Sydney – Port Jackson – Picture from Australia’s Heritage Magazine 1969

Published: 13 May 2019

It was some days before Edward believed he could speak freely with Hamish and the quiet was obviously concerning, while Sam felt as if he had become the go-between with opinion he would like to bash both their heads together but Sam being the perfect mediator held his peace.

That week there was a visit by Macquarie’s man who delivered a letter of invitation. Edward was returning from the field with the messenger arrived and met him at the door. Sam answered the door.

“Mr. Buckley,” the servant enquired of Sam.

“No Wilcox, Edward is coming up behind you.”

The servant turned towards Edward. “Mr. Buckley?”

“Yes that is so,” Edward rather enjoyed being addressed as mister instead of the usual hey you, or hey convict or worse.

“Mr. Buckley you are invited to attend his Excellency at his pleasure at the Sydney residence on Thursday of next.” The man passed an envelope to Edward.

“What is it all about?” Edward was curious.

“That sir is not privy from the likes of me, I bid you good day.” The man turned to depart but was prevented by the voice of Sam.

“Did you walk out here?” Sam asked.

“That I did – I caught the boat up river to Parramatta and walked hence from there.”

“If you wait a while I’ll ready the cart and Edward will drive you into town.”

“Walking will be fine, I bid you good day.”

“What could the governor want?” Edward rhetorically spoke as the messenger made haste with a strange awkward gait towards the branch creek and the road back to town.

“You will never know if you don’t open it.”

Edward opened the correspondence.

“Well?”

“Doesn’t say much, only I’m to attend on that Thursday,” Edward placed the summons on the overmantel.

“Most likely it is to do with Macquarie’s travel across the mountains to Bathurst.”

“One would think but I don’t like leaving you shorthanded.”

“I have Hamish now and it is downtime at present, I’m sure the two of us will manage as you and I did so before Hamish arrived.”

“I guess so,” Edward agreed as a wave of jealousy shrouded his sensibility. Edward soon shook it away as ridiculous, he and Sam were not in any physical bind and Hamish wasn’t inclined to be, therefore why should he feel envious. Besides he had grown fond of Hamish, his almost English ways, his cheeky disposition and obvious graciousness for being rescued from what could have been hard work and degradation on some road gang.

The mid afternoons of the late summer remained hot and muggy and after completing his work Edward decided to take a cooling dip in the creek. On his way down to the creek he spied Hamish chopping firewood, so solitude was guaranteed.

Stripped to naked Edward soon immersed his body into the cooling water and stood neck deep listening to the Currawongs and at distance crows calling they had discovered some decaying carcass in the scrub beyond the creek.

While in pensive mood he was intruded upon by a call from down water. Turning he discovered a skiff on its way up the branch containing a number of military personnel.

“Hey you!” the officer called as they passed at distance.

“Yes sir,” Edward answered, finding it wise to acknowledge anyone in any uniform as such.

“Seen any savages around of late,”

“No sir, I think you have shot them all.”

“Not all I should think, there is trouble brewing up the branch.”

“What trouble would that be?” Edward asked.

“A farm near Emu Crossing was torched and the farmer wounded but he managed to down a couple of the buggers.”

Once said, the skiff was out of hearing and Edward was interrupted by a voice from behind.

“Do you mind if I join you?” It was Hamish.

“I guess not, I don’t own the river.” Edward sarcastically answered, being somewhat peeved with the officer’s intention towards the natives. Hamish boldly stripped to naked and entered into the water.

“What were they on about?” Hamish enquired and civilly was informed.

“Could be that fella’ Balga you said was running the camp now.” Hamish assumed.

“Could be,”

“What is it that’s getting at you Edward?” he firmly demanded with a half smile.

“In what way,”

“You haven’t been civil since coming back from Parramatta, is it because I learned of your past?”

“I don’t want it spread around.” Edward grumbled.

“For Chris’ sake you should know by now I can be trusted.”

“More to point it brings back bad memories,” Edward complained.

“Memories mate I have enough bad memories of my own, that I assure you.”

“Possibly so but you weren’t almost hanged and innocent.” Edward felt his blood rise but Hamish was persistent.

“Have you ever bothered to ask of my crime?” Edward admitted not doing so and felt a tinge of guilt for not showing interest in his fellow but by asking it would only bring back the terror of his own.

“I stole food to the value of three shillings to feed my ailing father, who died while I was imprisoned. Not long after my mother died as well, some say of grief from loosing both husband and her son to the goals. On hearing the news I took to a guard with my fists and knocked him senseless. Fortunately he lived but they added transportation and seven years to my sentence.”

“Oh,” Edward simply replied and took on a measure of shame for his attitude.

“I have tried it you know,” Hamish freely admitted.

“Tried what?”

“Bum jumping.”

“Edward laughed – what?”

“Bum jumping, back entrance call it what you like but I soon realised it wasn’t for me. I like tilts, a warm pussy; the softness of a woman’s skin, her smell and all that goes with it,” Hamish was glowing with assurance.

“When?” Edward simply asked.

“I told you of my older brother and on the ship in transport.”

“I was under the belief the guards on the ship prevented that sort of thing.” Edward surmised.

“They did but only after then realised it was happening, besides it was easier to keep the women from the men than the men from each other.”

“You said you had not had sex since leaving London.”

“And I spoke with truth as I don’t consider doing it with a bloke to be sex.”

“Then what do call it?”

“Much the same as manual relief.”

“I’ve never done so willingly with anyone and it hurt something bad when I was raped?” Edward was becoming lucent and interested.

“Yea but not badly if you relax, it’s alright when you’re doing the shoving, much the same as the real thing.” Hamish was teasing.

“Oh,”

“I thought you -,” Hamish coiled back from further comment on Edward’s crime.

“Kids stuff that’s all, I was the victim of a belligerent neighbour.”

Again Hamish laughed, “I guess if you become hard up for it, I could accommodate but I warn you I may not be passive.”

“Best not, what would Sam think? – besides.” Edward’s thoughts remained with James and his belief that one day, some day, somehow they would be reunited and he had no wish to entangle those most beautiful memories and thoughts with emotions towards another, especially one whose nature was not aligned to such an act.

“By the way that was a very loose offer I just made, leading towards being revoked on agreement, so we at least remain friends?” Hamish softly asked, reaching across their distance to gently place a rough hand on Edward’s shoulder.

“Always were Hamish, I guess I was being silly,”

“And you will again take me to town for a little bit of pussy?”

“I guess so,”

“And find Nancy?”

“You are pushing it Hamish, as long as the two of you leave me out of your conversations?”

“You’re not worth talking about.” Hamish gave a relieving laugh. He quickly paused, “what about Sam?”

“I reverse your question, what about Sam.”

“Hasn’t he offered?”

“What do you know about Sam?” Edward chose his words carefully.

“I know he is one of your lot – he told me so.”

“Oh, no I don’t think Sam is interested in anyone.”

Another sign of humour, “I’ve really fallen into a crowd of bum jumpers with you two.”

“Does that worry you Hamish?”

“Na when it comes to sex nothing worries or surprises me, as I said I’ve tried most things,” he paused, “never animals I’m not that strange although I know someone who has.”

“I don’t wish to know about it Hamish.” Edward warned as memory came to mind.

Then he was a youthful inexperienced teenager and somewhat influenced by a neighbouring farm boy on poddy calves. Having a calf of their own and just of the teat inspiration came. Edward had been alone in the Buckley barn, his older brother leaving him to feed the calf whey from the cheese making and with the calf still hungry it commenced to suckle his fingers. For an instant, a moment he was willing and as the thought transferred to his crotch he felt the bite, the calf had teeth and took a small chunk of flesh from a finger, permanently removing the miniscule desire to evoke the neighbour’s suggestion. Edward quickly placed the memory aside, believing it was one he would not share with Hamish.

“So you will take me back for a visit with Nancy?” Hamish remained bogged down on his night’s entertainment.

“One day but savour it, there isn’t a lot of money for entertainment.” Edward explained.

Wednesday and Edward’s appointment with Macquarie was the afternoon of the following day. He was excited but somewhat apprehensive. True he had already met the Governor and on two occasions but this was different, as there wasn’t any indication why he had been summonsed, except to ask, or demand, he join with the Governor’s excursion over the mountains.

Sam caught Edward as he readied for departure, “You’re not wearing that gear to go to Government House Edward?”

“No I’ll change once in town.”

“Would you like me to take you in the cart?”

“No thank yo, I’ve planned to take the boat down but if possible you could drop me at the jetty in Parramatta.”

“I’ll have Hamish do so it’s about time he got about without supervision and I think his position here is well enough established not to cause interference.” Sam went to the overmantel and collected two items, the first being Edward’s ticket of leave, “best you carry this as you know how some in the military like to waste a person’s time with questions.” Edward pocketed the document. “And this, deliver it to Mr. Macquarie for me.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a suggestion towards Hamish’s emancipation.”

“Have you told Hamish?”

“I have, also not to get his hope up but one can only ask. Are you positive you don’t want me to come?”

“Again thank you Sam but I’m looking forward to going alone. It will be the first time I’ve fully been my own man in public since leaving England or if the truth ever, all be it so only by this document, so I wish to savour the feeling.” Edward patted his pocket holding his ticket of leave.

“Then don’t get up to mischief, you know it can be revoked.” Sam offered his hand containing a little money, “it’s for the night at the tavern and buy your something decent to wear to your interview.”

The cart arrived at the Parramatta jetty, as the Sydney ferry sounded it whistle for boarding. Edward jumped down and collected his bag. “What are you smirking about?” he demanded of Hamish.

“Nothing,”

“You do know about the letter I’m carrying?”

“Mr. Wilcox told me.”

“Then you go straight back to the farm, if you get yourself tangled in trouble at this time, the letter will be useless.”

“I was hoping,”

“Yes Hamish I know what you were thinking, I’ll take you back to see Nancy on our next visit for supplies.”

“Alright boss,”

“No I mean it Hamish, you get toey and into trouble and who knows what will eventuate.”

“I said alright.”

It was a pleasant trip down river to Sydney and with a land breeze behind they made good progress, berthing at Kings Wharf as the sun broke through its zenith. As Edward walked into town he was amazed at how it had grown in so little time and how many trading ships were in harbour, some at the Queens Wharf other waiting their turn at anchor in the deep dark waters of Port Jackson.

At the government wharf a thirty-eight gun, three deck frigate, the Iphigenia was being refreshed before once again leaving to patrol the Southern Pacific for ships of the French navy. She was the Spanish built Medea being captured in battle of Cadiz and the only British ship to survive the first attempt to take the Isle-de-France, now in British possession and renamed Mauritius.

Edward spent some minutes walking the dock and admiring her size and firepower.

“Want a job kid?” A rough voice came down from the top deck bring the Edward to look upwards.

“No thank you,”

“More the pity a baby faced lad like you would go down a right treat below deck.” The sailor scoffed before being brought to account by the officer of the watch. Edward laughed and moved on, remembering stories of unwary young men being kidnapped to become deck hands and cannon fodder, as had been the story behind Sam’s friend. ‘What was his name?’ Edward could remember Sam’s story of lost love but not the lad’s name, only that he was killed during his first adventure into battle.

As Edward advanced towards town he came across a barque, the India, offloading goods and passengers as well as a number of convicts, who were soon scurried away from view. One of the passengers interested Edward and curiosity brought enough certainty for him to approach.

The man in his early twenties, finely dressed and upright stepped from the gangway, his nose turned against the site as if he had expected more. He spoke to a passing soldier and appeared most dissatisfied as the soldier roughly pointed towards town and continued on without speaking further. Edward approached.

“I say fellow I’ll give you a shilling to carry my bags,” The newcomer offered.

“I’ll cart you bags for no payment but Philip Wren you don’t remember me, do you?” Edward asked. The man appeared puzzled as he looked deeply into Edward’s face.

“I know no person in New Holland.” Wren freely admitted displaying an air of superiority.

“It’s New South Wales now, I’m Edward Buckley of Devon Reach, are you not cousin to James Hill?”

“Distant yes but I have had little to do with the Hill family, especially since the son took an axe to the father.”

Edward went cold but needed to ask, “Who James?”

“No it was Eugene, James was long gone.”

“So what of Eugene?”

“He was hanged,” Wren appeared to smile as he continued, “the verdict was to be drawn and quartered but the magistrate showed pity, said he had suffered enough from the old man and if it were up to him, he would instead be rewarded but pardon was under the charter of the King.”

“What of the farm?”

“The bailiffs came and cleared it out and sold it on.”

Edward picked up the man’s bags, “where are you staying?”

“I’ve prearranged a cottage in Hunter Street but I was under impression Sydney was more advanced.”

“Hunter Street that isn’t far,” Edward searched about and discovered a man with a handcart, especially designed for cartage from the docks. He called and gave instructions.

“Have you heard from James?” Edward asked as he loaded the baggage onto the cart.

“Not since we were children but now I remember you, we played in that old oak tree at the corner of your farm.”

“Would it be correct for me to call on you at a later time?” Edward asked.

“Firstly I need time to settle, I have an appointment with your Governor to procure a grant of land I’ve been promised; I believe it is near a village called Richmond.”

“I’m not too distant from there at Parramatta, the Wilcox farm anyone in town will direct you.”

“Possibly but by the design of this place, I’m unsure what I will discover at this Richmond.” Wren shook his head as he gave payment to the baggage carter. “So I am sure if we are in the same district our paths will cross, I have a letter of introduction to a Mr. John Macarthur. Do you know the gentleman?”

“I should think everyone in New South Wales knows Mr. Macarthur,” Edward smirked while realising there would be little acquaintance with Philip Wren in the future but he did receive some news from home, even if not positive and lacking that on James. As for Eugene taking to his father, it was bound to happen, both men had violent dispositions and little regard for anything living, he was pleased that at least James was well away and hopefully surviving.

Edward had been hovering between excitement and agitation all that morning. Some thought had been placed aside for James and his chance meeting with Philip Wren but in the main it was with his summons before Macquarie that was keeping his mind active.

Casting his memory back to childhood he recollected that Philip was always somewhat aloof and his family had the best farm in the district and the biggest house but his father had squandered much of it away, mostly in pursuit of social favour. Obviously it was by reputation and association that had brought Philip to the colony and not his wealth, yet his superior attitude remained, even from riches to almost rags he had held to his vanity and Edward doubted much if their paths would again cross except by accident.

At the gate to Government House Edward was once again stopped and by the same guard as previous, only now his uniform appeared more threadbare and his posture less military.

“Hey you, what do you want here,” the guard barked as Edward commenced to stroll through without introduction.

“I have an appointment with Mr. Macquarie.”

“What would the Gov, want with a scruffy little bugger like you.”

Edward produced his invitation for pocket and passed it to the guard, who lacked reading skills but knew well Macquarie’s signature. He grunted and passed back the document. “Go on but behave yourself and wait for acknowledgement at the main door and remain in sight so I can keep an eye on ya’.”

The door was open and a scurry of activity came from within as a woman, he remembered to be Elizabeth Macquarie, gave that evening’s meal directions to a maid, while another diligently went about her cleaning, even if only shifting dust from one location to another.

Edward cautiously knocked gaining Elizabeth’s attention. She approached. “Can I assist you young man?” she asked, her gentle tone removing the lad’s anxiety.

“Edward Buckley to see the Governor if you please my lady,” Edward softly answered.

“Oh yes the Bathurst enterprise.” Elizabeth recollected and showed Edward to an antechamber, “Lachlan will be with you shortly, he is finishing his lunch, would you like tea?”

“No thank you Mrs. Macquarie,”

‘So it is about the trip to Bathurst,’ Edward thought, while relieved and most impressed on the simplicity of the Macquarie’s domicile. Even so it was almost half an hour before the door to the Governor’s office opened and his secretary obliged him to enter. Macquarie remained seated at his large oak desk while pondering over a set of papers. Elizabeth returned, smiled and removed the completed meal tray.

“Thank the cook, that was most appetising,” he spoke as his wife departed.

“Take as seat lad; I’ll be with you in a minute.” It was at least five, even more before the Governor placed aside his correspondence. “Do you know anything about the Isle-de-France?” he asked. Edward answered negatively.

“No I suppose not, it’s now called Mauritius and is subject to King George and the Royal Navy but I’ve only recently heard the news from the captain of the Iphigenia.”

“Oh,” Edward answered. He felt he must say something but knew nothing of this so called Mauritius or its occupancy by Britain or from whom.

“What concerns more is the French had intention of invading Sydney for Napoleon. It almost happened and would have if Mauritius had remained in the little corporal’s grasp, as they were using Port Louis as a martialling harbour for an invasion fleet.” Macquarie gave a satisfactory grunt and returned his attention towards Edward, “So what of you young man?”

“All is well enough sir.”

“I see you are still with Mr. Wilcox.”

“Yes sir and Sam, I should say Mr. Wilcox has instructed me to deliver a letter.”

“Come on out with it,” Macquarie held out a hand.

Edward extracted the now crumpled correspondence from a pocket and offered it on. Macquarie opened and read the contents, giving acknowledgement at points as he read, “Mr. Wilcox has a good hand; you did know he was once secretary to Governor Hunter; or was it King? I guess it matter’s not who.”

“I did sir,”

“Do you know what is contained herein?”

“Mr. Wilcox did explain so.”

“And of this Hamish McGregor what of his character?”

“He is a good worker and most trustworthy sir.”

The Governor refolded the letter and placed it aside, “you know of McGregor’s charge?”

“I do sir, stealing food for an ailing parent,” Edward softly answered.

“Originally yes but a secondary charge had been issued for violence against an officer of the Crown, broke the poor man’s jaw and lay him low for two days.”

“I believe there were mitigating circumstances sir.” Edward put forward while realising he was somewhat speaking above his station.

“You do speak your mind Mr. Buckley.”

“My apology sir, it was most rude of me.”

“Never mind we are all a long way from home and I am sure a little boldness can be oversighted. You do realise this McGregor has been here for less than six months, usually Tickets of Leave are issued after a more lengthy time and for better reason than considered to be a good worker.”

Edward remained silent as Macquarie continued; “tell Mr. Wilcox it is under consideration but at present I have an important proposition for you to contemplate.”

Edward patiently listened as the Governor explained his position. It seemed he wished to cross the Blue Mountains to gain firsthand experience of the new land on the Bathurst Plains and the land leading up to that district. Also his wife Elizabeth was adamant on joining his excursion, so it would be necessary for someone he could trust to take charge of the servants. Eventually the question was placed.

“I’ve had yourself recommended by both Mr. Blaxland and Lawson, are you prepared to take on the position?”

“Without thinking further Edward agreed, “yes sir by all means but could I suggest Sam’s new servant Mr. McGregor be used, it would give you opinion of the man’s integrity.”

“You are persistent I will acknowledge that.” Macquarie answered while displaying his usual lack of emotion, “I will consider your recommendation.”

There was a skip in Edward’s step as he left Government House, becoming even more so while watching the many children at play in the dusty street, with their hoops made from cane, stick horses and wooden guns, while giving cheek to anyone considered highbrowed or to be of establishment.

The children appeared to be as plentiful as the convicts themselves and without care or respect for any as they ran free and wild around the town, while making friendship with those natives who kept to the town for handouts of tobacco and grog.

It appeared the natives were easily addicted to most white man’s vices and begged openly for such handouts, yet being childlike themselves loved the attention of the children who followed them like flies to the sweaty back of one’s shirt.

“Hello mister – whereya’ from?” one cheeky kid of no more than eight asked as he tugged on Edward’s coat tail.

“Devon,” Edward answered with a smile.

“Where’s that, over them mountains near China?” the kid asked and pointed to the blue hazed distance.

“England,”

“My pa, ‘e was from England,”

“Where in England?” Edward asked.

“Dunno’ somewhere China I suppose.” Once spoken the kid hearing his name called quickly answered and ran towards his mates.

“Somewhere near China;” Edward gave a light chuckle, rhetorically speaking to none but into the close air that hung about the dusty streets, “and what is more, they don’t care where England is.” Edward went on his way grinning with satisfaction, he was building towards being part of this great south land and as Sam suggested he was becoming proud to be so.

A neighbour who was visiting Parramatta at the time of Edward’s return up river was kind enough to give him a lift home and no sooner had he entered through the gate Hamish quickly came to meet him. “Well?” he demanded as they walked towards the hut.

“Well what Mr. McGregor?”

“What did the Gov. have to say?”

“He wishes me to supervise servants to travel with him as he surveys west of the mountains.”

“That isn’t what I meant.” Hamish was showing a high measure of impatience and kept at Edward until inside the hut.

“It was Sam’s letter don’t you think he should first receive answer.”

“Did he issue correspondence?” Sam asked showing as much eagerness as Hamish.

“No only verbally but he did comment on the neatness of your hand.”

“Well out with or I’ll go mad,” Hamish demanded.

“He said he would look into it, suggesting you could accompany me when he takes his tour, that way he would have some reason to do so.”

“Oh,” Hamish became disappointed.

“And to do that it would be Sam’s decision to release you,” Edward concluded.

“Would you like to go?” Sam asked.

“I would if it helped me to freedom,” Hamish quickly made known.

“I’m sure it can be arranged, I could borrow help from Travis Einasleigh as he owes me a favour or two.”

Hamish grabbed Edward by the arm, “when?”

“Steady it is only in the planning stage and there hasn’t been any report from Lieutenant Cox on finishing the road as yet.”

“What road?” Hamish asked.

“The road across the mountains to the Bathurst Plains, you don’t think someone in the Governor’s position is going to trek it on foot and hack his way through the virgin forest.”

Hamish turned to Sam. “You’re a champion Sam; I don’t know how to thank you enough.” Hamish’s brain went into overdrive and he could almost feel freedom like some gigantic winged phoenix descending upon him, wanting to rase him from the flames of conviction.

“What would you do with your freedom?” Sam asked.

“That I couldn’t say but just having it would be grand,” Hamish’s excitement was multiplying with the thought.

“Would you return to England like young Edward wishes?” Sam asked.

“Never so Sam, there is nothing in England for me now.”

“Except for one reason, nor would I,” Edward quickly corrected.

“You are changing lad and we will make a jolly colonial out of you yet,”

Sam promised as the excitement in the two was making his heart sing with happiness.

Late February arrived and nothing had been decided on the enterprise and Edward was beginning to believe it had either been postponed or cancelled, while Hamish appeared somewhat desperate. It was late afternoon on market day. The three had been visiting a neighbour who needed help with some fencing and had only that moment arrived home when a lone rider appeared on the rise beyond the farm’s fence line. They watched as he turned through the gate and slowly made his way to the hut. All three waited in the hut’s shadow.

“This is it,” Hamish gleefully suggested as the visitor came close.

“Mr. Buckley,” a rotund man with a large straw hat, pulled sun smart over a moonlike face, shadowing his whisky red nose and cheeks impassively enquired. His vision directed towards Sam.

“I’m Edward Buckley,” The lad drew the messenger’s attention.

“I have a message for you from his Excellency Mr. Macquarie.” Edward outstretched his hand to receive the correspondence, “no sir it is verbal.”

The man’s horse commenced to show impatience and move away, the messenger controlled it and returned to stand, “Mr. Macquarie wishes for yourself and servant, in the name of Hamish McGregor, to join with him at Parramatta on the Twenty-fifth of March to commence journey. You will report firstly to Mr. Blaxland who will be organising the travel but will not be participating – is that clear?”

“Very much so,” Edward answered.

“I am also to ascertain from you Mr. Wilcox if the arrangement sits well with your devices.”

“Agreed sir, will you like to stay for supper?” Sam offered.

“Will not be necessary, I have organised lodgings in Parramatta so must be on my way.” The messenger gave a superficial smile and with a slight nod of the head turned his mount and departed.

“There’s goes a queer kinda’ bloke,” Hamish surmised.

“He didn’t even induce his name,” Sam laughed.

“Possibly he doesn’t have a name.”

“In my thought name or not, I can almost feel the texture of that ticket of leave,” Hamish rubbed his finger and thumb together close to Edward’s face.

“There’s an old adage about chickens and counting Hamish,” the farmer stressed.

“True and understood but as true I am counting already,” Hamish turned back to Edward, “what do you think of that?”

“It is a start Hamish but sometime even Governors go back on promises and he only considered doing so, he didn’t promise.”

“What date is this?” Hamish asked ignoring Edward’s caution.

“I don’t know, best ask Sam.”

“Hey Sam what is the date?”

“I couldn’t say but it was on Friday when we were last in Parramatta – correct?”

“Correct,” Edward agreed.

“And that was, let me see,” Sam commenced to mentally calculate; “counting the Friday that was eight days previous.”

“No nine Sam,” Edward corrected.

“So then nine days and that would make today Saturday.”

“You are both wrong it must be ten days.” Hamish contradicted.

“Why so?” Sam challenged.

“I saw the Jones family in their Sunday best this morning on their way to church, therefore it must be Sunday.”

“Then it is Sunday,” Sam agreed as Hamish began to laugh, “what’s got you going Hamish?”

“It may be blooming-well Sunday but that doesn’t give the flaming date.” Hamish impatiently growled.

“I was coming to that Hamish, while we were in Parramatta on the Friday I saw a copy of the Sydney Gazette and it was for that day, the date being the Second of March, so by your calculation today would be Sunday the Twelfth,” Sam answered.

“Struth, that doesn’t give much time to organise our departure!”

“Plenty of time Hamish no need to panic; besides all you will need to prepare are yourselves as your keep would be provided from the government store.” Sam being the eternal optimist calmed the situation.

“What is the Governor like?” Hamish asked.

“I find him most agreeable but somewhat lacking in humour, so I would advise you to keep your bawdy conversation private, especially around his good woman, who will be travelling with him.”

“Me bawdy?” Hamish laughed.

“That you are Hamish and sometimes downrightly disgusting.” Sam added to the conversation. Edward concurred.

“Bawdy be buggered, I only say it as I see it.”

“Then Hamish, sometimes you should keep your eyes shut – and your mouth likewise.” Sam’s suggestion was delivered with humour and Hamish accepted it so as he went on his way complaining loudly about his puritanical friends.

From an English prison colony to one of the Great Nations of today. This how it started. Let Gary know you are reading: Gary dot Conder at CastleRoland dot Net.

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