He found the Supply to be very cramped. Her captain, Lieutenant Henry Lidgbird Ball, was an obliging and friendly officer of alert and aristocratic bearing, with a straight, if long, nose and a high forehead. He was some thirty years of age and the Supply was his first command. Although the smallest in the fleet, he was intensely proud of her. The ship’s Master was David Blackburn, a reluctant appointee to the Supply but a diligent and competent officer. Both men had been shipmates in HMS Victory.
She was an armed tender of 170 tons and with eight guns; a sixth rate ship, with a total complement of fifty men. It had been thought that she would be a poor vessel for such an undertaking, and sail badly, but in fact, Arthur Phillip had been pleased with her performance, due in part to the skill of her Master, David Blackburn. Jack found her uncomfortable and her constant rolling and pitching after the comparative size of Sirius was inclined to disturb him, but he enjoyed the company of the officers. Within a week, he had adapted to the small vessel and grown to share the captain’s affection for her.
The days slipped past and Christmas celebrated in modest style. Early in the new year of 1788, they observed the Aurora Australis, faint and smudged at first, but on the night of the 6th of January, the crew was able to observe the phenomena in full splendour. Initially it appeared as a long, writhing snake-like ribbon, stretching across the horizon from starboard to larboard, turning into a rippling curtain of ghostly green light, with fingers of pink and red, all waggling furiously. Lieutenant King sketched it intending to make a watercolour of it when time allowed. Jack stood on deck watching it for an hour or more in wonder before it dissipated itself and vanished from the night.
Two days later, he heard the cry that had all had awaited; that land had been sighted. He shared the excitement of the rest of the crew, and rushed up to the quarterdeck to see this land they had travelled so long and so far to see. The men starting cheering and laughing, jumping with the joy of land to look at, not mountains of foam-topped seas.
‘Van Dieman’s Land, Mister Vizzard, not New Holland!’ Lieutenant Ball smiled. ‘But we shall anchor in Botany Bay soon enough.’ Ball was as excited as any man aboard, but his new position constrained him from revealing his feelings; that and perhaps his natural reserve.
Raising his telescope, Jack surveyed the land just visible off the port bow of Supply and allowed himself a glow of satisfaction. It had been a good voyage, far better than any had predicted or expected. The Governor would be pleased. After the months of planning, and nearly two hundred and fifty days at sea, they were almost there. He heard movement behind him and sensed William Dawes at his shoulder.
‘We have a landfall, Jack?’ he asked.
‘Aye Will, that we do. Van Dieman’s Land is perhaps twelve miles off. Another week or so will see the fleet in Botany Bay. At least the worst of the weather is behind us now.’ It was still blowing hard with rain driving from the north - west.
Captain Arthur Phillip arrived on deck, just a little short of breath, obviously stirred from his desk by the news. Jack moved to the lee side of the quarterdeck as demanded by custom in the Navy, leaving the two sea officers to observe and converse in some privacy. As word spread other officers sought space on the now cramped deck, and Captain David Collins joined them. The marine officers gazed across the expansive sea for some time before Collins finally spoke.
‘Our time is nearly on us then, Jack. Very soon, we will be ashore and our real work will begin.’
‘I have been wondering about this time since we left Portsmouth. It is a strange feeling to be looking at land that very few men have looked upon before.’
They stood together, gazing at the mountainous country, each wondering on the future.
30
Botany Bay
Lieutenant Henry Lidgbird Ball lowered the telescope from his eye, turned and passed an order to his sailing master, David Blackburn. ‘Ease her off, Davy. Prepare to anchor if you would. Two cables from the north head should do very well I think.’
His eyes scoured the shore, noted some natives brandishing short spears. He was not encouraged.
‘A reception committee awaits us, sir’.
Arthur Phillip shaded his eyes against the white sun, blinking several times to aid his focus.
‘Yes, Harry. It is to be expected. We must all of us be mindful that it is we who intrude here. We must show them we intend no harm. I will take a party ashore presently and make contact with them.’
The anchorage secured, at about three in the afternoon, sailors lowered the ship’s boats, with Governor Phillip, Lieutenants King, Dawes and Vizzard aboard. A party of seamen from Supply, accompanied by Jack’s men, followed and landed on the north side of the wide bay. The first task was to find a supply of water with which to replenish the fleet’s casks. Finding nothing suitable the party returned to a point opposite the Supply.
They encountered a small group of the natives who shouted at them menacingly, waving their short spears. Arthur Phillip held out a selection of brightly coloured beads, strung on necklaces, ordered one of the sailors to attach them to the canoes they had pulled up onto the sand. The natives showed no interest but the threatening attitude moderated. By use of crude sign language Phillip indicated the need to find water, which they understood, and by similar sign language they made reply, indicated the other side of the point on which they stood. On reaching the far side the natives pointed to a fine stream of fresh water draining into the bay.
Governor Phillip again advanced towards the group, alone and unarmed, once more holding out a selection of beads and ribbons. One of the natives appeared desirous of having them and came forward, but not so close as to receive them directly from Phillip’s hand. He made sign to place them on the sand. On that being done the man, completely naked and in obvious fear, was emboldened enough to advance further and pick them up. With more confidence, he came closer still and took possession of other articles offered, including a mirror, with which he was very amused. He danced and shouted excitedly, waving the mirror at his fellows. Arthur Phillip took encouragement from that, and relaxed.
Jack watched very carefully, particularly amongst the Indians to the rear, but mindful of his orders not to engage closely, remained with his men by the boats, until Phillip decided that sufficient contact had been made for the day, ordered the party to return to the ship.
To Commodore Phillip’s surprise, the remainder of the fleet arrived at the anchorage within twenty-four hours of the Supply lowering her anchor. Their passage had not been as inhibited or delayed as he had expected.
During the ensuing days, Arthur Phillip made a number of small-scale expeditions, exploring the area and the inlets around the bay. Encounters with the natives continued, some with a show of hostility towards the Englishmen, some with more affable conclusion.
One evening in the cabin of Sirius, the officers discussed the day’s encounter with the indigenous people of New South Wales. To all they were known as Indians.
‘They appear a very simple race of Indians to me, sir,’ offered Lieutenant King. ‘They seem to have dispensed with any form of clothing, and their weapons are crude and rudimentary.’ King crossed his arms. ‘Their canoes also are of the most elementary design, barely seaworthy I would hazard.’
‘Indeed they are, Mister King, but be very aware of His Majesty’s wish to treat these people well, and that is my instruction too. It will go badly with any man; officer, seaman, marine or convict, who causes any distrust or harm. We will have need of good relations with them, if we are to settle this place.’ Phillip drank from his glass, gathering his thoughts. ‘However gentlemen, I am yet to be persuaded that Botany Bay is as it should be. In my candid opinion, it does not accord with Captain Cook’s account. I intend that we explore further before any general disembarkation is made.’
There was general agreement with that opinion, it being the consensus the bay offered poor shelter for the fleet. The brief forays off the beach reinforced the conclusion, the grou
nd in the vicinity being of poor quality and unsuitable for cultivation.
Jack spent time ashore with watering parties, making short-range patrols of the hinterland under the increasingly aggressive supervision of Major Ross, who had arrived at Botany Bay within a day of the Supply. He kept a flow of sarcasm directed at him, seeking to undermine the obvious respect the marines had for their young officer. ‘Keep your blade sharp, Mister Vizzard, I fancy you will have need of it afore long laddie’, he goaded Jack.
He clenched his teeth, his fists by his sides, breathing hard. Packer had heard the jibe. ‘Stay calm, sir, please. He ain’t worth it, sir,’ he muttered.
A shadow passed across Jack’s face. ‘Quiet, Joe. Be about your duty.’
He spoke calmly, but he knew that one day there would have to be a reckoning between them.
31
Sydney Cove
The brightness of the light had surprised all aboard Lady Penrhyn. The women often had the opportunity to exercise or work on deck since leaving England of course, but never before had their English eyes experienced such blinding whiteness, such pellucid skies. The blue ocean sparkled with the light cast down from a sun that appeared larger than any had seen before. The sand cleaner, the clouds sharper, the trees greener, against a sky of the deepest azure blue.
Some days later, after a number of short, and for the most part fruitless and unsatisfactory excursions in the immediate hinterland, the masters of the transports were ordered to bring their ships to Port Jackson, and although only light breezes blew from the south-south-east, the crews had great difficulty in working out of the bay.
A series of orders fluttered from the flagship: Governor Phillip was in a hurry. He had explored some miles to the north and had found a most excellent harbour. His party in three ship’s boats had discovered a deep harbour, entered between narrow heads, and in which he judged it possible for the transports to anchor in deep water very close to the shore. He had observed also that the land in that area was superior to that examined in the present locality.
Having encountered the ships of La Perouse, the French explorer, at the entrance to Botany Bay, Captain Hunter knew it was time to be gone from this place. He was more than a little anxious to conceal the fleet’s intended destination.
The Prince of Wales became fouled with the Friendship rending her new mainsail and topmost staysail. The latter lost her jib boom in the collision. By evening however the entire fleet had left Botany Bay and was safely at anchor in a small cove, within Port Jackson. The tymbals of a hundred thousand Greengrocer and Double Drummer cicadas sang a continuous mating song, almost expunging the other sounds in the cove. A flagpole, erected earlier in the morning, was proudly flying the Union Jack. Officers drank to the health of the Royal Family, the marines fired several volleys as a salute, and the Governor named the place Sydney Cove.
It was Saturday 26th January 1788.
‘SO WHERE WE OFF TO now then, Mary? Watcha heard then luv, come on; your man must know summat.’ Lizzie wiped sweat from her forehead with her sleeve. ‘All this coming and going, I dunno what them orfficers think they’re about.’ Lizzie had no information from her own men and the frustration she felt, had got the better of her.
She sat on the deck, among a group of women making up shirts and smocks that the master of Penrhyn, intended to sell for his own account for a further, and entirely personal and private profit.
Mary closed off another loose thread; plucked at the button she had fixed placing the finished coarse shirt into a basket in front of her, and stretched out her long brown legs. The hours spent on deck had changed her colouring, and given her face, arms and legs a healthy golden-brown shade.
‘I hear the Governor has dismissed Botany Bay as a suitable site for us poor wanton women, and proposes to establish a camp further north. How far I know not, but it is said to be more sheltered and with good soil for crops. Lord how I wish we could get off this ship and be rid of these damned sailors!’
‘My man reckons they’ve given the thumbs down to this place and we’m being sent to China,’ another woman volunteered.
‘Balls to that notion, Maggie,’ retorted Lizzie, ‘we must have passed China months back. I reckon they just gonna dump us on some lost island and leave us to rot.’ She picked at a piece of rough calico, threading her needle with a deft stroke, and continued, ‘Mind you now, we’ll be alright if they leave a few decent marines to look after us, eh Mary!’ She winked and grinned, showing some uneven, chipped and now carious teeth.
Mary looked at her friend. She had grown fond of Ned, and had spent one or two nights on deck with him, and a night in his hammock. They had spoken little during the day, but both understood the nights would sometimes bring them together.
‘I only took your advice, Lizzie, just learned for myself that I had to find someone to help me get through this journey and whatever the future has for me.’ Imperceptibly, a small sigh escaped and she yawned to cover it, standing and stretching like a cat just risen from sleep.
‘Ned’s a good man, and better he as a guard than some of the monkeys we’ve got on board. Now who has the duty for dinner – I’m in need of some home made beef pie and pastry with onions and kidneys and a bucket of gravy.’ She laughed and was glad that some of the others did also.
In fact, the women had no dinner that day. The Lady Penrhyn, in company with the other transports, was not clear of Botany Bay until 3 o’clock in the afternoon, and reached Port Jackson that evening at about 7 o’clock, fortunately without further incident. The women were not to be put ashore however, as the landing party were busy preparing a place for settlement.
Each day a party of men would be ashore and under the supervision of marine guards, were set to work clearing the ground near the run of fresh water at the head of the cove. Saw pits were dug, trees were felled, ground cleared and tents erected. The women observed this activity in frustration.
Lieutenant Dawes worked closely with Governor Phillip at this time. At 26 years of age, William Dawes was designated Officer of Engineers and Artillery. He would have little need of his skill as an artilleryman, but that did not stop him designing bastions for the defence of the new settlement. Major Ross demanded it, arguing a fortress was a priority for the settlement. Governor Phillip instructed him to spend no time on such matters. For the present needs of the newly born colony however, his skills were used to lay out the essentials of a new town, which Governor Phillip had initially intended to call Albion but had recently decided would be called Sydney, to honour Lord Townshend.
He established the site of the government farm and explored, seeking a site for his observatory. He was in truth a mathematician; a savant, learned in many things and deeply interested in the sciences and the night sky. A pious man, he nevertheless had become a good friend of and to Jack who, not so involved with the design of the new settlement, also spent time ashore with his marines.
Jack cursed them, worked them hard, kept them maintaining their equipment and had them patrolling the area, when other companies were standing idly by; drinking openly and talking amongst themselves in mutinous language, bemoaning their lot at standing guard over the dregs of London society. Brother officers, encouraged by Major Ross, began to smirk and one or two openly mocked him. He cared not. This was his first command, and he was determined not to be found wanting in his duty. So he chose not to join in the drinking, the gambling with dice or cards, or the petty squabbles that had started amongst some officers.
Corporal Edward Goodall was a reliable marine. Before the fleet had left Portsmouth, he had hopes of advancement to Sergeant. He was mindful of his duty, kept himself clean and his equipment in good order. He was not one of those men given to heavy drinking, or ravaging of the women on his transport. He kept his own counsel but felt that Port Jackson was not the place for a good soldier.
In America, he had been lucky. An angel had been on his shoulder that day. When the shot had flown and reduced the front rank of men to bloody ra
gs of red, he had survived. Climbing over the dead and mutilated bodies of his comrades, he had been one of the first to reach the Yankees, even before that Scots bastard, Ross. His bayonet had kept him alive that horror-filled afternoon.
By Jesus, he had earned his shilling that day. Those rebels had fought, he recalled. Fought like cornered, wounded beasts. The hill had become a charnel house. Ross, his company commander, had immediately made him Corporal because there were so few left. Now that bastard had criticised his equipment. Had called him a slovenly dirty soldier, merely because his bayonet was blackened. No fucking wonder, thought Ned Goodall. Half my kit is blackened and rotting after that fucking voyage. That bastard Scotsman expects my bayonet to be as clean and shiny as if I was on parade at Chatham.
He had tried to protest, but that was to no avail. His mistake, he realised later, was only to infuriate his commanding officer by appealing for transfer to Mister Vizzard’s platoon. He was an officer to follow. Not a pompous bastard or a ‘spit and polish at all costs’ man either. The suggestion had made the Major explode.
‘You wee shit of a man!’ Major Ross had shouted. ‘Nay, lad. You will nae have that little luxury. I will break ye first. I made ye and I can break ye.’
Ned Goodall left Major Ross’s tent a shaken man. He knew what it would mean to be broken; to be reduced to the ranks again. Not only the lower pay, but also the marines he had been responsible for would no longer have any respect for him. His life would become hell. They would never obey an order he gave them again. Never again would he feel that he was in control of his fate.
‘Mister Vizzard, sir, I done nothing wrong, sir,’ he bleated. ‘All that I said was I would prefer a transfer to your section, sir. All `cause me bleeding bayonet wasn’t shiny. Begging your pardon, sir, but it been impossible to keep our kit ship-shape and Bristol fashion in the voyage, sir’
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