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The establishment of a settlement in Van Diemen's Land, perhaps thus hastened by the jealousy of a rival power, was at first chiefly intended to relieve Port Jackson. Fifteen years had elapsed since its foundation, and from six to seven thousand prisoners had been transported thither: dispersion became necessary to security—to repress alike the vices of the convicts, and the growing malversation of their taskmasters. The want of prisons, or places of punishment, and the indolence and intemperance of emancipist settlers, endangered authority.
In 1800, the transportation of the defenders from Ireland, appears to have created continual anxiety: a committee of officers was formed to examine persons suspected, when Harold, a priest, was arrested, and accused his fellow prisoners. His testimony was insidious, and discredited; but the alarm led to the formation of a volunteer company of a hundred persons, who armed for the suppression of rebellion. The more distrusted of the Irish prisoners were conveyed to Norfolk Island; there, some months after, a conspiracy was detected to massacre the officers, and seize the island. On the night fixed for action, the plot was discovered. An Irish servant, muttering words of compassion, was overheard by his master: he was induced to explain, and was immediately taken to Major Foveaux, the officer in command. The danger was imminent: the warmth of the season (December) had tempted the soldiers to slumber with open doors, and it was said that the sentinels were implicated who that night kept watch. These being changed, and other precautions adopted, the plotters postponed their design; and next day were marched to church without suspicion. The door was beset with soldiers: the leaders were arrested; one executed—and on the following day, the blacksmith, charged with fabricating arms, was also hung. The necessity for dispensing with the forms of law was not made out, and these summary punishments were censured. That the danger was not imaginary, may, however, be inferred from the after attempts at Port Jackson.
The military force of New South Wales, drawn together by a love of adventure, or the hope of gain, when their own status was assailed, were often exacting and severe: but they slightly sustained the moral strength of the government. To select mistresses from the female prisoners was one of their earliest and most valued prerogatives, who, standing in this equivocal relation, became their agents and sold their rum.
The Governor, after struggling to abate the abuses around him, yielded to a pressure which seemed irresistible. He endeavoured to mollify by his liberality, those he could not govern by restraint: he multiplied licenses for the sale of rum, and emancipists aspired to commercial rivalry with the suttlers in commission. The chief constable was himself a publican, and the chief gaoler shared in the lucrative calling, and sold spirits opposite the prison.
The moral laxity which prevailed, produced its natural consequences—violations of discipline, which led to great crimes. The offenders, to escape immediate punishments, retreated to the remote districts; occasionally sheltered by the emancipist cotters. The feeble resistance offered to their depredations, inspired, and almost justified the prisoners in the hope, that the common bondage might be broken. A large agricultural establishment, belonging to the government, at Castle-hill, Parramatta, employed many Irishmen implicated in the recent disorders of their country. These prompted the rest to attempt to recover their liberty, but they were subdued by the military under Major Johnstone: some were shot, and several executed.
In this unsatisfactory condition was the colony of Port Jackson, when Van Diemen's Land was occupied. Its remote distance, its comparatively small extent and insular form, fitted it for the purposes of penal restraint—a place where the most turbulent and rapacious could find no scope for their passions. Its ports closed against commerce, afforded few means of escape. In New Holland, labor and produce were redundant: overwhelming harvests reduced the price of grain so low, that it was rejected by the merchants; goods could not be obtained in exchange;[33] and the convicts at the disposal of government were a burden on its hands—almost in a condition to defy its authority. Thus, Van Diemen's Land was colonised; first, as a place of exile for the more felonious of felons—the Botany Bay of Botany Bay—
"And in the lowest deep, a lower deep!"
Lieutenant Bowen, in the Lady Nelson, set sail from Sydney, and in August, 1803, landed at Risdon, on the east bank of the Derwent: his party included a few soldiers and prisoners, and Dr. Mountgarrat, the surgeon. A far more important immigration soon followed.
Port Phillip, on the east coast of New Holland, first discovered by Captain Murray in the Lady Nelson, 1799, was surveyed by Flinders in 1802, and in 1803 by Grimes, the surveyor-general. They reported the country to be lightly timbered, to abound in herbage, and gentle slopes suitable to the plough. The port offered an asylum against both war and tempests, sufficient for the fleets of all nations.[34]
The establishment of a settlement at Port Phillip being determined on by the ministry of Great Britain, an expedition was forwarded, which consisted of the Calcutta, 50 guns, Captain Woodriff, and the Ocean, a transport of 500 tons. In addition to the convicts, there were forty marines, four hundred male prisoners, twelve free settlers and their families, six unmarried women, six the wives of prisoners, and six children. It is scarcely necessary to remark, that the morals of the officers, or of the women, were not superior either to the service or to the times. The events of the voyage, worthy of remembrance, were not numerous; it was disturbed by rumours of plots and conspiracies; punishments were not infrequent, and one woman was flogged for stealing the cap of a companion.
The Calcutta did not convey the settlers to the Derwent. On her return to Great Britain, Lieutenant Tuckey published an account of the voyage to Port Phillip, which he surveyed. In the year following (1805), the Calcutta was convoy to St. Helena, and encountered the Rochefort squadron. Captain Woodriff determined to engage the whole division: the merchantmen escaped; but the Calcutta, in the unequal contest, became unmanageable, and struck her colors. Captain Woodriff was soon exchanged, but Lieutenant Tuckey remained in captivity until the allied armies entered France.
Promoted to the rank of commander, he received charge of the expedition in 1816, sent to explore the Zaire; but with most of his people fell a martyr to the spirit of African discovery. He is said to have been handsome in person, and generous in hand. "He knew nothing of the value of money, except as it enabled him to gratify the feelings of a benevolent heart."[35]
The spot selected at Port Phillip, was ill-chosen as the site of a town, and they found great difficulty in obtaining pure water. These circumstances, represented by Collins to the Governor-in-chief, were thought sufficient to justify a removal to Van Diemen's Land, and long postponed the occupation of a country, inferior to few in this hemisphere; a measure lamented by several of the settlers. A lady, writing to her friends from the banks of the Derwent, censured, in terms of great contempt, the relinquishment of Port Phillip, which she described in glowing language: she seemed alone capable of estimating its future importance; but she pronounced Van Diemen's Land a dreary and desert region, destined never to prosper—thus she forfeited the credit of prophecy.[36]
Several prisoners attempted to escape; in one instance, with a singular result. Buckley, a man of gigantic stature, and two others, set off, it was said, for China! They rambled for some distance together, and suffered great misery: at last, they parted. Of his companions, Buckley saw no more, and when he returned to the settlement all was deserted. After months of solitary wandering, he found a tribe of natives, by whom he was adopted: he remained among them for three-and-thirty years, conforming to their barbarous customs, and forgetting his own language. Once only he saw the faces of white men; a boat's crew landed to bury a seaman: he endeavoured to arrest their attention; they looked at him earnestly, but took him for a savage—he was dressed in a rug of kangaroo skin, and was armed with spears. This man still survives: he contributed to the friendly reception of his countrymen; but during his long sojourn, he had imparted no ideas of civilisation.
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