Category Archives: Colonial History

Profile: Mary Ann Grayson

When twenty-three year old widow, Mary Ann Grayson, arrived in Van Diemen’s Land, she’d already shown a propensity to be difficult and this didn’t change when she arrived. She was transported from England for seven years after being found guilty of stealing twenty-one shillings and sixpence. An English northerner and farm servant by trade, Mary Ann’s time as a convict was characterised by her stubborn resistance to toeing the line, despite the many harsh punishments she received. She married fellow convict, Charles Bartam, which had a profound impact on both of their lives. Mary Ann became one of Tasmania’s most well-known and celebrated hoteliers, amassing assets that would become the centre of a bitter court battle. Mary Ann’s story is told over Three Acts.

Act I: in which Mary Ann’s life changes for ever—windowed farm servant, turned convict. Rebellious, punished, social.

Act II: in which Mary Ann builds the life she’s wanted—respected businesswoman, landlord, unparalleled hotelier.

Act III: in which we witness the epic battle for her assets.

This is her story.

ACT I

A Life Forever Changed

A feisty northerner in the south

When Mary Ann Grayson arrived in Van Diemen’s Land, she stated her “real” name was Owens and that she was a widow.[i] Born in 1813[ii] in Liverpool, Lancashire, Mary Ann Owens was baptised either on 21 March 1813 (to parents Robert and Hannah Owens) or 29 March 1813 (to parents William and Mary Owens) in St Peter, Liverpool, Lancashire.[iii]

Despite record searches, we are unable to locate a marriage for Mary Ann Owens that occurred before 1834 (the date of her arrival to Hobart). So, it is unclear why Mary Ann would find herself two hundred and forty-five miles south of her birthplace, and answering to charges of theft. The Hampshire Advertiser reported on 4 January 1834 that Mary Ann Grayson was sentenced [at the Southampton Quarter Sessions on 31 December 1833] to seven years transportation for having, at Ringwood, stolen from the person of Stephen Roberts twenty one shillings and sixpence.See also[iv][v]

Following her conviction, Mary Ann was incarcerated until her transportation, and she was not going to go down without a fight. Her gaol report listed her behaviour as ‘bad’.[vi] After four months, she was moved to the transport ship Edward on 23 April 1834, which she boarded with one hundred and fifty other women convicts. The Edward set sail from Woolwich twelve days later, on 5 May 1834[vii], and arrived in Hobart at the beginning of spring on 4 September after a four month sail.

When she arrived in Van Diemen’s Land at age twenty-three, she listed her occupation as Farm Servant and was someone who could “make butter & cheese”[viii].

Standing a fraction over 5’ in bare feet, Mary Ann had a fresh complexion, small head, brown hair and oval face, with a medium-height forehead, brown eyebrows, grey eyes, small nose, medium-width mouth and small chin. Intriguingly, a tattoo ‘A.H.W.H.’ was on her right arm, and she had a brown mole on the right side of her upper lip.[ix]

A refusal to submit

Three months after her arrival, Mary Ann was assigned to a Mr Ball. But on 17 December 1834, she was up on charges of being “insolent to her mistress”. Subsequently found guilty, Mary Ann was sentenced to the Cascades Female Factory, one month in crime class, and one month in a Solitary Working Cell.[x]

At the Cascades Female Factory, women prisoners were divided into three classes: First Class (recently arrived prisoners who’d shown good behaviour on the journey; or those who’d successfully seen out their probation in Second Class—these women were sent to service when the appropriate employment could be obtained); Second Class (those guilty of minor offences; or those with improved conduct who merited removal from the crime class); and Crime Class (those transported for a second time; guilty of misconduct on their journey; convicted of offences before the Supreme Court; or those who committed offences within the Cascades Female Factory).[xi]

In the Crime Class, the women were “sentenced to the washtub, laundering for the factory, the orphan school and the penitentiary; they also carded and spun wool. All of these tasks were subject to change at the discretion of the Principal Superintendent.”[xii]

As Mary Ann’s sentence was passed in early summer, where there were extended hours of sunlight, she would have had to labour up to twelve hours a day—even the slightest disobedience to the rules was punishable.[xiii]

The Cascades Female Factory Rules and Regulations of 1829 stated that “Females guilty of disobedience of orders, neglect of work, profane, obscene, or abusive language, insubordination, or other turbulent or disorderly or disrespectful conduct, shall be punished by the superintendent with close confinement in a dark or other cell, until her case shall be brought under consideration of the Principal Superintendent.”[xiv]

None of this seemed to deter Mary Ann.

The next year, on 29 April 1835, when she was assigned to a Mr Brady, Mary Ann was found guilty of being “Drunk and out after hours”, and sentenced to be restricted to “Cell on bread and water for six days.”[xv] The 1835 Muster records Mary Ann in the Female House of Correction.[xvi]

Whilst still being assigned to Mr Brady, Mary Ann reoffended again two months later, on 25 June 1835, when she was discovered “out after hours”, for which she received a reprimand.[xvii]

It was around this time, on 12 August 1835, that Mary Ann applied to marry fellow convict William Smallwood (who came out on the Maria)[xviii]. At this time, Smallwood had a conduct record littered with offences such as “Out after hours”, “Drunk and disorderly”, “Absent from muster and church”, “Breach of the peace” and “Assaulting three catering women.” Louisa Ann Meredith in her book My home in Tasmania[xix]wrote that a suitable marriage was seen as “so probable and legitimate a means of reformation” that it was encouraged. She further noted that “Drink was the main temptation” and that if “the women avoided that, all was well.” Given the offending records of both Mary Ann and William Smallwood, it is unsurprising that the application was refused. She didn’t know it at the time, but the authorities did her a huge favour, and it was not something that she’d appreciate until much later.

Meanwhile, being prevented from marrying William Smallwood, less than a week later, Mary Ann was “found in a disorderly house last night after hours” (18 August 1835). She was sentenced to the “Wash tub” for one month. It was small consolation that at this time it was winter, and her working hours were a little shorter than had she offended in summer, but working at the wash tub would have been bitterly cold.[xx]

Mr Brady must have had enough of Mary Ann, as by 31 October 1835, she was assigned to Mr Patterson. Mary Ann didn’t like this new assignment any better, as she was found guilty of “Insolence and idleness” and sentenced to three months at the Cascades Female Factory, but this time in Second Class.[xxi] It was time for Mary Ann to learn new skills, as the prisoners in Second Class were employed in making clothes for the establishment and preparing and mending linen—a step up from the wash tub.

Released from the Female Factory at the end of January 1836, Mary Ann was assigned to the Baker household, but her good behaviour lasted only a month when on 25 February she was reprimanded for being absent from her service without leave.[xxii]

A week later, on 3 March 1836, Mary Ann was insolent to the mistress of the Baker household, which was “in consequent of her Mistress desiring a Constl to take her sister in charge.” (Author note: this is an authentic transcription of the notation on Mary Ann’s original convict record. It is unclear what it exactly means.) Mary was found guilty of the charge and sentenced to fourteen days at the wash tub and afterwards assigned “in the interior”.[xxiii]

By this time, Mary Ann had racked up a long list of court appearances for undesirable behaviour. The judge in ruling she be assigned “in the interior” essentially removed Mary Ann from Hobart and her social circle, which appeared to be very important to her. References to Van Diemen’s Land’s “interior” have been found in newspaper reports, particularly in reference to the District of Campbell Town[xxiv]. However, it possibly refers to any of the Midlands areas located between Hobart and Launceston, as there was much development occurring to open up land for farming of wheat and wool.[xxv]

Mary Ann was subsequently assigned to a Mr Halls, but it wasn’t long before she was answering to another offence—absenting herself without leave. She was sentenced to be confined to a “Cell on bread and water, 48 hours, and returned to the Factory.”[xxvi]

The next month, having left Cascades Female Factory and taken an assignment with a Mr Harrison (most likely back in the Hobart area), Mary Ann was reprimanded on 18 June 1836 for being “out after hours.”[xxvii]

Six weeks later, on 2 August, having now being assigned to a Mr Hickson, Mary Ann was answering to the offence of “being disorderly.” Her sentence was the “Wash tub 1 month, and assigned in the interior.”[xxviii]

Just over eight weeks later (18 October 1836), under her assignment to a Mr Benjamin, Mary Ann was back before the judge answering to the charge of “insolence and neglect of duty”.[xxix] The judge had had enough. She was sentenced to “three months Crime Class.” It was back to gruelling twelve hour days of wash tub and other laundry duties at the Cascades Female Factory. She was becoming well known to those in charge there.

Then, things settled down for Mary Ann. It is not until the middle of the next year, on 13 June 1837, when she was assigned to a Mr Weavell, that Mary Ann was back to her old habits. Her offence: being “drunk and very abusive to her mistress.” It is clear that the other punishments had no permanent effect on her behaviour, so the judge sentenced her to “three months hard labour” at the “House of Correction” (Cascades Female Factory).[xxx]

She was barely free from her sentence of hard labour when, assigned to a Mr Brooks, she answered to another charge—that of being “absent without leave” (27 September 1837). A new punishment was in store for Mary Ann: four days and nights solitary confinement.[xxxi] Given much of her misdemeanours were for being out after hours, no doubt, in the company of others, that this punishment might have bitten hard.

Then, Mary Ann met a new man, Charles Hartam, and they sought permission to marry on 18 December 1837. Hartam arrived in Van Diemen’s Land by convict transport John nearly seven years earlier in January 1831.[xxxii] His conduct record (although recording four offences—for one he received twenty-five lashes, and another a reprimand for “Riding on a cart of which he was the Driver without having any person on foot to guide the horse”) was more desirable than that of William Smallwood. There was only one occasion of being ‘drunk and disorderly’. The authorities granted the marriage application. Charles Hartam (Bachelor) and Mary Ann Graison [sic] (Spinster) married on 6 February 1838, New Norfolk[xxxiii]. They signed the marriage register with their marks in the presence of John and Margaret Bates.

Mary Ann’s new husband, Charles Hartam was born in London[xxxiv] and was twenty years old[xxxv] when he arrived in Hobart after being tried at Middlesex on 8 July 1830 for “larceny from the person” – “stealing a snuff box”. His sentence: fourteen years transportation. At the time, he worked as a “Groom and Carter.” He stood nearly half a foot taller than Mary Ann (at 5’5½”) and was a year older. Charles had a fair complexion, round head, and light brown hair. He wore his round face clean shaven, and had a high forehead, dark brown eyebrows and grey eyes. He had a large nose and medium width mouth and medium chin, and had several pockmarks on his face.[xxxvi]

Eleven months after their marriage, Mary Ann Grayson was granted her Ticket of Leave on 18 January 1839.[xxxvii] Just when you might think that Mary Ann’s trouble with authorities would now be over, she came to their attention one last time—on 22 March 1839 for “using obscene language in [a] public street” and was fined £5.[xxxviii]

On 31 December 1840, Mary Ann’s sentence expired, and she was issued with her Free Certificate. The authorities must have been relieved to no longer have to deal with such a troublesome convict. Charles Hartam’s Conditional Pardon was issued in April the next year, and he received his Free Certificate when his sentence expired in 1844. [xxxix]

ACT II

Free to Run Her Own Race

A small start

What stands out from Mary Ann’s conduct record is that it appeared she liked to socialise (despite the cost, which was at times extremely punishing), and she didn’t like to be told what to do—or perhaps, she just thought she knew better. So, it is unsurprising that on 13 May 1842, with Charles on his Conditional Pardon, but Mary Ann with her Free Certificate, they’d commit their scarce savings and take over the licence for a place called the Greyhound Inn[xl]. This small establishment was located on Elizabeth Street, a main street that runs south-east to north-west through the centre of the city from the Hobart dockland area. By this time, Hobart had a busy port area, mostly to support the developing wool trade, but the city had “begun to take on the guise of a town”[xli] and was declared a city that year.

Charles and Mary Ann’s venue operated in a crowded market of some seventy-seven licence holders registered that year in Hobart Town.[xlii] If they were going to make their venue a success, their offer had to be good.

With the Greyhound Inn they cut their teeth in the hospitality trade, and after two years,[xliii] they wanted something better. That presented itself with the opportunity to take over the licence of William the Fourth in 1845.[xliv] This venue was located on Liverpool Street, which runs parallel to the docklands and about four blocks away. Apart from bar facilities, it also had accommodation which expanded their revenue stream. The 1848 census showed Charles Hartam as the proprietor and employer of servants. Fourteen people resided in the establishment on Liverpool Street (ten males and five females), including six unmarried males who were servants.

Whilst Charles and Mary Ann’s focus was on William the Fourth, they kept an eye out for other opportunities to expand their property portfolio, and purchased the Ottoway Hotel, also located on Liverpool Street. They installed tenant licensees into this property. A deed was drawn up on 20 April 1848 wherein the Ottoway Hotel was conveyed to trustees to hold for Mary Ann’s use, and to pay the rents to her for her separate use.[xlv] Their accountant, Mr John Luckman, managed separate accounts for Mary Ann and Charles.[xlvi]

From little things, big things grow

Mary Ann and Charles ran William the Fourth for four years, before they upgraded again. This time, they took over the licence for the London Wine Vaults[xlvii] and also purchased the Royal Hotel, located on Liverpool Street.

Unencumbered by the inconvenience of pregnancy, or the distraction of raising children, Mary Ann could focus completely on building their business. She had a keen eye for what attracted people to her establishments, and kept the properties in “first class order” which were noted for their “cleanliness”. She paid “great attention…to the comfort of her visitors [which were] distinguishing characteristics of every house she kept.”[xlviii]

Despite Mary Ann’s manner being “occasionally a little brusque” her patrons saw the “kindly tone under-lying her sometimes plain spoken rebukes that prevented her ever giving offence. She could take hard hits as good humouredly as she gave them, and thus she had long become an established favourite with the public, who had learned to appreciate her many good qualities.”[xlix]

She and Charles would run the Royal Hotel as licensee from 1850 to 1853,[l] when they transferred the licence to John Watchhorn. By this time, Hobart had become a municipality with 24,000 inhabitants, the third largest city in Australia[li] and there was strong demand for quality drinking establishments as well as accommodation.

In 1854, Mary Ann and Charles took over the licence of the British Hotel in Liverpool Street before returning to their Royal Hotel, where they maintained their licence from 1857 to 1860. This hotel would form part of their property portfolio and they would not sell it within their lifetimes. The Royal Hotel was also used as a venue to conduct Coronial Inquiries, such as the one held in April 1859 to investigate a fire in Liverpool Street.[lii]

Charitable actions

Mary Ann and Charles had worked long, hard hours to build their businesses, but they never forgot what it was like to have nothing.

In 1859, Charles helped out the widow, Mrs Benjamin Jackson, when he built “new and commodious Stables” for her to commence a business as a “Livery Stable Keeper” at the rear of the Royal Hotel.[liii]

Mary Ann was known to be “anything but demonstrative in her manner, and the last to do any kindness for the sake of its being talked about”[liv] but she was keenly aware of the now privileged position she and Charles had created for themselves. Prudent and careful in all her business matters, Mary Ann “yet bestowed of her means liberally on the poor, and many a destitute home [was] gladdened by considerate gifts of food and other articles from her pantry, or, where she deemed relief in that way more likely to be of greater use, by money. Nor was her generosity confined to acts of charity. Many a struggling tradesman [was] enabled to tide over difficulties by her timely aid. A shrewd discrimator of character, she was not easily deceived, and where good behaviour had won her confidence no one sought her assistance in vain.”[lv]

Mary Ann supported the community and the community supported her. Meanwhile, Mary Ann had mixed success with the tenants installed in the Ottoway Hotel. At one stage she was compelled to close the “house”. By this time, Charles Hartam’s sister, Mrs Jane Swan, had arrived from England, and in order to open the venue, Mary Ann applied to have her registered as the Ottoway’s licensee. However, during this process, a more suitable tenant appeared, a Mrs Ann Reeves, who negotiated with Mary Ann to become the tenant. Mary Ann withdrew Jane Swan’s application in favour of Mrs Reeves in February 1859. When Mrs Reeves’ application to be the tenant licensee was granted, the venue was renamed the Criterion Hotel.[lvi]

Mrs Ann Reeves held the licence for a year, and it was subsequently transferred to Mr Charles Toby (a sharebroker and estate agent), who then transferred the licence to Charles Hartam in 1861.[lvii]

The property portfolio expands

By 1861, Charles and Mary Ann owned the Royal Hotel and the Criterion Hotel both in Liverpool Street, Hobart. Charles expanded their assets with the purchase of at least four more retail/dwelling properties on Liverpool Street, and installed tenants.[lviii]

A formidable empire

With the Hartam’s now resuming the licence for the Criterion Hotel, the State Coroner followed, moving his ‘court’ to new premises. From at least 1862, Coronial Inquiries were held at the Criterion Hotel into matters such as fire, murder and suspicious deaths.[lix]

The Criterion Hotel flourished under Mary Ann and Charles’ management, allowing them to consider bigger and better premises. In 1869, they transferred the licence for the Criterion to J. Robertson[lx] and purchased and refurbished The Ship Inn. The Cornwall Chronicle reported on the news:

“On Saturday last, this well-known and long-established hostelry at the corner of Elizabeth and Collins Streets, which has for many months past been empty and in a sadly dilapidated state, was re-opened by Mr Hartam, formerly occupier of the Criterion Hotel in this city, and whose management of that house in conjunction with Mrs Hartam, who has all the business tact of an English landlady, is a sufficient guarantee that the new venture under their hands will be conducted with equal propriety. No expense whatever has been spared in fitting up the premises, which have been painted and decorated throughout.” [lxi]

The Hartams moved their home to the opulence of The Ship Hotel, which was considered the oldest established, best known and situated in Hobart Town.[lxii]

Their family expands

Whilst Mary Ann and Charles never had children, at some stage, Mary Ann adopted an infant boy she was very fond of called ‘Robert Charles Hartam McLaughlin’, known as ‘Charlie’.[lxiii] Charlie spent his early boyhood years at the Criterion Hotel with Mary Ann and Charles. It is unclear how this adoption came about, or whether it was ever legalised (no records found), however, Charlie’s mother, Mrs McLaughlin, was alive and despite having a ‘townhouse’ even stayed at the Criterion where she was “well treated” by Mary Ann,[lxiv] and was staying at The Ship Hotel when Mary Ann was unwell.[lxv] Charlie had a brother and a sister, and the sister often lived at the Criterion Hotel with them, but she was never considered a daughter to the Hartams.[lxvi] Mary Ann often referred to her adopted son as “my boy Charlie”, and when he turned sixteen, she arranged for him to be apprenticed as an engineer, based in Sydney, paying his board and lodgings [lxvii][lxviii] From Charlie’s viewpoint, he called Mary Ann and Charles ‘Granny’ and ‘Grandfather’.[lxix] Mary Ann told James Doxey, a local engineer, that “Charlie would be well provided for, and that she intended to leave him the Criterion Hotel.”[lxx]

Charles visited Charlie in Sydney, and upon his return to Hobart told an acquaintance, Mr John Clark, who was an Inspector of Machinery, that “Charlie was just out of his apprenticeship” and “was talking of going to sea.” Mr Clark was surprised and said to Charles “What does he want to go to sea for when the old woman has left him so well off?” Charles replied, “That will not be ‘til I am dead.”[lxxi]

A proper home at last?

Four years after the purchase of The Ship Hotel, with Mary Ann now sixty and Charles sixty-one, perhaps she started planning for her retirement. She purchased a home at 29 Cromwell Street, Battery Point for £700 in October 1873[lxxii] They named the home ‘Hartamville’.

A deed was subsequently drawn up (dated 7 November 1873) for this property, which conveyed it to trustees to hold for Mary Ann’s use, to pay the rents to her for her separate use and after her death upon trust for her husband for life.[lxxiii]

The property was situated near the top of a hill and commanded “a beautiful view of the town and river.” When it was built thirty-seven years earlier, it was described as a “comfortable dwelling-house, containing a dining and drawing-room with folding doors, five bedrooms, kitchen, storeroom, and large wash-house newly finished and completely painted.”[lxxiv] Mary Ann immediately engaged Edward C Rowntree, architect, to design ‘alterations and additions’ which were tendered in October 1874.[lxxv]

Mary Ann takes to her bed

It is unclear whether Mary Ann ever moved into the Battery Point house. By mid 1876, despite her “robust constitution”[lxxvi] Mary Ann was suffering from ill-health. On 19 August, Mary Ann called solicitor Mr David Crisp from Graves and Crisp to her bedside to prepare her will. They discussed her giving the Criterion Hotel and Hartamville in trust for Charles for his lifetime, then selling both properties on his death for Charlie’s benefit so “he could pursue the calling of an engineer, which he was then learning.” Mr Crisp departed and prepared her will, returning to her bedside to have her execute it. In the room was Charles Hartam[lxxvii], her doctor, Dr Crowther, and a man called Walter Graham. As Mary Ann could not read or write, Dr Crisp read the will to her and she put her mark to it. Dr Crowther witnessed it. Mr Crisp was about to add his signature as witness, when Mary Ann said to Walter Graham, “Come on, Walter, and see me sign my death warrant.” Walter Graham then added his signature as the second witness. Charles Hartam paid the costs of preparing the will.[lxxviii]

Mary Ann appointed Thomas Giblin and G. Westbrook as her trustees.[lxxix] The Women’s Property Act was not then in existence, so her will was only valid if approved by her husband.

Two days later, on 21 August 1876, “the flags of the shipping in port…were dipped in respect to the memory of Mrs Hartam of the Ship Hotel.” At aged sixty-three, Mary Ann Hartam, was dead from “broncho pneumonia”.[lxxx] She’d been a farm servant, rebellious convict, wife, the “principal and best-known hotel keeper”, with a “keen business quality”, “keen politician” and a manager of a hotel with “no equal in Tasmania”. Mary Ann died at “her residenceShip Hotel, in Collins Street, Hobart.”[lxxxi][lxxxii][lxxxiii][lxxxiv] With her passing, a “chapter in the history of Tasmania closed that regarded…..[The Ship Hotel] and its late hostess as Hobart Town institutions.”[lxxxv]

Charles immediately retired, and one week later, put The Ship Hotel up for sale.[lxxxvi] Eight months after Mary Ann’s death, in April 1877, Charles remarried. The marriage record stated fifty-five-year-old Charles married a thirty-four-year-old widow called Elizabeth Allwright.[lxxxvii] The age Charles gave was out by ten years. He was, in fact, sixty-five—some thirty-one years older than his new bride.

The new Mrs Hartam

Two years earlier, on 19 March 1875, Elizabeth Allwright engaged solicitor Mr David Crisp to apply for a ‘Petition for Protection Order’. Elizabeth had six children to her husband, George Allwright, a man she married when she was nineteen, and they had lived together for fifteen years. In February 1874, her husband deserted her. With six dependent children, Elizabeth “maintained herself” and had “acquired certain property.” She was seeking to protect her assets from George Allwright and be protected from his creditors.[lxxxviii] Elizabeth had engaged the same solicitor that Mary Ann and Charles used, and one wonders how a single mother of six children could afford the services of a solicitor from Graves and Crisp? The answer might well be that Elizabeth and Mary Ann were friends, at least from Elizabeth’s perspective. Before Mary Ann died in 1876, Elizabeth knew Mary Ann “so many years, and [Mary Ann] was a very good friend to [her] when [Elizabeth] was a widow.”[lxxxix] It is possible that Mary Ann assisted Elizabeth to protect her assets. George Allwright died one month after the Protection Order was issued, in April 1875.[xc]

Elizabeth “used to see [Mary Ann] almost every day before she died. [Mary Ann] died on a Monday, and [Elizabeth] saw her alive between 11 and 12 o’clock on that day.” Mary Ann “could not speak to [Elizabeth]. On the Saturday [Elizabeth] rubbed her hands, and spoke to her, but she never answered.”[xci]

With Elizabeth a widow, and with Mary Ann’s passing, there was nothing now standing in the way of Elizabeth assuming a very comfortable life created through Mary Ann’s hard work. A marriage with the elderly Charles Hartam would secure her and her children’s futures.

A new will

Three months after Charles and Elizabeth’s marriage, in June 1877, Charles engaged Mr David Crisp to prepare his will. When he gave instructions as to the disposal of the Criterion Hotel, Mr Crisp pointed out that Charles only had life interest. Unsatisfied with this news, Charles subsequently engaged Mr John Roberts, solicitor with Allport, Roberts & Allport, who “knew the late Mary Ann Hartam very well”, to review Mary Ann’s will.

Mr Roberts attended the offices of Messrs Crisp and Crisp and “perused the title deeds of the Criterion Hotel and of a house at Battery Point, and also the will of Mrs Hartam”. Mr Robert’s advice was paid for by Charles Hartam.[xcii] In his written advice, Mr Roberts confirmed the existence of the deeds; that Mary Ann had a power of appointment for both, to be exercised either by deed or will; and that Mr Crisp produced a will signed by Mrs Hartam, attested by Dr Crowther and Mr Graham, but that it was neither proved nor registered. He confirmed Mary Ann’s intention that following Mr Hartam’s demise that the properties be sold for the benefit of the youngest adopted child (in the will named) attaining 21, and in the meantime, subject to Mr. Hartam’s life estate, to apply the rents for the benefit of the “adopted children”.

David Crisp prepared Charles Hartam’s will without containing any devise of the Criterion, because Charles Hartam agreed after Mr Roberts’ advice that he could not devise it.[xciii] Charles devised all of his real estate to his trustees, upon trust, to let the same and permit his then wife to receive the rents until his youngest child came of age, then to sell and divide same between his wife and children.[xciv]

ACT III

A Fight for Assets

A new life

Charles’ life changed dramatically following the death of Mary Ann. He retired from the hotel business and became a ‘gentleman’ with a relatively young wife warming his bed in Hartamville. He funded their lifestyle from rental income from his properties, the proceeds of the sale of The Ship Hotel and its chattels, and interest from fixed deposits.[xcv] He put the management of his business affairs in the hands of solicitor, Mr Samuel Percy Crisp.[xcvi]

But Charles’ life was to change in one other significant way. Elizabeth soon became pregnant and began to fill Hartamville with Charles’ children (it is possible that some of Elizabeth’s six children already lived with them). Their first, a daughter, Lily Florence May Hartam, was born on 15 April 1878.[xcvii] A second daughter followed nearly three years later, Hilda Blanche Hartam on 30 March 1881.[xcviii] However, their joy soon turned to sorrow, with Hilda’s death six months later from “pulmonary congestion”.[xcix] Elizabeth became pregnant again, and delivered a son, Raymond Charles Hartam on 7 February 1885[c], then their last child, another son, was born three years after that, Charles Edward Hartam, in 1887.[ci]

Charles still continued to travel to Sydney to visit Charlie and brought Elizabeth along with him. Charlie recalled on one visit, when Elizabeth and he were on their own she said to him “You know your grandmother made no will.” He replied, “Oh yes, she did.” Elizabeth repeated that his grandmother had not.[cii]

Charles Hartam was not destined to enjoy his young family for long. At the age of seventy-five, he died on 25 January 1887 of heart disease, very soon after the birth of his last child.[ciii]

Upon Charles’ death, Mary Ann had intended that ownership of the properties Hartamville and the Criterion Hotel pass to Charles and Mary Ann’s adopted son, Charlie, as provided for in her will. A few years before Charles’ death, David Crisp put Mary Ann’s will “under the string of a parcel containing the deeds of the Criterion Hotel and Hartamville, and that it remained there in his office’s deed box until the deeds were removed from the office by Charles Hartam.” Mr Crisp was at Hartamville about two years before Charles Hartam’s death, at which time Hartam took him to a cupboard under the stairs and there showed him “in an iron safe a brooch that [Charles] intended to give to Mr Crisp’s wife.” Mr Crisp “saw in the safe the parcel of deeds with the will under the string, as when it left his office.”[civ]

Now, with Charles dead, no-one can find Mary Ann’s will.

Whose property is it anyway?

After Charles’ funeral in January 1887 his solicitor, Mr David H. Crisp visited Elizabeth Hartam and she recollected he said, “You are well provided for, make the best of your loss; go on in the usual way.”[cv] Mr Crisp remembered it differently. After sympathising with her, he told her that “the property had gone from her now, and was [Charlie’s].”[cvi] This was reiterated to Elizabeth Hartam on subsequent occasions.[cvii]

The previous year, in August 1886, Charles had arranged for Elizabeth’s eldest son, Sydney Allwright, at the age of sixteen years, to be articled to Mr Crisp, and Sydney became a solicitor five years later in 1891, when he left Crisp and Crisp. However, during his time at the firm, “Mr Crisp on several occasions mentioned the subject [of Mary Ann’s will] to [Sydney].”[cviii] [cix]

Elizabeth’s relationship with David Crisp soured before her son completed his articles. She disputed the legitimacy of the trustees of Charles Hartam’s will collecting the rents, but found an unsympathetic ear in David Crisp. In July 1893 (five years after Charles’ death), Elizabeth “balanced the books with the trustees and there was 150 pounds due to her as surplus money”.[cx] She went to Mr Crisp’s office several times, and failing to garner support in her favour, she went to solicitor, Mr Roberts.

At age eighteen, Sydney recalled that Mr Crisp complained that Elizabeth Hartam was “treating him badly, adding that he had only to open his mouth and he could take Hartamville and the Criterion away from her.”[cxi] At age twenty-one, four months before the termination of his articles, Sydney recalled that Mr Crisp called him into his room, shut the door and said: “…I have [Mary Ann Hartam’s] will in a box under my bed where I keep my papers.”[cxii]

Following Charles’ death, Charlie wrote to Crisp and Crisp enquiring whether Charles Hartam had left him anything. Mr Percy Crisp, the junior solicitor who knew nothing about Mary Ann’s will, wrote in reply that Hartam had left all to Mrs Brown and her children.[cxiii]

By March 1888, Elizabeth Hartam had disengaged from Crisp and Crisp and engaged Mr John Roberts as her solicitor, but by 1 September 1891, her son Sydney Allwright acted as Elizabeth’s solicitor.

Elizabeth assumes ownership of Hartamville and Criterion Hotel

In June 1891, Elizabeth Hartam and Sydney Allwright spoke with Messrs David and Samuel Crisp (as the solicitors acting on behalf of the trustees responsible for leasing the properties in Charles Hartam’s estate) about letting the marquee properties of their portfolio, Hartamville and the Criterion Hotel. She made an appointment to call afterwards but failed to appear. Samuel Crisp wrote to her twice, asking her on one occasion “if Charles Hartam McLauchlin was aware of his interest in Hartamville, and if not, he would feel it to be his duty to write to him about it.”[cxiv] When asked why David Crisp had not intervened earlier to ensure Charlie McLauchlin knew of his entitlement, he said it was because he assumed that his then partner, Mr Graves (who died shortly after Mrs Hartam) had communicated the contents of her will to Charlie, and that Elizabeth Hartam continued to live at Hartamville and collected the rents from the Criterion Hotel with Charlie’s consent.[cxv]

It was only later when David Crisp saw part of the property belonging to Charlie being advertised for rental by Sydney Allwright that Mr Crisp “to prevent further wrong doing” wrote to Charlie.[cxvi]

Elizabeth marries for a third time

Elizabeth was living at the Criterion[cxvii] when she married for the third time to William Brown from Richmond Park, Longford[cxviii] on 2 October 1891. She chose Hartamville as the wedding venue. Her son, Sydney Allwright, mentioned Mary Ann Hartam’s will to his mother a few days before she married,[cxix] and advised her against proceeding because Mr David Crisp would “turn her out of the Criterion” if she did[cxx]. Indeed Sydney Allwright said that Mr Crisp told him that “he would not put up with [being treated badly by Elizabeth] much longer, but so long as his mother remained Hartam’s widow, he would shut his mouth, but if she married again he would turn round.”[cxxi] Elizabeth told Sydney not to worry because Mr David Crisp “could not hurt her.”[cxxii]

Charlie McLaughlin starts legal proceedings

Charlie, who by this time was a married man and a second engineer on board a China trader, once learning of his entitlement, took the matter to court. He applied to become the trustee of Mary Ann’s will and for probate. After a round of hearings, the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court handed down his decision on 12 December 1892 that Charlie had not made out a case to entitle him to probate and refused his application.[cxxiii] Charlie was, however, free to renew his application.

In April of 1893, Charlie put forward a further application to the Supreme Court for: 1) want of equity; 2) recovering possession of lands and 3) for multifariousness. Elizabeth Brown and her “infant children” (the eldest Hartam child was fifteen) rely on all three grounds; and Charles Hartam’s trustees, Messrs Cripps and Seabrook, rely on the first and third grounds.  The defendants submitted a demurrer, which was subsequently over-ruled by the court. It was a win for Charlie. They were going back to trial which was set down for July.

The stakes were significant for Elizabeth Hartam Brown. If Charlie proved his case, she would lose the Criterion Hotel and Hartamville—including the lucrative rents from both—and she’d be obliged to pay to Charlie whatever rents she had collected over the six years since Charles Hartam’s death. But first, Charlie had to prove a) Mary Ann did in fact make a will (which no-one could find); b) that Mary Ann was entitled to devise property given the Women’s Property Act was not yet in force; and c) if both a. and b. are found to be true, then Charlie had to satisfy the Chief Justice of the contents of the will.

Charlie McLaughlin takes Elizabeth Hartam Brown, her children and Charles Hartam’s trustees to the Supreme Court, Hobart (19 July to 12 August 1893)

Tuesday, 19 July 1893

The two teams gathered with their legal counsel:

The plaintiff: Robert Charles Hartam (Charlie) McLaughlin represented by the Solicitor-General, Hon. A. Dobson, and Mr J. Mitchell (instructed by Messrs Dobson, Mitchell and Allport).

The three defendants: Elizabeth Hartam Brown, represented by the Hon. A.I. Clark (instructed by Messrs Roberts and Allport)

The trustees of the wills (Herbert H. Cripps and George Smith Seabrook for Charles Hartam and E.M. Fisher representing one of the trustees of Mary Ann Hartam’s supposed will) represented by Mr W.W. Perkins (instructed by Mr Sydney T. Allwright);

The three ‘infants’ in the suit: Lily Florence Mary Hartam, Charles Hartam and Raymond C. Hartam, represented by Hon. Byron Miller (instructed by Messrs Roberts and Allport).

The bill brought before the Supreme Court charges that:

  1. The defendant, Mrs Brown, has fraudulently destroyed or concealed and kept back the will of the testatrix, Mary Ann Hartam, and retains the title deeds.
  2. That she and the defendants Cripps and Seabrook dispute the plaintiff’s claim and deny that the testatrix made a will, or that the plaintiff takes any interest under it.
  3. That the estate of the testatrix may be administered and the trusts of the will carried into execution.
  4. For an account of rents and profits.
  5. For the appointment of a new trustee.
  6. For an injunction and receiver, and for general relief.[cxxiv]

The Solicitor-General opened the case for the plaintiff (Charlie) pointing out “the case was brought to try the validity of the will of the late Mary Ann Hartam, dated 19th August 1876, which, it was alleged had been destroyed by Mrs Brown.”[cxxv]

David Henry Crisp, Solicitor gave evidence over the first sitting day, and he testified that he, and his late partner, Mr J.W. Graves, had prepared two draft wills and one final will for Mary Ann, which she executed a few days before her death. The journals and ledgers of David Crisp’s “well-known firm of solicitors were much referred to in connection with matters of the Hartam family, and evidence of the preparation and execution of certain wills and documents from time to time.”[cxxvi] David Crisp was of the opinion that his partner, Mr Graves, sent a clause of Mrs Hartam’s will to Charlie.

David Crisp stated the circumstances surrounding why Charles Hartam sought clarification on Mary Ann’s will (he was preparing a new will following his marriage to Elizabeth Allwright), which is when John Roberts was engaged to give an opinion on the intent of Mary Ann’s will.

Samuel Crisp was called to the stand and he recalled a “conversation that took place between Mr David Crisp and Mrs Brown at Hartamville, when Mrs Brown stated to his partner [David Crisp], “You have come over to tell me the deeds were lost.” His partner said, “No, as they were not lost.”[cxxvii] He further stated that Mr Allwright said that he thought he knew where some of the wills were, and thought they’d find the wills in the bottom drawer of Mr David Crisp’s desk. The drawer was searched but they did not find the wills, but among a bundle of draft wills, in another part of the office, he found drafts of two wills.[cxxviii] Samuel Crisp also said that whilst he was away from the office from September 1890 to April 1891 with typhoid fever, “he and his partner always told each other what they did.”[cxxix]

The records of Charles Hartam’s Clerk, Joseph Woodhead, were submitted which showed Charles Hartam had paid for the preparation of his wife’s will and for John Robert’s advice.

The Solicitor-General now called witnesses to confirm Charles McLaughlin’s relationship to Mary Ann Hartam, her state of mind when she made the will, and her intention for disposal of her assets. Richard Propsting, former Superintendent of Police was called to the stand. He stated Mary Ann considered Charlie as her son. He visited Mary Ann in her sickbed two days before she died, and “shook hands with her and bid her goodbye.” She was “perfectly sensible.”[cxxx]

James Doxy and John Luckman confirmed Mary Ann considered Charlie like her son.[cxxxi]

Hannah Ellis, widow, was with Mary Ann when she died and Mary Ann “seemed to retain her senses to the end”. Mary Ann called Charlie “her boy” and spoke of providing for him.[cxxxii]

Charlie took the stand and gave evidence that he lived with them as their grandson, and when he moved to Sydney he rarely missed writing to her. He was on the best of terms with Mary Ann when she died. Charlie recalled when he was on a visit from Sydney, he visited Elizabeth Hartam Brown who pretended at first not to know him and said he’d come to town on business. She wanted to know what business. He said, “What about the Criterion?”. She replied “What about it?”. He said, “That’s what I want to know.” And he asked her if she was prepared to hand over the Criterion with an account of back rents. She said to that, “What, give up my home? No, do you best, do your worst.” Her son, Sydney, came in and wanted to know what all the noise was about. Charlie replied that he had not come to make a noise, that he was acting on what he believed was good advice, and was carrying out part of his instructions. Sydney remarked: “This is some of Crisp’s doing.” Charlie then left.”[cxxxiii][cxxxiv][cxxxv]

Elizabeth Hartam Brown’s evidence was heard over two days. When she sat in the witness box, she held an ear trumpet to her ear. She had been “deaf [for] two years” (she bought her ear trumpet and tube nine months earlier).[cxxxvi] Elizabeth stated details of her marriage to Charles and where they lived until his death. She recollected going with Charles to David Crisp’s office for his Deeds, her husband explaining that his reason for doing so was because he wanted to keep the deeds. Mr Crisp offered to deliver them, but Charles said he wanted to take them himself. After the deeds were obtained, they were put in an iron chest in a cupboard under the stairs which was kept locked. Mrs Brown said she “never saw the deeds again until Mr Seabrook came to the house about the rivulet wall behind the Royal Hotel.” The deeds were not disturbed until last June, when her son, Mr Allwright took them. She said that the deeds “are now in a tin box at Hartamville” but that “she didn’t know what the Deeds referred to. All that she knew she was told.”[cxxxvii]

When Elizabeth knew this matter was going to court, she engaged Mr John Roberts as her solicitor, and after this “Mr Crisp did not do any business for her.” And when she asked Mr Crisp for a copy of a lease for the Criterion, Mr Crisp unhelpfully said “Oh, you had better get an order from the trustees.”[cxxxviii] Mr Crisp came over after Charles’ funeral, to “see where her husband’s money was.”[cxxxix] She unlocked the safe and told Mr Crisp “all surplus money was hers.”[cxl] She complained about the Criterion Hotel, where she spent “a large sum of money” for repairs. Mr David Crisp told her that if she left his office [as a client] he would “turn her out of Hartamville, and also that the Criterion and Hartamville did not belong to her.”[cxli]

Elizabeth recalled she went to Sydney with Charles three times and saw “McLaughlin” (Charlie), and also saw “his wife on one or two occasions. She never had any conversation there about Mrs Hartam or her will.”[cxlii]

At the time of Mary Ann Hartam’s death, Elizabeth “was living a little way up the street [from The Ship Hotel] and used to run into the hotel to see Mrs Hartam almost daily when she was ill. She was a good friend.”[cxliii]

In response to a question from Mr Byron Miller (her children’s barrister), Elizabeth said she “never looked in the iron chest for papers after her husband’s death. All the insurance papers were folded with the deeds of the Criterion property.”[cxliv] In response to a question from the Solicitor-General (Charlie’s barrister): “She never heard a word about the will until she read a sensational article in the press about it.” She further stated “her son never spoke to her about the existence of a will, but she knew now that he was aware of the rumour which was current at the time.” She also said that her son “told her that Mr Crisp had said that when she married Mr Brown he [Mr Crisp] would turn round on her.” She recalled Sydney said “not to marry Mr Brown, and if she did she would be turned out of the Criterion. Her son never mentioned that there was a will. It would have made a great difference to her if she had lost the Criterion.”

Elizabeth told the court that her husband “kept the key of the iron box where the papers were kept. He kept the key in his pocket. If she wished to put anything in the iron chest she took the keys to do so. She very often had the key to that iron chest. The papers connected with the Criterion were tied up in a brown paper parcel. This was opened by Mr Seabrook [trustee of Charles Hartam’s will] who wished to get papers referring to the Royal Hotel to see where the retaining wall was to be put.”[cxlv]

Elizabeth Brown testified she found a document shortly after Charles Hartam’s death, “pinned into an old rough book, containing accounts and memoranda kept by Woodhead.” (Charles Hartam’s clerk). The document was dated 10 April 1877 purporting to be Charles Hartam’s will “with Hartam’s mark on it” in which he “bequeaths Hartamville to his wife absolutely.” The document was witnessed by “Joseph Woodhead”—Mr Hartam’s clerk (who died in 1885)—and “Dr Crowther”.[cxlvi]

Court resumed on Monday, 24 July 1893

Sydney Allwright testified to the several occasions when he was articled to Crisp and Crisp, that David Crisp complained about the treatment he was receiving from Elizabeth Hartam. He said that David Crisp showed him a folio with Mary Ann Hartam’s name on it and an entry “attending make your will”. He told Sydney that “he had only to open his mouth and he could take Hartamville and the Criterion Hotel away from her.” Sydney Allwright gave other examples of threats and bullying from David Crisp, causing Sydney to “feel his position very keenly, he being often moved to tears.”[cxlvii]

After Sydney concluded his articles, he received a letter from David Crisp referring to the Criterion Hotel. He “immediately saw [his mother] Mrs Brown and arranged with her to call and see Mr Crisp in the afternoon.” (David Crisp was acting for the trustees as solicitor, and the letter was in response to Sydney Allwright advertising for tenders for the Criterion Hotel). Sydney accompanied his mother to Mrs Crisp’s office. David Crisp reminded Mrs Brown that he had previously come over to Hartamville to explain matters to her regarding the Criterion. Sydney recalled Mrs Brown replied “You never, Mr David, spoke to me about this matter before in your life. It is the first I have ever heard about it. If there is a will why was it not brought out? If anybody has a better right to the properties than me and Mr Hartam’s children they are welcome to have it.”

Sydney recalled Mr David Crisp said “Your son is a solicitor, let him see the deeds and he will then let you know whether what I say is true or false? Is that all you want me for?” As Mr Crisp then “left the room” the “interview ended there and they left the office.” Sydney subsequently “looked over the papers in connection with the property Mrs Brown brought to him from the safe. He found no will there of Mrs Hartam.”[cxlviii]

Sydney recalled that Charlie came to Hartamville with a Mr Dove about the property. He said that Mrs Brown “came into the front room to see them.” When they stated the purpose of the visit, to discuss the property, Sydney told them that “Mrs Brown was ill and did not wish to be worried. If they had anything to complain of they had a remedy.”[cxlix]

The Solicitor General pressed Sydney on his recollection of the time that Mr David Crisp showed him Mary Ann’s folio. He said when he saw the folio “it never troubled him one iota. The book was not opened a minute. Mr Crisp opened the book and shut it again immediately.” The Solicitor General asked “Was Mr Crisp intoxicated on that occasion?” Sydney replied “He was.” The Solicitor General responded “I suggest to you that you are telling a wilful untruth and you know it.” Sydney replied that he was telling the truth and adhered to his statement. He went on to confirm that he wasn’t troubled by Mary Ann Hartam’s will because “a married woman at that time could not make a will of her own responsibility, and he did not think the will was worth the paper it was written upon.”

Sydney commented that on only “one occasion he mentioned the matters Mr Crisp told him about to his mother. This was a week or so before she married Mr Brown. He told his mother that it was against the wishes of her family that she should get married and if she did she would lose all her friends. He told her what Mr Crisp had told him, namely that the day she got married again he would turn round on her.”[cl]

Mr G.S. Seabrook, one of the trustees of Charles Hartam’s estate, stated that the first he heard of the properties being in dispute was a notification which appeared in the daily press. He met with Mr Crisp and told him “that he thought it very strange that he had not [been told] that the property was in dispute, for as a trustee he ought to have known.” Mr Seabrook recalled Mr Crisp said that he would have pulled them up had any of the disputed properties be put out to lease. He further stated that Mr Crisp said “that as long as Mrs Hartam remained a widow of Mr Hartam nothing would have been said about the will.”[cli]

The other trustee, Mr Herbert Cripps, confirmed that Mr Hartam never mentioned Mary Ann Hartam’s will to him and only knew about it from reading it in the press.

A Mary Ann Whitworth took to the stand and testified she attended Mary Ann Hartam during her illness, and confirmed Mary Ann’s desire to make a will. She knew of two draft wills that were prepared which were unacceptable. “There was a great commotion to fetch a lawyer” and there were a “number of gentlemen in the room and a great noise was made.” “A third will was prepared without her being consulted. She [Mary Ann] lapsed so quickly that it was not advisable. Mrs Hartam became insensible on Sunday and expired the following day.” Whether David Crisp was there “on the Saturday evening, she could not say because there was a number of gentlemen there.” The witness “never heard McLaughlin’s name mentioned in connection with the two wills. Mrs Hartam ceased speaking about two o’clock on Monday morning.” There was “no nurse in charge.” She confirmed that neither “Mr Crisp nor Walter Graham [purported witness to Mary Ann’s third will] were in the room when the late Mrs Hartam died. She did not believe that the second will was ever signed.”

Solicitor, Mr John Roberts was called to the stand. He was a reluctant witness for the plaintiff, Charlie, as his company was acting for Elizabeth and her children. Mr Roberts testified he had been engaged to review the will and the court saw the letter he wrote to Mr G.S. Westbrook (trustee of Mary Ann’s will). Following Mr Robert’s testimony the judge, Mr Justice Dodds “stated that there were two points in the case: firstly, was there a will, and if so, secondly, what were its contents? Mr Roberts had established an answer to the first question and had given the Court information as to the other.”[clii]

The Solicitor General called witnesses to prove the document Elizabeth Brown described as finding after her husband’s death, purporting to be his will where he bequeathed absolutely Hartamville to Elizabeth Brown was a forgery. The document was dated 10 April 1877, “with Hartam’s mark on it”. The document was witnessed by Joseph Woodhead, Mr Hartam’s clerk (who died in 1885) and Dr Crowther. Elizabeth Brown testified she found this document shortly after Charles Hartam’s death, “pinned into an old rough book, containing accounts and memoranda kept by Woodhead.”

Mr David Barclay, manager of the Commercial Bank, acquainted with the late Dr Crowther’s signature, pronounced “the signature not to be that of the gentleman’s”. Mr H.W. Chapman, manager of the Anglo Australian Stores at Hobart had seen the late Dr Crowther’s signature “hundreds of times”, and said the signature on the document was not Dr Crowther’s. Charles Hartam’s Trustee, Mr Seabrook, was recalled and said Mrs Hartam Brown showed him the document, claiming the property under it. He subsequently showed it to Percy Crisp for his opinion and Mr Crisp said it “was not worth the paper it was written on”, and he also discredited Dr Crowther’s signature.[cliii] Counsel for the defence then announced that they made no point of using the document, as it had come out incidentally during Mrs Hartam Brown’s examination.

Thursday, 27 July 1893

Elizabeth Hartam Brown’s barrister, Mr A.I. Clark addressed the court. He summarised the condition under which Mary Ann Hartam made her will. That “there were many persons buzzing about the death-bed anxious to make her a will.” He said “influence was brought to bear upon her…not to mean that any undue influence with an ulterior motive was brought to bear, but that the presence of those anxious to make a will acted upon or influenced the mind of the dying person.”[cliv] Mr Justice Dodds said to Mr Clark “You are really arguing that there was not mental capacity [for Mary Ann Hartam to make her will]”[clv] Mr Clark confirmed that was what he intended.

The Chief Justice asked Mr David Crisp whether Mr Robert’s letter influenced his memory in regard to the will. Mr Crisp replied that it did not “in the least shake his opinion as to the contents of the will.”[clvi] Mr Justice Dodd said “The letter refers to a provision that the property was not to be sold until the youngest son came of age?” Mr Crisp denied “there was [anything] of that kind in the will. It was a most simple will.”[clvii]

Mr Clark resumed his address, giving his opinion “that the will was prepared in a hurry and the power of appointment was not recited.” He referred to Mr Roberts’ letter wherein “the child named in the will was not known, but Mr Roberts was informed that it was the youngest one.” Because the will “was so dark and clumsily framed that no definite setting out was contained in it.” And that “Mr Hartam could not understand from first to last how it was he was not the owner of the property.” Mr Clark noted that “Mr Crisp had never registered the will” and that “had he done so all attempts at fraud would have been prevented.”

Mr Justice Dodds said “The existence of a will by Mary Ann Hartam is now beyond doubt, and the two questions which remain are: what were the contents of it, and was the deceased woman mentally competent at the time to make it?”[clviii]

There was some discussion about the whereabouts of Mary Ann Hartam’s will at which Mr Justice Dodds said “that it did not exactly transpire whether or not the will had come into Mrs Hartam Brown’s possession at all.”[clix]

Barrister for the trustees, Mr W.W. Perkins, suggested that Mr Crisp’s evidence was “unreliable, and traversed his motives in stirring the matter up after so many years.”[clx]

Friday, 28 July 1893

Mr Byron Miller, barrister for the three Hartam children contended that “Mr John Roberts’ letter to the late G.C. Westbook in 1877 on the construction of the late Mrs Hartam’s will was the centre of interest in the case. He argued that the property in dispute was acquired by the joint earnings of Mr and Mrs Hartam, and therefore that Hartam’s children being blood relations were better entitled to the property than the plaintiff (Charlie)”.[clxi] The Chief Justice dismissed this assertion, saying “it was quite clear that Mr Miller’s clients had no interest under the will.”[clxii] He continued “Mrs Mary Ann Hartam was the man of business, and Mr Hartam was a mere cypher. He thought that Mrs Hartam would rather give the property to the child she adopted than to any possible future children of Hartam’s.”[clxiii]

Mr Miller said “Mr Crisp’s recollection was not altogether to be relied upon as he had a strong interest in the case. His memory, in his opinion, was an artificial one, and he impugned Mr Roberts’ accuracy.” Mr Miller repeatedly referred to Mrs Hartam’s capacity, which the Chief Justice did not accept.[clxiv] Mr Miller “urged that she did not make a will which the Court could establish. If the will was established against the children they would have a very small inheritance under their father’s will.”[clxv]

The Solicitor General addressed the court and maintained that Messrs D.H. and P. Crisp’s testimony “should be received with some credence.” Mr David Crisp “had ample opportunities of knowing what the contents of Mrs Hartam’s will were.”

The Chief Justice said that the Court would “express their opinion on some future occasion.”

The judgement

Charlie McLaughlin and Elizabeth Hartam Brown didn’t have to wait long for a judgement, which was handed down by Chief Justice, Sir Lambert Dobson, on Saturday, 12 August 1893.[clxvi]

The Chief Justice stated that the plaintiff had succeeded in establishing that Mrs M.A. Hartam duly made a will, and that it is as set out in the bill, that he is entitled to the Criterion and Hartamville, and to have possession delivered to him, and that he is entitled as against Mrs Brown to an account of the rents and profits of the Criterion and to an occupation rent for Hartamville, subject to just allowances.

The Coastal News and North Western Advertiser summarised the case[clxvii] thus:

“Lost wills frequently play a conspicuous part in the novelist’s handiwork, and where a large amount of property is involved nothing on earth is more calculated to cause flutter and strife in the family dovecote. The mysterious disappearance of the will of the late Mrs M.A. Hartam, one of the most successful hotelkeepers that Hobart people remember, has given rise to a very lengthy course of litigation. The second trial last[ed] eight days and at an estimated cost to the litigants of £1500 to £2000. The property involved consists of Hartamville, a residence standing on its own grounds at Battery Point, and the Criterion Hotel in Liverpool Street, representing a sum (when back rents are calculated) of about £12,000. The late Mrs M.A. Hartam adopted a child named Charles McLaughlan, whom she no doubt regarded with much affection. Over the properties in question she had what the lawyers call a ‘power of appointment’, that is, she could dispose of them by will or otherwise, as she liked. She pre-deceased her husband, Charles Hartam by some years and after her death Mr David Crisp, solicitor, produced a will made by her bequeathing Hartamville and the Criterion to young McLaughlin, as she had always said she would, but giving Hartam a life interest. Some months afterwards, Hartam married Mrs Allright and gradually he seemed to have become dissatisfied with his late wife having left “Charlie” the residence and the hotel. He did not proceed to prove the will…he took his box of deeds home from [Mr Crisp’s] office, Mrs M.A. Hartam’s will included….Upon Hartam’s death McLaughlin, who was aware of Hartam’s life interest in the property, bestirred himself to “claim his own” but the will under which he was entitled, namely that of Mrs M.A. Hartam could not be found. There was evidence of its existence…the Judges therefore had little difficulty in deciding that the will existed, but what were the contents was the rub. As to this, a great deal of primary and secondary evidence was taken, and there must have been some “hard swearing” on one side or the other. Their conclusion, however, that Mrs M.A. Hartam left her adopted son, McLaughlin, the property in question and now Hartam’s widow (who has married again, and so changed her name to Brown) has to give up Hartamville and the Criterion Hotel, with an account of rents and use and occupation, which means a good round sum of money in addition. What became of the will is a question which will never be clearly revealed, but everything seems to point to its wilful destruction; and seeing that he was evidently anxious to bequeath the property to his widow absolutely, and even did so, it is very probable that the late Charles Hartam destroyed it himself when he got possession of it from Mr Crisp. There’s now little likelihood of any further appeal, unless Mrs Hartam Brown chose to carry the case before the English Privy Council on some point of law, but there is not much law involved, it being almost entirely a question of fact, and if all the witnesses who have lately been examined in Hobart were taken to London, the litigants would pretty well need to charter a vessel for the purpose. Under these circumstances we presume that the litigation over the existence and purport of the will is at an end, and that the only bone of contention left, is as to the amount of money Mrs Hartam Brown will now have to pay over to McLaughlin, including costs. This will be decided by the Judges in Chambers after hearing counsel on both sides. As to the result of the decision of the Full Court, it has certainly met with the very general approval on the part of the public.”

With the court case concluded, Charlie wasted no time in instructing Dobson, Mitchell & Allport to lease Hartamville, which was advertised on 16 September 1893.[clxviii] By November 1894, William Langford was listed at the licensee Criterion Hotel.[clxix]

Elizabeth Brown told to ‘hurry up’

It is probably not unexpected that Elizabeth Brown would be in no rush to pay Charlie McLaughlin what was owed to him. The loss of the court case was a significant blow and had a deleterious impact on her health. Now deprived of the rent from the Criterion and Hartamville, and being forced to move to her husband’s home in Richmond Park, Longford, Elizabeth would need to maintain herself and her children with rent from Charles Hartam’s remaining properties (The Royal Hotel with an annual rental of £223; and three Brick Shop and Dwelling Houses with a combined annual rental of £267).[clxx] Following the conclusion of the court case, the pressure continued to mount on Elizabeth.

On 7 October 1893, the local newspapers reported the following:

“After the trial, Mrs Hartam Brown did not render an account of the rents received for the Criterion Hotel and Hartamville during several years, as directed by the Chief Justice. An Order in Chambers was next taken out and served upon her solicitor, requiring her to render the account, but this was not obeyed. Then the order was served upon her personally, but it still remains unobeyed. Proceedings have now, therefore been taken to compel performance of the order by attachment, which in plain English means that Mrs Hartam Brown will be taken to prison if she persists in her disobedience. The writ of attachment has been issued, but has not yet been put into force. It will, however, be done unless the accounts are forthcoming within the next few days.”[clxxi]

A few days later, on 11 October 1893, the Mercury reported the following:

“Mrs Hartam Brown has written to us denying that she has persisted in disobeying the order of the Court to render an account of back rents, etc in the matter of Hartamville and the Criterion properties and says the accounts have been in her lawyer’s hands over a fortnight, and that she holds their receipt for same. It is strange if this is so that her solicitor has as we understand allowed an attachment to issue: also that Mrs Hartam Brown has ventured to write a long explanation to the judges why she cannot render a detailed account.”[clxxii]

On 8 December, the court ruled on the costs. One half costs should be paid out of the estate and one half by Mr and Mrs Hartam Brown, trustees to take their costs out of estate.[clxxiii]

Elizabeth did not have to suffer the inconvenience of her changed circumstances for long. Eleven days later, on 29 December 1893, aged fifty, Elizabeth Hartam Brown died at her residence, Richmond Park, Longford.[clxxiv]

Charles Hartam’s estate sold

The children of Charles and Elizabeth Hartam: Lily, Raymond and Charles were twenty-seven, twenty and nineteen, respectively, in 1905, when the trustees of Charles Hartam’s will put his remaining properties up for sale, including The Royal Hotel. All of the properties were situated in Liverpool Street, Hobart. In a newspaper advertisement,[clxxv] the following was described:

  1. The Royal Hotel, one of the best and most popular hotels in the city. The property is now let to Mr. T. A. James at a rental of £223 per annum, and the tenancy expires on The 31st July next. The land on which this hotel stands has a frontage on Liverpool-street of 38 feet 5 and a half inches, by a depth of 234 feet on one side and 274 feet on the other.
  2. LOT 2. Brick Shop and Dwelling House, divided by a right-of-way from (unclear). This property is now let on a monthly tenancy of £80 per annum.
  3. LOT 3. Brick Shop and Dwelling house adjoining lot 2. This property is now let with Lot 5 at a rental of £115 per annum, and the tenancy expires on the 1st of May next.
  4. LOT 4. Brick shop and Dwelling House adjoining lot 3, now let at a rental of £72. and the tenancy expires on 1st March next.
  5. LOT 5. Brick Building suitable, for factory or store, W.B. House and land at rear, adjoining Lots 2, 3 and 4.

The legacy

Mary Ann Hartam was an inspirational and beloved figure in Hobart. She arrived in Australia in a position of disadvantage with nothing and everything against her. Through hard work, she created an enviable empire and a comfortable life for herself, Charles and Charlie. Elizabeth Allwright was a beneficiary of Mary Ann and Charles’ hard work for a while, and her children benefitted from the Hartam family connections and property.

Charlie put Hartamville up for sale at auction in January 1905. It was eventually purchased by William Bispham Propsting (lawyer and politician) and William Richard Frederick Propsting (bookseller and son of Richard Propsting, former Superintendant of Police) in June 1907, and was rented out to various tenants including Thomas Bennison, the city coroner. The Propstings sold the property in August 1923 and it was subsequently renamed Wyuna and operated as a boarding house. At some stage it was renamed Hanover Cottage, and the dwelling is now a private residence.[clxxvi]

Mary Ann’s legacy will be forever linked with the Criterion Hotel and The Ship Hotel which are iconic landmarks in Hobart. Both properties remain standing, and continue to trade.

Acknowledgements:

I wish to acknowledge the following people who transcribed the convict records for the Edward: A. Baker, C. Tuckerman, G. Brown, M. Lowe and C. McAlpine.

Colette McAlpine also provided some further background research for Mary Ann and Charles Hartam.

Eileen Ball is also acknowledged for her contribution of potential baptism records pertaining to Mary Ann Owens.

The main image is of The Ship Hotel C1875 (where Mary Ann died, and taken the year before her death). Tasmanian photographers 1840-1940 : a directory / by Chris Long ; edited by Gillian Winter. Hobart, Tas : Tasmanian Historical Research Association : Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery, 1995.


[i] Libraries Tasmania. CON40-1-3 Image 285 and http://www.lan-opc.org.uk

[ii] Based on the stated age of Mary Ann when she died, and Familysearch.org; Libraries Tasmania. CON19

[iii] Familysearch.org

[iv] Libraries Tasmania. CON13-1-6. Image 211

[v] Australian Joint Copying Project. Microfilm Roll 90, Class and Piece Number HO11/9, Page Number 347(175) states Mary Ann Grayson was tried at the Hampshire Portsmouth Quarter Sessions

[vi] Libraries Tasmania. CON40-1-3 Image 285

[vii] https://researchdata.edu.au/fas-convict-ship-prosopography-index/395204 (accessed 6 February 2023)

[viii] Libraries Tasmania. CON27-1-1 Image 16

[ix] Libraries Tasmania. CON19-1-12

[x] Ibid

[xi] https://femalefactory.org.au/history/life-in-the-cascades-female-factory/ (accessed 8 February 2023)

[xii] Ibid

[xiii] Ibid

[xiv] Ibid

[xv] Ibid

[xvi] Female Convicts Research Centre database, and HO10/50 — Muster year 1835

[xvii] Ibid

[xviii] Libraries Tasmania. CON52/1/1 Page 180

[xix] Louisa Ann Meredith, My Home in Tasmania, vol 2, John Murray, London, 1852, p. 209 (from Alison Alexander, Female Convicts Research Centre)

[xx] Ibid

[xxi] Ibid

[xxii] Ibid

[xxiii] Ibid

[xxiv] https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/7134376 (accessed 8 February 2023)

[xxv] https://www.utas.edu.au/library/companion_to_tasmanian_history/V/VDL.htm (accessed 9 February 2023)

[xxvi] Ibid

[xxvii] Ibid

[xxviii] Ibid

[xxix] Ibid

[xxx] Ibid

[xxxi] Ibid

[xxxii] Libraries Tasmania. CON52/1/1 Page 79. RGD36/3: 1838/4266

[xxxiii] Libraries Tasmania. RGD36/1/3 no 4266

[xxxiv] Libraries Tasmania. CON14-2-1. Image 22

[xxxv] Libraries Tasmania. CON27-1-5 Image 41

[xxxvi] Libraries Tasmania. CON18-1-9. Image 81

[xxxvii] Ibid

[xxxviii] Ibid

[xxxix] Libraries Tasmania. CON31-1-20. Image 72

[xl] The Courier, Fri 13 May 1842, page 4

[xli] https://www.utas.edu.au/library/companion_to_tasmanian_history/H/Hobart.htm (accessed 10 Feb 2023)

[xlii] The Courier, Fri 13 Oct 1843, Page 4

[xliii] Libraries Tasmania. HTG 30/9/1842 6/10/1843 1/10/1844

[xliv] The Courier, 5 Sept 1846 and 3 Apr 1847. Also, Libraries Tasmania HTG 7 Oct 1845, 2 Oct 1847, 30 Sep 1848, 27 Sep 1849

[xlv] Mercury, Mon 14 Aug 1893, page 4

[xlvi] Ibid

[xlvii] Libraries Tasmania. HTG 6/5/1850

[xlviii] Mercury, Sat 2 Sep 1876, page 2

[xlix] Ibid

[l] Libraries Tasmania. HTG 29 Sep 1850 7 Oct 1851 and 5 Oct 1852; Libraries Tasmania. HTG 27 Sep 1853, 15 Jan 1858, 6 Jan 1857, 5 Jan 1858, 8 Jan 1859, 10 Jan 1860

[li] Ibid

[lii] Mercury, Sat 30 Apr 1859, page 3

[liii] The Hobart Town Advertiser, 5 July 1859, page 1

[liv] Ibid

[lv] Ibid

[lvi] Mercury, Tue 8 Feb 1859, page 2

[lvii] Mercury, Tue 7 May 1861, page 2

[lviii] Examiner, Sat 23 Dec 1905, page 16

[lix] The Mercury, 18 Jan 1862, page 3; Hobart Town Advertiser, Sat 14 Jun 1862, page 6; The Mercury, 17 Sept 1862, page 6

[lx] Hobart Town Gazette, 25 Jan 1870

[lxi] The Cornwall Chronicle, Sat 28 Aug 1869, page 5

[lxii] Mercury, Mon 28 Aug 1876

[lxiii] Mercury, 21 Jul 1893

[lxiv] Ibid

[lxv] Tasmanian News, Thu 20 Jul 1893, page 2

[lxvi] Mercury, 13 Dec 1892, page 4

[lxvii] Ibid

[lxviii] Ibid

[lxix] Ibid

[lxx] Mercury 21 Jul 1893

[lxxi] Ibid

[lxxii] http://www.environment.gov.au/cgi-bin/ahdb/search.pl?mode=place_detail;place_id=11260 (accessed 13 Feb 2023)

[lxxiii] Mercury, Mon 14 Aug 1893, page 4

[lxxiv] Colonial Times, Tue 16 Feb 1836, page 1

[lxxv] Ibid

[lxxvi] Ibid

[lxxvii] Mercury, Mon 14 Aug 1893 page 4

[lxxviii] Ibid

[lxxix] Mercury 6 May 1893

[lxxx] Libraries Tasmania. RGD 35/1/8 no 3582

[lxxxi] Mercury, 22 Aug 1878

[lxxxii] Mercury, Sat 2 Sep 1876

[lxxxiii] Hobart Tribune, Tue 22 Aug 1876

[lxxxiv] Mercury, Tue 22 Aug 1876

[lxxxv] Ibid

[lxxxvi] Mercury, Mon 28 Aug 1876

[lxxxvii] Libraries Tasmania. Names Index, Hartam, Charles, Marriages 1877

[lxxxviii] Libraries Tasmania. SC89/1/2

[lxxxix] Mercury, Mon 24 Jul 1893, page 4

[xc] Mercury, 20 Apr 1875, page 1

[xci] Mercury, Mon 24 Jul 1893, page 4

[xcii] Mercury, 6 May 1893

[xciii] Mercury, Mon 14 Aug 1893 page 4

[xciv] Ibid

[xcv] Mercury, Mon 11 Dec 1893 page 3

[xcvi] Mercury, Tue 13 Dec 1892 page 4

[xcvii] Libraries Tasmania. RGD33/1/11 no 3549

[xcviii] Libraries Tasmania. RGD33/1/12 no 2494

[xcix] Libraries Tasmania. RGD35/1/9 no 3370

[c] Libraries Tasmania. RGD33/1/13/ no 2766

[ci] Libraries Tasmania. NS36-1-1 Page 127

[cii] Mercury, 22 Jul 1893

[ciii] Libraries Tasmania. RGD35/1/11 no 397

[civ] Ibid

[cv] Tasmanian News, Sat 22 Jul 1893, page 2

[cvi] Ibid

[cvii] Tasmanian News, Fri 5 May 1893, page 2

[cviii] Ibid

[cix] Tasmanian News, Mon 24 Jul 1893, page 3

[cx] Ibid

[cxi] Mercury, 25 July 1893

[cxii][cxii][cxii] Ibid

[cxiii] Ibid

[cxiv] Ibid

[cxv] Ibid

[cxvi] Ibid

[cxvii] Ibid

[cxviii] Mercury Sat 17 Oct 1891 page 1

[cxix] Ibid

[cxx] Ibid

[cxxi] Ibid

[cxxii] Ibid

[cxxiii] Ibid

[cxxiv] Mercury, 6 May 1893

[cxxv] Tasmanian News, Wed 19 Jul 1893, page 3

[cxxvi] Mercury, 21 Jul 1893

[cxxvii] Tasmanian News, Thu 20 Jul 1893, page 3

[cxxviii] Ibid

[cxxix] Ibid

[cxxx] Ibid

[cxxxi] Tasmanian News, Fri 21 Jul 1893, page 3

[cxxxii] Ibid

[cxxxiii] Ibid

[cxxxiv] Mercury, 22 Jul 1893

[cxxxv] Ibid

[cxxxvi] Ibid

[cxxxvii] Ibid

[cxxxviii] Mercury, Mon 24 Jul 1893, page 4

[cxxxix] Ibid

[cxl] Ibid

[cxli] Ibid

[cxlii] Ibid

[cxliii] Ibid

[cxliv] Ibid

[cxlv] Ibid

[cxlvi] Mercury, Tue 25 Jul 1893, page 4

[cxlvii] Ibid

[cxlviii] Ibid

[cxlix] Ibid

[cl] Ibid

[cli] Ibid

[clii] Ibid

[cliii] Ibid

[cliv] Tasmanian News, Thu 27 Jul 1893, page 2

[clv] Mercury, Fri 28 Jul 1893, page 3

[clvi] Ibid

[clvii] Ibid

[clviii] Ibid

[clix] Ibid

[clx] Ibid

[clxi] Tasmanian News, Fri 28 Jul 1893, page 2

[clxii] Ibid

[clxiii] Ibid

[clxiv] Ibid

[clxv] Ibid

[clxvi] Tasmanian News, Sat 12 Aug 1893, page 3

[clxvii] Coastal News and North Western Advertiser, Fri, 18 Aug 1893, page 2

[clxviii] Mercury, 16 Sept 1893 page 1

[clxix] Mercury Fri 30 Nov 1894, page 2

[clxx] Examiner, Sat 23 Dec 1905, page 16

[clxxi] Mercury, Sat 7 Oct 1893, page 2

[clxxii] Mercury, Wed 11 Oct 1893, page 2

[clxxiii] Tasmanian, Sat 16 Dec 1893 page 20

[clxxiv] Mercury, Sat 30 Dec 1893, page 1

[clxxv] Ibid

[clxxvi] http://ontheconvicttrail.blogspot.com/2013/11/hanover-cottage.html (accessed 28 February 2023)

Profile: Margaret Combs

Scottish-born Margaret Combs, a married woman, was twenty-six when she arrived in Van Diemen’s Land in the middle of a Hobart winter on 8 July 1852. In the six years leading to her transportation, she was arrested at least three times[1], and was incarcerated in Calton Jail, Edinburgh. She stated her marital status as either married or single, depending on her circumstances. That she lived at times “at no fixed address” might have been as a result of an unstable marriage, and certainly might have contributed to her unlawful activities. She appeared to still be married to John Duff when she arrived in Hobart and that she could not read or write, however, that made little difference to Margaret. She didn’t let any of her past in Scotland get in the way of securing her future. What makes this story so special, is that Margaret turned her life around—from being condemned in court as being “habite and repute a thief” and the perpetrator of a “wicked attack” on a man, to being a respectable boarding house owner who employed servants and became a mother and grandmother. This is her story.

A marriage and brush with the law

Margaret Combs was born in the Parish of Edinburgh, county Midlothian, Scotland, to Alexander Combs and Mary Crokat on 15 March 1826[2]. She had a sister, Mary, who was two years younger. At the age of sixteen, Margaret married John Duff on 5 October 1842 in the Parish of St Cuthbert’s in Edinburgh.

Margaret was average in height for a woman, being 5’, and was described as having a fresh complexion, large head, black hair and eyebrows with dark eyes, oval face, and having a medium-sized forehead, nose, mouth and chin.[3]

Little is known about the newly-wed Duffs, until just over five years after their marriage. In April 1848, Margaret was arrested for assault and robbery in “a house of disrepute” and incarcerated in Edinburgh’s Calton Jail. When renowned author, Jules Verne, visited Edinburgh in 1859 he described the jail as resembling a small-scale version of a medieval town[4] (the jail was demolished in 1935). It is most likely that Margaret would have been held in The Bridewell whilst she was waiting for her trial.

Calton Jail was built in 1819 and The Bridewell building was adjacent. The Bridewell was set out in a semi-circle, with a pulpit in the middle so that all of the prisoners could either see or hear the preacher. The sleeping cells were described as “airy and fit for one person.”[5] In Margaret’s two months of incarceration, she might have been employed in cooking and washing duties and certainly by the time she arrived in Van Diemen’s Land described her occupation as a ‘Plain Laundress’. In The Bridewell, there were separate rooms for ‘female felons’ and ‘female convicts’, although the distinction is unclear.

At the time of her arrest, Margaret, at age twenty-two, was living at Scott’s Close, Cowgate, in Edinburgh’s Old Town area, and lived close-by to the Edinburgh Sherrif’s Court (they were in the same street). Her husband John worked as a carrier.

Margaret was arrested with another woman, Jane Sheills (aged twenty-four and married to a confectioner). Their case was tried on 26 June 1848 in the Edinburgh High Court of Justiciary, and the Caledonian Mercury reported on events in its paper published three days later.

Both Margaret and Jane pleaded not guilty to the charge of “assaulting a gentleman in a disreputable house in Leith Street, and robbing him of £242.” The gentleman in question was David Pursell. Solicitors, Mr Moncreiff and Mr Logan, appeared as Margaret and Jane’s counsel. After several witnesses were examined, the paper’s article went on to report that “the case was given up by the Crown on account of wanting corroborative testimony to the principal witness, some of the other witnesses who are said to be acquainted with the prisoners, having given evidence quite to the contrary of what was expected by the public prosecutor.” The verdict handed down was the case was “not proven” and Margaret and Jane were “Assoilzied simliciter and dismissed”—that is, they were found not guilty[6].

A freedom short-lived

Perhaps emboldened by the support she received from acquaintances, which enabled her to avoid prosecution, Margaret ran afoul of the law again the next year, and appeared in court on 19 October 1849. But perhaps the reason for her alleged criminal activity might be more related to the fact that she had “no fixed place of residence”[7] at the time and may have been living on the streets. Unlike with her previous arrest, Margaret’s husband John is not mentioned in any proceedings, and indeed, Margaret attests that she is “not married”[8].

Margaret was accused of the “theft of a bank or bankers note for twenty pounds Sterling”[9]. The Advocate Sheriff of the County of Edinburgh, John Thomson Gordon Esq, who tried her case, stated to the jury that Margaret was “lately a prisoner in the Prison of Edinburgh” and her crime was “aggravated by her being habite and repute a thief”[10], which was relevant to her guilt. The jury by a majority found her guilty, and the Sheriff sentenced her to imprisonment at the Prison of Edinburgh for eighteen calendar months from the date of the trial[11].

The Caledonian Mercury reported on 22 October 1849: “Margaret Combe[sic] or Duff was found guilty of the theft of a bank note for £20, from the pocket of Charles John Flower, on the 10th or 11th of September, aggravated by previous conviction, and with being habite and repute a thief, and sentenced to eighteen months’ imprisonment.”

The last straw

Margaret’s sentence of incarceration at the Prison of Edinburgh ended in April 1851, and she secured accommodation at Bull’s Close, Canongate, in the Edinburgh Old Town area[12]. But, three months later, she was arrested again and taken before one of Edinburgh’s magistrates, Andrew Fyfe, Esq. on 23 July. Margaret gave a deposition answering the police charges and was placed back in prison. She would remain there until November that year, when would find herself back in the High Court of Justiciary answering for what was described as a “heinous” crime.

Margaret, who was aged twenty-five, and her co-accused, Marian Gray (aged twenty-four, and also with a history of imprisonment), were facing the charge of “Robbery; as also Theft, aggravated by being habite and repute a thief and previously convicted.”[13] Their case was tried by James Moncreiff, Esq. as Advocate for Her Majesty’s interest. He considered that as Margaret and Marian had been previously convicted of theft, their “crimes (were) of an heinous nature, and severely punishable.”[14]

Mr Moncreiff laid out the charges: “on the 22nd day of July 1851, (Tuesday), or on one or other of the days of that month, or of June immediately preceding, or of August immediately following, in or near Princes Street, Edinburgh, and in or near the division thereof between the Register Office and South Saint Andrew Street, you the said Margaret Combs and Marion Gray did, both and each, or one or other of you, wickedly and feloniously, attack and assault John Rodgers, a printer, then and now or lately residing in or near Glover Street, Arbroath, in the county of Forfar.” (Author’s note: the date of the alleged crime appears a little broad!).

Mr Moncreiff continued: “…and did seize him round the body, and did struggle with him, and did, by force and violence, take from his person or custody, and did rob him of, A Pocket-Book, Two Bank or Banker’s Notes for Five Pounds sterling each, Twelve, or thereby, Bank or Banker’s Notes for One Pound Sterling each, Several Scraps of Paper, and A Shirt-Collar, his property, or in his lawful possession.” (Author’s note: it is quite a mental picture being drawn of this man, a printer, being physically seized by either Margaret or Marian or both—sometime during the summer months of Scotland—and being robbed of all of his possessions, including his shirt collar. But perhaps Mr Moncreiff felt the jury might not be convinced that the two women accused would be capable of overpowering Mr Rodgers, so he covers his bases. Read on.)

“OR OTHERWISE. Time and Place above libelled, you the said Margaret Combs and Marion Gray did, both and each, or one or other of you, wickedly and feloniously, steal and theftuously away take, from the person or custody of the said John Rodgers, The Pocket-Book, Bank or Banker’s Notes, Scraps of Paper, and Shirt-Collar, above libelled, the property, or in the lawful possession, of the said John Rodgers.”

So, the women are either thugs and thieves, or just wicked thieves—that’s quite a distinction.

Mr Moncreiff goes on to confirm that both women have had previous convictions for theft and neither knows how to write, and that the declarations made by both women in the presence of magistrate Andrew Fyfe, Esq. in July (reproduced below), “along with a shirt-collar; being to be used in evidence against both and each of you at your trial; As also, an extract or certified copy of each conviction for the crime of theft, obtained against you the said Margaret Combs, under the name of Margaret Combs or Duff in the Sheriff-court of the county of 19th October 1849, Being to be used in evidence against you the said Margaret Combs at your trial, will, for that purpose, be in due time lodged in the hands of the Clerk of the high Court of Justiciary, before which you the said Margaret Combs and Marion Gray are to be tried that you may respectively have an opportunity of seeing the same: All which, or part thereof, being found proven by the verdict of an Assize, or admitted by the respective judicial confessions of you the said Margaret Combs and Marion Gray, before the Lord Justice-General Lord Justice-Clerk, and Lords Commissioners of Justiciary, you the said Margaret Combs and Marion Gray ought to be punished with the pains of the law, to deter others from committing the like crimes in all time coming.”

Marion Gray’s declaration[15] made in front of magistrate Andrew Fyfe, Esq. follows:

“Declaration of Marion Gray 23rd July 1851,

At Edinburgh, the Twenty-Third day of July, Eighteen Hundred and Fifty-One, In presence of Andrew Fyfe, Esquire one of the Magistrates of Edinburgh and Sheriff-Deputy thereof, Marion Gray presently in custody, being brought for examination, Declares,

I am twenty-four years of age, I am a native of Edinburgh, and reside in Anchor Close. I am not married. And being shown a man who states his name to be John Rodgers, Arbroath, Declares, was in Princes Street yesterday morning early when I was apprehended and taken to the Police Office, but I do not know what for. I had not seen the said John Rodgers in Princes Street before my apprehension. I was with the prisoner Margaret Combs or Duff in Princes Street yesterday morning and had spoken to her two or three minutes before I was apprehended. I was in company with her when I was apprehended. I have no more to say. All or which I declare to be the truth and declare I cannot write.

The Declaration written upon this and the preceding page by William Meudell, apprentice to Robert Monham, Deputy City Clerk of Edinburgh was free and voluntarily emitted of the date it bears by the therein named Marion Gray, who was in her sound and sober senses at the time, and the same having been read over to her, she adhered thereto in presence of Robert Lockhart Dymock, Procurator Fiscal of said city, the said William Meudell, and James Sutherland, City Officer. [signed] Robert Dymock, William Meudell, and James Sutherland.”

Margaret’s declaration[16] made in front of magistrate Andrew Fyfe, Esq., which follows, didn’t help her case:

“Declaration of Margaret Combs 23 July 1851,

At Edinburgh, the Twenty-Third day of July, Eighteen Hundred and Fifty-One, In presence of Andrew Fyfe, Esquire one of the Magistrates of Edinburgh and Sheriff-Deputy thereof, Margaret Combs presently in custody being brought for examination, Declares,

I am twenty-three years of age[17]. I am a native of Edinburgh and reside in Bull’s Close, Canongate, I am not married. And being shown a man who states his name to be John Rodgers, Arbroath, Declares, I have no statement to make and decline answering any questions. All of which I declare to be truth and declare I cannot write at present. [signed] Andrew Fyfe.

The Declaration written upon the preceding page by William Meudell, Apprentice to Robert Monham Deputy City Clerk of Edinburgh was freely and voluntarily emitted of the date it bears by the therein named Margaret Combs, who was in her sound and sober senses at the time and the same having been read over to her she adhered thereto in presence of Robert Lockhart Dymock, Procurator Fiscal of said City, the said William Meudell and Alexander McPherson, City Officer. [signed] Robert Monham, William Meudell, Alexander McPherson.”

The Caledonian Mercury summed it up like this: “Margaret Combs and Marion Gray were charged with assaulting a gentleman in Princes Street on the night of the 22nd July last, and robbing him of a pocket-book containing £22.”

The jury heard from twelve witnesses (including police officers—of all the witnesses, four were general public, including the victim) and only found the case to be proven in respect to Margaret. Marian Gray was discharged. Margaret returned to the court the next day for her sentencing, as reported in the newspaper:

“Edinburgh High Court 11th November 1851: Margaret Combes [sic], who had been found guilty on the previous day of stealing a pocket-book from a gentleman in Princes Street, was placed at the bar, and sentenced to transportation for fourteen years. The Lord Justice-Clerk, in passing sentence, blamed the police for remissness of duty in not having pursued the accomplice of the panel [sic], who made off with the pocket-book.” [18]

A free ride to England

Transportation of Scottish prisoners to the antipodes occurred from an English port, which meant prisoners needed to undertake the journey to an English prison first—for Margaret, this trip would cover more than 600 km. There was no central depot at which Scottish women could be assembled before transportation, so it was at the discretion of each prison to prepare the women for their journey. There was little or no opportunity for the women to be provided with any small amount of goods to take with them. Many of the women sentenced to transportation represented some of the poorest and most destitute within Scottish society, and thus would have little or nothing by way of possessions to their name. So, they would set out on this epic journey with only what the ship’s surgeon could provide: prison clothes and work tools to keep them occupied, such as those required for sewing.[19]

On 24 January 1852, Millbank Prison—located in Pimlico, London—confirmed the arrival of prisoner #4259 Margaret Combs, age twenty-three[20], married[21], and of no occupation, from the Edinburgh Goal. She remained in this prison until 16 March 1852, the day after her actual twenty-sixth birthday[22], when she was discharged to the transport Sir Robert Seppings. With extremely cold winds blowing from the north-east, the Sir Robert Seppings departed Woolwich two days later, and arrived in Hobart, Van Diemen’s Land on 8 July 1852 (a journey of 112 days).[23]

During the voyage, Margaret needed the attention of the surgeon for ‘catarrh’ on 31 May 1852 (her age is listed as twenty-five) and was on the ‘sick list’ for two days, when she was declared ‘cured’[24]. The surgeon, Lennox T. Cunningham, was described by James Montagu Smith, a 15-year-old boy seaman on his second voyage to Australia, as a “good doctor but an ‘infernal old scoundrel’ that reminded him of a ‘lecherous old Turk in the midst of his harem’.”[25] During the voyage, the women were allowed on deck during the day and had their meals there if the weather was good, but at night they were locked below deck.[26]

Van Diemen’s Land—a new world

When Margaret stepped off the boat in the middle of Hobart’s winter, she would have gathered shivering on the wharf amongst the other two hundred and eighteen prisoners who survived the journey (one prisoner starved herself to death), plus some sixteen children who also survived (they buried five children during the voyage)[27].

After Margaret’s physical and criminal details were noted on the official records, she and the other prisoners and children were taken to the Brickfields Hiring Depot[28] on 12 July 1852. In her records, it is noted she was married and had “Nine times in prison”.[29] We can only confirm three incarcerations for Margaret, according to a search of the Crown Counsel Procedure Books[30] and a search of the relevant newspapers: in 1848 for theft of £242 (where she was found not guilty); for theft of bank note (where she received eighteen months jail) and the theft of pocket book and £22 (where she received fourteen years transportation).[31]

Now at the Brickfields Hiring Depot (which would be closed four months later), Margaret and the other prisoners could expect to be hired out to a private employer.[32] She didn’t have to wait long. On 16 July 1852, four days later, Margaret, with the occupation as a ‘plain laundress’, was allocated to a Thomas Goldie in Hobart Town.[33]

Later, Margaret was allocated to the Hobart Post Office, and although her records are difficult to decipher here, it appears she absconded and may have spent time at the Cascades Female Factory. [34]

A positive influence leading to freedom

At some time in the three months after her arrival, Margaret met Thomas Bailey. Bailey stood half a foot taller than her, with a fair complexion, dark brown hair, grey eyes and red whiskers. He wore a tattoo of an anchor on the inside left arm and a small cross on the inside right. A Protestant, he could read and write a little. A labourer by occupation, he was tried at the Middlesex County Criminal Court on 10 May 1847 for housebreaking and stealing jewellery, for which he was transported for ten years. He sailed out on the William Jardine and arrived in November 1850 aged twenty-seven.[35]

On 20 October 1852, Margaret and Thomas Bailey applied to be married which was granted.[36] Within four months after her arrival, on 22 November 1852 Margaret Combs (aged twenty-six and potentially still married to John Duff) and Thomas Bailey (aged twenty-seven[37]) were married at the Church of England, St John’s New Town, Van Diemen’s Land. He was listed as a bachelor labourer and she a spinster. Their marriage was witnessed by John Paynter and Sarah White[38].

The marriage was good for both Margaret and Thomas (who was known as Henry and changed the spelling of his surname from Bailey to Bayley).

By the time of their marriage, Henry Bailey already had his Ticket of Leave (granted 18 May 1852) and seven months after their marriage, his Conditional Pardon came through on 14 June 1853.

Margaret’s Ticket of Leave was granted a year later, on 29 August 1854[39] which had to be held for six months.

Three years into their marriage, Henry was working as a Ginger Beer Maker, and on 17 October 1855, Margaret Bayley (formerly Combes [sic]) produced a son, Henry John Bayley. That Margaret had taught herself to read and write is evidenced when she signed the birth registration document in her own hand “Mag Bayley mother [living at] Bathurst Street”.[40]

Gold fever hits

On 20 February 1856, Margaret joined her husband, Henry, in having her Conditional Pardon approved.[41] She had served just four years and three months of her fourteen year transportation sentence. However, their Conditional Pardons were granted upon condition they shall not return or be found within the counties in which they were severally convicted or the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland during the remaining term of their sentences of transportation.

Even though they couldn’t yet return to the United Kingdom, there was nothing now keeping them in Hobart, and the shiny gold fields in Victoria drew their attention.

The gold rush started in Victoria five years earlier, and there’s no doubt stories would have filtered through about the fortune to be made there. It is unclear exactly when they arrived in Victoria, but Margaret (maiden name Combs) gave birth to a son, William Bayley in 1857 at Epsom Victoria.[42]

Epsom is part of the greater area of Bendigo in central Victoria. The official discovery of gold at Bendigo occurred in October 1851, a few months after discoveries at Clunes (June), Mount Alexander (July) and Ballarat (August). The Bendigo Creek contained rich alluvial gold, as did several nearby gullies. The in-rush of miners was notable for the populations of Cornish, Welsh, Irish, Scots, ‘Yankees’, Germans and Chinese. Of the 166,550 persons inhabiting the large area over which the gold fields extended, no less than 124,891 were dwellers in tents, three-fourths of which consist of but a single apartment.[43]

It appears that Margaret and Henry lived cheek-by-jowl in a tent with their two young children, as Margaret gave witness evidence in court supporting a woman, Catherine Mathews, who “was in her tent” when she’d been assaulted. Margaret’s corroborating evidence sent the defendant to jail.[44]

Despite returns from gold prospecting were on the decline as early as 1857[45], Henry Bayley, Epsom, was granted a refreshment of his miner’s licence in December 1858.[46] With the flurry of puddlers working the area, there were complaints about the lack of water and that “many (miners) are quite at a stand still for the want of it”. There was also a push to enlarge the claims of both diggers and puddlers because the miners’ “chances were fewer of getting paid for his labour…than they would be were the ground still as rich as in the early days of gold-digging.”[47]

However, by 1860, the family had had enough, and despite Margaret not yet reaching the expiration of her sentence, the family had saved enough money to purchased passage to England (Margaret’s transportation sentence would not expire until 11 November 1865[48]).

Returning home

The family moved to Henry’s birthplace, Middlesex, and lived at 235 High Street, Shadwell in the Tower Hamlets of London. It would be Margaret and Henry’s home for the next twenty-seven years. The home was more expansive than what Margaret would be used to, and they set it up as a coffee and boarding house.

Shadwell is east of London, and lies on the northern bank of the Thames. When the Bayley’s moved there, it was at a time of great change for the area. A new entrance to the docks had recently been constructed (1858) to allow access for larger ships, and in 1865 during excavation for the creation of more docks at Shadwell, four nearby houses were flooded.[49] During Victorian times, Shadwell and the East End were not seen as pleasant places. The growth of Shadwell’s port led to an increase in the number of prostitutes in the area, and the area was known as the centre of the capital’s opium smoking.[50]

However, the Bayley family used the demographics of the area to their advantage. In the 1861 census, Margaret and Henry had nine boarders living with them, made up of seamen, mariners, porters and dock labourers. They also had a live-in domestic servant.[51] Their sons, Henry (aged six) and William (aged four) were both in school.

Over the next ten years, Henry (now aged 48) moved back to his brewing roots, and now sold beer from their home. Margaret (now 45) managed the boarding house, and in the 1871 census they had one boarder with them and a servant. It is unclear what fifteen-year-old Henry junior’s occupation was, but his thirteen-year-old brother, William, was working as a tobacconist’s assistant.[52]

The Bayley family continued this life, selling beer and taking in boarders, and their children grew. By 1881, their son Henry (now 25) had the occupation of plumber, and William (23) had married the year earlier to Mary Lucy Glover on 20 December 1880 and had moved out.[53] The following year, the family would celebrate their other son, Henry’s marriage to Mary Ann Thompson on 24 December 1882.

Seven years later, Margaret’s life as she knew it would change with the death of her husband on 14 February 1888. He had a personal estate of £268 12s, and Margaret was his sole beneficiary.

With the death of her husband, Margaret retired the beer shop and sold their home at 235 High Street Shadwell, and moved to 15 Blakesley Street, St George in the East—an area adjacent to the location of their former home. Three years after the death of her husband, Margaret (aged 65) had her daughter-in-law, Lucy Bayley, and William and Lucy’s children living with her: Margaret, Catherine and William. It is unknown what occupation William had, but perhaps he was a seaman, which would explain his absence in the 1891 Census, and perhaps why his mother, wife and children lived together in Margaret’s house. Margaret continued to employ a servant.[54]

Margaret moved house again, to 20 Blakesley Street, Commercial Road, Middlesex, where she died on 20 September 1892. Her son, Henry, who continued his occupation as a plumber, administered her will, distributing her personal effects of £1167 1s 3d.

From very rough beginnings with a marriage that was not positive for Margaret at aged sixteen—which resulted in her being jailed several times and eventually being taken from her homeland and held in a foreign land—to the opportunities afforded to her through meeting Henry Bayley. Margaret endured and didn’t let her situation crush her, instead, she worked for her future. Margaret learnt to read and write and through her and Henry’s enterprising capacity, created a supportive life for their sons and grandchildren.

Acknowledgement

This profile piece was prepared for the Female Convicts Research Centre. The author wishes to acknowledge the contribution of the following people for the bulk of the research for this article on Margaret Combs:

Transcription of convict records for the Sir Robert Seppings: M. Lowe, J. Lorimar, T. McKay, C. Griffin, C. McAlpine, and S. Kirkby.

Contributing research on the life of Margaret Combs: M. Lowe, M. Mann, K. Searson, T. Curry, D. Guiver, A. Davidson, B. Painter, S. Rackham, P. Selley, M. Bonnell, B. Holland, P. Bellas, T. Cready, M. Halliwell, M. Hall, A. Kennett, L. Prescott, D. Norris, Jill and Jan, L. Newham, M. Randles, M. Hubble, A. Skelcher, P. Hand, G. McLeod, J. Waddell, L. Grocott, W. Edwards, J. Hamill, Caroline, B. Pollock, and C. McAlpine


[1] Margaret’s official convict record states she was in jail nine times, however, a search of Scottish records only supports three arrests

[2] Familysearch.org

[3] Description List. Libraries Tasmania: CON19-1-10 Image 111

[4] https://www.edinburghnews.scotsman.com/whats-on/arts-and-entertainment/lost-edinburgh-calton-jail-1562700 (accessed 30 January 2023)

[5] Gurney J.J. Notes on a visit made to some of the prisons in Scotland and The North of England in company with Elizabeth Fry (1819) via McDonald, L. Scottish Prisons 18th and 19th Century. Female Convicts Research Centre Inc website

[6] Scottish Indexes: Crown Office Precognitions. NRS Reference AD/14/48/413 and High Court of Justiciary Trial Papers NRS Reference JC26/1848/487

[7] Sheriff-Court of the County of Edinburgh. Extract Conviction. National Records of Scotland

[8] Ibid

[9] Ibid

[10] Ibid

[11] Ibid

[12] Scottish Indexes. Crown Office Precognitions. NRS Reference: AD14/51/442

[13] Sheriff-Court of the County of Edinburgh. Extract Conviction. National Records of Scotland. And, Caledonian Mercury 13th November 1851

[14] Ibid

[15] Ibid

[16] Ibid

[17] Margaret was aged twenty-five at the time

[18] Ibid and see also Scottish Indexes: High Court of Justiciary Trial Papers. NRS Reference: JC8/60, F.2V and JC26/1851/612, Related Precognitions: AD14/51/442 url:https://www.scottishindexes.com/jcentry.aspx?jcid=1851612 (accessed 4 December 2022)

[19] McDonald, Lilian. Scottish Prisons 18th and 19th Century. Female Convicts Research Centre

[20] Margaret was actually twenty-five at the time. Also, accessed from Freecen.org.uk the Census dated 30 March 1851—that is, the year before she arrived at Millbank Prison—Margaret Combs was in the Prison of Edinburgh, married, age twenty-four. No occupation, born in Edinburgh, Midlothian

[21] Margaret declared herself ‘unmarried’ in July 1851 and was in prison from this time

[22] See previous note

[23] Original convict records. Libraries Tasmania: 13828. NAME_INDEXES: 1382247 CON41-1-34 Image 40

[24] Surgeon Superintendent’s report

[25] Smith, James Montagu; Ed: Cuffley, Peter (2001). Send the boy to sea: the memoirs of a sailor on the goldfields. The Five Mile Press. pp. 22–37.

[26] Ibid

[27] Ibid

[28] In North Hobart, on the site of the current North Hobart Oval

[29] Original convict records. Libraries Tasmania CON41-1-34 Image 40; CON15-1-7 Image 256 and CON19-1-10 Image 111

[30] Scottish Indexes

[31] Prison register of Calton Jail, Edinburgh, 1848 (refs: HH21/5/8 p. 11; HH21/5/8 p. 73; and HH21/5/8 p. 135

[32] Ibid

[33] Female Convicts Database. Record #11154

[34] Ibid

[35] Original convict records. Libraries Tasmania: CON33-1-98 Image 8

[36] Original convict records. Libraries Tasmania. CON52/1/5 Page 18

[37] If his original convict records are correct, he was twenty-nine when he was married to Margaret

[38] Original convict records. Libraries Tasmania: RGD37/1/11 no 596 Image 223

[39] Ibid

[40] Libraries Tasmania. RGD33/1/6/ record no 621, Image 73

[41] Ancestry.com.au Tasmania Convict Court and Selected Records 1800-1899. Registers of conditional pardons issued 1853-1856

[42] Births Deaths and Marriages Victoria. Registration number 17180/1857

[43] 1857 Victorian Census. https://hccda.ada.edu.au/Collated_Census_Tables/VIC-1857-census.html (ACCESSED 29 January 2023)

[44] Bendigo Advertiser, Wednesday 10 June 1857. District Police Office—violent assault

[45] The Age, Thursday, 21 May 1857. The Bendigo Gold-fields

[46] Bendigo Advertiser, Thursday, 2 December 1858. Municipal Police Court—refreshment licences

[47] Ibid

[48] Ibid

[49] North Devon Journal. 28 September 1865via British Newspaper Archive

[50] Glinert, Ed (June 2007). Literary London: A Street by Street Exploration of the Capital’s Literary Heritage. Penguin. ISBN 9780141026244

[51] United Kingdom 1861 Census. Parish of Shadwell, Parliamentary Borough of Tower Hamlets, Ecclesiastical District of Stepney. Page 35, number of schedule 161

[52] United Kingdom 1871 Census. Parish of Shadwell, Parliamentary Borough of Tower Hamlets, Ecclesiastical District of Stepney. Page 60, number of schedule 325

[53] United Kingdom 1881 Census. Parish of Shadwell, Parliamentary Borough of Tower Hamlets, Ecclesiastical District of Stepney. Page 57

[54] United Kingdom 1891 Census. Parish of St George in the East, Ecclesiastical parish of Christchurch. Page 12

NSW History Week – Day 5

This is my last post for NSW History Week 2022. In this post, I focus on Australia’s harsh environment that the European settlers were faced with. Today, we battle bushfires with modern technology. Back, more than two hundred and thirty years ago, fires were fought with hessian sacks and branches from trees and shrubs. What a challenging world they found themselves in.

A land of drought and fire

How could early European settlers foresee how challenging it would be to grow crops and ensure the survival of livestock in the new penal colony—especially using techniques employed in the northern hemisphere. How would they know how difficult it would be to even live in this country? The settlers of New South Wales battled with flooding rains, drought, humidity and scorching heat, as well as fires started either by lightning strikes or from hunting or land management practices of First Nations people.

Lieutenant Watkin Tench in his journal makes mention of the practices of setting fire to the grass: “The country, I am of opinion, would abound with birds, did not the natives, by perpetually setting fire to the grass and bushes, destroy the greater part of the nests; a cause which also contributes to render small quadrupeds scarce: they are besides ravenously fond of eggs, and eat them wherever they find them. — They call the roe of a fish and a bird’s egg by one name.”

And

“When the Indians in their hunting parties set fire to the surrounding country (which is a very common custom) the squirrels, opossums, and other animals, who live in trees, flee for refuge into…holes, whence they are easily dislodged and taken.”

The effect of heat and fire on the country and its inhabitants is well recorded by Lieutenant-Colonel David Collins, Lieutenant Watkin Tench and Mrs Elizabeth Macarthur.

Fire threatened the settlement of Sydney Cove in December 1792 as Lieutenant-Colonel David Collins noted: “The weather during December had been extremely hot. On the 5th the wind blew strong from the northward of west ; and, to add to the intense heat of the atmosphere, the country was everywhere on fire. At Sydney, the grass at the back of the hill on the west side of the cove, having either caught or been set on fire by the natives, the flames, aided by the wind which at that time blew violently, spread and raged with incredible fury. One house was burnt down ; several gardens with their fences were destroyed, and the whole face of the hill was on fire, threatening every thatched hut with destruction.

The conflagration was, with much difficulty (notwithstanding the exertions of the military) got under, after some time, and prevented from doing any further mischief. At different times during this uncomfortable day distant thunder was heard, the air darkened, and some few drops of rain fell. The apparent danger from the fires, drew all persons out of their houses and on going into the parching air, it was scarcely possible to breathe, the heat was insupportable; and vegetation seemed to suffer much, the leaves of many culinary plants being reduced to powder. The thermometer in the shade rose above one hundred degrees. Some rain falling toward evening, this excessive heat abated.

At Parramatta, and Toongabbe, also, the heat was extreme ; the country there too was every where in flames. One settler was a great sufferer. The fire had spread to his farm; but, by the efforts of his people and neighbours was got under, and its progress supposed to be essentially checked, when an unlucky spark from a tree, which had been on fire to the top most branch, flying upon the thatch of the hut where his people lived, it blazed out, and the hut, with all the out-buildings, and thirty bushels of wheat just got into a stack were in a few minutes destroyed : the erecting of the hut and out-houses (were made) a short time before. We are prepared for the smile which will follow the detail of this loss; a house,with out-houses which cost fifteen pounds, and thirty bushels of wheat to be deemed of sufficient consequence to find a place in the history of a country. Recollect, however, gentle reader, that country was not Great Britain; it was the infant, the distressed settlement of Port Jackson; and circumstances are great or small only by comparison. The man who lost his few pounds, his little all in New South Wales, deplored it as much as he who in a happier land had lost his thousands. This poor man was made a beggar by his calamity; and the man of wealth could not have suffered more.”

Used to the temperate climate of Great Britain, the colonists were in for a rude shock at the intensity of the sun blazing in the new country—blighting their efforts at using timber:

“The timber that had been cut down proved in general very unfit for the purpose of building, the trees being for the most part decayed ; and when cut down they were immediately warped and split by the heat of the sun.”

And during the summer months of the new country soaring and sustained temperatures rendered the crops to dust. David Collins makes a note of this in March 1791:

“At Rose Hill, the heat on the tenth and eleventh of the month, on which days at Sydney the thermometer flood in the shade at 105º was , so excessive (being much increased by the fire in the adjoining woods), that immense numbers of the large fox bat were seen hanging at the boughs of the trees, and dropping into the water, which, by their stench, was rendered unwholesome. They had been observed for some days before regularly taking their flight in the morning from the north-ward to the southward, and returning in the evening. During the excessive heat many dropped dead while on the wing ; and it was remarkable, that those which were picked up were chiefly males. In several parts of the harbour the ground was covered with different sorts of small birds, some dead, and others gasping for water.

The relief of the detachment at Rose Hill took place on one of those and the officer, having occasion to land in search of water, was compelled to walk several miles before any could be found. Sultry days ; the runs which were known being all dry: in his way to and from the boat, he found a number of birds dropping dead at his feet. The wind was about north-west, and did much injury to the gardens, burning up every thing before it. Those persons whose businesss compelled them to go into the heated air declared, that it was impossible to turn the face for five minutes to the quarter from whence the wind blew.”

In November 1791, David Collins noted the number of hospitalisations from the heat had increased and a convict died of sunstroke:

“The mortality during the month of November had been great, fifty male and four female convicts dying within it. Five hundred sick persons received medicine at the end of that time. The extreme heat of the weather had not only increased the sick lift, but had added one to the number of deaths. On the 4th, a convict attending upon one of the gentlemen, in passing from his house to his kitchen, with-out any covering upon his head, received a coup de soleil which at the time deprived him of Speech and motion, and, in less than four-and-twenty hours, of his life. The thermometer on that day stood at twelve o’clock at 943/4º and the wind was N.W.”

And in December 1792, Collins noted the reduction of working hours due to the heat: “The convicts had more time given to them, for the purpose not only of avoiding the heat of the day, but of making themselves comfortable at home. They were directed to work from five in the morning until nine; rest until four in the afternoon, and then labour until sunset.”

In 1796, the high temperatures made wheat a crop with an uncertain future:

“Cultivation was confined to maize, wheat, potatoes, and other garden-vegetables. The heat of the climate, occasional droughts, and blighting winds, rendered wheat an uncertain crop : The harvests of maize were constant, certain, and plentiful; and two crops were generally procured in twelve months.”

In January 1797:

“The Governor, on reaching Toongabbe, had the mortification of seeing a stack containing eight-hundred bushels of wheat burnt to the ground, and the country round this place every where in flames: unfortunately, much wheat belonging to Government was stacked there. The fire had broke out in the evening ; the wind was high, the night extremely dark, and the flames had mounted to the very tops of the lofty woods that surrounded a field called the Ninety Acres, in which were several stacks of wheat. The appearance was alarming, and the noise occasioned by the high wind, and the crackling of the flames among the trees, contributed to render the scene truly awful.

It became necessary to make every effort to save this field and its contents. The jail-gang, who worked in irons, were called out, and told, that if the wheat was saved by their exertions, their chains should be knocked off. By providing every man with a large bush, to beat off the fire as it approached the grain over the stubble, keeping up this attention during the night, and the wind becoming moderate towards morning, the fire was fortunately kept off; and the promise to the jail-gang was not forfeited.

Although at this season of the year there were days when, from the extreme heat of the atmosphere, the leaves of many culinary plants growing in the gardens were reduced to a powder, yet there was some ground for supposing that this accident had not arisen from either the heat of the weather or the fire in the woods. The grain that was burnt was the property of Government, and the destruction made room for as many bushels as should be destroyed, which must be purchased from the settlers who had wheat to sell. If, however, this was the diabolical work of designing selfish villains, they had art enough to baffle the most minute inquiry.”

And in February 1797:

“Erecting a granary, completing a wind-mill, and repairing the public roads, formed the principal works during January; in which the weather had been most uncomfortably hot, accompanied with some severe thunder storms, during one of which both the flag-staff at the South Head, and that at the entrance of the Cove, on Point Maikelyne, were shivered to pieces by the lightning.

The vast blazes of fire which were seen in every direction, and which were freshened by every blast of wind, added much to the suffocating heat that prevailed.”

And

“The weather was now becoming exceedingly hot ; and as, at that season of the year, the heat of the sun was so intense that every sub-stance became a combustible, and a single spark, if exposed to the air, in a moment became a flame, much evil was to be dreaded from fire. On the east side of the town of Sydney, a fire, the effect of intoxication or carelessness, broke out among the convicts’ houses, when three of them were quickly destroyed ; and three miles from the town another house was burnt by some runaway wretches, who, being displeased with the owner, took this diabolical method of shewing their ill-will.”

In January 1799:

“The wheat proved little better than chaff, and the maize was burnt up in the ground for want of rain. From the establishment of the settlement, so much continued drought and suffocating heat had not been experienced ; the country was in flames, the wind northerly and parching ; and some showers of rain which fell on the 7th were of no advantage, being immediately taken up again by the excessive heat of the sun.

March 1799:

“The great drought and excessive heat had affected the water. Such ponds as still retained any were reduced so very low, that most of them were become brackish, and scarcely drinkable. From this circumstance, it was conjectured, that the earth contained a large portion of salt ; for the ponds even on the high grounds were not fresh. The woods between Sydney and Parramatta were completely on fire, the trees being burnt to the tops ; and every blade of grass was destroyed.”

And the last word comes from Elizabeth Macarthur, in one of her letters dated 7 March 1791

“…in spite of Musick I have not altogether lost sight of my Botanical studies; I have only been precluded from pursuing that study, by the intense heat of the Weather, which has not permitted me to walk much during the Summer, the Months of December, and January, have been hotter than I can describe, indeed insufferably so. The Thermometer rising from an 100 to an 112 degrees is I believe 30 degrees above the hottest day known in England – the general heat is to be borne – but when we are oppressed by the hot winds we have no other resource – but to shut up ourselves in our Houses and to endeavor to the utmost of our power to exclude every breath of air – This Wind blows from the North, and comes as if from a heated oven. Those winds are generally succeeded by a Thunder storm, so severe and awful, that it is impossible for one who has not been a Witness to such a Violent concussion of the Elements to form any notion of it. I am not yet enough used to it, to be quite unmoved, it is so different from the Thunder we have in England. I cannot help being a little Cowardly, yet no injury has ever been suffer’d from it, except a few sheep being kill’d which were laying under a Tree, that was struck by the Lightning, a Thunder storm has always the effect to bring heavy rain, which cools the air very considerably. I have seen very little rain, since my arrival, indeed I do not think we have had a Weeks rain in the whole time: the consequence of which is, our Gardens produce nothing, all is burnt up, indeed the soil must be allow’d to be most wretched and totally unfit for growing any European productions tho’ a stranger would scarcely believe this, as the face of the ground at this moment, where it is in its native state is flourishing even to Luxuriance; producing fine Shrubs, Trees, and Flowers, which by their lively tints, afford a most agreeable Landscape. Beauty I have heard from some of my unletter’d Country Men is but skin deep, I am sure the remark holds good in N: S: Wales.”

European settlers persevered and learnt many lessons in how to live and thrive in the harsh environment that is Australia. Today, we still battle with raging bushfires and devastating drought. Science and technology is more important than ever to enable Australians to grow food and thrive in an increasingly hostile and unreliable environment, but we take some comfort in realising that our environment today is not so very different from that more than two hundred years ago.

**

‘More Than I Ever Had’ is based on the true story of Theophilus Feutrill, who came to Sydney Cove in 1790 as part of the Second Fleet as a private in the NSW Corps. The book is available from independent booksellers in Sydney and Amazon.

NSW History Week – Day 4

Perspectives on a spearing

On 7 September 1790 (two hundred and thirty-two years and one day ago – I am posting this blog on 8 September 2022), on a beach in Manly Cove, the Governor of New South Wales, Arthur Phillip, was speared through the shoulder by a First Nations man. I had written a chapter for my book (‘More Than I Ever Had’) on this event, but as it didn’t make the final version I have uploaded it to my website as an additional chapter. Elizabeth Macarthur (the long suffering wife of John Macarthur), Lieut.-Gov David Collins, Lieut. Watkin Tench and a master’s mate from the Sirius, Mr Southwell, each provided their perspective on the incident in letters and journals. Following, is a compilation of their reports of events leading up to, during and after the incident.

Lieutenant Watkin Tench notes in his journal on 7 September, 1790:

WT “Captain Nepean, of the New South Wales corps, and Mr White[1], accompanied by little Nanbaree[2], and a party of men, went in a boat to Manly Cove, intending to land there, and walk on to Broken Bay. On drawing near the shore, a dead whale, in the most disgusting state of putrefaction, was seen lying on the beach, and at least two hundred Indians surrounding it, broiling the flesh on different fires, and feasting on it with the most extravagant marks of greediness and rapture. As the boat continued to approach, they were observed to fall into confusion and to pick up their spears; on which our people lay upon their oars: and Nanbaree stepping forward, harangued them for some time, assuring them that we were friends. Mr. White now called for Baneelon[3]; who, on hearing his name, came forth, and entered into conversation. He was greatly emaciated, and so far disfigured by a long beard, that our people not without difficulty recognized their old acquaintance. His answering in broken English, and inquiring for the governor, however, soon corrected their doubts. He seemed quite friendly. And soon after Colbee came up, pointing to his leg, to shew that he had freed himself from the fetter which was upon him, when he had escaped from us.

When Baneelon was told that the governor was not far off, he expressed great joy, and declared that he would immediately go in search of him; and if he found him not, would follow him to Sydney. ‘Have you brought any hatchets with you?’ cried he. Unluckily they had not any which they chose to spare; but two or three shirts, some handkerchiefs, knives, and other trifles, were given to them, and seemed to satisfy. Baneelon, willing to instruct his countrymen, tried to put on a shirt, but managed it so awkwardly, that a man of the name of M’Entire, the governor’s gamekeeper, was directed by Mr. White to assist him. This man, who was well known to him, he positively forbade to approach, eyeing him ferociously, and with every mark of horror and resentment. He was in consequence left to himself, and the conversation proceeded as before. The length of his beard seemed to annoy him much, and he expressed eager wishes to be shaved, asking repeatedly for a razor. A pair of scissors was given to him, and he shewed he had not forgotten how to use such an instrument, for he forthwith began to clip his hair with it.

During this time, the women and children, to the number of more than fifty, stood at a distance, and refused all invitations, which could be conveyed by signs and gestures, to approach nearer. ‘Which of them is your old favourite, Bar-an-gar-oo, of whom you used to speak so often?’ — ‘0h,’ said he, ‘she is become the wife of Colbee! but I have got Bul-la Mur-ee Dee-in [two large women] to compensate for her loss.’

September, 1790. It was observed that he had received two wounds, in addition to his former numerous ones, since he had left us; one of them from a spear, which had passed through the fleshy part of his arm; and the other displayed itself in a large scar above his left eye. They were both healed, and probably were acquired in the conflict wherein he had asserted his pretensions to the two ladies.

Nanbaree, all this while, though he continued to interrogate his countrymen, and to interpret on both sides, shewed little desire to return to their society, and stuck very close to his new friends. On being asked the cause of their present meeting, Baneelon pointed to the whale, which stunk immoderately; and Colbee made signals, that it was common among them to eat until the stomach was so overladen as to occasion sickness.

Their demand of hatchets being re-iterated, notwithstanding our refusal; they were asked why they had not brought with them some of their own? They excused themselves by saying, that on an occasion of the present sort, they always left them at home, and cut up the whale with the shell which is affixed to the end of the throwing stick.

Our party now thought it time to proceed on their original expedition, and having taken leave of their sable friends, rowed to some distance, where they landed, and set out for Broken Bay, ordering the coxswain of the boat, in which they had come down, to go immediately and acquaint the governor of all that had passed. When the natives saw that the boat was about to depart, they crowded around her, and brought down, by way of present, three or four great junks of the whale, and put them on board of her; the largest of which, Baneelon expressly requested might be offered, in his name, to the governor.”

Elizabeth Macarthur, recalled what she’d been told:

EM “On the 7th of Septr Captn Nepean, and several other Gentlemen went down the Harbour in a Boat; with an intention of proceeding to Broken Bay to take a view of the Hawkesbury River, in their way they put in at Manly Cove (a place so call’d from the Spirited behaviour of the Natives there at the Governors first landing). At this time, about two Hundred Natives were assembled, feeding on a Whale: that had been driven on Shore, as they discover’d no hostile intentions our party having Arms went up to them. Nanberry was in the Boat, and was desired to enquire for Bannylong[4], and Coleby when behold, both Gentlemen appear’d: and advancing with the utmost confidence ask’d in broken English, for all their old friends at Sydney. They exchanged several Weapons for provisions, and Clothes – and gave some Whale bone as a present for the Governor. Captn Nepean knowing this news would be very pleasing to the Govr. dispatch’d a Messenger to inform him of it, and proceeded on towards Broken Bay – The Govr. lost no time, but as soon as he was acquainted with the above circumstances order’d a Boat and accompanied by Mr Collins (The Judge Advocate) and a Lieut Waterhouse of the Navy; repair’d to Manly Cove, he landed by himself, unarm’d, in order to shew no Violence was intended.”

In David Collins’ account:

DC “Anxious to see him again, the Governor, after taking some arms from the party at the Look-out (which he thought the more requisite in this visit, as he heard that the cove was full of natives), went down and landed at the place where the whale was lying. There he not only saw Bennillong[5], but Cole-be also, who had made his escape from the Governor’s house a few days after his capture. At first his Excellency trusted himself alone with these people ; but the few months that Bennillong had been away had so altered his person, that the Governor, until joined by his companions[6], did not perfectly recoiled his old acquaintance. This native had been always much attached to Captain Collins, one of the gentlemen then with the Governor, and testified with much warmth his satisfaction at seeing him again. Several articles of wearing apparel were given to him and his companions (taken for that purpose from the people in the boat, but who, all but one man, remained on their oars to be ready in case of any accident) ; and a promise was exacted from his Excellency by Bennillong to return in two days with more, and also with some hatchets or tomahawks.”

EM “Bannylong approach’d, and shook hands with the Govr. – but Coleby had before left the Spot, no reason was ask’d why Bannylong had left[7] as he appear’d very happy, and thankful for what was given him; requesting a hatchet and some other things which the Govr. promised to bring him the next day, Mr. Collins, and Mr Waterhouse, now join’d them; and several Natives also came forward, they continued to converse with much seeming friendship untill they had insensibly wander’d some distance from the Boat and very imprudently none of the Gentlemen had the precaution to take a gun in their hand, This the Govr perceiving, deem’d it provident to retreat; and after assuring Bannylong that he would remember his promise; told him, he was going.”

WT “They[8] discoursed for some time, Baneelon expressing pleasure to see his old acquaintance, and inquiring by name for every person whom he could recollect at Sydney; and among others for a French cook, one of the governor’s servants, whom he had constantly made the butt of his ridicule, by mimicking his voice, gait, and other peculiarities, all of which he again went through with his wonted exactness and drollery. He asked also particularly for a lady from whom he had once ventured to snatch a kiss; and on being told that she was well, by way of proving that the token was fresh in his remembrance, he kissed lieutenant Waterhouse, and laughed aloud. On his wounds being noticed, he coldly said, that he had received them at Botany Bay, but went no farther into their history.

Hatchets still continued to be called for with redoubled eagerness, which rather suprized us, as formerly they had always been accepted with indifference. But Baneelon had probably demonstrated to them their superiority over those of their own manufacturing. To appease their importunity, the governor gave them a knife, some bread, pork, and other articles; and promised that in two days he would return hither, and bring with him hatchets to be distributed among them, which appeared to diffuse general satisfaction.

Baneelon’s love of wine has been mentioned; and the governor, to try whether it still subsisted, uncorked a bottle, and poured out a glass of it, which the other drank off with his former marks of relish and good humour, giving for a toast, as he had been taught, “the King.”

Our party now advanced from the beach; but perceiving many of the Indians filing off to the right and left, so as in some measure to surround them, they retreated gently to their old situation, which produced neither alarm or offence; the others by degrees also resumed their former position. A very fine barbed spear of uncommon size being seen by the governor, he asked for it. But Baneelon, instead of complying with the request, took it away, and laid it at some distance, and brought back a throwing-stick, which he presented to his excellency.”

EM “…at that moment an old looking Man advanced, whom Bannylong said was his friend, and wish’d the Govr. to take notice of him, at this he approach’d the old Man, with his hand extended…”

WT “Matters had proceeded in this friendly train for more than half an hour, when a native, with a spear in his hand, came forward, and stopped at the distance of between twenty and thirty yards from the place where the governor, Mr. Collins, lieutenant Waterhouse, and a seaman stood. His excellency held out his hand, and called to him, advancing towards him at the same time, Mr. Collins following close behind. He appeared to be a man of middle age, short of stature, sturdy, and well set, seemingly a stranger, and but little acquainted with Baneelon and Colbee. The nearer, the governor approached, the greater became the terror and agitation of the Indian…”

EM “when on a Sudden the Savage started back and snatch’d up a spear from the ground, and poiz’d it to throw the Govr seeing the danger told him in their Tongue that it was bad; and still advanced: when with a Mixture of horror, and intrepidity, the Native discharg’d the Spear with all his force at the Govr, it enter’d above his Collar bone, and came out at his back nine inches from the entrance; taking an Oblique direction…”

DC “..but Bennillong, who had presented to him several natives by name, pointed out one, whom the Governor, thinking to take particular notice of, stepped forward to meet, holding out both his hands towards him; The savage not understanding this civility, and perhaps thinking that he was going to seize him as a prisoner, lifted a spear from the grass with his foot, and, fixing it on his throwing-flick, in an instant darted it at the Governor. The spear entered a little above the collar-bone, and had been discharged with such force that the barb of it came through on the other side.”

EM “the Natives from the Rocks now pour’d in their Spears in abundance; so that it was with the utmost difficulty, and the greatest good fortune: that no other hurt was rec’d in getting the Govr into the Boat.”

WT “Instant confusion on both sides took place; Baneelon and Colbee disappeared; and several spears were thrown from different quarters, though without effect. Our party retreated as fast as they could, calling to those who were left in the boat, to hasten up with fire- arms. A situation more distressing than that of the governor, during the time that this lasted, cannot readily be conceived:-the pole of the spear, not less than ten feet in length, sticking out before him, and impeding his flight, the butt frequently striking the ground, and lacerating the wound. In vain did Mr. Waterhouse try to break it; and the barb, which appeared on the other side, forbade extraction, until that could be performed. At length it was broken, and his excellency reached the boat, by which time the seamen with the musquets had got up, and were endeavouring to fire them, but one only would go off, and there is no room to believe that it was attended with any execution.”

EM “As soon as they return’d to this place[9], you may believe an universal solicitude prevail’d as the danger of the Wound could by no means be asertain’d, untill the spear was extracted and this was not done before his Excellency had caus’d some papers to be arranged – lest the consequence might prove fatal, which happily it did not, for in drawing out the spear, it was found that as no vital part had been touch’d. the Governour having a good habit of Bodily health – the wound perfectly heal’d in the course of a few weeks.”

WT (Regarding the party that had gone on to Broken Bay) “On reaching Manly Cove, three Indians were observed standing on a rock, with whom they entered into conversation. The Indians informed them, that the man who had wounded the governor, belonged to a tribe residing at Broken Bay, and they seemed highly to condemn what he had done. Our gentlemen asked them for a spear, which they immediately gave. The boat’s crew said that Baneelon and Colbee had just departed, after a friendly intercourse: like the others, they had pretended highly to disapprove the conduct of the man who had thrown the spear, vowing to execute vengeance upon him.

From this time, until the 14th, no communication passed between the natives and us. On that day, the chaplain and lieutenant Dawes, having Abaroo with them in a boat, learned from two Indians that Wil-ee-ma-rin was the name of the person who had wounded the governor. These two people inquired kindly how his excellency did, and seemed pleased to hear that he was likely to recover. They said that they were inhabitants of Rose Hill, and expressed great dissatisfaction at the number of white men who had settled in their former territories. In consequence of which declaration, the detachment at that post was reinforced on the following day.”

And, finally, an extract of a letter to home from a youngster named Southwell, a master’s mate on the Sirius:

“I cannot sufficiently express my approbation of your good sense in forbidding those who perused it to publish my insignificant narrative; or my chagrin at their improper conduct who have, notwithstanding, taken the liberty to do so. I saw it, being the concluding part, in the Hampshire Chronicle and Portsmouth and Chichester Journal, Sept’r 7, 1789. Mr Morgan, since we were at sea, came across it, and from peculiarity of stile immediately recognized it, as did most of our principals on board. I add that I am vexed at it for several reasons, and pray you to take care who you honour with a sight of my cobweb productions, if this is the way they honour them. Apropos, that date is the anniversary of the Governor’s misfortune of the year 1790, when he was speared by a native in Manly Bay, in a manner which savours much of imprudence next to folly. Bennilong, as I said in my letters, had made his escape, and this was the first interview since that incident. It, however very near fatal, proved by no means so, as he soon recovered, and it was followed by the fullest intercourse with these people, insomuch that they eat, drink and sleep in the camp with the most perfect sangfroid; and some of their dames, like too many of ours, gladly forego that dear pleasure of nursing their own bratts, and leave them in perfect security to the care of several of the convict women, who are suitably rewarded by the Governor.”

**

Historians have conjectured whether the governor was lured to Manly Cove for the very purpose of spearing him, as a payback for his capture and detention of Benelong and Colebee: the governor had to ‘pay’ for this injustice in order for the First Nations people to forgive him. But then again, it could just have been a case that the person who speared the governor was alarmed from the governor’s actions.

From Watkin Tench: “…the nearer, the governor approached, the greater became the terror and agitation of the Indian. To remove his fear, governor Phillip threw down a dirk, which he wore at his side. The other, alarmed at the rattle of the dirk, and probably misconstruing the action, instantly fixed his lance in his throwing-stick.”

In any respect, relations with Benelong and other First Nations people became cordial again following the spearing.

**

‘More Than I Ever Had’ is based on the true story of Theophilus Feutrill who enlisted in the NSW Corps in 1789 in Birmingham. The book is available from independent booksellers in Sydney and from Amazon.


[1] Surgeon John White

[2] Nanbree or Nanbarry, nephew of the Cadigal leader Colebee, was brought into the Sydney settlement in April 1789, seriously ill from smallpox, which had killed his mother and father. He recovered after treatment by Surgeon John White, who adopted him.

[3] Also known as Benelong

[4] Also known as Benelong

[5] Also known as Benelong

[6] The governor was accompanied by David Collins and Lieutenant Waterhouse.

[7] Assume Mrs Macarthur is referring to why Benelong and Colebee escaped from their capture by the governor.

[8] Governor Phillip, Benelong and Colebee

[9] Back to the governor’s home

NSW History Week – Day 3

Military mayhem in 1796

In support of NSW History Week 2022, here is the third of five stories that formed the basis of my research for my novel More Than I Ever Had. This book is based on the true story of Theophilus Feutrill, who enlisted in the New South Wales Corps in 1789 in Birmingham.

In February 1796, Theophilus Feutrill was one of four people whose name was on an arrest warrant issued by the Governor of New South Wales, John Hunter. If found guilty of the charges, the men named would be “obliged to answer for it, most probably with their lives.”

What were the circumstances that lead to this arrest warrant being issued? And, could Theo Feutrill, and the three other privates whose names were on the arrest warrants, really be the masterminds behind what happened, or where they just the scapegoats?

When John Hunter took over as Governor of New South Wales in September 1795, he knew he had a tough job ahead of him. The settlement was largely dependent on rum as currency and much at the mercy of the monopolistic trading practices of the military hierarchy and other officials. He complained in harsh terms to the Duke of Portland (one of the three Secretaries of State, who Hunter reported to) about the quality of the military members:

“…I should feel myself deficient in that duty which I owe to his Majesty’s service in this part of the world were I not to take a liberty which I have no reason to believe your Grace will be offended at—I mean, in remarking that the manner in which this corps has, since employed upon this service, been recruited does in a great measure weaken the effect or service which we would expect to derive from the assistance of the military. Soldiers from the Savoy,* and other characters who have been considered as disgraceful to every other regiment in his Majesty’s service, have been thought fit and proper recruits for the New South Wales Corps, which, in my humble opinion, my Lord, should have been composed of the very best and most orderly dispositions. They are sent here to guard and to keep in obedience to the laws, when force may be requisite, a set of the worst, the most atrocious characters that ever disgraced human nature; and yet we find amongst those safeguards men capable of corrupting the heart of the best disposed, and often superior in every species of infamy to the most expert in wickedness amongst the convicts. Our stores, provisions, and granaries must be intrusted (sic) to the care of those men: what security can we have in the hands of such people?”

*The Savoy was the name of the prison which housed military offenders.

At the time, Governor Hunter was approaching the age of sixty. Those who supported him were significantly younger: Captain Paterson, the commander of the Corps was forty; Captain John Macarthur, Inspector of Public Works, was twenty-eight. No others were older than Paterson. In the absence of a free press where independent commentary might have reached those back in London, the Duke of Portland relied not only on dispatches from Hunter, but he was also being petitioned by the likes of the ambitious John Macarthur, who held little back in his criticisms of the administration.

Governor Hunter’s leadership was tested following an event which occurred on 5 February 1796, and is considered to be the catalyst for the Duke of Portland to eventually recall him to England and replace him as Governor. In a letter from Governor Hunter to the Duke of Portland dated 10 August 1796 (which was not acknowledged by Portland until more than a year later on 31 August 1797), Hunter outlines an event which he describes as an ‘outrage’. An abridged version of his report is below:

“Statement of the Case of John Baughan.

John Baughan…foreman of the carpenters working at Sydney, and a private soldier of the New South Wales Corps, (also a carpenter), had some dispute when formerly working together… This dispute, it appeared, had not subsided in the min of the soldier, and was probably not wholly forgot by the other.

…One day when sentinel over a storehouse, knowing that Baughan was at work in a house some distance from his post, (the Private) set his arms down against the wall of the store, and seeing a man whom he knew standing on the outside of the building in which Baughan was at work, entered into a conversation with him, of which Baughan was the subject, and which much abuse was bestowed, (and)… meant for Baughan (to) (over)hear.

Baughan went out at the back door unperceived, and seeing the soldier without his arms, went to his post, where he found the musquet, which he took up and carried to the guard-house, and delivered to the Serjeant (sic) of the guard. The soldier was, of course, taken notice of and relieved, being without his arms.

The next day, 5th February, at half-past nine o’clock in the forenoon, the whole of the corps off duty at this place assembled, and in the most public and tumultuous manner proceeded to the dwelling of John Baughan, broke open his gates, doors, and windows, entered his house, chopped the corner-posts of it, broke his bedsteads and bedding, chairs, window-frames, drawers, chests, and, in short, completely demolished everything within his possession to a considerable amount, for the man had, by great labour and industry, built himself a neat house, and had it well furnished.

Upon their first approach, having had a few minutes’ notice, he armed himself with a loaded gun and defended himself by threats for some time, but their numbers were so many that they surrounded his paling which inclosed (sic) the house, which some tore down and entered on the opposite side to that which he endeavoured to defend, came behind him, secured and threw him down, with his face to the ground, whilst one held an axe over his neck, and swore if he offered to stir he would chop the head from his body. During the time he remained in this situation they completed the ruin of his whole property, to the very great terror of the man’s wife, after which they went off cheering, as if something meritorious had been effected, and marched in a body cross the parade before their commanding officer’s house.

After so daring an attack, in the open day, upon the dwelling-house of an inhabitant, and in direct defiance of all law, civil or military, they could only be considered as in a state of mutiny. I immediately issued in Public Orders the paper No. 2.”

Public Orders Paper #2 is reproduced below:

Government and General Order.  5th February, 1796.

“The very riotous manner in which the soldiers have conducted themselves this morning, and the very unwarrantable liberty they have thought proper to take in destroying the dwelling-house of John Baughan, is so flagrant a crime against the laws established in this colony that nothing but the want of proof to substantiate who the principal actors in this disgraceful business were could possibly prevent their being immediately tried for so glaring an offence against the peace of the colony.

The Governor thinks it necessary to assure the soldiers that he considers their conduct upon this occasion to have been disgraceful to the character of a British soldier, and that he did hope to have found men amongst them who would have had pride enough to have stood forward and pointed out the ringleaders of so mutinous a conduct, for in no other light can it be considered than that of mutiny when the military assemble in such numbers unknown to their officers, who are at all times ready to listen to any complaints they may have to make, and to see that agreeable to common justice they are redressed. If the soldiers expect that the Governor or any of the officers in this settlement can hereafter consider them as…meriting the honorable appellation of British troops, it must be by their bringing forward the ringleaders or advisers of this disgraceful conduct, in order that the stigma may be wiped away by such worthless characters being brought to trial for this shameful conduct.”

The reception of the Public Orders and mood of the soldiers is indicated by Governor Hunter in his letter to the Duke of Portland:

“But as an alteration in the ration had at that very time been ordered, I think it necessary to observe that their temper at the moment was so violent that they positively refused to take it unless they were served all flour, instead of part flour and part corn, a desire which could not be complied with without manifest injustice to others, and also insisted upon being paid short-allowance money for the time they were on short ration, which they say Governor Phillip had promised them. This last demand I must request your Grace’s instructions upon.”

Governor Hunter met with the commander of the Corps, Captain William Paterson on 6 February and wrote to him the next day advising his change of heart (wisely) in wanting to address the soldiers directly. He couched his decision that to address them directly “would be a condescention on my part which their violent and unsoldierlike conduct does not entitle them to from me.” He goes on to say to Paterson: 

“I must declare to you, sir, that the conduct of this part of the New South Wales Corps has been,…the most violent and outrageous that was ever heard of by any British regiment whatever, and I shall consider every step they may go father in aggravation as rebellion against his Majesty’s government and authority, of which the most early notice shall be taken, and those concerned be in due time obliged to answer for it, probably with their lives.”

As previously mentioned, the Duke of Portland did not respond to Governor Hunter on this matter for more than a year, leaving the governor to deal with this without his support. The governor did, however, have the support of Doctor William Balmain who (without legal training) held the position of Judge-Advocate. From the military side, Captain John Macarthur represented the interests of the NSW Corps.

After the attack on his home, John Baughan, fearing further retribution, declined to identify those involved or to pursue the matter. Dr Balmain ‘proffered’ legal advice (some historians considered Balmain threatened Baughan with obstruction of justice should he not progress the matter ). After some days, four names were eventually given up. When the governor issued the arrest warrants, the military was further enraged at Balmain’s “shamefully malevolent interference in the affairs of the Corps”. One of the warrants was for the arrest of Theophilus Feutrill.

As the military were responsible for enacting the arrest warrants, Captain John Macarthur approached the governor and stalled the process. Thus began a test of strength between the civil and military authorities. As Theophilus fretted over his fate—he was facing potential execution if found guilty—a series of letters was exchanged between Judge Advocate Balmain (representing the civil authority) and Captain John Macarthur (representing the military). Tempers frayed and insults given to the point that Balmain told Macarthur he was “a base rascal and an atrocious liar and villain”. Balmain then challenged Macarthur to a duel, which was subsequently withdrawn.

Captain Macarthur approached the Governor in the name of the Corps and was “expressive of their contrition, their sincere concern for what had happened, promising at the same time that they would endeavour by their future conduct to wipe away the odium which this recent instance of disorder and want of respect for the laws, the peace, and order of the settlement had brought upon them; they also agreed to indemnify the sufferer for his loss.” Upon receiving this message from Macarthur, and by the personal petition of the sufferer, John Baughan, the governor ordered the warrants to be withdrawn as “the consequences would otherwise most probably have been fatal to some.”

Peace was restored, but the Duke of Portland saw Hunter’s capitulation as weakness in his leadership.

John Hunter was recalled to London in a stern dispatch from Portland dated 5 November 1799. The withdrawal was acknowledged by Hunter on 20 April 1800, and he handed over the government to Lieutenant-Governor King on 28 September.

Why was Theophilus Feutrill’s name included on the arrest warrant? The Governor wanted the members of the military to come forward and give up the names of the ring leaders. But it appears unlikely that a private soldier would have the compelling presence or authority to whip up “all off-duty military members” to such an action. Was he, and the other privates listed just scapegoats, or were they more involved? The records are silent, but it is easy to imagine the relief he and his wife Ann would have felt upon hearing the warrants were withdrawn.

**

‘More Than I Ever Had’, based on the true story of Theophilus Feutrill, is available from independent booksellers in Sydney and Amazon.

NSW History Week – Day 2 part III

Duelling personalities: Part III

In support of NSW History Week 2022, here is part III of the second of five stories (presented in three parts) that formed the basis of my research for my novel More Than I Ever Had. This book is based on the true story of Theophilus Feutrill, who enlisted in the New South Wales Corps in 1789 in Birmingham.

Duel number three: Paterson v Macarthur 1801. Petty grievances

An article published in the Australian Star in September 1896, recounts a long-winded story about Sydney’s “first duel”*. It says “The whole affair is contained in the correspondence, official and private, and the tediousness is entirely due to the childish tetchiness, the elaborate slyness and the queer prolixity of many of the persons concerned. These were almost every individual of any station in the little community in the year 1801 of the occurrence.”

I’ll boil down the story as much as I can, but the whole issue begins with a drowning enroute to New South Wales. The drowned man’s effects were taken by the naval agent, Lieutenant Marshall, who replaced them with inferior products. Lieutenant John Macarthur—who was the temporary officer commanding the New South Wales Corps, in the absence of Colonel William Paterson—became aware of the swindle and took the matter up. The Governor severely reprimanded Lieutenant Marshall and sent him back to England on the next whaler. The article writes: “Marshall, resenting Macarthur’s action in the matter, thereupon found means to insult Captain Macarthur, who promptly sent Captain Abbott, of his corps, with a challenge. Lieutenant Marshall accepted.”

The problem was that Lieut. Marshall named a Mr Jefferies (purser of the Cornwallis) as his second. Macarthur was “up to his eyes in trade in spirits and every other commodity” so he ‘loftily objected’ and he would “by no means recognise (Jefferies) as second to his adversary.” Marshall duly attended the duel at the specified time and place, but Macarthur kept away. Enraged, Marshall “provided himself with a cudgel and went in search of (Macarthur).” Marshall found Captain Abbott in the doorway to Macarthur’s office, and he “dealt Captain Abbott a lusty thump on the ribs” then went in pursuit of Macarthur. When approached, Macarthur “(drew) his sword, (and) threatened to run the angry lieutenant through the body.” Marshall was arrested and taken to the guard-house.

Governor King then ordered that Lieut. Marshall should be tried by criminal court for assault against Abbott and Macarthur. By this time, Colonel Paterson had returned and “the court was property constituted with him, four other officers of the NSW Corps, Lieut. Grant and the Judge Advocate.” Whilst the case against Marshall for his “shady transaction with respect to the personal effects of the (drowned person)”, was straightforward, “Macarthur’s refusal to meet Lieut. Marshall in a duel appears to have been…impertinent, inasmuch as according to Governor King, he subsequently entertained at dinner at his own house, in company with Captain Abbott, the very man on whose selection as second to Lieutenant Marshall he alleged his disinclination to appear in the field.” Marshall “took objection to the constitution of the court” being made up of NSW Corpsmen, which was denied. Whilst Governor King did not intervene during the trial (Marshall was found guilty and sentenced to 12 months prison), he was provided with a record of the proceedings where there was “little doubt that the proceedings were conducted with distinct animus against the prisoner.” The Governor considered the appeal of the prisoner rested “on grounds solid enough to require serious attention. He instructed the court reconvene to investigate the allegations “not only to defend its own integrity, but to afford the most unequivocal justice to the prisoner…” The members of the court met, but refused to comply and “immediately dispersed.” The Governor said that he would “bring the business under the notice of the Secretary of State, and ask for support of his authority.” The five military members of the court wrote a letter asking for a copy of Marshall’s protest. The Governor refused, as the five military members were only a part of the seven member court. This pitted the five military members against the two others, and the officers “got savage and rather desperate. They agreed amongst themselves to cut the Governor socially. But this course proved too compromising (for) Colonel Paterson (who) quietly seceded. He resumed his ordinary relations with the Governor. Macarthur was furious.”

And this is where things become petty and dangerous.

Macarthur “threw the obligations of military discipline to the winds. He cast aside the obligations of a gentleman. He divulged private conversations with the colonel, he disclosed confidential communications. He stooped so low as to exhibit a private and familiar letter from Mrs Paterson to Mrs Macarthur. The fact was that the colonel had not been at all guarded in his demeanour and acts with relation to the Governor. He had criticised. He had sneered. He had even …(written)…to Sir Joseph Banks and General Brownrigg attacking the Governor’s public character and transactions. Macarthur had participated in these indiscretions. There are indications that he had instigated them. He now threw the burden of them on his colonel.” Colonel Paterson responded by doubling-down on his relationship with the Governor, and sent Macarthur a challenge.

The duel took place—Colonel Paterson chose Captain McKellar as his second, Macarthur chose Captain Piper. A scandal occurred when contrary to “all the proprieties” Macarthur was permitted to load his own pistols, rather than his second, which was the proper course of action. Macarthur asserted “there was something the matter with the locks (on his) pistols (and) it wasn’t safe for anyone unacquainted with their peculiarities to wad them…” Captain Piper, Macarthur’s second, won the toss for first shot.

The combatants stood at a distance and side-on, to make themselves as small a target as possible. Macarthur had first shot and “it took effect in the Colonel’s right shoulder. He was disabled and could not return the fire. A week later, his life was not out of danger. The Governor, of course, heard of the affair” and arrest warrants were issued to all those involved (except for the wounded man, Colonel Paterson).

The pettiness continued.

The Governor ordered Macarthur to Norfolk Island, but Macarthur refused to be released from prison. He demanded “reasons for being put under arrest…and for being ordered out of arrest.” Correspondence “hailed on everybody and from everybody, and a regular devil’s brew of cavils, assertions and explanations bubbled in a joint stock pot. Surgeons, adjutants, chaplain, judge advocate, surveyor, ensigns, lieutenants, captains, all had a finger in the mess. The Governor, while yet the pot was in full boil, got rid of Lieutenant Marshall…(by) shipping him off to be dealt with in England. As Macarthur positively would not be ordered out of arrest, he was got rid of in the same fashion, fighting tooth and nail to the last hour, and very nearly managing to bring about a small insurrection by treating his detachment of New South Wales Corps to a dinner and grog, such grog being removed from store without a permit, intercepted and seized by the officer of the guard, and all but violently rescued by the soldiery for whose benefit it had been intended.”

Whilst Macarthur was shipped off to England, he returned and was embroiled in the Rum Rebellion of 1808, but that, of course, is another story 😊

**

‘More Than I Ever Had’ based on the true story of Theophilus Feutrill is available from independent booksellers in Sydney and from Amazon. Link to Amazon Australia site here.

NSW History Week – Day 2 – Part II

Duelling personalities: Part II

In support of NSW History Week 2022, here is part II of the second of five stories (presented in three parts) that formed the basis of my research for my novel More Than I Ever Had. This book is based on the true story of Theophilus Feutrill, who enlisted in the New South Wales Corps in 1789 in Birmingham.

Duel number two. Ross v Hill 1791. A fight for justice

Whilst this duel was fought in Sydney in December 1791, the fuse was lit in Norfolk Island. But, first, you need a bit of background on the combatants. Major Robert Ross was appointed lieutenant-governor of New South Wales in 1786 and he arrived in Sydney Cove with the First Fleet in January 1788. At the time Major Ross was the commander of the New South Marines and he had very firm views as to the establishment of the settlement—often at odds with those of Governor Phillip. Phillip endured this for over two years, but in March 1790, he saw an opportunity to remove the key source of friction from Sydney Cove, and sent Ross to take charge of Norfolk Island. Whilst this finally gave Phillip some breathing space, the British government had already decided to recall the fractious Major Ross and his New South Wales Marines, and a replacement military presence was already on its way—the New South Wales Corps—which included Private Theophilus Feutrill as part of the Second Fleet.

Now, over 1,000 miles away from Sydney Cove, Major Robert Ross was finally free to show everyone how a settlement ought to be developed. But, after the Sirius was dashed on the rocks, Ross declared martial law on the island, and removed the convicts from the government’s food stores—instead they had to grow their own food in the limited time available to them. Ross requested extra resources come to the island to ramp up development, and Captain William Hill was instructed to take a detachment of twenty-six men with him to Norfolk Island—and that included Theo Feutrill.

Once there, Captain William Hill clashed constantly with Major Ross, about the brutality of his punishments and his inhumane policies (all of which were abolished by Ross’s successor). He wrote numerous reports back to Governor Phillip. When Captain Hill and his men’s tenure was over at Norfolk Island, a replacement detachment arrived, but also onboard was a replacement for Major Ross as commandant of the Island. Captain Hill and his men boarded the Queen, as did Major Robert Ross and his second-in-command Ralph Clark (Quartermaster General and Keeper of the Stores). Whilst they awaited favourable winds to take them back to Sydney, Captain William Hill seized an opportunity to call Major Ross to account. Ralph Clark’s journal tells his side of the story:

“Wednesday, 16 November 1791

Captain Hill taken an unfair advantage of Major Ross by examining Convicts on Oath before the Revd. Mr. Johnstone and Mr. Balmain who are prejudice like himself against Major Ross fore these Said Convicts there are not greater rascals under heaven than they are and would Sell there fathers life if the[y] could get any thing by it.

Thursday 17th

The Queen in the Bay ——In her was Examined on Oath by Major Ross before Mr. Johnson and Balmain respecting a message which Mr. Hume Superintendant of the Convicts brought some time back to Major Ross from Chas. Gray Convict, which message he, Mr. Hume, said Major Ross forced him to Sign and Swear contrary to his inclination and wish, and that Mr. Faddy, Sergeant Kennedy and myself were present when he was forced ,which he informed Captain Hill and Swore Yesterday in Court —— also that he was forced when Faddy, Sergeant Kennedy and myself declared on Oath that he was not forced but on the Contrary was desired by Major Ross and myself repeatedly not to Sign or Swear to it if he did not like it or if there was any thing in it which was not as he had Related to Major Ross in the presence of Faddy and my Self —— he made answer to that there was not any thing contained but what he had Related and was perfectly Save in Signing it —— what a Rascal this Hume is.”

At this inquiry, Captain Hill had in his possession a report which was signed by a convict, Charles Gray. Gray declared under oath that Ross forced him to sign and swear the accuracy of the details in this report, which was contrary to his inclination and wish. Gray testified he was allocated to work at Queensborough, formerly known as Charlotte Field, and that he and many others made representation to (convict overseer) Mr Hume that they were not able to keep up, what they describe as ‘an impossible and punishing’ workload – a workload which had been set by Lieutenant Clark in his ambitions to complete the construction of the village.

Gray believed that word got back to Lieutenant Clark about what was said to Mr Hume, and that the Lieutenant ordered for his rations to be withheld, in punishment. But, not only his rations, but also the rations of his fellow workers, Thomas Strich and William Jones. Gray, Strich and Jones believed with no food they had no option but to leave the area to hunt for food for themselves.

Gray and Jones returned the same night, but Thomas Strich remained absent. Gray became a targeted man. On 23 May, a convict called James Thompson was cutting down a pine tree, when it fell onto him and broke his leg. Mr Gray and another convict, Michael Dennison, who were working nearby, attended to Mr Thompson, and carried him to the hospital for treatment. Lieutenant Clark punished Gray and Dennison’s absence with 200 lashes for Mr Gray and 25 for Mr Dennison. Then, on a further occasion, in October, Mr Gray received another 100 lashes for disobedience of orders and neglect of duty. It was at this point that Mr Gray lodged a formal complaint against Lieutenant Clark to Mr Hume—the basis of which that he had been singled out for special attention and unfairly punished.

Thomas Strich decided to return in June 1791. The reason for not punishing Strich upon his return was that Major Ross considered that the trouble and hardship Strich must have suffered in mind and body from the weather when he was away, and want of clothes, was a sufficient punishment for him in running away. Major Ross had forgiven him his crimes. At the inquiry, Captain Hill suggested that Major Ross struck a deal with Strich, that he would be saved the lash, if he informed on his fellow convicts.

Captain Hill suggested that when Mr Hume came to Major Ross with the formal complaint from Charles Gray, Ross called Gray to his office. As Gray could not read or write, Ross called Lieutenant Clark into his office, and Ross dictated Gray’s complaint for Clark to write down. Although, what Ross had Clark write down, put a different view on the complaint, and put both Ross and Lieutenant Clark in a more favourable light. Gray was then forced to swear to the accuracy of the report and sign it.

Clark said that he and Major Ross told Gray not to sign or swear to the report if he did not like what was said, or if there was anything in it which was not as he had related to Major Ross. Before Gray signed the report, Ross also called Lieutenant William Faddy into the room—a lieutenant with a reputation that the convicts fear. Gray felt he had no option but to sign the document Ross and Clark had constructed.

Ross was furious with Captain Hill’s interference, and saw it as an attempt to besmirch his reputation. He challenged Hill to a duel upon their return to Sydney Cove. Captain Hill received a message on 11 December 1791 which read:

0600 tmrw. Field nth of Marine Camp. Bring a 2nd. signed by Major R. Ross.

Following is a deleted scene of the duel from More Than I Ever Had, which I couldn’t fit into the printed version:

On 12 December 1791, Major Robert Ross and Captain William Hill—accompanied by their seconds and an impartial observer—gathered in the field just north of the Marine Camp at 6:00 am. Theo and James Bannister stood in amongst the other onlookers. Theo hadn’t slept, tossing in his cot with worry for his captain. William Douglas joined them, hair askew from his pillow.

The crowd shared low, expectant chatter as to the outcome. The air was still, and the odour of the men mixed with the fresh eucalypt from the bush. Grass crunched under foot, bone dry from lack of rain. The sun had already risen in a clear blue sky, and the trees were alive with birds busy finding their breakfasts. A kookaburra laughed.

Captain Hill and his second stood apart from the onlookers. If the captain was nervous, he didn’t show it. His second wiped down the pistol and checked it again.

Standing with his second, at the opposite end of the field to Captain Hill, Major Ross took a swig from a hip flask. The major’s second had his head bent over the task of preparing the pistol; the process more elaborate than the preparation undertaken for Captain Hill’s. Theo chewed his lip, and despite the early morning being warm, he shivered.

The seconds had already measured and marked out the ground showing at which point Ross and Hill would stand—at a distance opposite and facing each other. Ross and Hill checked their pistols, walked to their appointed places and waited. Their eyes locked on each other. Arms by their sides. Whilst Hill appeared calm but determined, Ross’s face coloured with hatred. Theo wanted to look away.

The independent observer held aloft a handkerchief for a moment before it fluttered from his grip. At this signal, Ross and Hill raised their pistols and stepped toward each other.

Theo’s fingernails dug into his palms.

Ross fired first. A misfire! Theo flinched at the dull click. His eyes darted from Ross to Hill, flooded with relief the captain was spared. Hill moved his aim left of Major Ross and fired. Surprised murmurs came from the crowd. Many disappointed to be denied the blood they’d hoped to see, but for Theo he couldn’t be happier.

Major Ross, his face now drained white, recovered his composure and drew himself to full height.

“I am satisfied,” he said, before striding off with his second in close pursuit.

**

‘More Than I Ever Had’ based on the true story of Theophilus Feutrill is available from independent booksellers in Sydney and from Amazon. Link to Amazon Australia site here.

Additional scene: ‘More Than I Ever Had’ by Rae Blair

Have you finished More Than I Ever Had and want more? Or have yet to read the story? Here’s an additional scene that I couldn’t fit into the book. Enjoy!

The spearing of Governor Phillip

Port Jackson, September 1790 (three months after landing)

The strangeness of this new land was becoming more familiar as the days passed. Duty devoured Theo’s daylight hours, and night time meant supper, socialising and sleeping. Since leaving the tent hospital, his body grew stronger, responding to long treks in the woodlands to supervise land clearing and planting, breathing fresh, cool air under endlessly high skies. The cold months—mild in comparison to home—seemed to be passing.

The sun had not long risen when Theo made his way to Captain William Hill’s tent. He’d received a summons last night, which was unusual. Normally, Theo’d report to the registrar for his daily duty, or his sergeant, who’d give specific orders. He wondered why the captain wanted to see him?

Theo paused outside the open flap of the captain’s tent. Captain Hill sat behind his desk, finishing signing a document before glancing up at Theo. A mug of steaming tea sat within hand’s reach. The captain noticed Theo and was about to speak when another private appeared by Theo’s side—a short, dark-haired soldier with narrow-set eyes and aged in his late twenties—someone Theo had not yet met.

“Franks, Feutrill, please come in,” Hill said.

The captain folded his hands over the paperwork as the privates entered the tent and assembled before him. “Governor Phillip is heading to Manly Cove this morning to meet with the native called Bennelong and some of his tribe. It is crucial this meeting go well. I’ve selected you both to assist the governor.” The captain sipped his tea. “See the storemaster now, as the governor will take some supplies with him. Get these onto the boat. Also ask the convict overseer to select six men to row the governor and his party—you’ll both be responsible for them. The governor wants to leave in two hours. Is anything unclear?”

“No sir,” Theo responded. Franks shook his head.

“Good, you are dismissed.”

After they’d seen the convict overseer, they headed to the store house. There, Theo signed with his mark for several hatchets, some bread, salt pork and wine. Franks swept up the food and left the heavier bundle for Theo to carry. On their way to the boat, Franks broke off a piece of bread and put it in his pocket.

“Is there a problem?” Franks said, when Theo threw him a look. “You gotta look out for yourself here, mate.”

Theo ground his teeth and adjusted the weight of the supplies he was carrying. This wasn’t a good start. “Let’s just make sure we do our job.” Theo strode ahead. This was the first opportunity Captain Hill had given Theo, and he wanted to make sure the captain would not be disappointed.

Down at the wharf, Theo stepped into the rowboat, balancing himself to receive the supplies from Franks, before he also boarded. Six convicts were already seated at their oars, chatting amongst themselves and ignoring Theo and Franks. The boat’s coxswain sat at the stern, picking at some dirt under his fingernail.

As Theo stowed the supplies, two officers arrived and stepped onto the boat; the more senior-ranked, and older of the two, had his dark hair pulled back in a pony tail—his good looks marred by a pock-marked skin. The other was a young officer with brown wavy hair. Governor Phillip strode up with a third officer, who appeared to be in his late-thirties with a long thin face and a head topped with salt-and-pepper curly hair. The officers exchanged pleasantries amongst themselves and found their seats.

“Are the supplies I requested on board?” The governor directed his question to the privates.

“Yes sir,” Franks replied.

“Let’s get underway, shall we?”

At the coxswain’s instructions, the men found their oars, then dug them into the water, negotiating the boat away from the wharf.

As the rowboat pulled away, the governor took a flask from his pocket and took a drink. Recapping it, he said, “Captain Lieutenant Tench, perhaps you can give the others some background to our mission today.”

The officer with the pock-marked face turned so all the officers could hear him. “As I told Governor Phillip, Captain Nepean found Bennelong and Colebee at Manly Cove two days ago with a sizeable group of natives, hacking a dead whale to pieces for food.” He paused to settle in a more stable position as the boat lurched. “The natives asked for hatchets, but Nepean’s group could only give them a few things of little use. Before they left, Bennelong gave Nepean three or four great hunks of whale as a gift for the governor.”

“You all know of my desire to improve relations with the natives here,” the governor said. “Bennelong’s made the first move. This is an opportunity for us to show good will and further cement our relationship.”

“He appears to be in friendly spirits,” the officer with brown curly hair said. “I was with Captain Nepean’s group. Bennelong was larking about and kissed me!” Theo stifled a laugh. The man looked like he had just sucked a lemon.

“That must have been a surprise, Lieutenant Waterhouse,” the governor said, smirking. “These people can be hard to read. So I urge caution. We will need to assess the mood with care when we arrive, and I ask that you follow my lead.”

As they pulled further away from the port, the calmness of the water changed and the rowers had to pull harder to negotiate the swells of the harbour. From the journey’s outset, the comfort of land remained visible. The stunning coastline was rugged with tall cliffs and sandstone rocks, with the occasional white sandy beach fringed with bushland. Now, they had large tracts of water surrounding them on all sides. The crystal clear water turned now to a bruised purple, as the waves picked up.

“Sir, we are just coming past the heads, so I suggest you all hold on tighter,” said the officer with the curly salt-and-pepper hair. “The harbour can be rough between the south and north headlands.”

“Thank you, Collins,” the governor said.

Theo clamped his hat more firmly on his head and adjusted his hold on the musket. He braced his feet the best he could against the hull and gripped his seat with his free hand. His stomach rolled as the rowboat crested each wave. Briny air filled his nostrils as spray from the sea splashed his face with salt.

The group remained silent until they were past the heads, where the water calmed again as they continued northward toward Manly Cove. The rowers were tiring. Soon, a large expanse of sand appeared, punctuated in the middle with a black whale carcass, half submerged in the water. The shape grew larger as the boat approached. Surrounding the carcass and spread along the beach were at least one hundred natives.

“Sir, the wind is coming from the south-east, so I suggest that we put the boat in to the right of the carcass,” Lieutenant Waterhouse said.

“Coxswain?” the governor looked at the man managing the boat, who acknowledged the request with a nod.

“Privates, you and the rowers remain with the boat,” the governor said to Theo and Franks, as the boat slid up onto the sand, jolting everyone forward when the hull dug in.

The governor jumped over the side and strode off. His officers gathered the supplies and scrambled to follow. Groaning with relief, the oarsmen sat back in their seats and rubbed at blisters that were forming—their shirts glued to their backs with sweat.

As the governor and the officers approached the group, a chill ran up Theo’s spine as all of the natives stopped what they were doing to watch the white men approach.

“I’ve got to take a piss,” John Franks announced as he prepared to get off the boat.

“Franks!” Theo said, alarmed. “We were told to stay put.” It wasn’t ideal to be left alone to manage seven convicts, and what would happen if things turned ugly on the beach? If Franks left, Theo’s musket was their only means of defence.

“I won’t be a moment,” Franks said. He slipped over the side of the boat furthest from those on the beach and disappeared into the bush.

Things were happening now on the beach. The natives split into two groups and moved to the left and right of Phillip and his men, as if to surround them—they were vastly outnumbered. The sight of the dark-skinned men, many holding sticks or spears, made Theo’s palms sweat. How vulnerable we are!

Governor Phillip held his hand up, signalling to his party. He and the three officers stopped and retreated a few steps. This seemed to appease the natives as they reassembled back into a single group.

Theo let out a quiet breath. For those in the boat, their focus remained on the scene playing out on the beach. But Theo kept glancing into the bush wondering what was taking Franks so long? Whilst Theo was distracted, one of the older oarsmen took this moment as his opportunity to flee. Being farthest from Theo, he could not grab hold of the fleeing man before the he jumped over the boat’s edge and darted into the bush. Christ!

Theo raised his musket and aimed, but in a split second decided not to shoot the escaping convict, for fear of startling the natives. Where’s bloody Franks?!

Watching the back of the escaping convict, frustration burned in Theo’s chest. He had to stay in the boat to secure the remaining convicts.

“Anyone else have the same thought, I will not hesitate to shoot you” he said, lifting his musket. His scalp prickled. It was madness that a convict would choose to escape, and Theo didn’t like his survival chances, but still—it happened, and on Theo’s watch.

On the beach, the governor beckoned for Bennelong to come forward, and he did so holding a long wooden-barbed spear. The governor motioned to swap the spear for the supplies the officers were holding. Bennelong walked to the bush edge and put the spear down, replacing it for a stick, which he then presented to the governor. The native Colebee also came forward, and he helped Bennelong take the supplies from the officers.

Bennelong and Colebee appeared to chat in a friendly manner with the governor, who had stepped apart from the officers. Bennelong appeared to introduce different natives to the governor. The natives stood back in separate groups, many watchful. It seemed to be going well.

Theo jumped as Franks reappeared and climbed back into the boat with a smug grin, which faded when he saw Theo’s face and the missing oarsman.

“What happened?” he said.

“This is on you,” Theo said.

Bennelong pointed out a native to the governor’s right. Governor Phillip held out both his hands and called to him, then stepped towards the native, with David Collins close behind. Theo didn’t like the look of what was happening. The closer the governor approached, the more agitated the native appeared.

Collins said something to the governor. The governor reached under his jacket and withdrew a dagger from the sheath at his side and dropped it onto the sand.

But this had the opposite of the intended effect on the native man, who stepped back, eyes wide. In a swift motion, the native kicked Bennelong’s spear out from the grass. Both the governor and Collins stopped dead in their tracks—the governor held up his hands, and Theo’s breath caught in his throat.

Appealing to the man, the governor spoke a few words in a native language which floated back to the boat. In response, the native stepped one foot back and released his spear with such force that it pierced the governor’s right shoulder. The governor staggered back, Collins reaching to catch him.

Everyone on the boat inhaled with surprise. Theo’s mind whirled as his body went cold—they’d attacked the governor, what now?

“Get ready,” he instructed the rowers, who all scrambled for their oars.

As the governor collapsed to his knees, the native who threw the spear dashed into the bush. Bennelong and Colebee also fled, along with most others from the beach. As Collins rushed to the governor’s aid, several natives launched spears in the general confusion that followed, with none finding their mark. Tench and Waterhouse raced forward and helped Collins drag the wounded governor to safety, taking care to avoid the wooden barb of the spear piercing through his back. With every step, the governor screamed as the pole end of the spear hit the ground. Tench tried to steady it. Once out of reach of the natives’ spears, they laid the governor on his side. Captain Lieutenant Tench yelled at Theo and Franks to cover them. By this stage, Theo and Franks had jumped out of the boat, their muskets aimed just above the heads of the natives. Theo got a shot off. Franks’ musket jammed. The remaining natives scattered, emptying the beach save for the whale carcass, the wounded governor and the officers trying to save him.

Lieutenant Waterhouse knelt by the governor and attempted to break the spear’s pole, so they could move the governor into the boat. With each attempt the governor moaned, and it took several tries with much effort from Waterhouse before it snapped. Blood soaked the governor’s shirt, front and back, yet he remained conscious. They hoisted the white-faced governor back to his feet and loaded him onto the boat, laying him down. Theo and Franks pushed the boat off the sand, then jumped in once it floated.

Lieutenant Waterhouse noticed the missing oarsman. “Where is he?!”

Theo swallowed. “He escaped, sir.” Theo and Franks found their seats. The five oarsmen got ready to row.

“How?” Fury tinged Waterhouse’s words.

“With only one of us to guard the convicts, I couldn’t leave the boat to chase him, sir,” Theo said.

“And where were you, private?” Waterhouse rounded on Franks.

“I, er, well, I needed to relieve myself, sir. He had scarpered before I came back.”

“This is a shambles,” Collins said, taking off his jacket and folding it under the governor’s head. “We’ll be taking this up with your captain.”

Theo cringed inside. The one time Captain Hill trusted him with an important mission, not only was the governor injured, but a prisoner escaped!

“You private,” Waterhouse indicated to Franks, “take the sixth position on the oars. Let’s get back to Sydney Cove as quick as we can.”

Franks removed his jacket whilst giving Theo a thunderous look. He sat in the vacant seat and bent his back to pick up the oars.

The five mile trip back seemed twice as long as the trip over. The wind had picked up and the rowers struggled in the choppy water. Theo was anxious to be back at the wharf, for the governor to get medical aid. He glanced at the ashen face of the governor, who had not moved since the officers laid him down. Could he die? What would Captain Hill think of all this?

Back at Port Jackson, they lifted the governor out of the boat and the officers carried him to his home for treatment. Theo climbed out the boat and Franks followed, bumping his shoulder against Theo as he brushed past. “You dog, Feutrill,” he said. “I won’t forget this.”

*

Theo and Franks reported immediately to Captain Hill, whose face was pulled down as he received their report. He expressed his “abject dissatisfaction” with the acquittal of their duties, and “deep dismay” at the turn of events on the beach. He strode out to see to the governor’s health and learn first-hand what actually happened, leaving Theo and Franks behind in his tent, like naughty children.

News of the attack on the governor spread around the settlement, and the military issued instructions for all soldiers to be on high alert in the event of reprisals—from either the settlers or the natives—though the governor made it clear he did not wish for any retaliation.

Over the following week, Bennelong and Colebee, who were previously regular visitors—were not seen at the settlement. Ten days following the incident, during which the governor continued to heal, Theo was submitting his daily report when Llewellyn caught up with him in the soldier’s mess tent.

“Feutrill, you saw the governor speared, didn’t you?”

In the days since it happened, it was all anyone would talk about. What had Theo seen? What was his role? But for Theo, it was something he wanted to forget. He didn’t know at the time whether they’d all be attacked or how close he was to losing his life? Whether he’d have to shoot someone to save themselves? He just wanted it behind him now. The governor was on the mend, and the escaped convict eventually returned to the settlement, near starvation.

Llewellyn didn’t wait for Theo to answer. “Did you hear Bennelong and Colebee are back? Met with the governor today?”

Theo’s ears pricked up. “How’d that go?”

“From what I’ve heard, it was a man called Willemering who speared him. But the governor has accepted that he did so out of impulse and self-preservation. He wants no further animosity—from either side. I think they’ve agreed to a truce of sorts.”

Theo huffed out a breath. “I think that’s good news.”

Llewellyn saw another person he wanted to share the gossip with, so clapped Theo on the shoulder and raced to catch up with him.

Impulse and self-preservation? As Theo headed back to his tent, he mulled that over. Located near the settlement is a clearing where the Cammeraygal tribe gathered for their rituals, and they welcomed the settlers to watch proceedings. He recalled a gathering from last week where a Cammeraygal called Carradah was the centre of a ritual—he’d apparently stabbed another member of the tribe, but not killed him. Theo learned that the tribe demanded Carradah receive payback before his crime could be forgiven.

Over two brutal nights, Theo and others gathered to watch the ritual, as Carradah used his bark shield to defend himself from the spears being thrown. Eventually one found its mark, pinning his lower arm to his side. Bright crimson blood oozed from the wound. Despite the injury, Carradah continued to avoid the remaining spears until the tribesmen exhausted their supply.

Theo thought it would be over then, but men, women and children of the tribe rushed forward to pick up the broken bits of the spears to piece them together, before resuming the attack. Carradah found a second wind and was quick on his feet as his shield took on further spears. Then, a spear pierced Carradah’s thigh, and the man sank to his knees. A tribal elder stepped forward and made an announcement. The attack stopped and the natives retreated into the bush, leaving just the European settlers to watch as Carradah’s injuries were attended to by a young native woman. Once he was patched up, they left the clearing.

Theo saw that the spear used on the governor was Bennelong’s. He wondered then, could the spearing have been a ritual punishment for the governor capturing Bennelong and Colebee when the First Fleet arrived? From the outside, Bennelong and Colebee appeared to get along with the governor since they were no long captives, but did they need to give the governor payback, so that they could forgive him? Did they lure the governor to Manly Cove for that very purpose? Surely, the governor must be contemplating the same thing. Whatever it was, Theo hoped it was now over.

##

More Than I Ever Had is available in paperback or eBook format from Amazon (world-wide). Link to the book on the Australian site here.

Main image:

From the collection of the Natural History Museum (UK). By a Port Jackson painter, ca. 1790.

The inscription reads:

‘The governor making the best of his way to the boat after being wounded with the spear sticking in his shoulder’

The Baughan Affair

In 1796, Theophilus Feutrill’s name appeared on an arrest warrant issued by the Governor of New South Wales. If found guilty, Theo could be executed. But will it be Theo or the Governor whose life is on the line?

**

What you need to know is that civil and military tensions in the new penal colony of New South Wales were high from the outset—right from the first days of Europeans arriving in 1788.

In those days, the key players were Governor Arthur Phillip on the ‘civil’ side—charged with responsibility for the new settlement—and Major Robert Ross on the ‘military’ side—who was appointed lieutenant-governor of New South Wales in 1786. Phillip and Ross arrived in Sydney Cove together in January 1788 on the First Fleet.

With Phillip making all the decisions about the location of settlement and the rules governing the new colony, Major Ross was responsible for the New South Marines under his command.

Think for a moment. You are located in unfamiliar bushland, in a far-away foreign country, with no buildings or crops, and only the livestock and supplies brought with you on the ship to sustain you. Someone else is responsible for deciding where you’ll live. How things will run. Another supply ship is not due for maybe over a year away. It would take enormous confidence in that person to blindly submit to all their decisions. Your life is certainly in their hands. Major Robert Ross with his military experience was not that person to put his life in another’s hands. Almost immediately, Phillip and Ross clashed. Historians note Ross’s long and detailed criticisms of Phillip’s decisions and his government. Amongst other grievances, such as settlement location, Ross opposed Phillip’s schemes for organizing the convicts and refused to allow the military officers to help supervise the prisoners.

Ross began to actively work against Governor Phillip, making his administration task more difficult. Phillip endured this for over two years, but in March 1790, he saw an opportunity to remove the key source of friction from Sydney Cove, and sent Ross to take charge of Norfolk Island. Whilst this finally gave Phillip some breathing space, the British government had already decided to recall the fractious Major Ross and his New South Wales Marines, and a replacement military presence was already on its way—the New South Wales Corps—which included Private Theophilus Feutrill as part of the Second Fleet.

A double-edged sword

Governor Phillip must have welcomed Major Ross’s replacement, Major Francis Grose, and the New South Wales Corps with a high level of optimism. Certainly, Grose was reported to have been unassertive and easy-going, and appeared to give Phillip little cause for complaint.

However, Governor Phillip had to return to Britain in December 1792 to receive medical treatment and never saw Sydney Cove again. In his absence, Major Grose assumed control of New South Wales. The military was now in charge of the new colony.

Upon assuming command, Grose, amongst other things, replaced civil magistrates with military officers and appointed Lieutenant John Macarthur inspector of public works. The steps he took appear designed to reduce his own burdens and align his supporters more closely with the administration of the settlement. Some historians have suggested that at this time Macarthur became the de facto ruler of New South Wales, such was his influence with the governor.

Under Grose, the lot of the military improved, with increased rations, improved housing and land grants, with convicts paid by the government to work ‘private’ land. Grose encouraged officer farmer pursuits, contravening orders from Britain that the land holders had to pay for convicts working their land.

Soon, many of the civil and military staff directed more of their efforts to improving their personal gains at the expense of their duties. Trade, especially in liquor which became like a currency, became substantial, and Grose’s policies enabled the military to secure a hold over the colony, to exploit it for their own interests.

But then, Grose returned to England in December 1794. It was at a time when New South Wales was still importing essential requirements, but the colony was more sustainable and the spectre of famine no longer hung over the settlement. With Grose’s policies improving the quality of the settlement, Captain William Paterson—who assumed the role of administrator—maintained the status quo until Governor John Hunter arrived (he assumed office in September 1795). By this time, policies entrenched from military rule, which were impacting on the Treasury’s purse back in London, were going to be difficult to wind back.

Governor Hunter had a job ahead of him if he was to bring the military to heel—and to protect settlers from exorbitant prices charged by officers for goods. Hunter didn’t have a loyal public service. He didn’t have an obedient military. Orders arriving from London were erratic and some could take over a year to receive and implement.

Hunter also had other forces working against him. In the absence of a free press, Hunter’s superior, the Duke of Portland (one of three secretaries of state in London), relied not only on Hunter’s reports, but correspondence from residents in the colony, such as those from Lieutenant John Macarthur, who had his own agenda. Macarthur, as inspector of public works, and as a recipient of significant land grants, was in a position of influence. While Macarthur had the governor’s ear, the supply of convicts to officer farmers on the government’s purse continued, as Hunter became convinced that government farming was wasteful and inefficient. But Hunter soon realised Macarthur’s ambitions and later told the Duke of Portland that ‘nothing short of the full power of the Governor’ would satisfy the man.

Despite steps taken by Governor Hunter and with the constant communication from John Macarthur, the Duke of Portland continued to be unimpressed by his performance, but it is Hunter’s handling of the ‘Baughan affair’ which sets the tone for the rest of his career—and Theophilus Feutrill is right in the thick of this.

A “most violent and outrageous” conduct

It all started from a long-running feud between two ex-convicts: John Baughan, carpenter by trade and millwright, and an un-named man, carpenter-turned soldier, who were both being transported to America on the Mercury when it was overtaken by a convict mutiny. They were both re-captured, and sent to Australia onboard the Friendship as part of the First Fleet. Baughan was described as ‘an ingenious man’ who built two fully functioning mills, which helped feed the colony. He was rewarded through a grant of a small lease near Dawes Point, and given the role of Foreman of carpenters. He was also described as being ‘sullen and vindictive.’

On 4 February 1796, the carpenter-turned-soldier in the feud with Baughan was on sentinel duty at a storehouse near where Baughan was working. The soldier set down his arms against the wall of the store and left his post, to speak with a man he knew outside of the building in which Baughan was working. Much abuse was said about Baughan, intentionally loud enough for him to hear. Baughan slipped away unseen to where the soldier was meant to be on duty, and found his abandoned musket. Baughan took this to the guard-house, delivering it to the sergeant of the guard. The soldier was arrested and relieved of duty as a result.

Baughan’s action caused an outrage with the military, and it was determined to exact its revenge. The next day, a large group of military members stormed John Baughan’s neat, well tendered cottage and the mob broke gates, doors, windows, entered his house, chopped the corner posts off it, broke his bedsteads, bedding, chairs, window frames, drawers, chests…demolished everything. Members grabbed Baughan and threw him down with his face to the ground, whilst one held an axe over his neck and swore if he offered to stir he would chop the head from his body. At the end of the rampage, the soldiers went off cheering, as if something ‘meritorious had been effected’ and marched in a body cross the parade before their commanding officer’s house.

While David Collins noted in his diary that mostly ex-convicts-turned-soldiers were involved in the mob, Governor Hunter wrote to the Duke of Portland that it was ‘all off-duty members’. Hunter considered from the military’s actions that they were in a state of mutiny, and issued in Public Orders the paper no. 2. In the paper, the governor hopes to have found men amongst them who would have pride enough to have stood forward and pointed out the ringleaders of so mutinous conduct, for in no other light can it be considered than that of mutiny when the military assemble in such numbers unknown to their officers and by their bringing forward the ringleaders or advisers of this disgraceful conduct, in order that the stigma may be wiped away by such worthless characters being brought to trial for this shameful conduct.

As a smart man, John Baughan just wanted the affair over, and refused to identify the perpetrators. His wife, who witnessed the destruction, was fearful for her husband’s life should he pursue it.

Perhaps if it ended there…

As magistrate, Dr William Balmain visited the Baughans when he heard of the rampage. He threatened John Baughan with ‘obstruction of justice’ charges if he didn’t pursue the matter, and offered protection to him should he give evidence. After some days, four names were eventually given up. When the governor issued the arrest warrants, the military was further enraged at Balmain’s shamefully malevolent interference in the affairs of the Corps. One of the warrants was for the arrest of Theophilus Feutrill.

As the military were responsible for the enacting of arrest warrants, Lieutenant John Macarthur approached the governor and stalled the process. Thus began a test of strength between the civil and military authorities. As Theophilus fretted over his fate—he was facing potential execution if found guilty—a series of letters was exchanged between Judge Advocate Balmain (representing the civil authority) and Lieutenant John Macarthur (representing the military). Tempers frayed and insults given to the point that Balmain told Macarthur he was a base rascal and an atrocious liar and villain. Balmain then challenged Macarthur to a duel.

Who would prevail, and will John Baughan persist with the charges? What of Theo’s fate? What does Governor Hunter do that has the Duke of Portland reaching for his quill to issue new orders?

**

Learn the outcome of the 1796 arm wrestle between the civil and military authorities. More Than I Ever Had is a novel based on a true story by Rae Blair, and is available world-wide on Amazon Kindle in eBook and paperback formats.

Image: Joseph Millson as Major Robert Ross in Banished TV-series