Circles of Fortune: A Story of Adventure, Hardship, Courage and Love

CIRCLES

of  FORTUNE

A story of adventure, hardship,

courage and love

HELEN LAING

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Copyright 2018 © Helen Laing

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List of Illustrations

1. Map of Australia showing where the Governor Ready was shipwrecked. Voyage Round the World.  T. B. Wilson 1835. iii

2. Wreck of the Governor Ready in the Torres Strait. Lithograph from a sketch by Lieut. Weston 1829. Voyage Round the World T.B. Wilson. 4

3. Jolly-boat crew soliciting to be received into the long boat. Lithograph from a sketch by Lieut. Weston 1829. Voyage Round the World. T. B.Wilson. 14

4. Dance of the Aborigines of Raffles Bay. Lithograph from a sketch by Lieut. Weston 1829. Voyage Round the World. T.B. Wilson. 36

5. Crew of French ship L’Astrolobe make contact with Aborigines, King George Sound. 1826 Louis Leborne. Lithograph. National Library Australia. 64

6. Map of Wilson’s exploration route through area north of Albany. 76

7. Sydney in all its Glory. Watercolour. Edward Close sketchbook. Mitchell Library NSW    118

8. Picnic at Mrs Macquarie’s Chair. Oil painting. Unknown artist. Dixson Galleries State Library NSW    154

9. Black Swan. Watercolour. Unknown artist. State Library NSW... 181

Preface

Why Wilson? How did I first become interested in writing this story? The truth is that it happened by chance. Some time ago a close friend, Dr David Jeffs, asked me to do some research for him. He was presenting a paper titled The Contribution of some Naval Surgeons to our Knowledge of Early Western Australia at the National Conference of the Australian Society of the History of Medicine. The three surgeons he chose were Isaac Scott Nind, Thomas Braidwood Wilson, and Alexander Collie. These doctors had all spent varying amounts of time at the tiny settlement of Fredericks Town (now Albany) where I live.

At the Battye Library in Perth I stepped back into the years between 1827 and 1835 and discovered that Wilson had written a book about his second shipwreck and his exploration around the new settlement, Swan River Colony (Perth) and Fredericks Town in 1829.

Researching Wilson for my friend, I became amazed at the diversity of his talents, his interest in all things scientific and his humane and practical approach to life. Dr Wilson had many adventures and bravely faced numerous difficulties and dangers with great courage and wisdom. Delayed in Fredericks Town, on his way to Sydney because the ship needed caulking, Wilson decided, after climbing Mount Melville to take a little trip into the interior. The spontaneous nature of this decision appealed greatly to me. His expedition went to Mt Barker, Tenterden, across to Rocky Gully, down to Mt Lindesay and Denmark and back to Albany in the searing heat of summer. This journey, on foot through country unknown to Europeans, took eleven days.

In the National Library ACT and the State Library NSW I found many valuable references and books that helped me piece together the events and characters in this story. Wilson made a record nine voyages to Australia as Surgeon Superintendent on convict ships. The prisoners held him in high regard because he treated them humanely, and improved their health and self-esteem. He also taught many convicts how to read and write on these long and dangerous journeys.

I visited Braidwood Museum, near Canberra and then walked up the hill to the graves of Thomas Braidwood Wilson, his wife and baby son. Magpies and a lone raven in the large pine trees watched me as I looked out over the charming town and countryside that held so many tales of connection, hardship, happiness and broken dreams.

Wilson’s adventurous and varied life came alive to me through his book and letters to his wife. I decided to write the story in the first person, almost through his eyes. He forbade the flogging of his servants, tended the sick in his little hospital and was sympathetic to the plight of the Aborigines. He employed over a hundred people on his farm, built a road to the coast (with his own money) for the transport of wheat and wool, and a courthouse where he was one of the magistrates.

Medieval scholars often depicted Fortune as a wheel, with people climbing slowly to the top, only to come tumbling down again as the wheel continued to rotate. So it was with Wilson, an amazing life full of achievement which ended in personal tragedy. His presence can still be felt high on that Braidwood hill and he is revered in the town that bears his name.

1. Map of Australia showing where the Governor Ready was shipwrecked. Voyage Round the World.  T. B. Wilson 1835

Chapter 1

Shipwrecked. 18th of May 1829

Life is a series of surprises, we do not guess today the mood, the pleasure, the power of tomorrow, when we are building up our being.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Our present predicament is unbelievable. I am sitting in a long boat in the late afternoon watching helplessly as our gallant ship The Governor Ready is sinking!

Without charts, we had navigated our way through the hazardous Barrier Reef, along the coast of New Holland bound for Batavia where we hoped to pick up a cargo of spices before continuing on our homeward voyage to England. Feeling elated with our progress, a clear sky and good sailing conditions, we did not stop at Murray’s Island where I had, on a previous homeward voyage in 1822, spent two very happy days exploring. Our intention was to reach Halfway Island before sunset. We entered Torres Strait after negotiating the most intricate and tricky part of the reef and we had just finished a fine meal and started to relax.

I heartily congratulated Captain Young on his navigation skills and the sailing abilities of his crew who were guided only by the colour of the water around these dangerous reefs that had claimed so many vessels. Suddenly and with great force the unthinkable happened. In broad daylight, perhaps travelling too fast, the bottom of our ship smashed into a small, detached coral reef at precisely 2.45pm.

I lurched backwards and grabbed the cut glass wine decanter as it hurtled towards me. Plates and glasses crashed to the floor. The sound of coral piercing the ship was ringing in my ears. There was no time to sound the bell. The water, which swirled rapidly up to the deck, was proof of the unfolding nightmare.

Captain Young acted quickly and assembled the crew on the quarterdeck to explain that the damage to our sturdy brig was extensive and beyond repair. The gravity of our situation was etched in his strong weather-worn face.

We must endeavour to reach Melville Island. His deep voice was breaking with emotion as he added: I did hear that the settlement there is soon to be abandoned, in which case we would need to travel on to Kupang. As if on cue, George the cockatoo shrieked Bloody Hell!

The captain’s next words were chilling.

We must undertake a journey of at least 900 miles because there are no European settlements or ports along these coasts. Make haste to prepare the boats, taking with us only items needed for our survival. Be ready for the order to abandon ship.

We were all in a state of shock as we hurried to provision the three boats. The longboat had not been used for eighteen months and was in much need of caulking, however the skiff and jolly-boat appeared in good order and were fitted with sails. Captain Young, together with the first and second mate, took turns in picking the crew for each boat.

Doctor Wilson, you had better come with me because we need at least two men who can navigate. I was filled with relief at these gruff words, as I respected Captain Young and we were good friends. We quickly sorted our gear for the longboat, taking sextants, quadrants, compass, navigation books and the chronometer, while our consignment of seventeen men helped load cutlasses, muskets, a gunpowder keg, matches, a tinderbox and a keg of brandy for medicinal purposes. Each man was allowed a blanket and one or two items of clothing.

The first mate and the sailmaker were in charge of the skiff with ten crew, including the cook and his charges – two bewildered young pigs. Each boat had barrels of water and wine together with biscuit, cheese, ham, pork, salt beef, tea, sugar and candles.

The second mate and boatswain had six crew members in the jolly-boat. While the loading of provisions was taking place, some of these terrified men, anticipating the ordeal ahead, sought refuge in one of the kegs of brandy floating around the stricken vessel. Before long they were in no fit state to be useful and had to be manhandled into the jolly-boat. Stunned by the inconceivable turn of events, I had returned to my cabin to retrieve some papers and found the water starting to swirl around the cabin windows. There was nothing I could do. Then our beloved Captain gave the orders we had all been dreading.

All hands get into the boats! And after a long pause and a deep sigh. Abandon ship!

We left the ship in a fog of disbelief. She was our known world; gallantly she had taken us safely through wild gales and treacherous seas for many thousands of miles.

In the late afternoon, we took our places in the small boats and lashed them together, having decided to stay by the stricken ship until morning. A length of thick rope was attached to the flying jib boom from the longboat, ready to be cut free should the ship go down during the night. Sinking down over the horizon, the sun seemed to be shining her last rays on the sad state of our ship, the stern of which was gradually disappearing. My attention was drawn to the bottom of our longboat which was leaking badly. We needed two men to constantly bale in order to stay afloat.

2. Wreck of the Governor Ready in the Torres Strait. Lithograph from a sketch by Lieut. Weston 1829. Voyage Round the World T.B. Wilson.

I think she will take up by morning, however her condition leaves much to be desired and urgent work needs to be done, the captain said, sighing in frustration.

A few short hours ago we were looking forward to seeing our loved ones in England within months. We had the comforts of civilisation all around us on board and the luxury of an uncrowded ship, having delivered our cargo of 200 convicts safely to Sydney. Now we faced an uncertain future and a hazardous passage with many obstacles both physical and spiritual. Moreover there were many coral reefs and tiny islands waiting to smash our flimsy vessels into tiny pieces.

It was however a strange and beautiful night. I felt like a tiny speck in the vast universe, as the moon glided calmly through the starry tropical sky. The calamity that had befallen us was hard to comprehend because we had successfully negotiated the most difficult and dangerous parts of the reef.

Time seemed to move so slowly; at last the dawn came and the ship was still partly above water. I went on board with Captain Young, hoping to rescue my manuscripts and some of my medical equipment. It was too late. My cabin was under water. We needed to fit the longboat with sails but decided to set off for Halfway Island because the sailors were restless and likely to be on the hunt for more grog which they knew had been left on board. It was hard to leave the fragile security of the Governor Ready. We comforted ourselves by recounting the story of William Bligh who was set adrift in an open boat after the mutiny of HMS Bounty, eventually reaching Timor after a journey of 4,000 miles.

It was a perfect sunny morning in a most uncertain world. Our future seemed so bleak and dismal as we reluctantly cut ourselves adrift and set course for Halfway Island. Soon our stricken vessel was out of sight. In the strong breeze, we had to negotiate an extensive reef. A southeasterly swell sent spray flying into our overloaded boat saturating everything including the biscuit. However, by late morning we reached the island and spread out the soggy biscuit on some sailcloth. We took everything out of the boats so the strong sun had a chance to dry our few belongings. The parrot was most excited by being on land and the place suddenly took on picnic party feel as a fire was kindled and one of the pigs was slaughtered for dinner. The reality of our grim situation was at times simply too difficult to grasp.

A few hours later we assembled in a grove with soft, tropical vegetation and shady coconut palms. The cook was cheered as he produced a sumptuous feast of roast pork. Our one remaining pig, tethered to a nearby tree, was happily rolling in the dirt, watched by George the nosey, noisy parrot. There was no fresh water on this small island, so we washed our dinner down with wine and felt elated and sleepy. We stretched out and listened to the gentle lapping of the sea, seemingly with not a care in the world. It was surreal!

In this trance-like state I thought about my darling wife Jeanie Jane, and little Mary my baby daughter, far away in England. My thoughts then drifted to other dangerous times in my life. Twenty-four years earlier, aged thirteen, I had joined the Navy and was appointed to HMS Concorde. In that first nightmare year at sea our ship came under enemy fire three times as we fought grimly against the French to keep our sea lanes and trading routes open during the protracted and bloody battles of the Napoleonic wars. Below deck, I tried desperately to help the injured and dying, and to assist the surgeon with amputations in poor light and overcrowded conditions. Once again, the smell of gunpowder and the frantic screams for help were ringing in my ears.

I next served on HMS San Josef in the Mediterranean, before being appointed Assistant Surgeon on HMS Sapphire. Six years later, after a short stint on HMS Sappho, I was posted to the Royal Naval Hospital Haslar, where I met the renowned Dr Alexander Denmark, physician to the Mediterranean Fleet, who became my friend and mentor. In April 1814, I set off across the seas to Nova Scotia as a Naval Surgeon in Halifax. Six months later I was back in England as surgeon on the Trident, shortly after the battle of Waterloo. I finished my studies at Edinburgh University and dedicated my thesis De Hepatitide a treatise on hepatitis, to my friend Dr Alexander Denmark. In 1818, fully qualified, I was appointed surgeon on HMS Drake and then HMS Liffey. So many ships and so many sea miles.

I then had the honour of serving as physician to King George IV on the Royal George. In 1821 I made my first voyage to Australia; commissioned by the British Navy as Surgeon Superintendent on HMS Richmond, in charge of 161 male convicts.

Having survived the first shipwreck off the coast of Java in 1823 when HMS Richmond was returning to England, my next four voyages to Australia were relatively uneventful … until now. How peculiar the way the past is recalled when fortune suddenly changes!

Refreshed by our short rest, we began to sort out the provisions in the boats. We distributed food and grog equally so that we all had a chance of survival in the event of accidental separation during bad weather. The carpenter and sailmaker were busy fitting our long boat with a bulwark to protect us further from the waves and weather. By late afternoon, we were ready to leave in the hope of reaching Booby Island the following evening. As the other boats drew much less water than ours, they were directed to stay in front. Nevertheless, we were soon in the lead and kept a sharp lookout to avoid sandbanks and