The Convict and the Soldier

by John P F Lynch

  Only last week he had an offer from Victoria and had written back accepting it. He had not told his wife of his search for another position. He would have to now! He had to admit to himself, being discovered copying and changing confidential documents was a bad error of judgment. He was an embarrassment but if his idea for a militia in the South Island had been accepted he would have had a flying start in establishing the militia with the stolen documents. But, for an officer and a gentleman, he had gone about it the wrong way.

  When he told his wife that he was no longer with the militia, she was bitterly disappointed, as she had made several good friends. She was enjoying her social status and now she would have to start all over again in another foreign land.

  He received a letter from the commandant offering him their current accommodation for a month, which he gratefully acknowledged in writing. He avoided the commandant and the other officers, mainly from his embarrassment and not being able to think of an adequate response for his foolhardy action.

  They began packing their clothes, valuables and selected furniture and visited the Bank of Australasia to consolidate their money into a bank draft. He had accumulated a considerable sum during his military career and still owned their home in England, which he had always intended to sell when he finally decided to retire.

  He enquired at the shipping offices for the next ship destined to sail for the port of Melbourne and found that the SS Carlene was due to sail in four days’ time via Norfolk Island. He paid for their cabin and made arrangements for their personal effects to be collected on the morning of the day before their departure. They would stay at an inn for their last night in New Zealand. They would leave quietly without any farewells. Virginia accepted this decision stoically. What else could she do?

  The morning of their departure arrived. It was cold and misty. A carriage drove them to the docks. They both walked up the ship’s gangway to be greeted by the captain. After their cabin bags were stowed, and when the ship was under way, they went up on deck to see the town of Auckland slowly disappear in the harbour mist astern of the SS Carlene with the ship making good speed assisted by a following strong south westerly wind.

  After sailing for sixty miles with land on either beam, they were soon in the open sea and the ship turned north past the tip of the North Island and into the Tasman Sea en route to Norfolk Island. There was no land close for the entire voyage. The captain had stood off the coast as these waters were uncharted. Indeed, after heading north- west, the next land fall would be the isolated Norfolk Island. The navigator had good weather to take sun shots and, in the evening, star shots, with his sextant. With excellent accuracy the isolated island appeared on the horizon dead ahead, after a voyage of eight days.

  Virginia stood alongside the first officer and watched the ship’s longboat lowered to the water. The sea was calm and the longboat sat comfortably as the sailors lowered their oars and then rowed towards the Norfolk Island shore. She waved to her husband, Paul, who sat in the bow with a ship’s officer. The captain had agreed for him to go ashore and visit the chief constable.

  The main reason for the ship’s stopover was to disembark some missionaries and food supplies. The ship anchored about a mile off shore in some twelve fathoms of water; a weather watch would be kept at all times while they were at this anchorage. It was early morning and the captain wished to be under way by nightfall, as the winds were unpredictable and several ships had been driven onto the rocks before with loss of life.

  Captain Cook had discovered Norfolk Island in 1774 and it had been a penal settlement since 1788, eventually being administered from Van Diemen’s Land. Its convict days were now over. Two months ago, an order in council had been issued declaring New Norfolk a District Settlement under the Governor of New South Wales. The history of this penal settlement was one of brutality and inhumanity, both from a British Government policy and its administration by incompetent and unfeeling commandants. Paul Lang was aware of this history and, as he had the opportunity to visit this infamous island, he now took the opportunity to see for himself.

  As the longboat neared the shore, they could see the magnificent forests of pine trees. These trees were already being used as ships spars and were being transported to New South Wales and England. The coast line was rugged and very few bays were safe to attempt a landing. Only one was deemed to be acceptable and even it required considerable small boat handling skills. There was a reef at the entrance to Sydney Bay and the tides needed to be observed prior to lining up for the run to shore. Fortunately the bosun had been to Norfolk Island before and had the necessary local knowledge to effect an accurate passage through the reef and up to the beach.

  A crowd had gathered at the beach. Obviously this would be an eventful day for the islanders, as few ships passed this way.

  The chief constable stepped forward and introduced himself to the ship’s officer who in turn introduced him to Paul as Colonel Lang late of the British Army. Many other residents stepped forward and introduced themselves to the boat crew seeking news from anywhere.

  The ship’s officer handed the chief constable some old newspapers. No doubt they would be shared by all residents over the next month or so. The chief constable arranged for the local long boats to visit the ship and bring back supplies and the missionaries. The unloading needed to be completed by early afternoon before the winds increased causing subsequent rough seas.

  The chief constable invited the ship’s officer and Paul to join him in a short tour of the Kingston prison facilities. The town had been laid out on the flat land adjacent the beach area, with buildings that were substantial and made of handmade brick blocks. Obviously many of the prisoners had stone mason skills.

  The prison was impressive with its grand entrance and three story barracks building. They did not convey the horror of what the inmates suffered but Colonel Lang could see the anchor points in the walls to which the prisoners would have been chained. They saw the cemetery where the 1834 mutineers were buried. It was sited looking out over the bay — at peace at last.

  A short ride in a four-in-hand cab took them into the centre of the island. The scenery was delightful with trees, large bushes and colourful plants. It was hard to imagine that only a few miles away some of the most barbaric treatment of convicts had existed.

  It was now nearing noon so they returned to Kingston and, as had previously been arranged, dined with a large group of local residents. They spent the next hour answering questions between meal courses. The chief constable escorted them to their longboat and, after shaking many hands, they bid goodbye. Together with a large bag of letters they departed the shores of Norfolk Island. The supplies had all been landed so as soon as the longboat had been hoisted aboard and stowed, the captain hoisted the sails and raised the anchor, setting a south easterly course for Port Phillip Bay.

  Virginia had retired for the night and Paul sat in a sheltered corner of the main deck. He looked out over the sea. A few clouds drifted slowly by, covering the stars for a short time before reappearing. The sea had a slight swell and the sails were full with the ship holding its head. Ever since that fateful day of the court martial he had experienced a loss of confidence in his ability to be an effective leader. He often sought a secluded place to calm his frustration. Virginia had recovered from her mental breakdown and was much calmer. She appeared to have put the whole incident behind her. Frederick had not been told what had happened at the court martial. It would have served no useful purpose.

  “Standby to reef the topsails!” The call from the quarterdeck brought Paul back from his New Zealand memories. The bosun came running from below decks and the duty crew climbed the riggings.

  The order came, “Reef the topsails.” The deck lines were slackened and the crew aloft reefed the sails, furled them and tied them secure. The wind had shifted and was now a nor’wester. The seas were choppy and the ship pitched and rolled as they changed course from due west to a southerly direction, looking for the best of
the wind. The captain was looking aloft at his sails. Seeing they were all full he told the helmsman to hold and steer this course. They had left Norfolk Island five days ago and were now well south in the Tasman Sea.

  Paul Lang enjoyed the sea. He had wondered in the past if it would have been better for him to have chosen a Navy career other than a military one. The battle with the elements may have been more satisfying than having to handle the differences in personalities he had encountered in the past. He was now finished with his military career and looked forward to a position in the new Colony of Victoria Constabulary. He was now fifty-six years of age and had been in New Zealand for two years. He would settle down and retire in Victoria. He had made up his mind that he would travel no more. The information he had on the Colony of Victoria was all good. His wife seemed content to retire with a few acres and his son was due to finish his education at the end of the year and would be joining them. Perhaps they would remain in the colony.

  The ship continued further south for several days, turning due west straight into a strong westerly and heavy chop. The ship didn’t roll excessively but it pitched heavily making the timbers creak continuously and the deck sprayed constantly with the cold and stinging sea water. It was a miserable week as they slowly made way up the Bass Strait to Port Phillip Bay.

  The captain stood off for twelve hours waiting for the Queenscliff signal station flags to signal the tides. Then it was full sails spread and the ship was headed into the middle of the entrance, with the tide running with them, between the headlands and into the large bay and up the dogleg channel to the Williamstown docks.

  The weather during the trip up the bay was warm with little wind. Both Paul and Mrs Lang spent most of the day on deck looking at the shoreline, the hills and the surrounding green bush land. At times they sailed quite close to the sandy beaches with small settlements and smoke from fires in the wooded areas. It was not as hilly as New Zealand and the bay had large flat coastal plains vanishing into the distant hills. At one stage the first officer approached Paul and handed him a telescope and pointed to a stretch of low lying land close to the ship. Paul put the telescope to his eye and saw, for the first time, a kangaroo.

  Indeed there were several kangaroos grazing near the shoreline. He was intrigued by the way they sat on the lower part of their hind legs while they grazed; their small front legs seemed of little use. One kangaroo stood up and looked around. At that very moment a small baby kangaroo — he was told it was called a joey — jumped from a pouch in front of her body. He was mesmerised by the sight of these unusual animals. He would see many of them in the days ahead. After a few minutes the kangaroos moved away. Bounding on their long hind legs, they quickly covered the distance of half a mile and then started grazing again. He handed the telescope to his wife who greatly enjoyed seeing them.

  It took nearly a day to sail up the bay due to the light winds, to see the main settlements spreading across the top of the bay with the hills of Macedon to the north. The ship then headed into Hobson’s Bay, to the west of the built on areas, and anchored close to the shore alongside many other ships swinging at anchor. Warehouses and small houses dotted the dock area which was a hive of activity. Carts and horses and people milled around, loading and unloading cargo. Small boats were being rowed to and from the many ships, some were towing barges to the ships. The Langs decided to remain on board for the night and disembark in the morning.

  The following morning they were approached by a customs agent with whom they spoke at length. He advised them how best to travel to Melbourne. They made arrangements with him to stow their personal effects at the Williamstown docks until after Lang had met with the Victorian Constabulary and found out when and where he was destined to start his new career. After thanking the ship’s captain they found accommodation in a Williamstown inn.

  After settling in, Paul proceeded by ferry to Sandridge and walked the remaining distance to Melbourne via the single span bluestone bridge crossing over the Yarra River.

  He went first to the Australasian Bank to open up an account and deposit his bank draft. The sum that he deposited rated an immediate meeting with the bank manager. Paul felt content because, upon banking the draft, he was now regarded as a man of means.

  During the informal discussions with the bank manager Paul asked for directions to the Constabulary Headquarters. The bank manager not only offered him his gig but had his driver take him there. Paul appreciated this offer as he had seen the condition of the streets with their pot holes and puddles. The footpaths were not much better. The drive took less than ten minutes and the gig stopped outside an impressive bluestone building on the side of a hill looking down to the Yarra River.

  Although Lang’s visit was naturally unexpected, the commissioner made time to meet with him within the hour. This made Paul feel comfortable as he was eager to know the details of the offer to be made to him as soon as possible. The offer had not explained his duties other than it would be a senior position. The Victorian Police Commissioner Zane was an old soldier who had served nearly all his service life on the Indian frontier and had not returned to England when he resigned his commission. He preferred a warmer climate.

  The commissioner walked in, shook his hand and they sat down alongside each other. He did not place a desk between them as was the normal practice with interviews. He had Paul’s application in his hand and asked him if he had anything more to add to his submission.

  Paul said, “No.” He saw no value in relating his reason for leaving the militia.

  The commissioner said, “As you are no doubt aware I am short of senior officers and have several areas in the Victorian country that need strong and forceful men. I believe a military style of leadership is necessary to maintain law and order in the colony. The country men are energetic, and enthusiastic in their endeavours to succeed but generally act as responsible individuals. Many arrived here as impoverished Irishmen, most from County Clare where I believe you once served. A few are ex-convicts who are now free men as are some of their wives. The majority are employed and are law abiding but in many cases they are resentful of authority. You will need to exercise your diplomacy skills constantly. I can give you a position in Melbourne but I would prefer you to accept a country position as an inspector in charge of a district. You would be answerable directly to the Deputy Commissioner, who unfortunately today is in Ballarat.”

  He continued, “The district I propose is north of Melbourne and three days drive by gig. It is called Kyneton and it is the centre of a rural area. It sits on the Campaspe River and has less than a thousand persons in the area. The district covers over a thousand square miles and comprises mainly flat rolling plains suitable for grazing and crops. The town is well served with a variety of shops and agriculture, services and tradesmen. Suitable town accommodation would be arranged for you and your wife. Also, the British Army 12th Regiment has a presence in the centre of the town. I think that’s enough for now. Do you have any questions?”

  Paul thought quickly and then said, “No, but I believe I might like that posting. Could I visit the town prior to finally agreeing?”

  “Yes, certainly. You can go tomorrow. I can supply you a horse or we have a weekly gold escort guard positioning to Bendigo via Kyneton tomorrow morning. You can travel with them if you wish. Be here at 0900 hours. You must now excuse me, I have another meeting.” The commissioner rose quickly, shook hands and was gone from the room while Paul was still trying to digest what he had been told.

  The news that the 12th Regiment was based in Melbourne concerned him a little but he dismissed it as being of no consequence. What had happened in Ireland was in the past and probably forgotten by all and sundry. He believed that he would be unknown here.

  On his return, Virginia was standing at the window of the inn room looking out over Williamstown. She turned and looked at him expectantly. He was smiling, so she relaxed and went to make tea. They sat together while Paul told her all that he could remember fro
m the commissioner’s description. She yearned for stability in their life and she thought that maybe living in a rural environment could be the answer. When Frederick arrived she would have him to talk to and hopefully with some tame farm animal around the house, she would have another interest other than reading and sewing.

  It was still dark when Lang left the inn the next morning. He arrived at the constabulary stables on time and was greeted by a sub-inspector who saluted him even though he was not in uniform. He then handed him a letter from the commissioner to pass to the sub-inspector in Kyneton. He obviously knew why Lang was taking this trip up country.

  The gold escort guard mounted and formed two lines. They headed out at exactly 0900 hours. Their course headed due north for four hours to the village of Sunbury where they stopped, fed and watered the horses, then sat down themselves for a meal.

  They resumed riding and continued on, veering roughly in a north westerly direction to the western side of the Macedon hills and up through the Black Forest. After another three hours riding they enjoyed another short break and arrived at Woodend as darkness was falling. They had a ready-made camp in the village on the village creek. They had previously built a small camp here when they first took over the gold escorting responsibility. It consisted of twelve bunk beds and a wood stove. It was primitive but it was better than sleeping outside in the cold and damp weather typical of this area.

  Lang had been informed that the Kyneton district started at the southern part of the Black Forest, which they had just travelled through. He was to learn that the Black Forest area was notorious for ‘robbery under arms’ or as they called it in the colonies ‘bushranging’.

  The call of the kookaburra awoke the camp at daylight. Its raucous laugh was exhilarating to hear even though it was a bit too loud when sitting on the roof of the camp. The stove fire had been kept alight through the night by the duty guard and the hut was warm. A breakfast of bacon and eggs with bread and tea was enjoyed by all and made for the start of a good day. The horses were fed and watered.