Harry Heron: Midshipman's Journey

by Patrick G Cox

  Harry winced in sympathy as the lash bit into the young man’s back, the first raising dark welts, the second drawing blood and the remainder churning the flesh into a bloodied mess. Throughout the ordeal, Barclay glowered, muttering that it should have been two dozen at least, drawing scowls from the nearest Lieutenants and a sarcastic retort from the Marine’s Captain who said, “For a bit of water on your breeches? Why not hang him and be done? Take care, though, for someone may hang you for your pains!”

  It hardly improved Barclay’s mood, especially as he was being sent ashore with the fifth Lieutenant and the gunner with a working party to assist in the building of defensive batteries along the seaward shore. After his interview with the Captain, he also fully understood that this was to be seen as a punishment, and any further trouble with the men would result in his being transferred to another ship at the earliest opportunity without a commendation for promotion.

  He was in a foul temper when he entered the gunroom. “O’Connor!” he snarled. “Get me my dinner and be quick about it!” Stomping to his place at the mess table, he muttered, “Damned thief.”

  Ferghal heard this and, though it angered him, he hurried away to fetch the meal. As he departed he heard Mister Bowles remonstrating with his senior, but it was cold comfort. Already there were those on the lower deck who would not be sorry to see some accident befall the bully.

  The boatswain and the surgeon dealt with Garstead’s wounds in the rough and ready manner of the navy. He was cut down and walked below in something of a half swooning state.

  “Steady, lad,” murmured one of the surgeon’s assistants. The boatswain had seen to it, through the agency of one of his cronies, that Garstead be given a good dose of rum before his punishment, and this was now helping the man deal with the injuries afflicted by the cat o’ nine tails. They got him into the orlop, and the surgeon swabbed the blood from his back with salt water, causing him to cry out.

  “Easy, lad, this’ll ensure there’s no infection.” The surgeon inspected the crisscrossed welts carefully. “You’ll have some marks, but none too bad they won’t heal cleanly.” The surgeon snorted. “Boatswain’s Mate must have softened his heart. I’ve seen him deliver far worse in the same number of lashes.” To his mates he said, “Keep his back clean. None of your goose grease, Hilliard. He’ll be fit for duty in two or three days.”

  IT WAS PERHAPS AS WELL THAT EAMON BARCLAY was ashore two days later, as an incident in his absence involving several of the men in his division would have ended in hangings if he had been present. As it was, the men were found drunk and had to be punished, the first Lieutenant remarking that had Mister Barclay been present, he likely would have been assaulted.

  “The liquor is the least of it,” Lieutenant Bell reported to the Captain. “The men are in a state of serious malcontent. It will not take much to push some of the more hot-headed ones into some rash act. I suggest we find some employment for them which will disperse the crew and give them some diversion.”

  “I agree,” said Captain Blackwood. “In fact, Governor King asks that the survey of the great estuary north of here be undertaken as soon as possible. Mister Rae will take Midshipmen Bowles and Heron to undertake this work. They will require the use of both launches and the barge. Mister Barclay, Mister Beasley and Mister Rogers are ashore on different tasks with parties of our people to support them, which will go some way toward easing the pressures on board. At least we do not have to concern ourselves with Mister Barclay inflaming things further here.”

  THE CAPTAIN MIGHT HAVE BEEN LESS SANGUINE in his assessment if he had been privy to a conversation at that very moment between Midshipman Barclay and an officer of the New South Wales Corps.

  “You damned navy fellows have made things difficult for a man to obtain a good return on his investments,” the Rum Corps officer complained over a jar in what passed for the officers’ mess at the site of the battery. “The governor refuses to allow us to make full use of the convicts and tries to restrict our control of supplies to the ships and the town. How does he think any of us will make a profit on our outlay?”

  “Aye, I can well see that,” said Barclay. “Our Captain does not believe in driving our men, either, and considers any attempt to instil respect for their betters an abuse.” He sipped his drink and swatted the flies from his face. “I cannot see why any of you fellows would take a posting here unless, of course, there was some reward to be gained.”

  “A man of some perception,” his companion said. “You are in the right of it. There is money to be made here, my friend, but only if you are willing to venture an outlay on a cargo or two and lay claim to land. And you need to have gangs of these scum indentured to work it for you.” He studied Barclay for a moment. “You could apply yourself if you are interested. I know my Colonel would be willing to entertain some additional capital in a venture he is planning. In fact, it might pay you to register a land claim of your own. You can always appoint a proctor to work it for you and send any profit to you in London.”

  “Now you interest me,” Barclay replied. At the age of twenty-five and with his prospects for promotion looking ever more remote thanks to the antipathy of his Captain and officers, Barclay had begun to consider an alternative future. He had some capital stashed away in his chest. A small part of it had been used to create the intended trap for Ferghal, his father having entrusted it to him with orders to use it to secure a part of a cargo in India if the opportunity arose, or to venture it on some other profitable enterprise. “Let us discuss this further, but not here.” He became wary and said, “I shall need to know how one goes about this in good order. If I do venture some small sum on a land grant, how will I know who to trust with its management or the returns from it?”

  “Wise decision, my friend. I shall arrange for you to meet our major. He will enlighten you.” He raised his tankard. “I am sure you will find it a most profitable venture. Of course, we will rely upon your good offices to alert us to any attempts to interfere with our mutual operations.”

  Barclay returned the salute and smiled. “Of course, though for how much longer we remain I do not know.”

  The outcome of this conversation was to see Mister Midshipman Barclay enter into an agreement with a small consortium of Rum Corps officers who promptly registered a claim to a large tract of well-watered arable land on the north side of the harbour. Unknowingly, Eamon Barclay was laying the foundations of a fortune. His partnership with the Rum Corps did reach the ears of his Captain, but there was little Captain Blackwood could do or say about it.

  Chapter 27

  Exploration

  “Mister Heron, Mister Bowles.” Lieutenant Rae called the two midshipmen to him. “Check your boats and have everything secured. Make sure all our stores for this expedition are aboard. Once we set sail, we have at least a day’s sailing north to reach the estuary we are to survey. We cannot afford to discover that we have left anything behind.”

  “Aye, aye, sir,” replied Tom Bowles for them both. Tom was the second senior in the gunroom and Harry the youngest, a fact not lost on the several midshipmen not selected for this mission.

  Lieutenant Rae had swiftly quelled any debate by pointing out that Harry had shown himself to be the best artist and map drawer among them. “When you gentlemen can draw maps and the landmark features as well as Mister Heron does, I will consider your services for the next expedition.”

  As usual, this had drawn the ire of Midshipman Barclay and his cronies as soon as the Lieutenant was out of earshot. It was, therefore, with some relief that he went down into the boat to join the accompanying him.

  “Have we everything stowed, Smales?” Harry asked, pulling the list of stores and equipment from his pocket. “I’d like to check against the list if you please.”

  Smales grinned. He had come to respect the young midshipman. He might be younger than fourteen, but he’d certainly proved himself more than capable. “Aye, aye, sir. Where do yer want
t’ start?”

  “With the food, please.” Harry checked his list. “We should have salt beef, four firkins of water and two of lime juice.”

  The list was extensive, and Harry checked everything meticulously. Satisfied that the stores they should have were present and securely lashed to the thwarts, he went over the boat’s rig and sails with the . Having confirmed that everything was in order, Harry clambered up to the deck and reported to the Lieutenant.

  “Excellent, Harry,” the Lieutenant said. “Very well, gather your people and get them into the boat. As soon as Mister Bowles is ready, we will set off.”

  Half an hour later, Harry took his place in the sternsheets and said to the , “Get us underway if you please, Smales. We’re to follow Mister Bowles and Mister Rae.”

  “Aye, aye, sir,” said Joshua Smales. “Jump to it lads, fend off forward there, Jakes. Haul away on them halyards handsomely now.”

  The foresail was sheeted home as the boat, Spartan’s second cutter, cleared the side. The gaff mainsail reached its peak as the swung the tiller over to follow in the wake of the first cutter and the barge. As the mainsail was sheeted home, the boat heeled slightly and gathered way.

  All the animosity of the gunroom dropped away as they cleared the ship, and Harry felt the thrill of command for the first time. The cutter might be only a twenty-eight-foot open boat packed with nineteen souls, but she was his command for this expedition. He grinned broadly as he said to the , “She handles well, Smales, and has a good turn of speed even with this wind. We shall have to take care not to overhaul Mister Rae.”

  THE PASSAGE TO THE ESTUARY NORTH OF PORT JACKSON was accomplished easily in the fresh breeze and slight swell, and the boats arrived in the late afternoon. Slipping through the entrance, they found themselves in a wide estuary with long leads running to the north and the south. A small islet rose sheer sided a short distance inside the entrance, but proved unsuitable for a landing or a base.

  The task of surveying the harbour was no small undertaking, which the Lieutenant and his midshipmen quickly realised. There was little shelter near the entrance for the boats, so they pressed deeper into what they hoped was the river and discovered a second lower island some miles from the sea as the sun began to set.

  “This will be a good base,” Lieutenant Rae told the midshipmen. “There is no risk of assault from the natives and more than enough wood for cooking. We can land the stores and work the boats with smaller crews, changing the men as there is a need.”

  “Very well, sir,” Tom Bowles replied. “Should we ensure that there is always a shore party guarding our camp and perhaps acting as cooks?”

  “Indeed,” the Lieutenant said. “That is my intention, Tom. See to it.”

  It was quickly decided that the first part of the survey would be taken from just inside the entrance and travelling upstream along what appeared to be the main channel. With that done, the bays opening off the channel could be charted.

  “We’ll carry out the survey in two parts. The two cutters will do the initial plane table work with the boats anchored a cable apart. You, Mister Heron, will translate the results into a rough chart. Have you the means to make sketches of the shore from each of the Base Points? Good,” Lieutenant Rae said as Harry affirmed his readiness. “We’ll have to work quickly as we do not have an indefinite amount of time. The most important part is the entrance and the main channel. I will use the barge to take soundings once you have produced the working charts for us, Harry.”

  “Aye, aye, sir,” Harry acknowledged. The work interested and excited his creative abilities. The expedition had the added pleasure of being among people he liked and respected and away from the constant harassment of the gunroom bully. It was a very thin line he trod daily aboard between incurring punishment for defying the discipline and refusing to be cowed into supine submission and despair. This expedition at least gave him an independent command and a task he knew he excelled at.

  THE SURVEY WORK PROCEEDED SLOWLY BECAUSE THE PAIR of launches had to sail to the selected position and then anchor by the bow and the stern. Having the boats a cable apart gave them a baseline of six hundred feet, and their bearings on each feature of the shore could be recorded carefully on the paper stretched over the surface of a plane table set up exactly amidships. Then, once the bearings had all been noted, the boats moved to the next pair of designated anchorages and the work began again. In the evenings, it fell to Harry to compile the information from each sheet and draw one map of the whole area. His sketches helped immensely since he could plot their exact position and fill in a vast amount of detail.

  Each morning the barge set off with several lead lines and returned in the evening with Lieutenant Rae’s neatly pencilled notation of the depths to be found in the area covered by the chart taken that day. The estuary proved even more extensive than they had first thought. A number of deep water channels branched off to the north, south and even to the west as the main channel snaked inland, first turning south then twisting north to where their base had been made on the island.

  Just west of this, the channel divided again into three large leads. These had to be individually explored before it became evident that they were not the main channel. Beyond this it twisted northward again before sweeping sharply to the south and branching into three separate channels. The steep banks were covered in trees and scree, which made climbing difficult and dangerous. But this had to be attempted in order to obtain further bearings and to give Harry the opportunity to make sketches of landmarks and headlands.

  There was much merriment when one of these expeditions encountered a small bear-like creature living in the trees.

  “Cor,” exclaimed a seaman known as Jacko to his mates. “Look at them fings there up yon tree.”

  “Them? Ain’t they whut folks ere calls Koolie or Kola bears or sumfing?” asked another. “Geordie reckoned they could be et.”

  “Bet they’m easy to ketch like,” said Jacko eyeing the smooth surface of the eucalypt the bears occupied with all the confidence of a topman.

  “Go to it then,” said the as he looked across to where Harry and Tom sat atop a promontory fifty yards away measuring angles with a sextant. “T’ mids is busy wit’ their measurin’.”

  With a grin, Jacko lost no time in scrambling up the tree, a rather young member of the stand. At first, the bears showed no signs of concern. But as he scrambled up, the bears climbed higher and edged out along branches toward the trees nearby. Jacko reached up and seized a branch directly beneath one of the larger animals, which immediately emptied its bladder over the startled sailor. With an oath, he slipped downward and frantically scrabbled for a grip with hands now slick with foul smelling liquid.

  “’E got you there, mate,” called another of the men.

  “You goin’ ter let ’im get away wif that?” called another.

  The laughter of his mates spurred him on, and he renewed his assault on the tree, aided by the fact that the bear had now evacuated its roost and moved upwards.

  The young tree stood straight and tall. Handholds were few, but Jacko was an expert at climbing. Several of the bears had removed themselves to the outer ends of branches now bending alarmingly under their weight. Added to this, the combined weight of Jacko and the remaining animals was making the tree bend as the thinning trunk began to sway violently under the strain. Jacko reached the bears, and the family used their natural defence on this interloper.

  Fortunately for him, most missed, showering those below as the tree, now seriously overstressed, bent toward the ground. With a loud crack, it gave way. The watching seamen scattered as bears, Jacko and tree crashed to the ground. Several of the furry animals landed on the winded and bruised seaman and added to his discomfort before scrambling away. Only one, perhaps stunned by the fall, succumbed to a quick-witted sailor who clubbed it with a stout branch.

  Harry and Tom, now finished with their own task, were just in time to see the cli
max of this impromptu hunt, and joined the general laughter as the chastened Jacko tried unsuccessfully to rid himself of the pungent odour clinging to his person.

  POACHER TOM, AS ONE OF THE MEN WAS CALLED, expertly skinned the animal and roasted it over the fire. The meat proved to have a strange taste not at all to the sailors’ liking.

  “Cor,” one of the men complained. “This fing is tender enough but tastes of lamp oil or summat!”

  “Yeah, Nobby,” said one of his mates. “But don’ tell Jacko there—he’s still tryin’ ter get the smell o’ the little bugger offen im.”

  The flavour, unfortunately, did not reward the effort or the bruised ego of its pursuer.

  Kangaroo meat and fish, on the other hand, proved plentiful and popular, so much so that very little of the salt beef brought with them was consumed. But, as is always the case in such situations, they found themselves with more to achieve than they had time in which to accomplish it, and the Lieutenant reluctantly had to call a halt.

  FOR THE FULL TWO WEEKS, THE WEATHER HAD BEEN KIND. It was hot and humid by day, but thankfully cooler by night. They had soon found it expedient to sleep in the boats under an awning rigged over the booms, since, at sundown, the mosquito swarms descended on every living creature, man and animal. Harry had found it in his heart to pity the poor wretches sent here as convicts. Their lot was indeed a miserable one as he had had occasion to observe. It hurt him deeply, too, to know that so many were fellow countrymen. Most of them were transported to New South Wales for seemingly trivial offences, although some were rebels taken in open rebellion, an endemic feature of Ireland.

  “Very good, Mister Bowles, Mister Heron,” Lieutenant Rae declared. “We have done as much as we can possibly achieve in the time available to us.” He looked at the sunburned faces of the seamen clustered about their breakfast fire on the shore, and smiled. “I think our lads have done well and seem to have enjoyed the hunting and fishing at least. But it is time to return to Port Jackson. I propose to set out as soon as we have refilled our firkins from the spring. Make sure yours are properly filled and the water is clean, gentlemen; remember, we will be sailing with the current but against the prevailing winds this time, so it may take a little longer to return.”