The Tailor and the Shipwright

by Robert Westphal

  While there, Tommy met some old clients who asked for his tailoring services. He was very pleased to say yes, as the work would provide some extra currency to keep them afloat. The farm was only demanding at certain times of the year and he could continue to tailor as long as his clients were prepared to wait, which most were due to the quality of his work.

  18.

  Tragedy

  MIDDLE HARBOUR, 1813

  Anne woke with a start. Stomach pain.

  Dawn had not broken and the room was dark. A chorus of kookaburras echoed from the woodland beyond, telling her the sun would be rising soon. She had forgotten their call, which had woken her every morning when she first arrived at the farm. She must have become accustomed to it.

  The pain continued, becoming more like a stomach cramp. The soft sound of snoring next to her and the regular rhythm of Anastasia’s breathing from her own bed nearby gave her some comfort but not enough. She needed to move.

  Anastasia woke when her mother arose. Mother and daughter quietly crept outside and sat cuddling on the front porch and looking across the sand dunes to the sun rising above North Head.

  Anne’s thoughts turned to the day ahead. She knew she would not be able to go with Thomas exploring in the boat as planned. She and the child would stay at home.

  The talk the previous evening after dinner, which had included more than a few nips of whisky, was typical of the past few months, centred on the drought. Thomas and Kelly considered themselves very lucky that their land continued to be productive while food shortages were evident in the growing colony. They believed their practice of digging leaf matter and smaller branches into the earth, instead of burning them as they cleared each area, may have helped enrich the soil. The ample supply of flathead and other fish, easily caught in the shallows off the beach, supplemented their diet. They boiled the fish heads for stock and added them to the compost afterwards.

  But they had also talked about the recent successful crossing of the mountains to the west of Sydney Town. Macquarie had given Gregory Blaxland, William Wentworth and William Lawson the task. They had reported, on their return, a great expanse of forest and grassland on the other side of the mountains that seemingly stretched forever and possibly would feed all the stock in the new colony.

  ‘It’ll take years to build a road across the mountains though,’ said Kelly. Tommy and Anne agreed.

  ‘Can’t imagine it taking less than three, not with all the convicts in the colony working on it.’

  ‘We need it though. More grazing land and areas for crops.’

  ‘Won’t have to rely so much on England then.’

  ‘A good thing too.’

  ‘Cheers to that.’

  Tommy personally knew one of these explorers, William Charles Wentworth. D’Arcy Wentworth, William’s father, had been a customer and had sometimes brought William into the shop. He had been an adventurous spirit as a child, full of curiosity.

  ‘Why don’t we go exploring ourselves a bit now?’ said Thomas. He mused to the others that he’d been too preoccupied with becoming self-sufficient, each year clearing more land and increasing their acreage under crop. This, with the tailoring he was sometimes called upon to do, had left little time for anything else.

  They decided to take the boat up the waterway to the west the following morning. A day out for all.

  Thomas thought little of Anne’s decision to remain at home and the two men left. When they returned in the late afternoon, in high spirits, they were surprised to see the beach empty.

  ‘Surely my girls are waiting for us?’ he said to Kelly. He called out.

  Thoughts of sharing their discoveries of the day vanished as they headed towards the house. No one greeted them. Thomas’s concern increased.

  Inside the house they found Anne in bed, curled in a foetal position and groaning. Anastasia sat at the end of the bed, cradling her rag doll and keeping watch over her mother.

  Thomas was alarmed. He gently rubbed a wet cloth over Anne’s face but it gave no evident relief.

  ‘Anne, darling! What should we do?’ pleaded Tommy.

  ‘A warm lemon drink might help,’ Anne muttered.

  John Kelly stoked the almost extinguished fire, and set the kettle on the hook above. Thomas held the cup in his hand and soon Anne was sipping the hot drink.

  It seemed to do her good. A faint smile crossed her face as she fell asleep.

  She woke a few hours later to find Tommy sitting beside the bed, with light from a single candle casting shadows about the room, and she tried to focus on his face. His eyes conveyed his worried thoughts.

  ‘Better?’ He asked tentatively.

  ‘Much, my darling,’ she replied. ‘My stomach still feels tender but I think I’ll live. Another hot drink would be nice.’

  By the next morning Anne seemed much improved, with just a slight tingle in her tummy, particularly around her navel. A bit of indigestion, she thought to herself.

  Life went back to normal, but for Anne a small, dull ache and a niggle on the right side of her stomach persisted. It had not yet stopped her from doing her daily chores but she was concerned about the increasing nausea she was feeling and her lack of appetite. Would Thomas notice her weight loss? Surely she would be feeling better soon. Tommy and Anne both wanted to teach Anastasia about water safety. Neither Tommy nor Anne could swim and they were concerned her growing independence could lead to disaster. The beach in front of their farm was gently sloping so she was able to walk a small way in where it was still shallow, and push off the sandy bottom towards the shore. Tommy and Anne stood in the water holding Anastasia while she learned to float and kick her legs. A swim in the morning and evening was an excellent way to mark the warm days of mid-spring. And it distracted Anne from the persistent niggle.

  Anne realised something was very wrong one morning when she went, as usual, to milk the goat. Anastasia always enjoyed this time, playing with the young kid and drinking the warm, fresh milk afterwards for breakfast. Lately, the goat had been giving a full quart of milk, much of which Anne churned to rich, creamy butter.

  The best way Anne had found to milk the goat, without a stand, was to straddle her, facing backwards, squeezing her knees tight to keep her still. A quick brush of the goat’s coat to remove loose hair which may fall into the bucket, and grain to keep her occupied, and Anne was ready to start. She bent to the side and squeezed one teat with one hand while holding a bucket in the other to catch the milk. The act of bending to the right caused extreme pain in her stomach and Anne had to stop. She yelled in pain. Hearing her distress, Tommy came running, gently lifted her off the animal and carried her to the house.

  Cups of warm lemon juice, small glasses of whisky and the last drops of laudanum, a tincture containing opium used to temporarily reduce pain, which they had on hand, did not help this time. As the day progressed Anne’s condition deteriorated. Her nausea turned to vomiting and the only slight relief she got came from curling her body into a tight ball. It had been almost three weeks since the first attack and both Anne and Tommy realised she needed help.

  Tommy called for John Kelly to ready his boat for the trip. They would need to get to a doctor in Sydney Town as soon as possible but the alternative of walking overland to the boat closer to town was not an option. The two men positioned the boat on the shore, filling the bottom with hessian wheat bags, covering them with a blanket and then carefully placing Anne onto the makeshift bed. One consolation was that the sea was quite calm and the northeasterly wind modest. Tommy gave Anastasia a seat at the front.

  ‘Daddy where are we going?’

  ‘Hannah, we are taking Mummy to the hospital. Get in the boat, that’s a good girl.’

  The men shared the task of rowing. Tommy took to the oars for the first leg out and across Middle Harbour. At age fifty-nine this was not easy, especially with the changing tide. However, with the fear for Anne’s health uppermost in his thoughts and his greater physical fitness since working the
farm, he found the determination to row further and harder than he had before. Once around Middle Head the wind was in their favour and Kelly raised the small sail.

  As the light began to fade the small boat entered Sydney Cove and was soon moored at the Hospital Wharf. Hailing a dray, Tommy placed Anne carefully on the wagon and they all walked beside it up the hill to the hospital. Anne was very pale, feverish and no longer talking – just groaning in pain. She looked exhausted.

  Tommy carried Anne into the hospital. How light and fragile her body felt. Why had he not noticed? A nurse immediately called for help and Anne was whisked away for examination. With each touch to her abdomen by the doctor, on both the left and right sides, Anne groaned louder.

  The twenty-minute wait to Thomas, now with a sleeping Anastasia in his arms, seemed like an eternity. Finally, a doctor approached.

  ‘Are you the husband?’ he asked. Tommy realised he knew this man, D’Arcy Wentworth, the assistant surgeon.

  ‘Yes sir, Thomas O’Neil,’ he replied.

  ‘I know you, do I not, Thomas the tailor?’

  Thomas nodded agreement as the doctor spoke. ‘Your wife is gravely ill. There is no operation I can do, nor is there any medicine I can give to cure her. There are a few possibilities to explain her condition but I am almost certain she has a huge infection, somewhere between the small and large intestine. We call this appendicitis. I do not expect her to survive the night. She is resting now and we have given her drugs to ease the pain. You are welcome to stay. She will take comfort from knowing you are near. I will ask a nurse to bring you some chairs.’

  Time passed slowly that night. Anastasia fell asleep in Tommy’s arms.

  Anne Kennedy passed away, her family by her side.

  At Tommy’s insistence, a small service was held for Anne the next morning at St Philip’s Church, with just Thomas, Anastasia and John Kelly. The Reverend William Cowper registered Anne’s death and wrote ‘prisoner at death’ underneath. Anne was just three months short of her seven-year term.

  Tommy wondered whether he could have done more for Anne to save her life. However being at Middle Harbour made transport difficult. It was always a long trip into Sydney Town and he had not known the cause of her illness.

  19.

  Barney Kearns Returns

  LONDON, 1810

  It was 28 May 1810 when a young woman of eighteen, Margaret Robertson stood in the dock at the Old Bailey, London’s central criminal court, on the charge of robbery.

  The judge was dressed in a wig and gown and sat on the bench. He did not look compassionate. Her eyes lowered in fear. She tried to reassure herself with the thought that this was a trial by jury. Perhaps they would be kinder.

  The prosecutor stood. ‘Margaret Robertson,’ he read, ‘you are hereby charged with the robbery of linen to the value of one pound.’

  The prosecutor turned to the judge. ‘Your Honour, I will now detail the prosecution case.’ The prosecutor slowly directed his gaze to Margaret.

  ‘Margaret Robertson, you were seen in the company of two other women when you were apprehended for stealing twenty-four yards of printed cotton. I am reliably informed that this was the property of James Laming, linen draper, Ludgate Hill. What do you say?’

  ‘No comment, sir.’

  The prosecutor continued. ‘You were observed by a constable when you, along with the two other women, entered the draper’s shop. The constable knew you to be a suspicious character. While he went for assistance the constable set another man to keep watch.’

  The prosecutor paused for dramatic effect and focused his eyes firmly on Margaret before continuing.

  ‘In seeking to avoid the attention of anyone watching, each of you came out from the shop separately. One of the other women was seen to pass to you linen cloth that you then secreted in your apron. The constable followed you and you were apprehended outside a pawnbroker’s shop. Your game was up.’

  The judge asked, ‘Margaret Robertson, how say you?’

  ‘Not guilty, Your Honour.’ Margaret had rehearsed her story since her arrest. ‘Your Honour, it’s ’ard to say ’ow it came into my possession but I picked it up in the pawnbroker’s court. I was never, never in the shop, so help me God. In the Fleet-market a gentleman came up to me. I said if it’s yours, take it. Nobody gave it to me. I picked it up and saw no owner to it.’

  The jury’s deliberation was short. They were not impressed by Margaret’s lame story.

  The foreman of the jury stood. ‘Your Honour, we find the accused guilty of theft.’ The judge looked across at Margaret Robertson.

  ‘Margaret Robertson, I hereby sentence you to seven years’ transportation. Take her down. Next matter.’

  After some nine months in a hulk off the English coast, Margaret and ninety-nine other female convicts were transported on the convict ship Friends, arriving in Sydney early October 1811. And so it was that several years later Margaret Robertson or, as she now called herself, Margaret Robinson, found herself working as an indentured servant in the household of Mr Henry Lamb of Windsor, New South Wales.

  Barney Kearns was, by this time, in receipt of his ticket of leave. Rather than indentured, he was now a free man in the employ of Henry Lamb. He had noticed Margaret Robinson, now twenty-three, join the Lamb household. While he was almost twice her age she reciprocated his advances, and with the approval of Henry Lamb, they were soon cohabiting on Lamb’s farm.

  Barney, though still married to his Irish wife, received approval to marry Margaret on 25 February 1814 based on representations from Reverend Robert Cartwright of the Hawkesbury. English law at the time stipulated that people were allowed to remarry after a period of seven years’ forced separation from their spouse.

  After the wedding, Barney decided he had had enough of working for someone else, and it was time to visit his old pal Tommy O’Neil. Barney had been working on the farm of Henry Lamb for more than thirteen years. He had worked on all facets of the Lamb farm. He had learned how to grow corn, wheat and other crops in this new soil and climate and had gained a good knowledge of the orchard. Barney had been thinking, for some time, of Tommy O’Neil, and what had become of him. Accordingly Barney thought it was time to find out and head back to Port Jackson. He had not seen his old friend for eight years. He did not know whether he was dead or alive.

  Lamb was not pleased to see Barney pack his swag, as Barney had been a strong contributor to the Lamb enterprise.

  On reaching Sydney, Barney and Margaret headed straight to Tommy’s old shop at 33 Upper Pitt’s Row. However, it was no longer a tailor shop and the proprietor did not know of O’Neil’s whereabouts. Where to next?

  Presuming he had gone farming, Barney knew O’Neil would need help from an indentured convict. So they headed to the Colonial Secretary’s Office to look through the register of indentured convicts and found Tommy O’Neil’s address – Middle Harbour. Now it was just a matter of reaching this place. They would need help to find it, as Barney and Margaret had no idea of its location.

  20.

  Hunters Meadows Farm

  MIDDLE HARBOUR, 1814

  Anne’s death had the most impact on little Anastasia. She had lost her mother as well as her closest friend. The number of permanent adults at Middle Harbour to take care of her had been reduced from three to two. This didn’t seem likely to change soon: having lost two wives, Tommy vowed at sixty years of age he would not go looking for a third. He had done his dash. He knew he needed help with Anastasia, but he didn’t have it in him to go looking, and in any event the colony still had too few women. In fact, the gender balance seemed to be getting worse as more male than female convicts continued to be landed.

  John Kelly had served the O’Neils well and after Anne’s death Tommy recommended him for a ticket of leave, which meant he needed to find a new indentured man to replace him.

  Tommy warmly shook Kelly’s hand.

  ‘John, thank you for all you’re help, pal. You’ve been a great mate.
Best wishes for the future.’

  Anastasia suddenly realising Kelly was departing rushed up and cuddled him around his legs. Kelly picked her up and clasped her to his chest. ‘Bye, Hannah, love you, kiddo.’

  Tommy and Anastasia struggled on by themselves following Kelly’s departure. Therefore it was a great surprise when one morning in mid-1814, Tommy noticed a boat pulling up at the shoreline. With the reflection off the water, it was very hard to distinguish the faces of the occupants of the boat.

  As well as an oarsman there were two others – a man and a woman. He walked down the beach, holding Anastasia’s hand, to see who these people were. Visitors were rare. As the boat ground to a stop at the shoreline the man stood up and directed his attention to Tommy.

  ‘Tommy, I never thought you were serious about farming. It’s Barney!’

  ‘Well, I do not believe it – Barney Kearns! What brings you here?’ Tommy asked with a broad smile on his face as he helped him out of the boat. Anastasia was peeping over the edge of the boat to see who the new visitors were.

  ‘I heard you needed some company and I need a place to live,’ Barney said with a chuckle. ‘Years ago you told me to come when I got my ticket.’

  ‘Well, Barney, as you can see, there is plenty of room for you here. Welcome, mate.’

  Amid the joy of seeing each other they had almost forgotten the presence of the others in the boat.

  ‘Barney, introduce me to this good lady,’ said Tommy.

  ‘Oh I quite forgot myself. Tommy O’Neil please meet my wife, Margaret Robinson.’ Tommy bowed and kissed Margaret’s hand.

  ‘Margaret, welcome to Middle Head farm. And, Margaret, this little wee thing is my daughter, Anastasia, but we call her Hannah.’

  ‘Hello, Hannah,’ said Margaret. ‘How old are you?’

  ‘I’m four!’ said Anastasia, thrilled to have been noticed.