Sydney – Port Jackson – Picture from Australia’s Heritage Magazine 1969
Published: 8 Jul 2019
Being ready was one thing, actually moving out another. Edward believed he had in a short time gleaned as much as he possibly could about the love and lives of Bovidae, or at least those of the woolly order. Also with advice from their neighbour Jim Claxton, had purchased two pups from a well proven sheep dog.
There was something settling on Edward’s spirit. Deep in a place where no word could describe was a continuing ache of being not quite right, he was distressed but could not give reason.
“So you are ready?” Sam asked as he and Edward walked the top field. He rested against the slip rails of the divide between his sheep and the crop. It would struggle to harvest, giving Sam enough earning to replant and survive another year but with little knowledge of the land; the soil became less fertile with each year’s planting.
“As ready I can be Sam.”
“Then what’s bothering you?”
“Why do you say that?”
“You are a book Edward and over the short time I’ve known you, I can not only read your moods but predict what will out.”
“Really Sam, am I that transparent?”
“In a good way, yes.”
Edward cast his eyes over the small flock and once again counted them. Thirty seven, was that a fair number to start an empire on wool? He could almost see them multiplying at a steady rate and roaming free across his thousand acres, he could see a second thousand and a third until all the land along the south side of the Macquarie River at the bridge on Cox’s road was his domain, his and Hamish’s but was that enough. His dream of empire was broken by Sam’s repeated concern.
“Well Edward you didn’t answer my question?”
“Is something concerning me? Possibly the unknown is about the most of it.”
“The unknown soon becomes the known and you have a good man behind you in Hamish.”
“What of you Sam, I feel I am letting you down?” Edward sighed and stood from the rail, “and this land it is almost depleted, what will you do?” he cast an eye across the crop before once again resting on his small flock.
“I have always said a little is more than enough for me, I’m no empire builder, besides for the time I have Piers and he’s a good kid but like you and Hamish, I realise one day he will also need to stretch his legs,” Sam laughed, “truthfully even now I’m having a difficult time preventing him from doing so but he has promised not to until he is of age.”
“That I agree and he will need a steady hand for a year or two.”
“When he is eighteen and you wish it and it is still his desire, I will send him on to you,” Sam promised.
“He will always be welcome, as will you Sam; I do wish you would change your mind.”
Sam lead the way along straight rows of freshly planted corn, marvelled at the miracle of life as it sprouted, broke through the earth and stretched towards the sunlight. With the vision came realisation the crop should be higher and stronger.
“You are a good man Sam and under different circumstances.” Edward left his citation unqualified.
“Yes I know if it wasn’t for your love for James you could love me.”
“It is more than that. True at first James was the barrier but I think our relationship moved past the physical and into something more comforting, I guess like being the two sides of a gold sovereign,”
Sam broke into a wide grin, “or the two sides of a holey dollar,” he corrected.
“Why your choice of the holey dollar Sam?”
“Like the Spanish dollar, there is something missing.”
“Ah but unlike the dollar, what is missing could never be described as the dump from its centre.”
“So what of James?” Sam asked as the figure of Piers appeared at distance and coming their way.
“I don’t fool myself Sam, more than likely James will only remain my dream but I must hold it or there is nothing. Sometimes in my mind I see him as he was on that final day naked and laughing as we planned our escape to the distant shores of Empire,” a deep and lengthy sigh as Piers arrived, “I don’t fool myself but there will always be James it has to be that way.”
“Hey you two watcha’ upta’?”
“Your language Piers, where does it come from?” Sam censured.
“I guess its Currency eh.”
“More to point what are you up to?” Edward answered.
“Hamish is cooking and it’s almost ready for the table.”
“Run ahead lad and let him know we are on our way.” Sam turned to Edward as the lad descended back towards the house, “Then what of James, why not send a second letter, possible it will jog someone’s memory.”
“Maybe – I think I’ll take one last trip down to Sydney Town before heading out, there are a few items we may need.”
“Do you want to take Piers along again?”
“No I need to do this on my own, I’ll probably stay a day or two.”
“A few more ships to watch come into dock.” Sam softly spoke as they reached the house. They entered without clarification.
Sydney Town was always a surprise for Edward, with each visit there were more houses, more shops and industry. He remembered the mud of the streets on his arrival, the stench of raw sewerage and rotten garbage, the cabbage tree huts and leaky tents. Most of all he remembered the cruel roughness of the soldiers of the 73rd regiment, as they slammed their musket butts into the backs of convicts to hurry them along, or spat on men whose only crime was to attempt survival, while their guards in many instances, could be considered more corrupt and guilty.
In the early days many of those from the notorious Rum Corpse were seconded from the dregs of the British forces. They were navy men with rum in their veins and little better than the convicts they were posted to guard. Now with Macquarie and his 73rd there was improvement yet the disdain for convicts was still apparent, as it was for emancipists but at least in the main they were sober while obedient to authority and oddly did their work quite satisfactory with little to show for it and a lack of equipment.
As Edward entered into Rosie Craddock’s tavern he met with a solder coming out who shoved him aside, “convict,” the corporal growled and spat upon the ground.
“No sir I’m no convict,” Edward lightly protested.
“If it looks like a convict, smells like a convict then it is a convict, no matter how it’s dressed. The solder continued without further rebuke and Edward knowing best, let it be.
During the evening in the tavern bar Edward chanced upon Fred Winslow one of his fellow servants from the mountain crossing and true to character, somewhat intoxicated.
“I hear you have done well lad,” he said and lifted his empty beer pot towards Edward.
“Well enough Fred what of yourself.”
“Na, it’s the grog my friend, firstly we were paid in the stuff and that lead to drinking your wages, from there just drinking and fighting,” Fred pulled his long, greasy matted hair back, “lost that ear in a fight in Richmond, some bugger bit it off,” he held up his left hand, “and the finger in Liverpool, some joker came at me with a blade.” The man licked his lips and smacked them together, “would love another drink young fella’, I’m all outa’ coin.”
Edward obliged. “I hear the blacksmith was killed by the blacks,” Fred recalled as Edward returned with beers.
“He was and close to the Wilcox farm,” Edward avoided disclosing it was actually on the property.
“Funny fella’ that Tom Ingles.”
“Why do you say that Fred?”
“He liked young boys you know and I don’t mean in a fraternity way.”
“The Chief Constable said he was mad,” Edward related ignoring the man’s comment on the blacksmith’s preference towards boys.
“Mad as they come lad and dangerous as well, I can’t say why but he had it in for you, was always threatening what he would do when he caught up with you.”
“Possibly that was his intention when he chanced upon the blacks near the farm. I was away at the time.” It was another blatant lie but issued to dissuade any involvement in the affair.
“Yea mad he was,” Fred turned up his lip with a dirty gnarled finger, that’s his work, knocked out three of my flaming teeth and split my lip, took weeks to heal and now nigh imposable to chew. Ingles said he didn’t like the way I was looking at him,” Fred slowly nodded in agreement with his thoughts, “he liked the boys you know?” Fred repeated, “and young, it was said he was responsible for a lad’s disappearance in Richmond, then there was that fella’ who drowned in Parramatta,”
“Oh I had no knowledge of such,” Edward once again lied.
“He always said you and he came out on the same ship.”
“It was long ago Fred and I have no wish to be reminded of it all.”
“Fair thought lad and well you were away from the farm when he came by.”
“I guess he has gone now and it can all be left in the past where it belongs,” Edward firmly concluded.
“Truth to be said lad, I would love another drink.”
Edward obliged and on returning from the bar, “have you heard from Toby?” he asked.
“Toby?” Fred questioned as the name was strange to him.
“Scruff Langford,”
“I never knew his name was Toby. Yes I saw him gardening down near Elizabeth Macquarie’s chair only this week. Now there’s a man who has fallen on his feet,” there was a glint of envy in Fred’s eyes, “and he’s off the grog.”
“You should try yourself Fred.” Edward suggested as he watched the man swallow his drink without a breath.
“Too late for me lad, I’m just waiting for the box. I have more ailing me than you can imagine.”
The early morning found Edward once again travelling towards the docks. On his way he called into the bond store for last chance supplies and while there learned there was a ship coming up the harbour as it could be heard firing guns while it came through the Heads. Edward collected the supplies and hurried to King’s Wharf to watch its arrival.
As the ship approached Edward believed it appeared familiar and asked a dock worker of its title. “Dunno’ but you will see soon enough she’s almost in.” Edward hurried along the wharf to where it was to berth and as the ship came about to broadside its name became apparent. It was the Duchess of Devonshire.
Edward felt the blood drain from his face as his torment returned to memory of the blacksmith, the lack of food, cold and sleeping without room to roll over during the night. Worst of all was the stench remaining strong in his nostrils. He took a deep breath and convinced himself those days were well gone but what of the new lot below its decks, their trials were only beginning. Would they find a Sam to guide them, or like the blacksmith become bitter?
With his head filled with negativity, Edward was about to leave and go about his business. Instead he forced himself to remain. Sam was correct, it was in the past and could no longer harm him, departing would be running away from the reality of it all, therefore he should stay and memory by memory it would dissipate, possibly one day he could call it but experience. With that in mind Edward found comfortable seating away from the energy of the arrival as the ship came to dock and lowered its gangway.
It took some time before anyone disembarked, firstly the harbour officials went on board to inspect the ship’s manifests to ascertain she wasn’t carrying contraband, in the form of cheap rum, tobacco or Chinese Coolies. Once satisfied, it was the free settlers in their fine clothes and attitude were first to disembark and as each one, father, mother and child descended to the dock there was the familiar expression of disappointment, believing they were stepping into New London with streets paved with gold, where gentle folk went about their daily business in all their finery. Instead, finding streets of baked earth and the not so gentle folk were mostly ragged and abrasive convicts, who appeared to roam at leisure without supervision.
It amused Edward to experience the new chum’s expressions as they stood bewildered on the rough timbers of the dock, their eyes about while huddling close together as if they were about to be attacked by the many unclad natives that found interest in the arrival of ships.
Some time later came a strange lot of mostly young men, who neither looked to be free settlers nor convicts. They were unmanacled but scruffy and many carried a kitbag, yet like the free settlers to a man had that unmistakable appearance of bewilderment.
“What’s this lot about?” Edward asked of a worker who appeared to be in control of the unloading.
“Would be convicts,” the man informed, keeping his eyes on the crowd forming along the dock. Unsatisfied with their milling he ordered a nearby soldier to move them back.
“What does that mean?”
“One of Sir Joseph Bank’s ideas, to gather all the vagabonds and would be pickpockets from London’s streets and give them an ultimatum, either be arrested, put in the poor house or they could be sent out here and become useful as labour on farms. Poor buggers, I reckon most will wish they took the rope.”
“Then they are free settlers?” Edward asked.
“As the word is loosely used, as they are contracted and have to report regularly to the Judge Advocate’s office, it’s my position to get them settled into barracks before being issued for work but unlike convict servants, this scruffy lot have to be paid a wage and can return to England.”
Edward stood back from the gangway as the first of the young men commenced to disembark. He was about to turn and depart when a head in the crowd caught his eye. It was a head of red hair and slightly taller than those around, ‘No it can’t be, won’t be you fool,’ he silently cursed for thinking every redheaded male who came off any ship could be James. He turned away but something made him turn once more.
Edward studied the lad. ‘It couldn’t be,’ he thought as the face was once again lost in the crowd of newly arrived. Edward waited and eventually the lad reached the wharf. ‘It must be but how,’ his heart jumped and a lump formed in his throat. “James,” he called but the redhead did not respond; Edward called once more, James Hill?’ this time the lad’s head turned towards the caller.
Edward hurried to where the official was directing the newcomers away from the gangway.
“Excuse me sir, may I speak to that man?” Edward asked in a voice so excited it would hardly leave his throat.
“Once they are processed you have him.” The official answered but kindly directed the newcomer to one side. “It appears someone knows you lad, so I’ll attend to you later.”
“James it is you!”
“Yes Edward it’s me.”
“How,”
“It was the only way I could find you without being convicted but I never thought it would be this easy.” James explained as the last of the men came from the ship. Both stood looking at each other without words, neither could find any that could express their joy and disbelief.
“Righto you two, I need to get this lot going, you can come over to the barracks in Pitt Street in the morning and have him assigned to you.” The official quickly pushed James towards the other arrivals.
“Until tomorrow,” Edward called as they were marched away. James turned and gave a smile and nod and by his eyes he was tearful. Once alone Edward broke and finding a quiet corner sobbed in disbelief while his excitement became so overpowering he was physically sick.
First light found Edward quickening his step towards Pitt Street and a warehouse set aside to house the newcomers, arriving long before they had been mustered to have their future explained. At the door Edward approached an official.
“State your business lad,” the officer of the barracks demanded.
“I’ve come to collect a once friend to be assigned as my shepherd.” Edward said as the new arrivals were organised towards that day’s proceedings.
“Which one would he be?”
“James Hill, the one at the rear with the henna hair.”
The officer spoke to his man, instructing him to fetch James. “Is this the one? The officer asked as James approached.
“Yes sir, he is James Hill.”
“Who would you be and why do you need the services of a shepherd?”
“I am Edward Buckley of Parramatta.”
“Ah Mr. Macquarie’s favourite, that alone should be sufficient. The officer snapped his fingers and his man brought documents and a quill.” Firstly Mr. Buckley you will need to sign for your charge and prove yourself of good Christian character.” The officer entered James’ particulars to the space provided, “I guess being associated with the Governor will be enough to prove character.” Passing Edward the quill he continued; “sign here,” Once signed the officer spoke to James, “I am entrusted to ask you if you are in agreement with this decision.”
“Yes sir,” James quickly answered without hesitation.
The officer finally addressed Edward, “then I release James Hill into your charge, now both of you on your way, I have much to do.”
“What now?” James asked as they walked away from the barracks.
“I thought I had everything worked out when we met again but now I don’t know where to start,” Edward took a deep breath as the smile enveloped his entire expression.
“I know how you feel.”
“I have a grant of land over those mountains.” Edward pointed to the distant blue haze, “and I have a partner and a small flock of sheep. I was about to leave but something made me come back to town, for one last chance before I travelled.”
“Is your partner -?” James stalled his question but Edward understood.
“No nothing like that, he is married but a good friend.”
“Edward all this time I have kept true to your memory but not to your body, I have done things.” A sigh then silence as Edward led James to the cart.
“You don’t have to explain anything James all that matters is you are now here.”
“No I must, you would be shocked in learning of the stable of young men the wealthy keep and once they tire, you are either handed on to others of like mind or tossed onto the street. Many were men of importance, makers of law, keepers of law even those who judged the law, who punish a lad for selling his body to survive while they are violating other young men for a mere pittance.”
“James you could never do anything that would change my opinion of you.”
“Maybe not but do you still want me, I’m no longer pure of body?”
“Want you? I want you in every way conceivable and if it were possible I would have you here in the very streets of Sydney Town.”
“And I would let you.” They both laughed and headed out of town with enough stories to exchange for more than a dozen trips to Parramatta.
“Is this your property?” James asked as they entered through the Wilcox farm gate and along the short drive to the house.
“No it belongs to Sam I was his convict servant before becoming emancipated. The lad you see coming down from the top field is Piers, he was recently orphaned during a flood and Sam has taken him in. Hamish my business partner is in Parramatta with his wife, he will return tomorrow.”
James showed a measure of concern, “do any of them know of me?”
“Know about you? Sam says I never shut up about you, Hamish knows all but young Piers, I should think he has inkling but nothing has been said, as for Sam, what was the word the magistrate used on me, a sodomite of the worse degree, I guess if that’s the word it also fits Sam but he is the most caring man you could ever meet.”
James smiled and shook his head.
“What?”
“None of this would ever do in England, what kind of strange land is this?”
“A grand land my friend and I think eventually you will grow to love it as I have and even more now you are here – struth James I can’t believe you are here.” Edward jumped down from the cart as Sam arrived.
“I don’t believe it!” Sam shouted in total surprise.
“Believe what Sam.”
“You have found James.”
“How would you know that?”
“How could I not, you have vividly described him to me so many times, I could do nothing but recognise him.”
“Yes by some miracle it is James.”
“Come lad you look starved. I have a stew on the stove and a pot of coffee on the boil, you do take coffee, what of your trip,” Sam paused, “sorry I’m almost as excited as young Edward here.”
“You could never be that excited Sam,” Edward corrected.
On entering the house Piers came from behind. Edward turned to the lad, “Piers I would like you to meet – .”
“Yes I know Edward, pleased to meet you James.”
“How did you know so?” Edward showed surprise as he had never discussed his friend with the lad.
“Hamish told me everything.”
“Then Hamish has a big mouth,” Sam growled.
“No I guessed most of it and I had heard you talking to Sam about James. I’m not dumb you know.”
“Hamish should be along in the morning as he is visiting Elsie and arranging her belongings for the trip,” Sam said as they sat around the dining table with their meal.
“One thing James with Hamish’s accent, don’t dare call him a Scot.”
There was awkward comfortability for James. Since leaving London his life was as lived in a whirlpool of fear and expectation. Agreement in being extradited was easy but the long trip gave him time to regret doing so and on the occasion, if there had been a ship passing in the return direction, he would have asked to be transferred.
It was only the slightest possibility of being reunited with Edward that kept him sound, a one chance in a million. It was possible Edward had not survived the voyage, he knew of the ills a convict suffered then once landed what of the savages, word abound in England that New South Wales was a land of black cannibals and lovers of white flesh.
Hamish arrived with the late morning and Edward met him at the gate with James. “I don’t believe it!” he called on seeing the stranger by his friend’s side.
“Believe it Hamish,”
“How, when where?” Hamish slowed his mount.
“Yesterday and believe or not on the Duchess of Devonshire and not convicted but a free settler but contracted to us for three years.”
“We will have to quickly put him to the plough,” Hamish laughed.
Edward turned to James, “in all the excitement I forgot to ask you if it is your pleasure to join with us.”
“At a jump but I’m afraid I won’t be of much help with sheep,” James gladly answered.
“You’ll learn,” Hamish assured and passed the reins to Piers bringing up the rear.
“Where do I fit into all this?” Piers softly asked as he led the horse away.
“You will have to stay with Sam until you are old enough to make your own decisions,” Hamish firmly junicated.
“Sleeping arrangements.” Hamish incidentally announced as they approached the house.
“We were in the hut last night,”
“Right I’ll use the bunk house,”
“No Hamish it’s full of supplies, even your bunk is stacked.”
Hamish gave a knowing grin, “I’ll soon clear a space. You both need a little time for yourselves, as I guess you have more than conversation to catch up on.”
During the afternoon’s conversation the question of James’ father rose and what had occurred to have his brother Eugene turn against him. It appeared once James was no longer around the old man turned on Eugene and severely beat him for allowing James’ escape. While their father was sleeping Eugene came to his room with an axe and laid him waste. It was said that the killing was so brutal even the constable could not hold his stomach and it was the brutality of the slaying that quickly sent Eugene to the gallows.
More was also related on James’ wandering, how he worked farms until the shine of London filled his fancy but once there found little sparkle, only poverty and filth. It was during market day in Petticoat Lane while stealing food, he was notice by a servant of Sir Philip Choven thus introduced to high class prostitution.
Choven would send his manservant on reconnaissance to find young lads for his master. Although preference was for younger boys, the man did have a bent for red hair and James suited that description but once Lord Choven’s interest were spent he passed James on to his acquaintances, until at last past his youth he was considered spoiled goods and too old for appeal.
“You are here now so all that can be placed aside. I won’t say forgotten as like myself the scars remain but as Sam has a habit of saying, time fixes most things.”
Close to sundown James noticed Edward was missing, “has anyone seen Edward?” he asked.
“I saw him down by the water,” Piers answered.
“What was he doing?” Sam asked as it wasn’t like Edward to wander off alone, especially now with James’ arrival.
“Just sitting there gazing into the water, I’ll go get him.”
“No Piers, I will go.” Hamish left the others to their conversation and slowly walked to where Edward was seated. Quietly he came upon his friend, “Edward, are you alright?” he softly asked. Edward didn’t answer, Hamish approached and placed a gentle hand on his friend’s shoulder, “Edward,” he spoke. Edward covered his friend’s hand with his own. “Edward,” Hamish repeated and at that Edward commenced to sob deeply.
“What’s wrong?”
Edward found some decorum.
“Are you unwell?”
A deep breath, exhaled and another breath, “I couldn’t be happier I just can’t believe James is here. I’ve waited so long hoping and filled with an ocean of despair and as I was about to finally give up all likelihood, there he was smiling from the ship.”
“Come on let it out.” Hamish softly spoke as he rocked his friend at the shoulder.
“It’s out Hamish, I’m alright now.”
“So come on back to the house, they are all growing concerned for you.”
“You go back Hamish and I’ll be there in a minute or so.”
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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