Tommy and the other convicts below deck had felt the reverberations of the anchor chain being raised and the sudden movement of the ship. They were underway. Well this is it, he thought. Tommy’s heart felt empty as he shed a tear for his girls. Goodbye, Mother Ireland!
Although he could not see outside, Tommy knew that the passage out to sea would be a complex piece of navigation. The ship had to exit across the Bay of Lough Mahon and through Passage West, continuing along the River Lee. Carefully the ship sailed around two small islands in the bay, and then within hours Tommy felt the regular rolling of the ship, telling all that they were in open water.
Following three days of sailing, Dryad, Friendship, Minerva and Révolutionnaire separated from the rest of the fleet. The seas were calm and the wind light as they headed south past Gibraltar and towards the small island of Madeira. This part of the journey took eighteen days. The convoy was hopeful of stopping there but was waved away due to the earlier fever on board Friendship. Eleanor recorded in her diary that ‘we … were not allowed to have any communication with the shore, much to our mortification’.
For days on end the journey went as expected. The convicts were adjusting to the new sensation of the constant pitching and rolling of the ship. Some better than others. Seasickness was not confined to the convicts. Tommy knew from the sailors that a gentleman named Mandrell, who was going out to join the New South Wales Corps, spent long periods convalescing in his cabin during this time.
Nearing the Equator, Révolutionnaire parted ways with the two convict ships. Then on 14 September 1799, with the danger of attack by foreign vessels largely reduced, Dryad turned back.
Due to her smaller size, Friendship had been finding it difficult to maintain the fast speed of the convoy. This had required the fleet to continually slow to continue intact. Captain Salkeld of the Minerva signalled that he, too, would part company from Friendship but was prepared to wait until letters to family and friends had been written which he would carry ahead. ‘All were busy preparing to write to their friends,’ wrote Eleanor, ‘and amongst the number I was not backward in writing to my much loved and venerable parents’.
The next morning, 15 September, Minerva put on a full head of sail and drew away, leaving Friendship to continue alone. The Captain and Mrs Reid were later to learn that in October the Minerva was chased and fired upon by two ships bearing Portuguese colours but Minerva had the speed to successfully outdistance her pursuers.
Within a few days Friendship passed between the Portuguese Cape Verde Islands and the Guinea Coast. While on deck and clasped in chains, Thomas saw from the right of the ship two of the ten smaller islands in the group, the Sal and the Boa Vista. Some of the sailors spoke of having stopped there previously on outward trips to India.
Just after passing these islands two sails were spotted to windward and as they drew closer the officers grew concerned. The convicts were locked below and the crew were ordered to their stations. Eleanor Reid wrote, ‘the part assigned to poor me was to accompany the surgeon below. I am afraid I should have been but a poor help indeed.’
Apprehensions soon subsided, however, when the ships set their sails and moved away, allowing Friendship to continue on its course. It was assumed they were Guinea ships.
Thomas and his companions’ health gradually improved on the diet of fresh food being provided. Animals and fowl had been boarded in Cork and the slaughter of them provided a steady flow of fresh meat. In addition Captain Reid had provided fishing lines to the crew and fresh fish provided variety to the convicts’ and crew’s diet.
For the next week conditions were favourable for sailing, and Friendship quickly reached the tropics. The area five degrees north and south of the Equator is characterised by windless weather, known as the doldrums. The ship entered frequent calms and the mood on board became strained, exacerbated by the high humidity and oppressive heat. The prison area was kept ventilated by the windsails, with the hatches above the steel grates open day and night.
The tropical conditions provided the environment for the fever, which had been experienced in Cork, to re-establish its presence among the prisoners. Tommy was unsure whether it was better to be up on deck in the burning sun or sweltering in the stifling heat below. He ultimately decided being on deck was preferable as it allowed time away from the sick. MacCallum, a man his own age, suggested bathing in the mornings might mitigate the potential for becoming sick with the fever.
‘Thank you, MacCallum,’ Tommy said to him the following day. ‘The cooling water has undone some of the evils of the close night air.’
MacCallum was a doctor, and not only dispensed such useful advice but also used his medical experience to aid the increasing number of sick convicts after it became obvious that Mr Bryce, the surgeon employed for the journey, was not up to the task. It would later be revealed that Bryce’s medical training consisted in having been a surgeon’s servant on a West Indies man-of-war.
Thomas watched as the fever claimed more and more of his fellow convicts. Of the 133 convicts who had departed Cork 19 were dispatched over the side into the depths of the Atlantic. A mortality rate of one in seven. The number was staggering. Fear permeated the convict hold. Francis Lysaght, one of the self-exiles, and former sheriff of Wexford, was included in this number. Thomas wondered whether he would be next.
At dawn on 10 October 1799, while Thomas, in irons, was taking in the fresh air and stretching his legs, a ship was sighted tacking towards the Friendship. All prisoners were ordered below and preparations were commenced to defend the ship. The other ship turned out to be Danish and after exchanging civilities the ships parted.
At the end of October Friendship reached St Helena, a tropical island port in the South Atlantic Ocean, governed by the English East India Company on behalf of the Crown. During the stopover the ship’s stores were supplemented with fresh fruit and vegetables, and fresh water loaded. Three bullocks were also boarded. These supplies were not as substantial as Captain Reid had hoped but the island itself was short on provisions.
For the convicts the stop came as a relief. The weather was kinder and a pleasant breeze had replaced the eerie stillness of the doldrums.
The island was an old volcano that had erupted out of the sea. It appeared to be a barren rock, with only a few trees facing the sea in front of the governor’s house. The town stood between two hills with high, perpendicular rocks on each side.
Thomas drank in the dramatic views from the deck. He had never imagined seeing anything with his own eyes that so resembled the setting of Robinson Crusoe. The island was in the middle of the ocean, remote from anywhere. That night he went to sleep thinking of how he might describe it to his sister and daughters in a letter. If he’d been a poet instead of a tailor, he could have done the sight more justice.
At sunrise Thomas emerged on deck to take in his surroundings once again. The highest peaks of the island were shrouded in clouds, adding to the romance and beauty of the place.
While at St Helena, Thomas wrote a letter to his family on the events of the voyage, telling them that he was feeling well and not to worry on his account. He was in good hands. The mail, including Thomas’s letter, would be taken back on the next ship returning to Ireland.
The ship left St Helena on 13 November 1799 for Cape Town. Clear skies held sway for the voyage and clear nights enabled those on deck to observe the Milky Way, a feature of the southern skies. Still, the heat of a southern summer stayed with them.
Tommy noticed that some of his fellow convicts were suffering from bleeding gums, fatigue and malaise and some were even losing teeth, though Tommy remained in good health. Fever and red rashes became increasingly obvious among both the convicts and crew. MacCallum diagnosed scurvy and advised Captain Reid that everyone should be given extra fresh citrus and vegetables to ward off this terrible disease. The general health improved markedly as a consequence.
Table Mountain came into view after twenty days sailing. The days in port
allowed stores to be charged, with citrus fruit a priority. The convicts were allowed to use their funds to buy some limited goods for themselves, and Tommy bought three apples.
The ship’s water barrels were cleaned and refreshed. To Tommy’s astonishment and dismay, eight horses, ten cows, thirty sheep, pigs and poultry were boarded. The stench from these beasts living in the confined space added to the shipboard aroma.
Seventeen days after arriving in Cape Town Friendship departed. It was Christmas Eve. This was a Christmas Eve that Thomas could not relate to – no snow and no cold wind. It was difficult for him to understand the effect of being in the Southern Hemisphere. His thoughts turned to his sister and the girls huddled up in front of the fire in the tailor shop. Were they all right? Maybe they would have received his letter by now.
With only a foresail set, due to a strong westerly wind, Friendship was travelling at a rate of 140 to 160 miles per day. With strong winds and high seas, water constantly filled the decks, causing chaos. The animals on deck lost their footing each time the ship crested a swell and slid down into the valley of the wave. Mr Linton, the third-mate, and a few sailors, at great danger to themselves, fought to secure the animals to the strongest parts of the ship’s rigging. Even with these measures, three of the horses and other livestock were lost overboard. From below, the convicts could hear the distress of the animals. With each roll of the ship a torrent of saltwater poured through the grates. Barrels were placed to catch the water but to no avail. Prisoners clung to their bunks and worked hard to keep themselves and their bedding dry and they avoided walking in the putrid bilge water. No convicts were allowed on deck until the seas calmed.
New Year’s Day arrived. It was 1800, a new century. The seas abated and normal routines were resumed, with convicts able to spend time on the open decks. Thomas was grateful when Captain Reid relaxed the requirement for irons to be worn on deck for him, Barney Kearns, Darby Carbery, James Dixon and some of the other better-behaved or sicklier convicts.
On 23 January the crossing of the great and furious Southern Ocean had been completed and Friendship turned north to sail up the coast of Van Diemen’s Land. Captain Reid ordered all fetters to be removed but no convicts were allowed on deck after sundown and their time on deck was restricted to small groups at a time.
With the expectation of reaching Sydney Cove within a few days, on 11 February Chief Mate Muirhead returned the money each convict had deposited with him minus whatever portion of their funds they’d used to buy fruit and other items in Cape Town. The convicts who had brought civilian clothes with them, which had been stored since Cork, had them returned. Thomas received his but he knew he was unlikely to wear them again due to wear and tear they had suffered in prison. He would have to make a new set of clothes. Hopefully he would be afforded the opportunity.
On this last part of this journey the days passed quickly. Thomas watched the vast coastline of the distant shore.
It looked different to anything he could have imagined. The bright blue sky and warmth immediately struck him. There was also a blue hint to the vast bush that stretched inland with nearly no break. All on board noticed distant plumes of smoke at intervals. Their purpose remained unclear but the English sailors told the convicts about the people who already lived on this land. Tommy wondered how he would relate to them. His main point of reference was his reading of Robinson Crusoe. Tommy was not by nature inclined to subjugate other men, even savages, into servitude for him, and Robinson Crusoe as a character had struck him as sadly typical of the English ruling class. Besides, he knew he was the one about to be forced into servitude.
On the evening of 16 February, the ship reached the tall sandstone cliffs of Sydney Heads. Aware of hazards within the harbour, Captain Reid stood the ship off until sunrise the following day.
As the sun rose the next morning, Reid raised the sails and Friendship picked its way down the harbour, passing the mid-channel rock called the Sow and Pigs, then Garden Island and past the barren island called Pinchgut. Clearly visible on the island was a gibbet, a gallows-type structure, leaving no one in any doubt that they were entering a penal settlement.
By 7 am on 17 February 1800, the ship’s anchors had been safely lowered at Sydney Cove. The voyage had been completed in 177 days.
Reid went ashore to meet with John Hunter, who had succeeded Arthur Phillip five years earlier to become the second governor of New South Wales. Hunter asked for the ship’s musters, the list of names and sentences of each convict. Reid advised that he had received none from the authorities.
Reid was then astonished to learn that their arrival was unexpected and no preparations had been made to accommodate the extra people. The convicts, who had been secured ’tween decks for the best part of six months, were frustrated at having to stay on board for another three days while the settlement arranged their accommodation.
Thomas’s main feeling though was gratitude. He had survived the journey and was in better health than at any time since his arrest in Dublin. He felt his regained strength would help him find his place in this new colony. He wondered how many of the older men, being unable to do hard labour, would find a way to contribute to the colony. He imagined the colony would need tailors.
Friendship remained in Sydney Cove for eighty-three days. Once the passengers had disembarked, the task began of restoring the ship to a conventional trading vessel. Prison doors, bulkheads and armed gratings were dismantled. On 11 May 1800, Friendship would leave Sydney, returning to England via Norfolk Island, Malacca, the Spice Islands and Bengal. The Reids would arrive home in London two years and three days after setting out from Cork and in that time would have traversed more than 37,000 miles.
Eleanor Reid particularly mentioned in her diary how gratified her husband was to have received letters from the friends of the convicts, who had embarked from Ireland, thanking him for his great kindness and humanity.
3.
King’s Tailor
SYDNEY TOWN, FEBRUARY 1800
Meagre belongings packed. Bedding rolled and tied. Finally the prisoners had been told they were going ashore. The Chief Mate called each of the prisoners. One by one, they came on deck ready for disembarkation. Nervously waiting.
‘Prisoner, Thomas O’Neil, on deck!’
Quickly scrambling up the ladder, Tommy emerged among the others, squinting and waiting for eyes to adjust to the bright, morning light. Gradually he saw they were about fifty yards offshore. Just a short boat ride.
As Thomas descended the ladder to the waiting boat to be taken ashore, he looked back towards the ship where he’d lived the last eight months. Involuntary tears rolled down his face as he said goodbye to his latest abode. Eleanor Reid noted his expression of gratitude and that of the other convicts, and observed how much this surprised the onlookers on shore, many of who had been treated abysmally on their passage out.
Tommy’s gaze concentrated on the foreshore of his new home. A large house, two storeys, made of what looked like English bricks, stood on the left towards the head of Sydney Cove. The Governor’s house, Tommy assumed. On the right was another imposing building, complete with a parade ground in front and soldiers marching in formation. Between the two were humbler government buildings and a village of huts.
A sudden screech overhead made them all look up. Large white birds with yellow crests flew past and landed as a flock on a large eucalyptus tree beyond the houses. The cockatoos were framed against the drab green canopy of the trees and the summer blue of the cloudless sky. Tommy was amazed at the crispness of the air and the rising temperature. The bright green of Ireland was nowhere to be seen.
So different, he thought.
His first steps onto the rickety Hospital Wharf were very unsteady. He was still swaying with the ocean swell. The prisoners were herded, as a group, to a marshalling area. When all the convicts were offloaded the Reids and the ship’s officers joined them.
Military guards issued the prisoners with ‘slop’ clothe
s they were to wear when working. These were familiar to Tommy, similar to working clothes worn at home. They consisted of a cotton shirt, blue woollen jacket and waistcoat, white canvas trousers, stockings and shoes. The outfit was topped with a woollen hat. A large crowd gathered around the new arrivals, intent on inspecting them.
What now? thought Tommy. Am I to be put in prison again? Or do I have to look after myself? Where to sleep, how to eat?
Time waiting in the hot February sun allowed these concerns to grow. Sweat dripped from his forehead, making him feel very unsettled. Were others feeling the same? He did not dare speak. This was a time not to be noticed.
Governor Hunter finally arrived to inspect the new workforce. Captain Reid and Hunter, who were previously acquainted, had met a few days before and now acknowledged each other with a formal salute. Reid introduced his wife.
‘The convicts conducted themselves with every propriety and there are amongst them men of education and sense,’ she told Hunter. ‘Doubtless this contributed to restrain the others from evil and violence.’
Hunter and Reid inspected the men in turn. As they moved along the line, they required each prisoner to state their name and trade. Where possible, Reid added his own comments about each one. In particular he talked favourably of Mr MacCallum, who had taken on the role of ship surgeon. MacCallum was immediately appointed to officiate as an assistant in the medical department at an out-settlement called Town Gabby, and to be provided a salary of fifty pounds per annum and a free house.
‘Thomas O’Neil, tailor, sir,’ said Tommy when asked. ‘Sir, I have brought a character reference from Dublin,’ he added as he handed Governor Hunter the reference from Lord Aldborough, which he had previously submitted with his unsuccessful petition back in Ireland.
The Tailor and the Shipwright Page 3
