Family history, Western Australian history, or just history
Tag: convict
One who has been “convicted” of a crime, but in this context, one who had been convicted of a crime and then sent to the Colonies of Australia to serve out their sentence. To have a convict in the family is either the deepest shame or a badge of honour.
This was one panorama you did not want to experience on your visit to Van Diemen’s Land — back when it was Van Diemen’s Land.
A small speck of terror amid the rolling canopy of green.
Fire has cleansed it of much of it’s horror, so now it is Tasmania’s number one tourist destination once again for completely the opposite reason.
The convict James Dyson was never sent to Port Arthur, but I’m sure he was threatened with it on more than one occasion.
There’s a distinct possibility that the soldierly father-in-law of one of his children in Western Australia had served as a prison guard at Port Arthur in the past. That must have made the after-dinner conversations interesting.
Truth be told, there’s no good reason for this post, other than I wanted an excuse to look at my images from Port Arthur from my visit there, back in 2017. Time is running out so this will be the last post of 2024.
I’ve been wading through the history of the Swamp lately. That is — the actual swamp that had Dyson’s name on it — not the metaphorical entity that represents the Dyson family’s life in early colonial Australia. This is the one that is currently known as Lake Jualbup.
Dyson’s Swamp was always Jualbup. Jualbup has sometimes been Dyson’s Swamp. Jualbup was, is, and always will be Whadjuk Noongar boodjar.
Truth be told, everyone’s favourite former Vandemonian convict in Western Australia was not in direct possession of the swamp that bore his name for very long. He wasn’t even the first settler to claim ownership of it — colonial style.
According to Geoffrey Dean in One controversy after another: A chronological history of Lake Jualbup (2011), an agreement to transfer ownership of the swamp from the merchant and chemist George Shenton to James Dyson was first drawn up in the year 1858. The deal was not finalised for another thirteen years — not until the year 1871.
As late as 1965, there were still some visible traces of the Swamp as it existed from Dyson’s time. Observe the lone post in the water on the left hand side of the photograph below — this would have been part of the three-rail fence that marked the boundaries between Locations 119 and 118 — the formal designation of Dyson’s Swamp on the title deeds.
144742PD: Shenton Park Lake, 1965 Photograph by Grace Roper State Library of Western Australia
Dyson’s name was only attached to the title deed for six short years. The Shenton family reclaimed it after 1877. However, until the suburb of Shenton Park swallowed up the bush surrounding the water in the early 20th century, those who actually lived by Jualbup (both Whadjuk and European) carried on their lives as much as before.
The independent timber cutters and cow herders leasing their paddocks and huts from whoever demanded rent from them that month, included identities such as—
JAMES MCKENZIE, who described himself as a gatherer of gum and bark, was charged with being drunk on the premises of Mr. Caesar, of the Emerald Isle hotel. The constable who arrested him said he looked like ‘a wild man,’ who had never in his life been introduced to soap and water, much less a razor or a comb. The prisoner himself did no deny the charge, but submitted that there were extenuating circumstances, which the Court might take into consideration. He said he lived in the gay neighborhood of Dyson’s Swamp, and, not being used to indulge in alcoholic beverages, a few glasses of beer had overpowered him. …
He had a neighbour out by the Swamp by the name of
James Thompson (no relation).
WA Police Gazette 11 June 1879 p98
James Thompson (no relation) had a hut and a paddock somewhere near the swamp during the years 1879 and 1880. He may have been in the district long before (or after) that, but because he did not report a brown pony or a bundle of firewood to the police as stolen in any other year, he remains effectively anonymous.
(The sons of Kain proved to be innocent of this particular misdeed. Apropos to nothing, they were the sons of a pensioner guardsman who came to Western Australia with the first convict ship, the Scindian in June 1850.)
Thompson (no relation), might be the same James Thompson (also no relation) who also worked for Dyson back in 1852, before the latter could even have dreamed of owning a swamp of his own.
James Thompson, Convict number 1184, arrived in Fremantle on 30 January 1852 per the Marion, the sixth convict transport to be sent to Western Australia. He had already served four years of a ten year sentence for burglarising a house in Coventry, England, so he was granted a ticket-of-leave the day after his arrival.
Dyson employed him from 30 August 1852 for seven months until the beginning of November that same year. It is only guesswork that Thompson (no relation) was one of Dyson’s pitsawyers, or if he had been employed back then anywhere close to his master’s future swamp.
At the time, Dyson had a contract to supply timber for the new colonial hospital down the other end of Murray Street (then Howick Street). Dyson was then living on the corner of King and Murray streets on the other side of town. His marriage had just disintegrated and his first wife had herself committed to the local lunatic asylum.
Against this backdrop, when Thompson finished his time with Dyson in November, he next worked for a baker named Joseph Freeman. His new employer was also a ticket-of-leave convict, but one permitted to run his own business. The address of that business just happened to be nearly next door to the Dyson family home on King Street in Perth.
By 1855 both Thompson (no relation) and Freeman had their conditional pardons, so they were both free to leave Western Australia … almost.
£5 REWARD. WHEREAS some anonymous writer has, within the last few days, sent letters to the several Storekeepers of Perth, setting forth that I, Joseph Freeman, Baker, of Dalton’s Terrace, Perth, was about surreptitiously to leave the colony for Melbourne, which slander has had a tendency to do me some degree of harm; I hereby offer the above reward of five pounds to any person who shall render such authentic information as will unmask the cowardly informant with a view to his prosecution; and I here also give notice, that all persons indebted to me, do forthwith settle their accounts; and to request that all persons to whom I may be indebted may furnish to me their accounts on or before the 20th of July next, that they may be examined and liquidated. JOSEPH FREEMAN, BAKER, PERTH.
Both made their way (eventually) to South Australia, which was about as far as it was safe for them to travel as the colony of Victoria had enacted some hideous laws about expirees attempting to enter that jurisdiction.
According to the laws of Victoria, any person once convicted of a transportable offence, and found residing in Victoria within three years of the full expiration of his sentence, is liable to penal servitude on the roads, either in or out of irons, for the space of three years. If, after undergoing this sentence, he remains in Victoria three months longer, he is liable to a repetition of the former sentence; and so on, as long as he lives. All property found upon him is confiscated. Any constable who “suspects” that a person resident in Victoria was sentenced to transportation, and had not, three years previously, completed his term, may apprehend him without warrant, and the burden of exculpatory proof is made to rest upon the person apprehended.
This debate in South Australia about how to treat former prisoners was ignited by the arrival of James Thompson (no relation) and others into their polity. He had been arrested for wandering the streets of Adelaide very early in the morning with no good excuse.
ADELAIDE: TUESDAY, APRIL 22. [Before Mr. C. Mann, Stipendiary Magistrate.] “CONDITIONAL-PARDON” MAN.— James Thompson was charged with wandering about the streets at 1 o’clock in the morning, and not giving a satisfactory account of himself. Sergeant Badman deposed that he stopped the man and his companion in Light-square, and on his refusing to give a proper account of himself, he brought him to the Station-house, as he had watched him ever since his arrival from Swan River, about seven weeks ago, and observed him under suspicious circumstances several times. On searching defendant a conditional pardon was found upon him. There were no fewer than 20 or 30 of them about the streets, and doing nothing (as far as could be ascertained) for a subsistence. The prisoner’s wife said they brought a good deal of money with them, and she had taken in washing, and her husband was going to work that very morning. She then pleaded for him, and hoped His Worship would look over the matter, as it was the first time. His Worship said he had a duty to perform. He must commit the prisoner for a week; for though it was the first time that he had been brought before the Court, the police had watched his motions for the last few weeks, and the course now pursued was necessary for the protection of the public.
Only twenty five years before, the good burghers of Western Australia were complaining about exactly the same thing concerning riff-raff from Van Dieman’s Land and NSW.
It entirely possible that this James Thompson (no relation), who is definitely the same convict formerly employed by James Dyson, is not the same individual who returned to Western Australia at some date afterwards and worked by his former master’s swamp.
Let’s now take it as read from now on that any time I invoke the name Thompson (or any of it’s variant abominations), the suffix “(no relation)” can safely be appended to it.
There were thirteen transporteés sent to Western Australia named James Thompson and four were James Thomsons. After a time, none of them are readily distinguishable from the other James Thompsons who were born free and stayed that way even if maybe some of them shouldn’t have been.
Jualbup/Dyson’s Swamp. Always has been, always will be.
In conclusion, I have no idea who James Thompson with the paddock near Dyson’s Swamp during the 1880’s was. I don’t know his backstory, or family, or whether any of his descendents still live in Western Australia. I only know he’s not related to me.
Stephen Hallpike (1786-1844) was a convict from Lancashire sent to the Australian colonies. It was in Liverpool that he was finally busted for the most Lancastrian crime it was possible to commit — stealing 100 yards (91.44 metres) of cotton cloth.
This was not his first (or even his second) offence, but this time it was going to stick. He was sentenced by the Liverpool Sessions Court in October 1817 to be transported over the seas for seven years. By February 1818 he was on a hulk in Portsmouth. He was transferred to another at Woolwich in May, prior to embarkation on the Lord Sidmouth at the end of August.
The Lord Sidmouth set sail on 20 September 1818 for New South Wales. This vessel with 158 convicts on board arrived in Sydney on 11 March 1819.
It was what Hallpike was up to in the weeks immediately before his arrest, conviction and transportation that are most cognisant to this story. Stephen Hallpike was allegedly a married man. The qualification “allegedly” has to be made, as no formal record of Hallpike’s first marriage has so far been located, and to muddy the waters still further, his second wife will have the same first name as her predecessor (but we get ahead of ourselves).
You do the sums
A baby boy was born in Liverpool on 8 March 1818. Six months elapsed before he was baptised in the church of St Peter on 6 December 1818. Stephen Hall-pike is described as being the son of Stephen Hall-pike, a whitesmith, and Ellen (his presumed wife).
Liverpool Record Office 283-PET-2-5. Found on findmypast.co.uk
Strangely enough, we can only know this child’s actual date of birth because 46 years later he would apply for in job in the Colonial Convict Service of an entirely different Australian colony to the one his father had been sent to. By then, he had also dropped the “Aitch” in his name from Hallpike to Allpike.
Whitesmith or Blacksmith?
While Stephen Hallpike (the elder) had proven to be profoundly ineffectual both as a thief and a father, he possessed other skills that were highly prized in the land he was exiled to. As a blacksmith, he was assigned to the New South Wales civil engineer’s department headed by Major George Druitt. After this Major resigned his commission in July 1822, Hallpike was retained by Druitt as a blacksmith on his estate until at least December 1824.
It is worth noting that in the NSW Colonial Secretary’s Index to correspondence mentioning him as a convict, his name is spelt “Allpike”. It is also worth noting that the reason why he was mentioned in dispatches was that he was discovered working at his own business when he should have still been employed by Druitt.
Nevertheless, the day came when he really had earned his freedom after serving out his sentence.
Since this was published in 1824, its a bit strange that another mention in the Colonial Secretary’s office (Reel 6064; 4/1788 p.10) states he was still not free by servitude until 5 April 1825.
Buildings in Singapore from the seafront of Padang, ca. 1837, showing the Palladian references recommended by Governor Fullerton. View of Protestant Church (right) (Voyage autour du monde, 1837: plate 47). National Museum of Singapore, available through the National Archives of Singapore, Accession No. 128537, https://www.nas.gov.sg/ archivesonline/photographs/record-details/ad5c305f-1161-11e3-83d5-0050568939ad.
He set up trade as a blacksmith, boat and coach builder, then he opened what was possibly the first hotel in Singapore’s history…
ADVERTISEMENT S. Hallpike returns his thanks to the Public for the encouragement he has hitherto met with, and begs to state that he has opened a Board and Lodging House in High Street, where Families visiting the Settlement will meet with every attention for their comfort. N.B. S.H. continues to execute Ships Blacksmith Work in general, and paints and repairs Carriages of all descriptions on moderate terms. Carriages lent on hire. Singapore, 11 May 1831
The boarding house part of his little empire was apparently managed by his wife. Quite when there was a Mrs Hallpike again on the scene and if this was the same Ellen who gave birth to his child back in Liverpool are all mysteries.
Whether their thirteen year old son was also in Singapore too is another unanswered question, however the younger Stephen also followed the trade of a blacksmith later on, so his apprenticeship may have begun at his father’s forge.
It is not until December 1832 that the first hard evidence emerges that there really was a Mrs Hallpike in Singapore … and that was only because she was leaving him, this time.
NOTICE. MRS. HALLPIKE being about to leave the Settlement, the Undersigned requests that all claims against her and himself may be sent in before the expiration of the current month, after which they will not be attended to. S. HALLPIKE. Singapore 3rd Decr. 1832.
Where she went next, remains as obscure as why she departed. The only certainty is that well before 15 July 1834 she was known to be dead, for that is when Mr Stephen Hallpike married Miss Ellen Richardson, also of Singapore, in the original St Andrew’s Church in Singapore (to the left in the picture below).
Ouch.
Once his father started breeding again, that son from his first marriage needed only have seen this birth notice in the newspaper for August 1837 to know he had no future in Singapore — If he had not worked that out already, many years before.
BIRTH. On Monday the 14th. Instant, MRS. HALLPIKE of a Son and HEIR.
The new Hallpike family wound up their business affairs in Singapore, then travelled back to England sometime after September 1838. but Hallpike, senior, at least, returned to Singapore sometime before July 1842.
There he died on 22 June 1844.
Sacred to the memory of Mr Stephen Hallpike, one of the earliest European inhabitants of this settlement who, during his long life of active usefulness, acquired the high respect of all who knew him and died deeply regretted on the 21st June 1844. Aged 56 years.
If it wasn’t a respectful family that paid for his headstone in the Fort Canning burial ground, he definitely had some greatly appreciative friends… or he was really was that greatly respected by the community he returned to.
Not bad for a former convict whose speciality proved to be driving away his family.
Coincidence time
I’ve visited the Fort Canning burial ground in Singapore. I most definitely would have seen Hallpike’s headstone then, but that it would later be significant to the Dyson story, ie: my story, would have completely passed me by. Instead, here are some generic images from 2006.
The Fort part of Fort CanningThe walls where the surviving grave decorations are displayed. Hallpike’s stone will be among these somewhere.
Coda.
Stephen Allpike, son of Stephen Hallpike, was certainly knocking about the Australasian colonies by the end of the 1830’s. He spent some time in Van Diemen’s Land, not as a convict though. His business there is unknown.
There he could have met a young lady. She was also not a convict, but she may have felt like she had being treated worse than one. Her name was Hannah Dyer. She had been sent from Western Australia by her employer, the brother of that colony’s Colonial Secretary, to give birth to his child away from the public eye. It was not even the first time he had impregnated his maid servant, but his wife had already adopted the resultant daughter for her self.
This time the baby had not survived, but Hannah did. She was permitted to return home during the year 1839. If she did meet Stephen Hallpike in Van Diemen’s Land it had to be before that date.
Libraries Tasmania POL459-1-2 page 5
When Stephen Allpike made his first visit to the Swan River settlement in Western Australia is not entirely certain. However, on 4 May 1841 he boarded a barque called the Napoleon at Launceston in Van Diemen’s Land, bound for Port Philip Bay in was would one day be the future colony of Victoria.
There is no evidence he reached his intended destination. Nor is there any record that he did not. He is not alone in that regard. At least one other passenger known to have been on board this vessel for the entirety of her two month voyage between Van Diemen’s Land and Fremantle in the Colony of Western Australia is likewise completely absent from any contemporary paperwork as well.
If he was on the colonial barque Napoleon, one of his fellow travellers was a fellow Lancastrian and recently freed Van Diemen’s Land Convict by the name of James Dyson. and they had two whole months to get to know one another.
Once in Western Australia, Allpike married Hannah Dyer in the year 1844.
During 1864 he applied for a job in the Convict Establishment of Western Australia.
He was at his most successful when was running a pub. He was at his most dangerous when he ventured outside his areas of expertise.— then, not even his gift of the gab could save him from wrathful creditors, business partners, or the local magistrate.
He was not in Western Australia for long — He was not to remain in any one jurisdiction long enough to be claimed by any as their own. Even those doing genealogical research on his family have managed to miss the bleedingly obvious because they were looking in the wrong place at the right time.
Hint: He nearly lived here. Buckingham Palace engraved by J. Woods after Hablot Browne & R.Garland. 1837
He called himself Edward Hales Taylor and claimed he was born in London in the year 1815. This was the same year his parents were married in the Church of St-Martin-in-the-Fields, Westminster, a few weeks after Napoleon met his Waterloo. Edward Taylor and the former Elizabeth Jenkins had their son baptised in the same church eighteen months later on 5 January 1817. They actually gave him the name Edward Hale William Taylor, but they were only his parents, so what would they know?
The family lived at 23 Crown Court, London (just a couple of blocks away from a gaff known as Buckingham Palace). There is still a public house at the address, and The Red Lion Tavern was probably where Edward (senior) worked as a waiter in 1817, as well as where his son was born.
To SA (not that one)
At some date in the intervening quarter century, Edward Hales Taylor emigrated to Cape Colony in South Africa. This territory was only absorbed into the British Empire after 1815 due to the Netherlands and the Dutch East India Company backing the wrong side at Waterloo.
Harriet Jane Colman married Edward with the consent of her mother and step-father. She was 19 years old at the time and he was 25 (or 28). Their first child (out of eight) was born in Cape Colony exactly one year and eleven days later. There was a gap of seven years before the next child arrived.
To SA (the other one)
She was a pregnant with that same child when they all sailed from Cape Town on 30 January 1850, east across the Indian Ocean. The brig Mary Clarke landed the Taylor family at Port Adelaide in South Australia on 20 March 1850.
Quite why the had decided to trade one SA for another is anyone’s guess. The assets they carried with them on arrival amounted to £90 in cash, with a further £35 raised from selling a dinner plate service after they landed.
Nevertheless, on 10 June 1850, Edward Hales Talyor acquired a publican’s licence to run a drinking establishment named the “Billy Barlow” on Currie Street in the grottier northern portion of Adelaide. The general licence was transferred to him from a Mr Frederick James Coppin. Coppin had a very famous brother whose biography might give you some idea of the world of pain Taylor was about to find himself in:—
Edward Hales Taylor attempted to ingratiate himself with the locals. He joined the local Licenced Victualler’s Society where those in their profession could get together and complain about how hard done by they were by life in general. At a special meeting in August, he volunteered to be appointed a special constable in town, so he could legally throw out the rowdies in his new establishment.
The arrival in September 1850 of a celebrity newcomer to Adelaide from Van Diemen’s Land might have been the moment Taylor’s fortunes were irredeemably blighted. Charles Axtelle was another professional entertainer, acrobat, and (incidentally) also a recently freed VDL convict. Three months later the results of his and Edward Hales Taylor’s collaboration were thrust upon an unsuspecting South Australian public.
NOTICE. TWENTY POUNDS REWARD. WHEREAS some evil disposed persons have circulated a report that I am about clandestinely to leave the colony, such said report being injurious to my character, I hereby give notice that the above reward will be paid to any party who will give such information to H. Johnson, Esq., Solicitor, King William street, as will enable me to take legal proceedings against the originator or originators of the Report. N.B.—It is particularly requested that all parties having claims against me, will immediately forward the particulars to my Solicitor as above, in order that the same may be examined and discharged. EDWARD HALES TAYLOR, “Billy Barlow Tavern,” Currie-street. Feb. 20, 1851.
By May, Edward Hales Taylor was not just insolvent, he was in prison for debt. (Cue sad trombone.) He remained in the Adelaide Gaol until the beginning of August 1851. During September, the publican’s licence for “The Billy Barlow” was transferred to Charles Edward Walsh.
Issues relating to his debts in South Australia were not resolved until after November 1853 — If they ever were at all.
WAh WAh WA!
Harriet and Edward’s third child together (and first son) might have been born either in South Australia or Western Australia, or even at sea between the two colonies. Either way, they were all safely relocated to Fremantle in Western Australia by the time Charles Henry Taylor was christened in a Catholic church on 11 December 1853.
Fremantle, 1853
Taylor immediately got to work ingratiating himself with the locals. The the local issue of the moment was news of the discovery of gold over in the eastern colonies — and how the majority of the Western Australia’s free labourers now seemed determined to hop on the first boat they could find bound for Victoria.
The horror of the situation that the great and the good in Western Australia were now facing, was that that they might be left solely with the company of the convict workforce they lobbied so hard to get sent to them not so many years before. They had got the convicts in because the free mechanics and labourers about seemed to prefer working for themselves and not for masters who treated and paid them like rubbish.
Only now was it beginning to dawn on the merchants and traders of the colony was that it was those same independent men and their families the had recently scorned as “drunkards and wastrels” who spent real money in their establishments and kept the economy ticking over.
A very serious meeting was held in Fremantle to discuss the crisis (which, naturally, Edward Hales Taylor attended). The decision was taken that only the discovery of gold in their own colony, could persuade theircustomers respectable citizens to stay.
The meeting resolved to raise £1000 as a reward for the one who could find gold in Western Australia. About a third of that amount was promised during the evening. One of the largest amounts pledged to the cause was £20 from one “E. H. Taylor”. It was money he certainly did not possess. Fortunately for him, another three decades would pass before a payable gold discovery was made in Western Australia, and by then, he had long moved on.
Instead, Taylor formed an informal partnership with a ticket-of-leave convict named Theodore Krakouer to speculate in trade goods between Fremantle and Bunbury. Krakouer brought with him his experience as a teamster to make a land journey between the two port towns, plus the money to buy the cart to transport the goods— which seemed to consist mainly of a great quantity of tobacco. Taylor brought to the enterprise — his gift of the gab?
Krakouer was a Polish Jew. Poland was another of those territories which backed the wrong side in the Napoleonic wars. Here, the spoils went to the Russian Empire who made it a policy to persecute those of his religion. Krakouer was highly literate, but that literacy was confined to Hebrew and study of the Talmud. Then refugee in England, he could not write that language and could barely speak it. A little bit of petty swindling (just to survive) saw him sent to Britain’s last convict colony. Taylor wrote letters and dealt with various other businesses on Krakouer’s behalf. Sometime along the way, Taylor also manage to convince himself that he was the senior partner in their enterprise.
The speculation was a disaster.
Taylor returned to Fremantle alone with horse and cart. Krakouer remained in Bunbury, detained by the customs office down there. Dodgy tobacco was dodgy tobacco. Taylor returned the hired horse to it’s owner up in Perth — Mr George Haysom of the Horse and Groom Hotel. He still owed Haysom money, if not for horse hire, then for his outstanding bill on his bar tab. It was Taylor who offered to sell the cart to the publican. Haysom did not really want the cart, but he must have realised this it was the only way he was ever going to see any of what he was owed. He had no idea yet there was another party involved.
The cart was valued at £25. Taylor demanded £26. Haysom was firm. Taylor folded. Haysom offered Taylor a drink gratis, to seal the deal. Taylor pocketed the money, minus expenses owed. There were now a lot of expenses.
After Krakouer managed to extract himself from the clasp of the Bunbury authorities (only temporarily as it turned out), he was understandably livid with his alleged business partner. From the resultant court case it is unclear if he was angry because Taylor had sold his livelihood for a bar tab, or he sold the cart too cheap. Either way, Taylor’s now sublime bullshitting skills deflected that fury on to Mr George Haysom instead.
They had a meeting with Haysom, after which he agreed to return the cart to Turner, but only to Turner. Why would he have handed it over to Krakouer when Taylor was the one he had been dealing with up till now? So Krakouer consulted a lawyer and sued… George Haysom.
LOCAL AND DOMESTIC INTELLIGENCE. It may be remembered that at the July Sessions, Edward Hales Taylor was convicted of perjury and sentenced to a term of 18 months for his crime. We understand that already this man has been allowed a remission of the remainder of his sentence upon representations which have been made to the Government, acting more upon their kindlier feelings than their better judgement. We merely notice this case from a feeling that justice should at all events be carried out, in our present position, and no handle given to our bond population for finding fault with the manner in which our laws are dealt out to our free inhabitants.
Quite how soon after his release Edward Hales Taylor and family fled from Western Australia cannot yet be determined with any accuracy. The last possible date that can be inferred was before May 1856 (nearly two years later), when the postmaster-general for WA reported that correspondence for both “Mr and Mrs E. H. Taylor” remained uncollected in his office.
The last three children of Edward Hales Taylor and Harriet were born in Cape Town, Cape Colony, between 15 February 1857, 1 August 1859, and 3 May 1863. They had returned to the land of Harriet’s birth, while Edward Hales Taylor (senior) returned to the profession he was born into — that of victualler and publican.
Edward Hales Taylor died on the job in the Masonic Hotel, Wymberg (a suburb of Cape Town), Cape Colony on 18 October 1875. He was buried in the churchyard of St John Wynberg, on 21 Oct 1875.
This ratbag should be an intensely interesting subject for further study, however I will not be the one to do it. Edward Hales Taylor is but one of many examples of rabbit holes I could dive down (and to be fair — I usually do —whether I can afford the time or not).
This and the proceeding article on the court case were the result of about four days of intensive research.
I don’t get paid to write any of this, so it’s now back to writing that bloody book about James bloody Dyson… something someone one day might even hand over bloody money to see.
There was nothing particularly unusual about the citizens of Perth suing each other in the civil courts during the 19th Century. It was more out of the ordinary not to be embroiled in some sort of legal action at any given moment. Being able to sh*tpost on social media instead, as a means of passing the time, lay a century or more into the future.
George Haysom (1822 – 1868) was a successful carter, publican, horse-breeder and wheelwright — among his many positive personal attributes. His eternal fame in Western Australian history should be inviolable, for he was the first man ever in Perth to roast a bullock in public AND be the owner of the first ever horse in the colony to die of snake bite (that anyone knew of).
On Tuesday, 9 May 1854 it was Mr George Haysom’s turn to appear before the Commissioner as a defendant. He was represented this day by lawyer George Frederick Stone. His two prosecutors retained George Walpole Leake to represent them.
Back in January, Haysom hired out one of his horses to this pair of speculators so they could transport some trade goods from Fremantle down to Bunbury. His horse was returned to him a couple of weeks later, but he still awaited a settling of the account, and that was when one of the customers returned to him with a proposition to sell him the cart used for the run — some of the proceeds from the sale would be returned to him to cover what he was owed.
After some intense haggling over the cart’s value, they agreed on the sum of £25. To seal the deal, Haysom produced a bottle of ale (at his own expense) — “to wet the bargain” — That was how he rolled.
Haysom had only been in possession of his new ride a couple of days when he was accosted by the other man who demanded to know why he had possession of “his” cart.
Soon afterwards, the first individual who sold him the cart returned and begged him to let them both have it back. Haysom was fundamentally a decent sort. After a conference in the small parlour of his “Horse & Groom Tavern” with both the partners present this time, he agreed to return the cart if he was repaid his accumulated debt — a sum of £7 11s 2d.
They agreed. Haysom was not paid in cash, but with a promissory note due at six weeks in the future. The following evening he received a letter from Mr George Walpole Leake, the lawyer for one of the partners, demanding damages for the detention and injury of the cart.
[…]what the deuce did you send me such a letter for ?”
The case was heard in the Old Court House building (the one impossible to take seriously once you have heard someone ask if it is the public toilet block for the Supreme Court gardens). The testimony of all the witnesses, who included Haysom and both his prosecutors, were presented in excruciating detail three day later in one of the local papers.
All that really needs to be explained is that one of the prosecutors had sold their cart to Haysom without consulting his co-owner beforehand.
The verdict was duly delivered in Haysom’s favour — as it should have been. None of this would be remotely interesting were it not for the summing up of the prosecutor’s legal representative after the last witness had delivered his testimony and was thoroughly cross-examined over it. Remember, Leake was being paid to advocate on behalf of the plaintiffs in this case…
Mr Leake said he felt so disgusted with the cross-swearing which took place in that Court, that in the present instance he must request of His Honor to commit one party or the other for trial for perjury —he did not care which.
And here is where this article might ordinarily have concluded.
George Haysom is an important figure in James Dyson’s story, alongside that of the Sons of Australia Benefit Society, and the history of the Perth City Council. — but it is his (carefully unnamed up to now) prosecutors that deserve a bit more attention.
Theodore Krakouer (1818 -1877) was the one who initiated the legal action against Haysom. He was a Western Australian ticket-of-leave convict about who a lot has already been written because he has descendents famous for playing Australian rules football.
He was the wronged party in this court case, however the one who he should have taken to court was not Haysom, but his erstwhile business partner, a shadowy figure by the name of Edward Hale(s) Taylor. It was he who sold the cart they co-owned while his partner was otherwise detained. It was Taylor who was subsequently sentenced to 18 months imprisonment for perjury after the civil trial.
Krakouer deserves to be better known, but as far as I can tell, no one has ever put together all the pieces of Edward Hale(s) Taylor‘s story before. A rough attempt begins next.
There was one frustrating absence from all the convict documents digitised and available through the Libraries Tasmania site that directly pertain to the convict James Dyson. The link to the General Correspondence File of the Colonial Secretary’s Office (CSO1) tells you what it is, but not what it contains.
Much as I would dearly love to visit Tasmania again and wallow amongst the microfilm, that’s not going to be possible any time soon. Then, thanks to a lead not affiliated with any of the “official” sources of knowledge, I learnt that a certain religious sect have in their possession the entire lot on microfilm and offer it free on their web site.
These images are catalogued on familysearch, but give no searchable clue what these scans contain. The Tasmanian Archive’s site gives you slightly more than a clue but refuses to connect to the scans the Mormons have published. Or even let you know this source exists at all!
5 November 2024 Update:
Beware of the Leopard
The scanned CSO documents are on the Library Tasmania web portal. Its possible they may always have been, but were so difficult to find they may as well not have been.
The Convict Ship Moffatt arrived in Hobart Town on 9 May 1834 carrying convict James Dyson. I’ve managed to piece together a pretty detailed narrative of the voyage by piecing together contemporary newspaper articles, The Surgeon-Superintendent’s report (translated from the Latin), the way the voyage was supposed to proceed (according to Thomas Braidwood Wilson’s book and Lieutenant Governor Arthur’s evidence to a parliamentary committee), and what actually happened (according to the diary of a private passenger onboard ship.)
The hitherto un-transcribed dossier of letters from the Colonial Secretary’s Office have proved to all be about the arrival of the Moffatt at Hobart and I’m relieved to find that I seemed to have got most of the facts straight — working it out the hard way. You, the potential reader of Dyson’s Swamp will have to endure many fewer “possibly’s” or “probably’s” when I review this chapter.
What makes me happiest is that it confirms to me that Thomas Braidwood Wilson (R.N) Esquire, Surgeon Superintendent in charge of the welfare of every Convict on board the Moffatt was as full of shit as I always suspected him to be.
I am also delighted to discover Captain William Moriarty plays an additional role in James Dyson’s history – it turns out he was the first new face he ever saw in Van Diemen’s Land.
Sir I have the honor to acquaint you that agreeably to your request I have inspected the Transport Ship Moffatt arrived in this Port on the 9th Instant and have mustered the Convicts on board of her. The appearance of the vessel was creditable and cleanly, and that of the men healthy. I individually interrogated them as to the treatment they met with during the passage, and they expressed themselves perfectly satisfied thencewith, in regard to their provisions and in every other respect. Four Hundred Prisoners were embarked on board this Vessel five of whom have died during the passage, one drowned, and one absconded since his embarkation * I do myself the honor of forwarding herewith the papers called for by your instructions A. the Surgeons Superintendent with the exception of No. 4 which as Dr Wilson had [not?] closed his Accounts was not yet ready and Which he has promised to forward on Monday the 12th Inst
I have the honor to be Sir Your very Obedient Servant Wm Morriarty Port Officer
Jno Burnett Esq Colonial Secretary
CSO1/1/719 Page 15674 no 39, 40
* Then there was this glorious annotation to the report by the Colonial Secretary obviously on the behalf of an incensed Colonel Arthur:
Prepare a letter to Dr Wilson R N The Surgeon Supt requesting him to state the particulars of this man’s escape & where & when it took place
CSO1/1/719 Page 15674 no 40
Wilson’s reply from onboard Moffatt proves once and for all that a medical man’s handwriting is always borderline unreadable (at least it was not in Latin this time). My interpretation of this scrawl is underneath the image (I’m not quite that much of a bastard). —
N.B. the original scans on a certain web site are of a much higher resolution.
Sir I have received your letter of this day’s date requesting me to state for His Excellency’s information, the particulars relative to the escape of a prisoner from this ship. On the 3rd Jany about 6 A.M. it was reported to me that a prisoner named J. Davies was missing. This man was one of a party who assisted in getting water from the hold & consequently was always on deck at daylight. On the morning of the above mentioned date, the prisoner went into the drop[!] on pretence of being unwell, the next person who had occasion to go there found the prisoners apparel & half of his chains near the privy. A boat with a non commissioned officer & party of the guard was immediately depart south to search all the Vessels in the sound & another to examine the lee Shore. Information was given to the proper authorities at Plymouth. & I also wrote to the Home office on the Subject & I enclose Mr Cappers answer No fault can be attributed to the guard nor to any other person
I have the honor to be Sir your most Obedient Servant [Mostly Illegible signature]
CSO1/1/719 Page 15674 no 41
So this is it. Probably the last post of 2022. A year I discovered this site still banned on Western Australian government filtered servers for reasons of … pornography. I am guessing this is down to my use of a certain … word. When I discovered this some years ago I removed what I thought was the offending word on a certain page. As I seem to be permanently on a black list with no obvious way of appealing the ban or even finding out on what grounds my domain was banned in the first place, I may as well use what words I feel like without filtering myself.
This particular entity was the New South Wales and Van Diemen’s Land Establishment, established 1825. After they failed to acquire any land in NSW for their venture into large scale farming in the colonies, it was rebranded as The Cressy Establishment, Cressy Company, or (most obscurely of all) the Van Diemen’s Land Establishment.
This Establishment should not be confused with the Van Diemen’s Land Company, ALSO founded at the same time and operated in both NSW and VDL. Most internet searches for the Establishment will return matches for the VDL Company instead, by virtue of the latter still being a going concern today (2022). The Establishment was over by 1855.
The VDL Company‘s estates were located in the north western corner of VDL, while the Establishment lands were located south of Launceston on the Norfolk Plains, around the towns of Longford and what would later be named Cressy.
Longford was initially named Latour after one of the seven gentlemen investors in the Establishment. Colonel Peter Lautour would later on destroy at least two investment and colonisation schemes in the Swan River Colony, which would directly impact the future of a VDL convict who was yet to be assigned to his VDL properties, before seeking a fresh start in Western Australia.
It’s all very convoluted.
Convict James Dyson was assigned to work for the Van Diemen’s Land Establishment all of four days between 2 and 5 October 1837. The magistrate he was hauled before on that final date was James Cubbinston Sutherland, who farmed on the Isis River south of Cressy. Sutherland was a JP for the adjacent Campbell Town Police District, and that was where Dyson was sent for his next dose of condign chastisement.
Imperfect map with Cressy on it. Sutherland’s land is located centre bottom.
The manager of the VDL Establishment on these dates was James Denton Toosey. What is unascertainable by me is precisely which portion of the estate Dyson had been assigned to, other than that it was probably on the southern range of the Establishment. I have no idea if was to Toosey Dyson was insubordinate to, or some other overseer. I have not been able to find a decent map of the Cressy Establishment’s holdings — if such a beast has even been drawn up.
The relatively short history of the VDL Establishment, or Cressy Company is insanely complicated to investigate, due in large part to its principal investors litigating against each other incessantly. I’ve attempted to follow some of the court cases back in England where Colonel Lautour attempts to argue (unsuccessfully) that just because he was a blithering idiot was no reason he should not get his money back.
Unfortunately, you’ve not read the last of Colonel Peter Lautour.
Or should that be M’Kie, M’Kee, McKee, McKie, Mackie, Mackay or Mc’Kie? Which variation of spelling you choose to use depends on the year, the season, or the aspect of the moon at midnight.
Samuel McKie (Henceforth to be spelt (McKee) was born about the year 1800 in County Tyrone, Ireland. He married Ann Hall in the Parish of Camus, in the same County on 30 December 1821.
By the year 1830 he was resident in Liverpool, England, prior to immigrating to the Australian Colonies. He did his due diligence — so when he sailed on the barque Brenda with wife, three children and a servant, bound for Van Diemen’s Land as a free settler, he had in his possession a letter of introduction from Downing Street, allowing him authority to apply for land grants in NSW or VDL. This letter was dated 29 January 1831.
There was consternation in officialdom after he arrived in Van Diemen’s Land on 19 December 1831. The land grant rules had been changed, and McKee was no longer eligible for grants under the new rules. McKee did acquire some farm land near the town of Launceston eventually, however whether this was a grant or he had to expend his capital in purchasing the same is unknown.
Later that same year his circumstances were so reduced that he was now employed in the store of a Mr William Walkinshaw as a clerk. In January 1833, McKee and several other employees of Mr Walkinshaw were acquitted of assaulting one William Lushington Goodwin over an outstanding debt. The trial excited much public interest:
He applied to purchase some land north of George Town from the government for a commercial venture in March 1835. His application was rejected “Because not in accord with King’s Regulations”
Samuel McKee had many convict servants assigned to him over the years. Unlike so many others, we know the names of more than a few of those assigned to him. As is usually the case, the only reason these names are known is that something went wrong. In the case of McKee, either he hated — or liked them too much.
Oops!
Bridget Monningham (almost certainly not her correct name) was back in the Female House of Correction in Launceston by the date she gave birth to Samuel MacKee’s daughter. Elizabeth McKee was born 3 August 1836.
(Eighteen years on, this event might be related to a brawl on the Launceston docks when one of McKee’s other children received a £5 fine for defending his sister’s honour.)
…Mr. Rocher for the defence urged that there must have been something behind the curtain to justify the assault, and if the account which he had heard were true, Fisher deserved not only what he had received, but a great deal more. He was informed, that a mob of had followed defendant and his sister all the way from the Cornwall, calling after them and frequently jostling them. …
…defendant and his sister were returning on the evening the assault was committed from Ali-Ben-Sou-Alle’s concert, and that on the way home, a mob of fellows bustled and insulted Miss M’Kee. After taking his sister home, Mr. M’Kee, sen., and his son went in pursuit of the persons who had offered the unmanly indignities to the young lady, when they met Mr. Fisher and his witness opposite the Victoria Hotel, where an altercation ensued…
The Cornwall Chronicle (Launceston, Tas. : 1835 – 1880) 25 October 1854 page 5
At the other end of the spectrum was an odious creature by the name of Patrick Matheson:
SIR, —Having seen in your paper of the 15th instant, a statement of Mr. W. Peel’s, respecting my conduct in the Masterson business, — I beg to offer to you and the public, in justification of my character, the following reply : […]
1st In my service only two hours— Insolence — 10 days solitary confinement.
2nd When three days out of cells — Absconded—two year’s ADDITION— 4th conviction.
3rd. — By Mrs. Mc’Kee — Insolence— reprimanded — in my absence.)
4th— By ditto, ditto, ditto.
5th— By myself- -for being absent without leave — turned into Government, to be made a Messenger. (See Gazette of 10th March last.)
6th— By myself — for being caught in a room in my dwelling-house, concealed under a bed —six months hard labor.
Now, Sir, this is the man Peel says I recommended to be made a constable of. How could I, or any man of reason or common sense be guilty of such a thing, after such a catalogue of offences, and he in my service only two months. […]
I shall let the matter rest for the present, and say no more on the subject, although I could fill a quire of paper on this fellow’s offences. — I am , Sir, your obedient servant,
Somewhere in the middle was George Hayle, who escaped punishment for drinking after hours, only due to the good word of his master
Otherwise, McKee was not too fussed about which assigned servant he tussled with. One court case in February 1838 saw him charged with assaulting the (unnamed) assigned servant of a fellow settler named Edward Umphelby.
The unluckiest of McKees’s assigned servants has to have been Thomas Roper. He was reported by McKee at various times for disorderly conduct (25 lashes), Disobedience of Orders, Insolence, and being Out of the house. Roper died in Launceston Hospital on 16 July 1838, still assigned to McKee, aged 42. Reported cause of death: “Visitation of God.”
Samuel McKee was declared insolvent for the first time in March 1839. Since 1837 he had been in the employ of Mr Henry Dowling, sometimes editor and publisher of the Launceston Advertiser. By 1839 at least, McKee was editing Dowling’s paper for him — Which was just asking for trouble:—
Has not Samuel M’Kee, who is so free in his remarks about Goodman Hart—who has shewn the consummate bravery to attack the unhappy fellow after his hands are pinioned and he is prostrate— gone on in his business of a cow-keeper and farmer, ever since, as though he never had been insolvent? Has this renowned and creditable Samuel McKee, Editor of the renowned and creditable Advertiser, ever paid his creditors one shilling ?”
The Cornwall Chronicle (Launceston, Tas. : 1835 – 1880) 5 October 1839 page 2.
Some weeks after this, McKee was notified another convict servant was available to be assigned to his service from the Depot at Launceston. He collected convict James Dyson on 11 November 1839, however barely two months later he returned him to the depot on 8 January 1840. He no longer required his service.
McKee had money troubles throughout 1841 and was declared insolvent again.
By 1842 he was appointed the Government Poundkeeper at Green Ponds (now Kempton, although why you would change such an excellent name as Green Ponds is beyond me). Green Ponds is quite a distance from his property in Launceston, so he must have been desperate for work. In 1843 He was appointed Inspector of Stock in the same district.
At Deloraine, northern Tasmania, there is a grand Georgian-style house on the grounds of a property called Calstock. This was not built by Lieutenant Pearson Foote of the Royal Navy (1792-1871), but by a subsequent owner of the estate.
Today, the building that was not his home is a four star hotel.
Calstock and Harewood were the names of two properties owned by Lt Foote in the Westbury district of Van Diemen’s Land from the 1820’s to the 1840’s. Pearson (or Pierson) Foote was born in Cornwall, England on 5 April 1798. He was the fifth of eight children born to John Pierson Foote and Mary Thorn at Harewood House by the village of Calstock.
His father dropped dead in June 1809. Pierson was his third son, so was never going to inherit the family estate even if he was old enough to at the time. Instead he joined the Royal Navy and was enrolled as an officer on 1 October 1824. Lt. Pearson Foote, RN, never seems to have been given command of a ship.
Instead, Mr. P. Foote sailed in cabin class on the barque Nancy (H. Pryce, RN, commander) from England on 11 July 1829, reaching Van Diemen’s Land some time in March 1830. Some months after that he was granted land in the Westbury district in the north of the island and by August at least, had been granted the first of the assigned convicts he would use to develop his property.
On 23 November 1830 he married Susan Parker, daughter of a neighbour on the Norfolk Plains. A record of this marriage was kept by the Admiralty against any potential claims for a future Royal Navy widow’s pension.
Foote’s first property was on the Dairy Plains, which he named Harewood. He put Harewood up for sale after he acquired land at Deloraine.
Being one of the Gentry, and thus eligible to use the epithet “Esquire” after his name, he was part of such worthy mutual admiration societies as the “Cornwall Agricultural Association” (Not the English one) and the local Horticultural Society. As a matter of course, he was appointed a Justice of the Peace and a magistrate for his region.
His Excellency and suite then proceeded to dinner to the house of Lieut. Foote, R.N. at Deloraine, where that gentleman has done so much to improve his estate by clearing and breaking up the soil, building, &c.
During March 1836 he hosted Lt-Governor Arthur himself at his residence at Deloraine. Afterward he attached his name to some grovelling in case his nose wasn’t brown enough.
SIR,—We, the undersigned residents in the Northern Division of the Island, desire to express to your Excellency the satisfaction we have experienced at the visit you have made to its capital, and while we regret that your public avocations forbid a more prolonged one, we look forward to an early renewal of it, when we hope to have an opportunity afforded us of evincing our feeling towards yourself and Mrs. Arthur, by some public demonstration of respect. We have the honor to be, Sir, Your most obedient humble servants, Tho. Archer, M. L. C. J. D. Toosey, V.D.L. Est. W. P. Weston J. P. R. Vincent Legge, J. P. Wm. Archer J. P. M. Franks G. Yeoland J.P. Wm. Seccombe, J.P. W. Paton J.P. Henry Jennings Alfred Wm. Horne J.P. Pearson Foote, J.P.
In late October 1838, he was assigned a convict named James Dyson to his service. In late November he sent the wretched man to Captain Moriarty to deal with for idleness and neglect of duty. Moriarty sentenced him to six months hard labour with the Snake Banks road gang before he was returned to Foote’s service about May 1839. Dyson was sent back to the depôt at Launceston by October. Foote may not have wanted him back.
The town of Deloraine, Tasmania, in 2017 before I knew anything about the place.
Over half a century ago Deloraine could boast of some distinguished naval and military men among the first land owners of the district for, in addition to Captain Moriarty at Dunorlan, there was that fine type of an English gentleman, Lieutenant Pearson Foote, R.N., the first owner of Calstock and Harwood, both of which properties he named after the family estates of the Footes in Devonshire, England, opposite Cote Hele, the seat of the Earl of Mount Edgecombe, a branch of which distinguished family our old and respected resident, Mr. J. L. Edgecombe claims to be. […][Foote] is spoken of by those who had the pleasure of his acquaintance as a most hospitable, if somewhat eccentric gentleman, who used to have a flag pole near where Calstock house now stands, the arranging and hoisting of flags on which used to occupy a considerable portion of his time.
It’s important to state that Lt Pearson Foote was stark staring raving mad. If he was anyone other than a ‘gentleman’ he would have been locked up.
Deloraine in 2017. I visited the town before I knew there was a connection there I needed to investigate.
About the time a certain convict was due to be returned to Foote’s service, a bushranger gang swept through the Deloraine district. People were robbed. A man was murdered. The local constable claimed it never happened and blamed his constituents for getting into a panic, including one — unnamed — gentleman. —
[…] That no particular alarm exists among the settlers, is evident from the circumstances of one of them who lives beyond Deloraine having refused the protection of a party of constables, who were patrolling for the purpose of quieting the fears he might have entertained from the reports before alluded to. Another gentleman in the neighbourhood whose fears have been much excited, took the best precaution he could to protect his own person by surrounding himself with a party of young and amiable females, by far the most desirable and agreeable body guard he could have selected. I am, Sir, Your obedient servant, THOMAS JEFFCOTT, District Constable. Westbury. V. D. Land, April 23, 1829.
Jeffcott’s detractors (of whom there were many) were not so coy in their responses…
… We applaud the gentleman’s courage, certainly, and have no hesitation in declaring it to be our opinion, that any MAN cloaking his own person from injury inside a barrier made of females, deserves immortalizing ; and we propose that an address be at once “got up,” declaratory of the gentleman’s heroism, and be entrusted to the District Constable for signatures, which may easily be procured amongst the chain-gangs, shingle-splitters and sawyers in the bush, provided always that the canvasser is authorized to promise tickets-of-leave and other sorts of indulgences.
… I cannot answer with regard to Lieutenant Foote’s being surrounded by a guard of “young and amiable females,” but I rather imagine they existed more in Mr. Jeffcot’s fanciful ideas, or perchance he was commencing to dream when he penned this sentence, However, it is now the ungracious task of Lieutenant Foote, as a magistrate, as a husband, and as a man, to come boldly forward and clear his character of that blemish which has been cut upon it (I am sure most unwittingly) by the foolish correspondent of the Launceston Advertiser. — I remain, dear Mr. Editor, yours, obediently, SUBSCRIBER Westbury, May 1.
On, or just before 7 December 1837, Henry Nickolls, master of the Corra Linn estate on the Patterson Plains, was punched in the head by a newly-assigned employee and warned by him that “there was more where that came from”. Which is something of an inversion of the typical master / servant relationship.
This is only one possible interpretation that the historical record allows… but it’s how I’d like to imagine the confrontation between Nickolls and convict James Dyson played out. It makes for a more lurid opening line than “Assaulting and Threatening Violence to his Master” which is as close to an accurate translation as can be gleaned from James Dyson’s surviving Convict conduct record generated for his time in Van Diemen’s Land.
A generic Convict Chain Gang. Accuracy not vouched for.
But who was Henry Nickolls, about whom Dyson made a judgement call that it was better to spend the six months in a road gang than have to endure any more than three days with him as a master?
Henry Nickolls, Esq.
Was born in Little Stukely, Huntingdonshire (now part of Cambridgeshire) towards the end of the year 1793. Aged 33, he married 29 year old Charlotte Wilkins on 23 August 1826. Next month, the newly-weds sailed from London to Van Diemen’s Land on the ship Admiral Cockburn, arriving in Hobart on 14 February 1827.
Nickolls was sent out by two gentleman brothers to manage and farm on their behalf the extensive properties they had acquired in the Colony. Their names were…
These two “gentlemen” — a politician and soldier respectively, were brothers. Sir John changed his name so he could inherit a prosperous estate in Pembrokeshire with a baronetcy attached. This estate in Wales (the old one, not the New South one) was named Orielton. He also inherited a seat in parliament as part of the deal.
Edward Lord had once been a soldier of the officer class. He was kicking around Van Diemen’s Land since the time of the original British incursion. He had even been an acting-Governor briefly back in 1810 when his most notable act in office was burning all the incriminating documents from his predecessor’s reign. He was hated by his peers, but having a politician brother who was now a minor aristocrat meant they both wangled some of the choicest land grants in the Colony along with the worst of them.
The brother’s estate of Orielton in Van Diemen’s land, near the town of Sorrell, seems to have been run productively by Nickolls. Nickoll’s speciality was cattle and horse breeding. The issues that eventually arose between he and his employers might have been due to his one absentee boss needing more and more money to fund his political habit. (Owen was gobsmacked his constituents keep fielding alternate candidates against him at election time just because he didn’t represent their interests). Richard Lord on the other hand, was probably just being a ruthless arsehole.
Whether Nickolls was replaced voluntarily or otherwise as agent for Owen and Lord is not clear. However from 1 September 1831, it was Alexander Goldie now in charge at Orielton and the brother’s other interests, with the mandate to wring as much cash out of the cows for his employers as possible.
Nickolls was also of the gentlemany class. While still working for Sir John Owen (Bart), he made successful application for land grants on his own account despite merely being a well-paid employee for Sir John. He was also appointed a Justice of the Peace by the Governor very soon after his arrival, which is a mark of some esteem from a soldier for someone who only obvious connection with soldiering was as sometimes-agent to someone no-one trusted.
Nickoll’s initial land grant was for 2000 acres in the Brighton district in 1828. He next applied for 2500 acres more in the Morven District near the South Esk River during 1833. “Corra Linn” is located by the North Esk in the same district, so if this is not a typographical error, and his application really was approved — the latter may be the land near the town of Longford where he finally resided.
His first attempt at free enterprise, after separating from Owen and Lord, was winning a tender to provide a mail service between Hobart Town and Launceston. — Entirely on horse back. He purchased six used saddles from the government for the purpose. But the gloomy prediction of one of the Launceston newspapers proved prescient —
We have already stated that Mr. Nichols has obtained the contract for the conveyance of the mail throughout the Island. It is taken at £990, ferries free, and commences on the 2nd June. We wish him success. Individuals who by any means benefit the community are justly entitled to their earnings, but we fear that the present most infamous state of the roads, and want of bridges, are more likely to ruin a contractor than to put money in his pocket. The present system of colonial government is altogether bad, and until the desired change takes place, but little good may be expected by the community.”
We can probably assume that Henry Nickolls lost his deposit.
He was in government service as the Commandant of Flinders Island between September 1834 and November 1835. He was not ruling another convict establishment, although none of the 134 or so inhabitants under his management were free to leave.
They were as many of the First Nations peoples in British occupied Van Diemen’s Land as could be captured alive after the genocidal war of conquest of their land. It was not identified as such in the terminology of the day, but Henry Nickolls was Commandant of one of the world’s first concentration camps. By the time this settlement was abandoned in 1847, only 47 Palawa still left alive.
He next turned down further government employment as a manager on the Launceston docks. When he also appeared to reject an official appointment at Circular Head with the VDL Company (where his nemesis Alexander Goldie was once employed), that government was through with him.
He had attempted to pressure the administration by name dropping all the worthies he was writing to back in Britain to lobby on his behalf. Being written to sternly by Lord Fitzwilliam and the Bishop of Chichester was not enough to sway the Colonial Secretary. The regretful notation on his letter of pleading reads-
I wish I could do something for Henry Nickolls but alas I cannot.
Instead, one year later (or by January 1837 at the latest), Henry Nickolls was in residence at Corra Linn.
Gateway to the Corra Linn Estate off Relbia Road in 2017The road to Corra Linn 2017
Corra Linn / Corra Lynn
The land around the North Esk river known as Patterson Plains also was the location of government stockyards acquired by Lieutenant David Rose after he retired from the army in 1814. There is a waterfall and gorge on the North Esk river adjacent to the property that resembles (somewhat) one from his native Scotland.
The heir to his estate seems have been Alexander Rose, a nephew. It must have been he, a decade later, who leased some of that land to Nickolls. The Rose family retained other portions of the inheritance to work themselves, so Henry Nickolls next did his bit for neighbourly relations by taking Alexander to court over a barn that he commissioned him to complete which did not live up to his gentlemanly expectations.
… At the instigation of Mr. Home, the witness, Gardiner, was asked how wide the spaces were between the logs, to which he answered that towards the ground they were not wider than to admit a man’s arm, but they encreased towards the top. Mr. Home — Cannot pigs get in ? Witness— Not unless they were to FLY !
Henry Nickolls was out of Corra Linn by January 1840, but was still a presence in the district. Then Alexander Rose and his family departed Van Diemen’s Land for a few years and the next time Corra Linn is up for rent, a Mr Gilles of Sandhill is managing the deal.
There are really only two ways of interpreting the situation when the wife of a gentleman goes very suddenly into business on her own account during this era. Either she has suddenly come into some wealth that her genteel husband has no access to, OR the couple’s finances have deteriorated so badly that he had to send the missus out to work to keep cigars and cognac on the table.
Henry Nickolls, Esquire, now of the town of Longford in Norfolk Plains district, placed himself into voluntary administration for insolvency on 18 July 1842.
Under the Insolvency of Mr. Henry Nickols, of Norfolk Plains, and by order of John Atkinson, Esq., Assignee. TO BE SOLD BY PUBLIC AUCTION, By Mr. B. Francis, On the premises at Norfolk Plains, on THURSDAY and FRIDAY, the 15th and 16th September, at twelve o’clock precisely, TWELVE FRENCH BEDSTEADS, Chintz and dimity furniture Wool mattresses Feather beds and bedding Rosewood, loo, telescope, and dining tables Cheffioniers, sofas, couches Sets of chairs, plate, linen China, glass And 150 volumes of sundry books Fourteen capital milch cows Thirteen steers and heifers Six working bullocks One Hereford bull Two useful saddle horses One jaunting car Sets of harness, &c. ALSO, All the farming implements A strong bullock cart One horse cart Ploughs, harness Dairy utensils And numerous other effects. The auctioneer particularly calls the attention of gentlemen and others to the above furniture, the whole being of a very superior order, and nearly new. The cattle have been selected with care, and known to be first class. TERMS — Under £25, cash ; above that sum, an approved endorsed bill at 3 months.
The Nickolls family lost their bedsteads but kept their house. Not much is heard from Henry Nickolls in the newspapers after that. He was presented to the Governor at a Levee held in Launceston during 1843. He resigned as a Justice of the Peace the same year, then tried his luck again with the Government for work, applying for a paid appointment in the Convict Department at Launceston. He also applied for a magistrates’ gig in his old stomping ground back in Sorrell in 1850.
By now, the next generation of his family were emerging into public view when his son Henry Berkeley Nickolls was appointed postmaster to Bishopsbourne, a locality east of Longford in 1849.
Henry Nickolls died at Longford 30 December 1872, aged 78.
Nickolls seems to be both the historically correct and the preferred spelling of his family name, however, every other permutation (Nickol, Nicholls, Nichols) will appear somewhere in relation to this individual or his family. Henry and Caroline did have children, a distressingly large number of then died in infancy during their years at Corra Linn.
He is not to be confused in the historical record with a Henry Nickolls, farmer of Brighton, Tasmania who died in 1885, or the convict named Henry Nickolls who arrived on the convict transport Moffatt, (but a later voyage than the one that brought James Dyson to Van Diemens’ Land!)
.png)
