The dry weather was a blessing. The roads were firm and George was confident that hauling the wool to Swansea would be successful. Two years ago a wool wagon had become bogged and it had taken them three days to extract it from the mud hole.
With the shearing finished and the wagons ready to roll, they prepared to travel to Swansea via Triabunna. George was going in a pagnel cart made of Van Diemen’s Land blackwood with seven metal leaf springs which gave a better ride than most other gigs. Michael and Seamus would ride in their two wheeled cart, leading the wool wagons driven by George’s farmhands.
The night before they were to leave, Mary prepared an excellent three course meal, complete with good wine. The four of them each made a toast to their futures. Alfred, Heather and young Seamus were also toasted. At the end of the evening George presented them with a pistol each as a going away present. He had purchased four pistols from the Colt Guns Stand at the Great Britain Great Exhibition held at the Paxton Crystal Palace in Hyde Park, during his visit to London in 1851. He had presented one to Alfred and had now decided to give Michael and Seamus one each. “Crime is bad here but worse when you get to Victoria. You will need to protect yourself and I regard you two as almost family, hence my concern for your safety and these presents.” The pistols were 1851 Navy Colt percussion six shot .36 calibre revolvers. His gift would prove to be an apt present in times to come. Their thanks were profound.
After a quick farewell to Mary, the wool convoy headed down the farm driveway, turned right at the road and headed north to Triabunna. The roads had some ruts from previous inclement weather but the wide steel rims of the wool wagon wheels handled them without difficulty. The gig and the cart often left the road and travelled on the grass edges of the road to protect the wheels from unnecessary heavy impact with the potholes.
They made good progress and the miles were quickly covered. Several times they stopped while George made some idle gossip with other farmers, catching up with the local news. They were advised to keep an eye out for strangers and treat them with caution. There had been several attempted hold ups over the last three months. Fortunately only a few of them had been successful. There were troopers and constables around but they did not know the country as well as the bushrangers and could not locate them. The only other news was the rumour that the transportation of convicts might cease and that the colony’s name might be changed from Van Diemen’s Land to Tasmania. George had been mooting for a year that the British Government should be giving more assistance to families who could contribute to the growth of the colony rather than convicts. A name change would help remove the penal colony image.
During their midday stop they watered and fed the horses and had a meal break themselves. The remainder of the day’s travel was uneventful other than passing a small group of Aborigines who showed little interest in their convoy. It was a boring drive with only the plod of the horses’ hoofs and the clinking of the harness shackles interrupting the silence of the bush. Michael amused himself by laying back in the cart admiring the eagles that flew overhead, circling, gliding and then soaring up into the blue skies.
They reached Triabunna mid-afternoon and George, Michael and Seamus found rooms in the Spring Bay Inn, which overlooked a small bay leading off Prosser Bay. After stabling the horses they had a meal and all retired early. The farmhands slept underneath the wagons which had been lined up. The dog was tied up to the gig; his bark would alert the farm hands to any intruders who might come near the wagons during the night time hours.
The next morning the inn’s fowl run rooster advised all of the approaching dawn with his raucous crowing. The kitchen was warm and ready to feed them with a warm bowl of oats and a large pot of tea then eggs on bread. It was a good way to start the day.
They packed some bread and cold meat for the final run up to Swansea. They intended to stop at noon, boil the billy and have a meal break, then continue non-stop to Swansea. The farm hands had already had breakfast and fed and watered the horses and the dog, and were completing the harnessing of the horses to the vehicles. The sun was just rising. A low mist hovered over the road and the fields. There was no wind and it could take until noon before the wind would be strong enough to move the mist.
The whips cracked and the wagons rolled, the horses blowing moisture in the morning air from their nostrils, creating a typical winter farm scene. The small wool convoy rolled along, making good time. The mist lifted mid-morning and the sun slowly started to appear.
The driver of the first wagon called down from his seat on the top front bale. “I can see over the top of the rise in the road and there are three horsemen in the middle of the road looking this way.” He slipped down into a gap behind the two front bales and placed his shotgun alongside his right side on top of the bale. George, Michael and Seamus each drew their revolvers. George moved his gig to the left of the front wagon while Michael moved his cart to the right side.
The horses continued to plod along with the cart and the gig now in a line with the front wagon, and the second wagon bringing up the rear.
As the convoy reached the top of the rise they saw that the three horsemen had heard the approach of the wool convoy. They now turned and moved towards it.
George ordered the front wagon driver to fire his shotgun high above the horsemen’s heads. The three horsemen immediately stopped their advance and saw that George, Michael and Seamus each held a revolver in their hands.
The three horsemen spoke to each other and then turned as one and rode at a high gallop back down the road. They headed off over the fields to the distant tree line. As the horsemen had made no effort to converse with them, they all agreed that they had driven off some bushrangers and all felt a rush of pride in their action. What a story George had to tell his family!
The convoy stopped at noon and watered and fed the animals. They had a meal themselves with the two farmhands standing guard on top of the wool wagons. The remainder of the trip was without incident and they arrived at Swansea at dusk.
It was too late to consider unloading the wool so George called a stop. “We will go down to the wharf tomorrow mid-morning.” He had to organise a barge through his agent.
There were several ships anchored off the foreshore sitting quietly in the still waters of the bay, with the sun setting slowly behind them. The ships’ shadows stretched across the bay making them feel at peace with such a serene scene.
The next morning George went by himself to the agent. He expected to be away for an hour. Michael and Seamus went down to the docks and left the farmhands to keep an eye on the wool wagon. They turned a corner and walked straight into a constable talking with two men.
The constable turned. “Stay where you are!” He spoke to the other men and then handed some papers back to them. The constable said, “What are your names?”
They answered, “Michael Somerset and Jack Lodge.”
He then asked, “Your papers please.”
Michael and Seamus did as ordered.
He then asked, “How do I know that these papers are yours?”
A voice said, “Because I signed them.” It was George, he had been told that the agent was at the docks and he had come here to find him.
The constable turned and saw George. “Good morning, Mr Alford. Are these your men?”
“Yes, they are,” replied George.
Another voice said, “Good morning. What’s going on here?”
Michael froze. He knew that voice! Another constable walked into the group. It was Thomas Byrne!
Each stared at each other for a moment but neither gave any indication that they knew each other. Each had a stoic countenance.
George spoke first. “Your fellow constable was just checking the identity of my shearers. There is no problem; I can vouch for them.”
Constable Byrne nodded and walked away. The other constable gave them back their papers, nodded to George and also left.
George asked, “What was that all about?” He had sense
d something untoward had occurred. When he was told, he burst into laughter. “Lucky I was there to ward off the first constable. He knows me from Council Chambers as the Shire President. You two solved the problem with the second constable. It shows you how risky it is for you to remain in the colony for too long.” Michael and Seamus nodded their agreement. Exactly what they had been thinking!
George went off in search of the elusive agent, while Michael and Seamus went back to the wagon. They boiled the billy and sat drinking tea, thanking their lucky stars for their narrow escape and agreed that they must leave the colony at the first opportunity. They also agreed that if they possibly could, they would take the cart and horse, together with the dog, to Victoria. This would give them a reliable income as shearers and also give them some visual credibility and acceptance.
A voice said, “Meet me behind the inn stables in an hour.” It was Thomas. He had walked along the opposite side of the wagon, keeping out of sight. It was best if he was not seen with them.
The stables were only ten minutes’ walk away and they were early. Thomas walked over, smiling, and the three each shook hands and patted each other on the back. It was a happy meeting of old friends. They each told of the events they had faced after leaving Port Arthur.
Thomas had done a short practical training course at the Hobart Police Barracks and had been posted to Swansea. There was one sergeant and four constables to cover a semi-circular area from Bicheno to Orford and about fifty miles inland. He travelled often and widely and had met a young lady. He was enjoying the job and was happy to stay there for the time being.
Michael and Seamus related their experiences and Thomas listened in amazement at their luck at meeting Albert and Heather Alford. However, after this morning’s scare they said that they were now going to leave the colony as soon as possible, but they were unsure how best to attempt their escape.
Thomas said, “The port of Bicheno is notorious for transporting illegal passengers and cargo by ship. Mostly the customs officers are tied up with handling ships arriving and departing Swansea. The police are more interested in maintaining law and order, rather than being involved with illegal shipping activities. If I had to leave I would try to ship out of Bicheno. It should be fairly easy to find contacts in the port; they’re everywhere.”
The port of Bicheno was north, only a day’s travel away. Thomas had to leave, so they each wished each other good fortune and safe travel for the future, not knowing if they would ever meet again.
Michael and Seamus accepted Thomas’s advice and decided they would leave for the port as soon as the wool was unloaded and George was heading home with his farmhands.
George returned around midday and advised they would start unloading the wool immediately. They drove the wagon under a large swinging arm crane. The winch rope had four separate ropes with a hook attached to each. The winch rope was slackened and the four hooks pushed by hand into the four sides of the wool bale. The winch was then operated and lifted the bale clear of the wagon. The swinging arm manoeuvred the bale out over a barge moored along the wharf. The rope was slackened dumping the bale onto the barge deck. The hooks pulled out and the process was repeated until the wagon was emptied of the bales, all before nightfall.
The last night they spent together was both a celebration and a farewell dinner. The wool cheque was better than he expected and George gave Michael, Seamus and the two farmhands a bonus. The farewell consisted of an excellent meal and quality wines. Everyone was toasted, starting with their families down to the dog and everyone in between. They had formed a genuine affection for George and he treated them as blood relatives. They promised to keep in contact now that the mail service had been organised throughout the colonies. After the drink had taken its toll, they each decided to retire for the night.
¶
The next morning, after a quick good bye, both parties departed, going their separate ways. George headed south in his gig leading the wagon being driven by the farmhands. Michael and Seamus headed north in their cart with the dog sitting under the seat.
The road north was in reasonable condition with very few pot holes and the land in the immediate vicinity was flat, closely following the shoreline. To the west the mountains were shrouded in low cloud. Their greenness belied their carpet-like denseness and the extreme danger of becoming lost for the inexperienced traveller.
After ten hours driving with a few breaks in between, a small rise appeared in the distance. Upon reaching the top of the rise they could see the sea and the small port of Bicheno about two miles away.
The port was in darkness when they arrived with very few shops open and even less people around. Several ships were lying idle at anchor with a few more tied alongside the wharf. An old sailor appeared from the dock and began to walk in front of them. He turned and asked for a lift to a pub in the distance. They agreed and he climbed in beside the dog, who looked at him and then promptly went back to sleep.
Michael asked, “Do you know of anyone needing a crew to Melbourne?”
The sailor replied, “I own my own boat and I sail anywhere at any time. Tell your friends to ask for China Jack if they need to go somewhere; no questions asked.”
“How big is your boat? Would it take our cart and horse?” asked Michael.
China Jack answered, “Yes, but I need to arrange some more cargo from this port first.” They dismounted at the pub and entered a small smoky bar room filled with all types of people, some well-dressed and others with extremely dishevelled attire.
In the light of the room China Jack appeared even smaller than before. He was strongly built with a small beard and had a cap perched on top of a mass of grey hair. His grim expression showed that he was not a man to be trifled with. He stood by himself in the corner looking around the room.
Michael watched as several people approached and spoke to him. He nodded to several and said a few words and then walked towards the entry door.
He whispered to Michael, “Meet me here tomorrow morning at eight.”
Michael said, “How much?”
“You can afford my price,” China Jack responded.
Michael and Seamus stabled the horse, tied the dog to the cart and took a large room to enjoy a good night’s sleep.
At eight the next mornimg they were outside the pub after having had a large breakfast and feeding the horse and dog. They were unsure when they would eat again. China Jack arrived on time.
He said, “Take the coast road east for around one mile and you will see a small road to the right. This will take you to a single wharf situated between two buildings used by the whaling ships for cutting up the whales and extracting oil. I will be there at 0900 hours. Be there on time; do not be late. I will load the cart and horse first and then some other cargo. I want the cart to be dismantled by you and the horse blindfolded. It must be done quickly. I don’t want interference from the two local customs officers. They are busy at the moment in Swansea as two boats are docking now. It will take several hours to be checked and for the officers to arrive here, but I prefer to leave nothing to chance.”
Michael and Seamus arrived on time and true to his word the dismantled cart and horse were immediately loaded on board a pontoon by his two crewmen. The pontoon was thirty feet long and twenty feet wide but really was only a glorified raft. Four large tree trunks formed a square with heavy twenty feet long planks bolted to the two thirty feet long trunks. Four metal rings were bolted to each corner. In the following twenty minutes, twenty barrels of whale oil were rolled onto the pontoon and upended around the horse. The pontoon was towed out to the ship by a large row boat from the whaling ship.
Michael, Seamus and the dog went on board the ship first. The ship’s crew immediately swung out a boom and lowered a sling large enough to lift the barrels, the horse and finally the cart. The barrels and the horse were lowered into the hold and placed in a sling and the cart tied down on the main deck.
The small ship was named the SS Eliza and it
was anchored close to Governor’s Rock opposite the wharf. The high tide was due to turn within the next two hours. This, together with the assistance of a weak off shore breeze, had the ship under way by ten o’clock.
The ship was very basic. There was a small cabin for the passengers and a wheel house for China Jack. Michael looked at the sails and the ropes and was surprised to see that they were all in good condition.
China Jack saw him looking and invited him to the wheelhouse. “Am I right in thinking you are a sea going man?”
Michael told him of his experience at sailing and his shipwright qualifications. China Jack told Michael that he kept a good ship. He had clashed with a particular customs officer over bribery payments wanted by the officer and was now being harassed by him, forcing China Jack to resort to move in dubious circles and assignments, and into carrying persons wishing to bypass the formal departure procedures.
The SS Eliza sailed well. China Jack was a good mariner. He kept his small ship close to shore along the Van Diemen’s Land coast. Michael enjoyed the smell of the clean cool sea air as much as that of the smell of freshly cut green grass. They sailed up past the Bay of Fires, often mistakenly thought to be named after the orange lichen on the rocks but really they had been named after Aboriginal fires.
China Jack told Michael he was going into Western Port Bay as it was shorter than sailing up to Port Phillip Bay. It was also easier to enter as he would not have to negotiate the notorious Heads. China Jack advised them that this would be a safe port for them to enter Victoria. The customs officers were all at Williamstown near Melbourne.
The Convict and the Soldier Page 16
