cornelius, Brown, and Dalton, placed themselves at one fire, the rest of the party at the other; those three separated, privately, from the party, on account of Greenhill having already said, that lots must be cast for some one to be put to death, to save the whole from perishing. Pearce does not know, personally, what became of Cornelius, Brown, and Dalton: he heard that Cornelius and Brown reached Macquarie Harbour, where they soon died, and that Dalton perished on his return to that settlement. After their departure, the party, then consisting of five men, lived two or three days on wild berries and their kangaroo jackets, which they roasted; at length they arrived at Gordon's River, where it was agreed, that while Mathers and Pearce collected fire-wood, Greenhill and Travers should kill Bodnam, which they did. It was insisted upon, that every one should partake of Bodnam's remains, lest, in the event of their ultimate success to obtain their liberty, any of them might consider himself innocent of his death, and give evidence against the rest. After a day or two, they all swam across the river, except Travers, whom they dragged across by means of a pole, to which he tied himself. Having spent some days in distress and famine, it was proposed to Pearce, by Greenhill and Travers, that Mathers be killed, to which he agreed. Travers and Pearce held him, while Greenhill killed him with an axe. Living on the remains of the deceased, which they were hardly able to taste, they spent three or four days, through weakness, without advancing beyond five of six miles; Travers being scarcely able to move from lameness and swelling in his foot. Greenhill and Pearce agreed to kill Travers, which Greenhill did while Pearce collected fire-wood. Having lived some time on the remains of Travers, they were for some days without any thing to eat; their wants were dreadful: each strove to catch the other off his guard, and kill him. Pearce succeeded to find Greenhill asleep; took his life—and lived upon him for four days. He was afterwards for three days without any sustenance; fell in, at last with the Derwent River, and found some small pieces of opossum, &c., at a place where the natives had lately made fires. More desirous to die than to live, he called out as loudly as he could, expecting the natives would hear him, and come to put an end to his existence! Having fallen in with some bushrangers, with whom he was taken, Pearce was sent back to Macquarie Harbour, from whence he escaped with Cox, as has been already stated, for whose death he is now about to suffer."—Hobart Town Gazette, 1824.
[170] Ross's Almanack.
[171] "The fact was also corroborated by Brady, when examined by the gentleman from whom I got the account; and, strange as it may appear, it is perfectly correct."—Breton's New South Wales, p. 340.
[172] Gazette, 1825.
[173] The author is assured by a clergyman, that he has been dismissed his attendance upon a prisoner, within a few days of his execution, for refusing to write down the particulars of his life.
[174] "The flagitious proceedings of several of these men were clearly traced to have had their source in the weakness or improper treatment of their employers, whose ill-judged neglect of discipline, or corrupt toleration of irregularity, had contributed to entail consequences so awful to those victims to offended justice. If it shall be ascertained, any settler makes payment to convict servants in stock, or apportions to them land for their exclusive benefit, or suffers them to be employed in any other than his immediate service, every support and indulgence of the crown will be withdrawn."—Gazette Notice, Sept. 1826..
[175] Ross's Almanack.
SECTION XIII
To preserve the continuity of this narrative, it may be advisable to give throughout the incidents which relate to Macquarie Harbour. The short but severe government (1824) of Lieutenant Wright was superseded by Captain Butler (1825), of whom the common testimony is favorable. Its economical results will be comprehended in that general view of prison labor, reserved for the close of this volume. He extended cultivation, and thus mitigated the sufferings of the prisoners; and by building ships, varied the industry of the men—many of whom went down for punishment, but returned skilful mechanics.
Of all the thousands professing to bring back its consolation to the wretched, not one minister had been found—perhaps not sought for—to try there the remedies of the gospel. That a Wesleyan missionary ventured, entitles him to the esteem of mankind. Governor Arthur suggested, and even entreated this direction of missionary labours: he wrote to Joseph Butterworth, M.P., and to the Colonial-office, and the Rev. Mr. Schofield was appointed to enter this moral desert. On his arrival in 1829, he heard terrific accounts of the perils of that place: he was told, that his labors would be useless, and his life sacrificed. He hesitated for a time; but Arthur declared that such a post of danger, he, as a soldier, should consider one of honor.
Mr. Schofield proved that he was neither deficient in zeal nor prudence. The place prepared for his ministry was, indeed, comfortless: the wind overpowered his voice, and his congregation shivered with cold; but to the men it was a new era. Having discoursed on the advantages of knowledge, forty-seven prisoners requested instruction; and, assisted by Mr. Commissary Lempriere, and countenanced by the commandant, he taught many to read. Capt. Butler marked a change in the temper of the men: punishments fell off one half; several were united with the wesleyan society; and on the missionary's recommendation, their stay was shortened.
They only should ask the reality of such repentance, who have endeavoured to reform the wicked. One man was specially pointed out to Messrs. Backhouse and Walker: the change in his conduct was great, and its effects visible: his demeanour, his countenance, and, said the commandant, "his very voice was changed." He had lost his arm by an accident, which nearly deprived him of life. He had formed a cave at the base of the island, reached by a steep slippery descent. It was here Mr. Backhouse joined him, as he knelt down on the rough floor of his cold cavern to adore the Almighty, for granting the privilege of solitude! Strange meeting, and strange subject of thanksgiving!
Messrs. Backhouse and Walker, of the Society of Friends, travelled these colonies (1831 to 1836), chiefly engaged in religious labors, and principally to admonish the prisoners. The volume, of which Backhouse was the author, attests their industry and accurate observation, while performing a mission, which the moral weight of their connections rendered of great moment. To understand this record of their labors, some acquaintance with science is requisite, and not less a knowledge of quaker modes of thought. The adventurous and buoyant spirit of the writer, which carried him into odd situations, is sometimes irresistibly droll, in contrast with formal phrases. He was a gentleman of prudence and sagacity: "he lifted up his heart to God; took his pocket compass," and thus escaped some perils, both by sea and land; and carried to England a reputation, from which detraction has taken nothing, and which friendship would scarcely desire to improve.
The capture of the Cyprus in Recherche Bay, on the voyage to Macquarie Habour, was a stirring episode in the history of transportation. It excited vast interest in Great Britain, and was dramatised at a London theatre. The prisoners, who wage war with society, regarded the event with exultation; and long after, a song, composed by a sympathising poet, was propagated by oral tradition, and sung in chorus around the fires in the interior. This version of the story made the capture a triumph of the oppressed over their oppressors. The stanzas set forth the sufferings of the prisoners by the cruelty of their masters, who they vainly attempted to please. It related their flight from torture to the woods, and drew but a dreary picture of the life of an outlaw. It passed through the details of conviction and embarkation, and then described the dashing seamanship of the pirates in managing the bark, once destined to carry them to that place of suffering; but which bore "bold Captain Swallow" to the wide ocean and liberty. Such was the song; but the facts were different. In August, 1829, thirty-one prisoners embarked on board the Cyprus; among them was Swallow, a seaman, who eighteen years before had cut out a schooner at Port Jackson, and was afterwards transported to Van Diemen's Land in the Deveron, Captain Wilson.
This man, before he landed, exemplified remarkable courage. A dreadful storm disabled the vessel; the rigging was in fragments: it became necessary to cut away a portion of the wreck, which would probably cost the adventurer his life. The captain called for a volunteer, and all being silent was himself about to ascend, when Swallow remarking that his own life was of little moment, accomplished the perilous task. Perhaps presuming on this service, he was found secreted on board the Deveron on its homeward voyage, and was delivered to the British admiral at Rio; he, however escaped, got to London, was retaken and returned to this colony. Several others were capital respites, who had been guilty of atrocious crimes.
These men were entrusted to the charge of Lieut. Carew, and a guard of ten soldiers. On board they had provision for four hundred men for six months, with a scanty supply of water. When he received the prisoners, Lieut. Carew was warned of their desperate character by the gaoler, though not of the precise nature of their crimes. The ammunition supplied was, however, insufficient—ten rounds each man: to spare the powder, the muskets were not often charged. The berths of the soldiers were below, and the opening only sufficient to emerge unarmed: that of the prisoners was too small to permit their lying down: one opening admitted air, without bars or fastenings, and could not be closed day or night. It was necessary to exercise on deck, and at the time of the capture the number allowed was exceeded, it is said by the connivance of the convict sailors. Several of the prisoners had before been relieved of their irons: among the rest, Swallow, the pirate captain; and when the assault commenced, there were nine, and soon after sixteen engaged in the fray. There were only two sentinels, and one other soldier unarmed on deck. Lieut. Carew had left the vessel to fish, accompanied by the surgeon, the mate, a soldier, and the prisoner Popjoy. A few minutes after, he heard the firing of a musket, and hastened towards the vessel; but when he reached her side she was taken. The struggle with the sentinels seems to have been severe; and one of the soldiers below fired a shot, which passed between the arm of Swallow and his side. The mutineers compelled them to surrender by pouring down water into the hold, and threatening to stifle them if resistance were prolonged: they were also in danger of suffocation from their own gunpowder. Carew implored the pirates to give up the vessel, and promised oblivion: when attempting to board, they pointed several muskets at his breast. At length he consented to go ashore, with the soldiers and thirteen prisoners, who refused to share in the adventure; and, in all, forty-five were landed at different points of the bay. The pirates gave them one sheep, a few pieces of beef, thirty pounds of flour, and half a bag of biscuit, with a small quantity of spirit and sugar; and at dawn sailed from the coast. The refusal of a boat, cut off all immediate communication with the port, and gave time for considerable progress. The Cyprus was without charts, but several of the mutineers were well acquainted with navigation.
The sufferings of the party on shore were inexpressible: they distributed one quarter of biscuit daily, and subsisted chiefly on muscles, found for some time, until a spring-tide covered them. Morgan and Popjoy set out the next day for Hobart, and attempted to cross a river, with their garments tied on their backs: they were driven back by the natives, and were obliged to return, having lost their clothes. Five men started to head the Huon, and thus reach Hobart; and were saved from starvation, only by the party sent down to meet them. Morgan and Popjoy, under the direction of Carew, and encouraged by his lady, who displayed extraordinary fortitude, constructed a coracle of wicker work, about twelve feet long, formed of the wattle: they covered it with hammock cloth, and overlaid it with boiled soap and resin mingled, which they happened to possess. In this frail bark they boldly ventured to sea; and, notwithstanding a strong south breeze, happily found the Orelia at Partridge Island, twenty miles distant. Contrary winds had compelled that vessel to put back to the island, and boats were instantly forwarded to the relief of the sufferers, who for two days had been without sustenance. Though several had received severe contusions in the capture, and experienced much privation during the thirteen days detention, no life was lost.
The circumstances attending the capture were subject to the investigation of a court martial. Lieutenant Carew was charged with neglecting the proper precautions, though warned of the extreme peril which demanded his vigilance; that he proceeded on a fishing excursion; that during his absence the vessel was surprised and seized; that he exhibited professional incapacity, and had been guilty of a breach of the articles of war. This trial lasted five days, and was fully reported. The evidence is conflicting, and especially respecting those incidents which were supposed to suggest the capture to the prisoners: such as the neglect of the fire-arms, and the indulgence of the prisoners by a removal of their irons, and their access to the deck. On the other hand, the testimony was positive and multiplied, that Carew had guarded the prisoners with great steadiness and rigour. That he apprehended no danger was certain—his wife and children were aboard; but he forgot that the desire of liberty makes men quick and desperate, and that they who had the miseries of Macquarie Harbour before them, made light of life.
The arrangements of the vessel did not, however, admit of proper precautions. When two of these men, in company with sixteen other prisoners, were sent down three years after to the penal settlement, there were ten soldiers to guard them: two only were on deck at once. Their prison was railed in, and closed down with triple bolts: the sentinels were doubled, and some sat continually in sight of the prisoners.[176]
The pirates proceeded to the Friendly Islands, and thence to the Islands of the Japannese, where seven deserted, and the rest passed towards China. Four seamen presented themselves in a boat, having Edward on the stern, to a vessel at Whampoa, and stated that they had belonged to a lost ship of that name. Swallow was one of them: he was examined by the committee of supercargoes at Canton, and produced a sextant on which was the name of Waldron, of the Edward. This name Swallow assumed, and said that he was captain of the Edward, of Durham; related his voyages to various ports of South America, the Sandwich Islands, and Japan. Compelled to abandon his vessel, injured by the fire of the Japannese, the crew had divided into parties, of which himself and companions were one. This deposition was forwarded to the company's secretary, and passages were given free to Swallow and three others. A few days after he had sailed, four more appeared: Davis, who gave his name as Stanley, was examined; but he had forgotten the assumed name of the captain, and called him Wilson—this led to minuter inquiries, and he was sent home a prisoner. Information was instantly forwarded, and reached England before Swallow arrived with his companions, and a warrant was issued for their detention: the three were taken, but Swallow had left the ship at Margate, and for a time escaped.
Watts, Davis, and Swallow, were ultimately tried for this offence by the Admiralty Court, in London: the two first were executed, and Swallow was acquitted. It is said that the proof of his participation, except by compulsion, was incomplete. The events which led to their conviction were curiously coincident. The Thames police magistrate was unable to proceed, and they might have been discharged; but the police clerk had studied the Hue and Cry, and was struck with their resemblance to the description. Popjoy, now in England,[177] pardoned for his good conduct at the capture, had been recently before the magistrate for some trifling offence, and to interest his worship had given the story of the capture, the coracle, and all incidents of his intrepidity. He was thus soon found out by the police, and gave full proof of identity. He stated their crimes, their names, and secret marks which were discovered on their persons: one of them, the very day of the capture, had the figure of a mermaid punctured on his arm. Mr. Capon, the gaoler of Hobart Town, was in London,[178] and thus was able to supply important particulars.
Several were forwarded to Van Diemen's Land, and tried by Judge Pedder: they pleaded that their concurrence was involuntary. The chief question was the actual position of the vessel; whether or not on the high seas. The military jury were not disposed to hesitate on this point, and when asked repeatedly, whether they found a place shut in between two heads the high seas, they answered, without hesitation, "we do." Only John Cam suffered death in Van Diemen's Land. Robert M'Guire was tried last for this offence: in the scuffle, he wounded a soldier, who had attempted to strike him, and whose testimony was decisive: he stood sentry, with a military cross-belt and bayonet fixed; and was recollected by his refusal of liquor, which he warned his comrades would prove their destruction.
The chief advantage of Macquarie Harbour was its total isolation; but the opening of the country from the Derwent to the Gordon, destroyed this seclusion. The bar gradually rising, became more dangerous: the place was too distant for supervision or supply; its barren soil allowed no variety of labour or produce. The decaying buildings were of little worth: there was nothing removable, except the doors and windows. These were shipped on board the Frederick, of one hundred tons; and all being ready for sea, on the 11th January, 1834, Mr. Taw, the pilot, as captain, embarked with the master shipwright, Mr. Hoy, the mate, ten prisoners of the crown, and a corporal's guard. They were detained by adverse winds, and the pilot allowed the prisoners to land to wash their clothing, all except one; they returned with great apparent cheerfulness. Two of the soldiers were permitted to fish near a neighbouring rock, and thus only two remained on board: while one of these, allured into the forecastle, listened to the singing of a convict, the prisoners on deck handed out the arms. Messrs. Hoy and Taw endeavoured to recover possession, both by persuasion and force: there was a short scuffle, and shots were fired: the balls passed near the gentlemen in the cabin, though they were not injured. Remonstrance being useless, they surrendered, and with the soldiers now recalled from the rock, were sent on shore: thus, although the military and civil officers were nearly equal in number, the mutineers accomplished their purpose without loss of life. They sent next day a quantity of provisions, small in amount, but, considering the voyage before them, more than such men could have been expected to spare. The soldiers, gratified by their fairness, forgot their own position in sympathy for the liberated men, and gave them cheers and good wishes. On the morning after, the wind became fair, and a light breeze carried them beyond danger.
When the mutineers had gained possession of the ship, John Barker, a mariner, was chosen captain: he could take an observation, and direct a ship's course; his mate was John Fair, and several others were sailors. By carrying too much canvas they strained the vessel, which required their constant efforts at the pump. They proposed to run to Valdavia, South America: they suffered from a gale of wind of nine days duration, which they weathered with great difficulty, and saw land on the 26th of February, having been six weeks on their passage. They resolved to abandon the brig: they had three carpenters on board, by whom the launch was decked and rigged, and they left the Frederick with her channel plates under water. Having landed, they discovered an Indian ploughing with a wooden share: from him they could not obtain supplies; they, however, found that they were in the neighbourhood of Valdavia, and soon approached the battery of that port, and were humanely received by the inhabitants. On examination they declared the entire facts of their escape, and were allowed to reside under promises of protection. They appealed to the officials as patriots, and implored them to take their lives rather than to restore them to the British. A few months after, H. M. S. Blond, Commodore Mason, excited their alarm; it however passed over: several married, and the governor and his lady honored the nuptials of the pirate captain with their presence. Shortly after, they were put under friendly arrest, Commodore Mason having applied for them, and made some preparations to seize them by force; sending an armed boat, which the Americans repelled. The second "governor" was not equally favorable, but was conciliated by the promise of Barker and three others to build him a boat: this accomplished, they seized her and absconded. The governor exasperated at the loss, and their perfidy—probably excited by his harsh treatment, and their constant apprehension of capture—arrested and delivered up their companions to the Blond; who were sent first to England, and then to Van Diemen's Land.
They were tried in 1837: one of their number raised an objection, which was referred to the English judges, and decided in their favor. The defence was very ingenious: admitting the vessel was taken, it had never been finished; it belonged to no port; it had received no name: it was canvas, rope, boarding, and trenails, put together shipwise—yet it was not a legal ship: the seizure might be theft, but not piracy! Upon the whole, the prisoners conducted themselves well: however criminal the escape, their kindness to the people they overpowered; their unusual unanimity, and prudent acknowledgment of their real circumstances; their appeal to the patriots for sympathy, and the ingenuity of their defence,—must be admitted as exhibiting qualities by no means despicable.
But never was the government more culpable, or the prisoners less so, than in the instance of the Badger, a vessel of twenty-five tons, freighted with provisions for the East Bay Neck military station (1833). She was a fast sailer, and well found, and in charge of a master mariner, a convict, and convict seamen. The escape was joined, and probably planned, by Darby, late a lieutenant in the royal navy, and present at the battle of Navarino: a man of small stature but great daring. On his passage to the colony he had been implicated in a plot to take the vessel, which was partly known to a notorious receiver on board,[179] who expected some favor by informing. The plotters intended to shut down the soldiers and officer, to run for the American coast, and there allow those who thought proper to land, or to attend the vessel to her destination. Darby declared that, buried on the shores of America, he had considerable treasure. On his arrival in Van Diemen's Land the affair on board was made known to the Governor, by whom Darby was told, that if ever he attempted to abscond, or to enlist others in the enterprise, he should suffer all the law could inflict. He was, however, placed at the signal station, and afterwards appointed to assist the water bailiff, and thus had always in view the means of escape! A convict clergyman, employed as tutor by a member of council, was the companion of his flight. The loss of this vessel exemplified the laxity of official oversight, where most required. No one could be surprised at the escape, which good men suffering in a good cause would have naturally ascribed to the favor of Providence.