by David Field
George’s eyebrows shot up in excitement. ‘Do you think she’d agree?’
‘Why not? She’s always complaining about how bored she is sitting at home, nursing a young child and staring at the wall. All we have to do is provide the right setting for her. First of all, we need to choose the ship. Does anyone happen to know if the Batavia has a return cargo, or any fresh charterparty?’
‘According to Paterson,’ George was able to reveal, ‘she’s on permanent charter to the Admiralty. However, I’m sure the captain could be persuaded to do an extra run to India without the knowledge of his masters in London, if the money’s right.’
‘Talking of money,’ Daniel chipped in, ‘where do you propose to get the sum you’ll need for an entire boatload from India?’
Macarthur smiled and tapped his nose. ‘You’re talking to the Paymaster-General of the New South Wales Corps, remember. We have a considerable amount of ready currency in the secure armoury, where we keep anything of value. At the last count we had almost five thousand sovereigns and I calculate that we could fill an entire vessel with cheap Indian gut-rot for that price. All we need is to get to the captain and persuade him to do the run without revealing who the real purchasers are.’
George turned to Daniel. ‘Do you reckon Martha’s up to it?’
Daniel grinned back. ‘You’ve seen her in action, George. She had me fooled for several weeks and she fooled an entire court-martial. Let’s just work out who we want her to pretend to be, then point her at the target.’
A week later, Richard Mayhew, master of the Batavia, was surprised to be advised by his boatswain that two ladies had come aboard the vessel where she lay at anchor in Sydney Cove and were anxious to speak with him. He rose from behind his desk in the captain’s cabin as the ladies were ushered in, one of them a very attractive young lady with masses of black hair demurely tied under a black bonnet and the other a more matronly looking companion whose face was covered by a dark veil until she lifted it to reveal a solemn face and dark, penetrating eyes. Both women were dressed all in black and it was the older looking of them who spoke first.
‘Permit me to introduce my sister-in-law Matilda Mason, widow of my late brother Isaac Mason. She has a business proposition for you.’
Martha sniffed and wiped her eyes with her glove, which was smeared with dark pepper to make more tears flow freely. ‘Please forgive my intrusion into your rest while at anchor, but I have need of your vessel if I am to retain my fortune — or, rather, that of my late husband.’
‘It’s no hardship to be entertaining two such attractive ladies in my cabin,’ Mayhew replied, already intrigued. ‘How may I be of service to you?’
Martha wiped her eyes again to ensure a ready flow of tears, while Rachel placed a consoling arm around her as the pretence proceeded.
‘My husband and I came out here last year,’ Martha explained. ‘Isaac is — sorry, was — a leading dealer in spirits in London, where we had several warehouses in Rotherhithe. He was hoping to establish a branch of his office out here in this promising new land and to that end brought out with him a considerable sum of money with which to purchase rum from India. He already had it promised to several prominent persons here in Sydney and his business would suffer great loss of prestige and commercial respect were he to fail to deliver. He had intended to charter a suitable vessel over here to honour the many contracts he had made, but sadly he died of a fever he contracted on board during our passage out here. Pardon me,’ she added for effect, as she appeared to break down with the emotional strain and Rachel placed a consoling hand on her arm before looking back at Mayhew.
‘We require your vessel in order to honour the contract. It is, I am informed, a relatively short crossing and an easy one in calm weather. We would require you to source, pay for and bring back a consignment of rum from Calcutta. We would obviously provide you with the money for the purchase and could offer you a further five hundred pounds — to be divided between you and your crew — for a voyage that would take you two months at the most, if the advice I have received is correct. There might be other such ladings in the future, but I am led to believe that you are required to return to Portsmouth.’
‘Five hundred pounds, you say? That would be acceptable,’ Mayhew replied, trying not to reveal by his facial expression that he would have been prepared to undertake the commission for half that amount. ‘When shall the money come aboard and where in Calcutta shall I source the cargo?’
‘The choice of cargo must be yours,’ Martha replied, ‘although as a seagoing man I feel sure that we may rely on your own judgment regarding its quality. As for the money, five thousand sovereigns may be brought aboard as soon as you can moor your vessel upstream at the Parramatta Wharf — shall we say in two days’ time? I will have two of my late husband’s men bring it on board and guard it during the voyage. No disrespect to yourself, but they will of course be heavily armed.’
‘I enjoyed that,’ Rachel confessed as the two women were being rowed back across the harbour by six convicts detailed for the task from Macarthur’s farm and paid with rum.
Martha chuckled. ‘I’m afraid you betrayed yourself as a budding actress, Rachel. When I launch my first production, you will undoubtedly be playing a leading role.’
The following evening, Sergeant Milligan and Private Bush, handpicked from Daniel’s ‘A Company’, but wearing civilian clothing, climbed aboard the Batavia carrying a heavy box between them, which they guarded all the way to Calcutta. On the way back, they relaxed and enjoyed a permanent state of inebriation.
15
The new governor finally arrived in September 1795, allowing Major Paterson to sail back to London on the returning vessel, to some much-needed sick leave after the pressure of running the colony for the best part of two years. His was not the only promotion, since Governor Hunter used his first visit to Parramatta to authorise the promotion of John Macarthur to the rank of Captain, while establishing his working relationship with George, as his aide-de-camp, by promoting him to Major.
The strategic significance of the developments to the west of Sydney were not lost on him and he insisted that George give priority to the military supervision of these, while also ensuring that sufficient officers remained in Sydney to maintain law and order there. The departure of Major Paterson had left George as the senior military officer in the colony and the new governor appeared to be unaware that Major Johnston had previously only been responsible for Parramatta, a state of ignorance that George did nothing to dispel. Governor Hunter was also anxious to ensure that key figures in his administration were fully aware of what he (which meant London) was expecting of them all.
‘I answer directly to the Duke of Portland,’ he told George and Macarthur during their first meeting in the Parramatta Barracks, ‘and he’s adamant that we reduce the cost of running the colony.’
‘By reducing the number of convicts dependent on the Commissary Stores, you mean?’ Macarthur asked with a smile.
‘Precisely,’ Governor Hunter replied, ‘which is why I’m so pleased to see so much development taking place out here without the need for direct convict labour. As far as I’ve been able to calculate from the somewhat haphazard records that my predecessor left behind him, only some forty per cent of the labourers and craftsmen out here are receiving sustenance direct from the Store. How do you pay the rest — the ones who are free settlers for one reason or another?’
‘Obviously it’s difficult, with the shortage of actual coinage in circulation,’ Macarthur explained, ‘but in the main they seem to be content to be paid in kind.’
‘You mean rum?’ Hunter asked, his face clouding slightly. ‘Paterson was forever bombarding London with complaints about you paying emancipates with rum and other liquor.’
‘With respect,’ George chimed in, ‘Major Paterson only saw things with Sydney eyes. He was also against so many convicts becoming emancipated, because he wanted to retain the old ways, with convicts guarded by
a military elite. Out here we have to be more practical and men who are working for themselves, rather than labouring under the supervision of a marine with a bayonet, are likely to be far more productive. Emancipation also serves the purpose required by London, of reducing the direct cost of the colony, although — as you have no doubt already pointed out to them — the more convicts they send out here, the greater the strain on the Commissary and the greater the cost to the colony. But they save money and overcrowding in English gaols, as you have no doubt also pointed out.’
‘But even so,’ Hunter argued, ‘I can hardly report to Portland that we have a healthy and developing economy based entirely on rum as a medium of exchange. I have in mind opening a Mint and launching our own currency.’
A look of alarm flashed briefly across Macarthur’s face. ‘We don’t rely exclusively on rum, Governor,’ he hastened to explain. ‘Out there we have several growing sheep stations and George here has recently gone into cattle.’
Hunter snorted derisively. ‘Even less suitable, I would have thought. If a man does a day’s work for you, do you give him half a sheep’s leg in payment? For a week’s wages, will he get an entire cow’s arse?’
‘Obviously not,’ Macarthur explained patiently. ‘But I have hopes of being able to sell my sheep to those free settlers who’re beginning to farm out here. They’ve brought coinage out with them, expecting to pay their way in the English manner and those coins will, by those means, begin circulating around the colony. The more sheep — and for that matter, cattle — the more money in circulation and the less need for you to open a Mint, which surely cannot be your highest priority anyway.’
‘No indeed,’ Hunter confirmed. ‘We need a new hospital and barracks complex long before then and I have in mind a new Governor’s Mansion, perhaps out along the roadway just outside here.’
‘I’ll look into that immediately, Governor,’ Macarthur assured him, ‘but might I also ask if the next supply ship master could be instructed to find me some more grazing stock? The sheep we have at present are quite adequate, since I’ve managed to cross some hardy Bengal ewes with Irish rams that produce a pretty fine wool. But if I can increase and improve the breeding stock, I may soon be able to export some of my wool back to England, which will of course bring more coinage into the colony. They’re also not bad to eat, as you’ll discover at dinner time.’
‘Very well, you have my authority for that,’ Hunter told him. ‘But I also need to make better arrangements for you to carry out your duties for me in Sydney, George,’ he added, turning to another matter close to his immediate needs. ‘You already have a considerable amount of land to the south of the Cove, but there’s a patch in between, just to the south-west of the harbour itself. I’m granting you another hundred acres out there on the water, along with a cutter and crew all of your own. It’s adjacent to the land you already own and that way you’ll be able to attend at Governor’s Mansion in Sydney whenever you’re required. You can also follow Macarthur’s splendid example and open up a farm; we need cattle and horses, rather than more sheep, but I’ll leave that to you. I’ll allocate a dozen convicts to build you a house wherever you see fit.’
‘Thank you, Governor,’ George replied, ‘Rachel will be pleased.’
‘Remember, it’s in order that you can carry out your duties as my aide-de-camp more efficiently,’ Hunter reminded him. ‘It should not be seen as a precedent by any of your men. Talking of whom, who have you detailed to escort me to the Government Farm? I want to get that out of the way before we sit down to dinner.’
‘First Lieutenant Bradbury, sir, since he’s the one who polices it on a daily basis. I’ll just have him sent for.’
Daniel had been waiting outside, somewhat aggrieved that he hadn’t been allowed to attend the briefing with the governor and seemed to have been demoted to guide duties for the old buffer who looked as if he would barely survive the brisk hour’s ride out to Castle Hill, where a new government farm had been established to replace the experimental one that James Ruse had pioneered just across the new road from the barracks. Once it was known what grew best, one of the last actions of the outgoing colonial caretaker Paterson had been to establish what amounted to a strict convict compound up to the north, where grain and root crops were being successfully raised and sent back to the Commissary Store.
Daniel had complained about the remoteness of the place and the practical difficulties involved in maintaining an adequate number of Corps personnel to hold down a largely mutinous bunch of recalcitrant convicts, who appeared to him to have been selected solely on the basis of their disrespect for authority. The men he stationed out there were constantly complaining and none of them was prepared to settle out there with a wife and family, given the lecherous looks that the convicts gave to any female who went near the place.
Daniel had commissioned the two best mounts that the barracks possessed, but even so the governor was red in the face, sweating heavily and clearly somewhat testy, when they finally breasted the hill that led to the guardhouse and compound, inside which men could be seen hoeing the land to clear weeds from between the lines of grain crops, or hacking down the remaining trees so as to enable further expansion once their roots had been grubbed out.
‘How many men here, Lieutenant?’
‘Two sergeants and eight privates, working alternate shifts, sir.’
‘I meant convicts, you fool,’ Hunter admonished him.
Daniel swallowed the urge to knock the miserable old idiot off his horse and breathed deeply before replying. ‘At the last count, seventy-two, sir. And a pretty hard bunch they are, too. My men are in constant fear of a mass uprising of some sort, which is why I keep the place so heavily garrisoned.’
‘You can hardly blame the convicts for resenting their lot in life, particularly in this God-forsaken hole. Is this the hottest it gets?’ Hunter asked, removing his hat and mopping his brow.
‘No, sir,’ Daniel replied with a hint of a smirk. ‘It’s only October and by January it’ll be twice as hot and as steamy as the tropics. Not a good place to be visiting once the full summer sets in.’
‘I hope never to have to visit again,’ Hunter retorted, ‘but since I’m here anyway and can see for myself what a miserable dump it is, you’d better show me around.’
‘Sergeant Bellamy is waiting to do that, sir,’ Daniel replied, mentally wishing his sergeant the best of luck. ‘I’ll water our horses and get them rubbed down.’
‘You might want to do that for the both of us, while you’re at it,’ Hunter grumbled.
The return journey was no more enjoyable and Daniel was happy to leave the governor to enjoy a late dinner with George and Macarthur and return to his house, where the atmosphere of late had been little better. Martha clearly had something on her mind and whatever it was that was bothering her had made her somewhat short in her manner towards him. Not cold — just brisk and almost business-like, as if avoiding the need to engage in any meaningful conversation.
Daniel took a deep breath and went inside, where Martha was just lifting a pot of soup from the stove.
‘It’s a bit hot for soup today,’ Daniel remarked by way of a conversation opener.
Martha snorted in that way of hers lately. ‘Sorry it’s not oysters and champagne, but the Commissary had just run out. The bread’s yesterday’s as well — I couldn’t get time to cross the parade square, what with Matthew throwing his toys everywhere whenever I gave them to him, in the hope that he’d settle down. And if I try to carry him these days, he just bawls and screams to be put down to walk, then I have to worry that he’ll fall over and cut himself or something. God forbid that I have to present him at that hospital next door.’
‘It’s not easy, I know,’ Daniel offered by way of consolation.
Martha slammed the soup pot back on the stove, put her hands on her hips in a defiant gesture and said, ‘You know nothing, Daniel! You don’t have to spend every day in this dump of a house, with a child th
at’s determined to find every possible way of hurting himself, wondering what on earth I can cook that isn’t made from lentils, cabbage, potatoes or John’s sheep. So don’t tell me “you know”, because you don’t!’
Daniel’s jaw dropped. He knew his wife had spirit, as she had demonstrated before their marriage, but she had never turned on him like this since before their first night together. Nor had she ever voiced any discontent over their living conditions, seemingly happy to be a wife and mother living at government expense, watching their child grow up in a safe and loving environment. He was completely dumbstruck as he watched her face slowly crease, first in regret, then in supplication, then in total misery as she sank down in the chair, laid her head on the table and cried bitter tears of remorse and self-pity.
Daniel walked slowly across to her and tentatively stretched a hand onto her shoulder, expecting it to be shaken off angrily. Instead she gripped it hard, lifted her head, kissed the hand, then gasped out a few words. ‘Darling — so sorry — you don’t deserve it — forgive me.’ The tears still ran down her red face as she pulled him down on the chair next to her and folded him in her arms. ‘Please tell me you still love me and I haven’t ruined everything.’
He caressed her long black locks, matted with sweat and badly needing a comb. ‘I think I loved you the day I found you at the bottom of that pile of women on deck and I’ll love you till the day I die, whatever you do or say, but clearly something’s wrong and has been for several weeks, so now would be a good time to tell me all about it.’
She looked up into his eyes and, half-laughing and half-crying, told him, ‘I’m expecting again.’
Daniel’s eyes widened and a smile lit up his face. From total despair to ecstatic happiness in the space of less than a minute, it was certainly not boring being married to Martha. The smile turned into his trademark grin as he reached down and gently stroked her stomach. ‘Hello there, Mark,’ he joked.
