Norfolk Island: Its Founding as a Penal Station; The Terrible
Discipline in Norfolk Island; An Attempt to Ameliorate it; Its
Failure; The Rigorous Treatment Restored; The Consequent Riot; Jackey
Jackey's Revenge; An Unparalleled Tale of Ferocity; The Soldiers
Overawe the Rioters; Thirteen Condemned to the Gallows; Jackey
Jackey's Remarkable Letter; The End of Several Notorious Bushrangers.
Norfolk Island, lying some seven hundred miles from the coast of New
South Wales, was first utilised as a penal settlement in 1788, when
it was decided that convicts who committed crimes in New South Wales
should be transported there for more severe treatment. Early in the
nineteenth century a rumour spread in Australia that Napoleon the First
intended to fit out a fleet to search for Admiral La Perouse, and to
found colonies in the south seas. The truth of this rumour seemed to
be affirmed by the activity of the naval authorities in New South
Wales. Settlements were made at Port Essington in the north, King
George's Sound in the west, and the Derwent River in Van Diemen's Land.
Shortly afterwards, in 1805, the prisoners were removed from Norfolk
Island to Hobart Town, apparently for the purpose of strengthening
the settlement in Van Diemen's Land. When Van Diemen's Land was made
independent of New South Wales, in 1825, Norfolk Island was again made
a penal settlement of the mother colony, and it so continued until
transportation to New South Wales ceased in 1842, when Norfolk Island
was transferred from the jurisdiction of the Governor of New South
Wales to that of the Governor of Van Diemen's Land. The treatment of
the prisoners in the island was rigorous in the extreme, and may aptly
be described as savage. When the enquiry of the House of Commons, by
Select Committee, was made in 1837 and 1838, as to the condition of
the convicts in the penal settlements, the few particulars published
about the evidence in the English newspapers had some effect on public
opinion, and in 1841, Captain Maconochie, one of the witnesses examined
who said that the prisoners might be governed with less harshness, was
appointed Commandant of Norfolk Island, with instructions to try the
mild reformatory treatment he advocated. Captain Maconochie and his
supporters in England do not seem to have realised that human beings
who have been under demoralising influences until they have reached
the adult age, and their characters have become set, are not amenable
to civilising influences. These should have been applied during the
impressionable years, and the younger they are applied the more
successful they are likely to be. This fact, however, does not yet seem
to be known sufficiently in England, and therefore small blame attaches
to Captain Maconochie, if he was not aware of it sixty years ago. The
new Commandant abolished Sunday labour as a punishment, shortened the
hours of labour on week-days, and granted holidays for good behaviour.
He allowed the men to build huts and to cultivate small patches of
ground, and thus to provide themselves with vegetables. He also gave
them tins to cook in, and served out rations individually, instead of
giving the rations out in messes. It does not appear that the prisoners
became unduly riotous under this treatment, and no such murders as
were mentioned by Judge Forbes and other witnesses before the Select
Committee, in which men had killed their mates for the purpose of being
hung "out of their misery," took place. One of these murders which
occurred only a short time before Captain Maconochie took charge may be
mentioned here. Stephen Brennan was sent to the island for bushranging.
He was tried there and found guilty of the murder of another convict.
There had been no quarrel between the two men, who were as friendly
as circumstances permitted under the rigid discipline, nevertheless
Brennan suddenly struck Patrick Lynch a blow with a stone-breaker's
hammer, and then stabbed him with a knife. The murder was committed
avowedly so that the perpetrator might be hung, and thus escape the
harsh treatment he was subjected to, and it is not improbable that
it was committed with the consent of the victim, for although there
is no evidence of this in this case, it is well known that men had
actually drawn lots in Norfolk Island, to decide which should murder
the other and get hung for the crime. In place of crimes like this,
there were quarrels and some rowdyism, but this was sufficient for
the opponents of the new experiment. Paragraphs appeared in the Van
Diemen's Land papers jeering at the "plum pudding policy" of Captain
Maconochie, and asserting that Queen's birthday rejoicings only led
to increased disturbances in Norfolk Island. Whether these paragraphs
were inspired by the prison officials, who feared that if Captain
Maconochie was successful there would be an end of "the system" which
they had organised, it is impossible to say, but after a three years'
trial, the mild treatment was pronounced a failure, and Major Joseph
Childs was appointed to supersede Captain Maconochie, as Commandant of
Norfolk Island, and reached the island on February 8th, 1844. Major
Childs landed with orders to revert to the old rigid discipline, and
he appears to have endeavoured to carry these orders out to the best
of his ability. The hours of work were increased, holidays abolished,
and all the old punishments re-established. These alterations were
made very gradually. As I have already said, the prisoners had been
supplied with rations individually, and were allowed their own pots
and pans to cook them with. In July, 1846, new regulations were issued
that rations were to be issued in bulk and to be cooked in the general
mess house. The rations on the island had always been notoriously bad,
and consisted generally of salt beef and maize. Captain Maconochie had
allowed them to grow potatoes. The privilege was abolished on January
1st, 1846, when the garden plots were taken from the prisoners and
laid waste. The prisoners refused in a body to go to work unless some
equivalent was given them for their potatoes, and half a pint of peas
daily was promised them. After three days the peas in stock gave out,
and another mutiny took place. Numbers of the prisoners were flogged,
but this did not quieten them, and Commandant Childs promised them
that eight ounces of flour should be served out in place of the peas.
In a few days, however, the stock of flour was exhausted, and then,
"incredible as it may appear, an old order, issued in May, 1846, after
the gardens were taken away from the prisoners, stating that two
pounds of sweet potatoes should form part of the daily rations, was
posted up; although it must have been known to the superintendent that
it would be utterly impossible to serve out a single ounce of sweet
potatoes a man daily for a week."[35] The sweet potatoes in the island
had been grown by the men, and had been most unjustly taken away from
them when their gardens were laid waste. It was well-known that there
were no sweet potatoes in the island, and the reposting of this old
and obsolete regulation was an outrage on truth. The prisoners were
not slow in showing their indignation, nor very particular as to the
words they used in expressing it. And it was during the dissatisfaction
consequent on the posting of this old order, that the new regulation
calling in the kettles on July the 1st was posted. When the order
was first posted, the majority of the prisoners were in their cells.
A few were attending school, and among these was Jackey Jackey, who
was doing a sum when the soldiers came round to collect the kettles.
Hearing the rattling of the tins, he raised himself up, pencil in
hand, and listened intently. Then he pushed the slate away, folded his
arms, and sat as if in deep thought. The other prisoners present were
whispering together, trying to conjecture what was being done with
their tins. On the following morning, July 2nd, the prisoners were all
mustered for prayers, a practice only recently introduced along with
the repressive measures of the new superintendent. During the service
the men kept whispering and paid but little attention. Several times
order was called for, but this only produced a lull for a time. When
the prayers were over the men marched to the Lumber Yard and read
the new regulation. Then they found that their tins had already been
removed. There was silence for a moment, followed by fierce and eager
whisperings, then the whole body marched to the Barrack Yard, broke
open the store, and took out all the tins they could find. They marched
back to the Lumber Yard, and then Jackey Jackey made the following
speech:--"Now, men, I've made up my mind to bear this oppression no
longer; but, remember, I'm going to the gallows. If any man funks let
him stand out. Those who wish to follow me, come on."
A policeman named Morris was standing in the archway or entrance to
the yard, Jackey Jackey rushed forward, struck him a fearful blow
with an enormous bludgeon, and knocked him down. A large mob of the
prisoners snatched up such weapons as came to their hands and followed
him. Many of the prisoners only had sticks, some large, some small.
One had a reaping hook and another a pitchfork. As soon as the sentry
fell under the blow from Jackey Jackey, the other prisoners were
upon him, beating, stabbing, and cutting until the man was a fearful
sight to look upon. Jackey Jackey then led the way to the cook-house,
where Stephen Smith, the police overseer, was in charge. Smith was
something of a favourite among the prisoners, but this good feeling
availed him nothing at this time. When Jackey Jackey came rushing
towards him, Smith cried out in a piteous tone, "For God's sake don't
hurt me, Jackey? Remember my wife and children!" "Damn your wife and
children," shrieked Jackey Jackey, as he crashed in one side of Smith's
head with his bludgeon. Jackey Jackey passed on, leaving those who
followed him to finish his bloody work if necessary. Near the gate of
the Barrack-yard John Price, overseer of work, and a man named Ingram
were standing together. Jackey Jackey rushed towards them and aimed a
blow at Price, but he dodged back and the club struck Ingram, nearly
killing him. Jackey Jackey raised his club for another blow at Price,
when the surging crowd behind pushed him forward, and Price escaped and
ran for the soldiers. The prisoners behind Jackey Jackey now raised
the cry of "Barrow! Barrow!" and from this it is conjectured that
their main object was the murder of the Stipendiary Magistrate of the
Island, Mr. Barrow, who was believed by the prisoners to be the cause
of much of their misery. Jackey Jackey turned from the Barrack-yard
and led the way towards Government House. On their road they came to
the limekilns, and Jackey Jackey, who had by this time exchanged his
club for an axe, opened the door of the hut there. Two policemen were
stationed there and they had not yet risen from their beds. One named
Dixon was still asleep, and Jackey Jackey smashed the axe through
his skull as he lay. The other, Simon, sprang from his bed on to the
floor, but was immediately knocked down by a ferocious blow aimed at
him by the bushranger, his brains and blood spattering the walls of the
hut. Jackey Jackey immediately left the hut, and while his followers
crowded in to strike at, or jeer at, their dead enemies as their humour
prompted them, he coolly stood aside and lighted his pipe. After
drawing a few whiffs he said in a loud calm voice, "Now, boys, for the
Christ killer," and the crowd responded with shouts of "Hooray! Now
for Barrow's." "To Barrow's." "To Barrow's." They started off, but had
not gone far when the soldiers with muskets loaded and bayonets fixed
barred the road.
At this time there were about eighteen hundred prisoners on the island,
and of these, sixteen hundred were among the rioters. The soldiers
numbered only about three hundred, but their discipline enabled them
to overawe the vastly superior force, numerically, opposed to them.
Perhaps the habits of obedience and submission, so long enforced on
the prisoners, may have had some influence. Perhaps, even among this
herd of desperate and reckless men, the sight of the soldiers standing
firmly with their guns presented ready to fire may have instilled
some fear. However this may have been, there was no fight. The rebels
retired slowly and unwillingly to the Lumber Yard, where they permitted
the soldiers to arrest them one after the other without making any show
of defence until one thousand one hundred and ten of them were placed
"on the chain." Perhaps Jackey Jackey and the more violent of his
followers may have thought that they had done sufficient to ensure them
that death on the gallows which was the avowed object of their rising,
while the majority had been so demoralised by official brutality as to
be utterly indifferent as to what might become of them.
Among those arrested were Jackey Jackey, the bushranger with a
continental notoriety, and Lawrence Kavanagh, the Van Diemen's Land
highwayman. John Gardner, John Jackson, William Duncan, Abraham
Farrer, and John Booth, some of them convicted bushrangers, were
also conspicuous for their support of Jackey Jackey in the murder of
officials. Another New South Wales bushranger engaged in this riot was
Michael Houlihan, who had been captured by Commissioner Brigham on
September 10, 1842, in the Lachlan district, and transported to Van
Diemen's Land for highway robbery and horse-stealing, and had been
sent from thence to Norfolk Island for similar offences committed near
Hobart Town. Besides these there were John Price, and many others named
in Chapter X., who were among the insurgents and who more or less
actively supported the leaders. On the other hand, Martin Cash, the
companion of Kavanagh, refused to take part in the rising. He retired
from the Lumber Yard when Jackey Jackey announced his intention,
and remained in his cell during the whole time of the riot. Some
speculation has been indulged in as to his reason for so acting. It is
certain that he was not deterred by fear. Possibly, having been for so
long the leader of a gang of bushrangers, he objected to serve under
another and a younger man. He, however, was almost the only well-known
bushranger confined in the island at the time who did not follow Jackey
Jackey.
As soon as news of the riot and its suppression reached Van
Diemen's Land, Judge Brown was sent to Norfolk Island by the
Lieutenant-Governor, Sir W.T. Denison, to try the prisoners, and Jackey
Jackey, Henry Whiting, William Pickthorne, William Scrimshaw, Kavanagh,
Gardner, Jackson, Duncan, Farrer, Booth, and three others, making
thirteen in all, were arraigned on the charge of murdering John Morris.
They were convicted and sentenced to death. They were all executed on
October 13, 1846.
The following letter was written by Jackey Jackey to a former chaplain
at Port Arthur, and was published in the _Cornwall Chronicle_. "The
spelling of many of the words has been corrected, but the style has not
been interfered with":--
H.M. Gaol, Norfolk Island.
Condemned Cells, 1846, October the 8th.
Reverend Sir,--As in duty bound to you for the kindness you have
shown to me, and the interest I have always seen you take in those
that have ever been under your spiritual care, whatever may be
their fate, I have been induced to write to you, hoping this may
find you in good health, and in the enjoyment of all God's choicest
blessings. I have to inform you, that long before this letter reaches
your hands, the hand that wrote this will be cold in death. I do not
grieve that the hour is fast approaching that is to end my earthly
career. I welcome death as a friend;--the world, or what I have seen
of it, has no allurements in it for me. 'Tis not for me to boast;
but yet, Sir, allow a dying man to speak a few words to one who
has always shown a sympathy for the wretched outcasts of society,
and ever, with a Christian charity, strove to recall the wretched
wanderer to a sense of his lost condition. I started in life with a
good feeling for my fellowman. Before I well knew the responsibility
of my station in life, I had forfeited my birth-right. I became a
slave, and was sent far from my dear native country, my parents, my
brother, and sisters--torn from all that was dear to me, and that
for a trifling offence. Since then I have been treated more like
a beast than a man, until nature could bear no more. I was, like
many others, driven to despair by the oppressive and tyrannical
conduct of whose whose duty it was to prevent us from being treated
in this way. Yet these men are courted by society; and the British
Government, deceived by the interested representations of these
men, continues to carry on a system that has and still continues to
ruin the prospects of the souls and bodies of thousands of British
subjects. I have not the ability to represent what I feel on this
subject, yet I know from my own feelings that it will never carry
out the wishes of the British people! The spirit of the British
law is reformation. Now, years of sad experience should have told
them, that instead of reforming--the wretched man, under the present
system, led by example on the one hand, and driven by despair and
tyranny on the other, goes on from bad to worse, till at length he
is ruined body and soul. Experience, dear bought experience, has
taught me this. In all my career, I never was cruel--I always felt
keenly for the miseries of my fellow-creatures, and was ever ready
to do all in my power to assist them to the utmost, yet my name will
be handed down to posterity[36] branded with the most opprobrious
epithet that man can bestow. But 'tis little matter now. I have
thus given vent to my feelings, knowing that you will bear with me,
and I know that you have and will exert yourself for the welfare of
wretched men. It is on this account that I have strove, though in but
a feeble manner, to express my feelings. The crime for which I am
to suffer is murder. Reverend Sir, you will shudder at my cruelty,
but I only took life--those that I deprived of life, though they did
not in a moment send a man to his last account, inflicted on many a
lingering death--for years they have tortured men's minds as well
as their bodies, and after years of mental and bodily torture, sent
them to a premature grave. This is what I call refined cruelty, and
it is carried on, and I blush to own it, by Englishmen, and under
the enlightened English Government. Will it be believed hereafter,
that this was allowed to be carried on in the nineteenth century?
I will now proceed to inform you what has happened since I left
Port Arthur. I was sent to Glenorchy Probation Station. I was then
determined, if possible, to regain my freedom, and visit my dear
native country, and see my parents and friends again. I took to the
bush, with two men; one of them said that he knew the bush well, but
he deceived me and himself too. Our intention was to take a craft
from Brown's River; we were disappointed--there was no craft there.
We then turned to go to Launceston, thinking to get one there, and
to cross to the Sydney main. But after leaving New Norfolk, I lost
one of my mates, and the same night the other left me at the Green
Ponds. I was soon after taken and sent to Hobart Town. I was tried
and sent to Norfolk Island, and this place is now worse than I can
describe. Every species of petty tyranny that long experience has
taught some of these tyrants is put in force by the authorities. The
men are half-starved, hard worked, and cruelly flogged. These things
brought on the affair of the first of July, of which you have, no
doubt, heard. I would send you the whole account, but that I know you
will have it from better hands than mine. I am sorry that this will
give you great pain, as there are several of the men that have been
under your charge at Port Arthur concerned in this affair. Sir, on
the 21st of September, 1846, Mr. Brown arrived in the Island with a
commission to form a Court, and try the men. On the 23rd of September
he opened the Court. Fourteen men were then arraigned for the murder
of John Morris, that was formerly gate-keeper at Port Arthur. This
trial occupied the Court nine days. The Jury retired, and returned
a verdict, and found twelve out of fourteen guilty of murder. On
the 5th of October the sentence of death was then passed on us, and
to be carried into effect on the 13th of October, 1846. Sir, the
strong ties of earth will soon be wrenched, and the burning fever
of this life will soon be quenched, and my grave will be a haven--a
resting-place for me, William Westwood. Sir, out of the bitter cup of
misery I have drunk from my sixteenth year--ten long years--and the
sweetest draught is that which takes away the misery of living death;
it is the friend that deceives no man; all will then be quiet--no
tyrant will there disturb my repose, I hope, William Westwood.
Sir, I now bid the world adieu, and all it contains.
William Westwood, his writing.
Beneath the letter is printed as follows:--
_The Dying Declaration of William Westwood, alias "Jackey Jackey."_
"I, William Westwood, wish to die in the Communion of Christ's Holy
Church, seeking mercy of God through Jesus Christ our Lord and
Saviour.--Amen.
I wish to say, as a dying man, that I believe four men now
going to suffer are innocent of the crime laid to their charge,
viz.:--Lawrence Kavanagh, Henry Whiting, William Pickthorne, and
William Scrimshaw. I declare that I never spoke to Kavanagh on the
morning of the riots; and these other three men had no part in the
killing of John Morris as far as I know of. I have never spoke a
disrespectful word of any man since my confinement. I die in charity
with all men, and now I ask your prayers for my soul!"
William Westwood, aged twenty-six years.
Jackey Jackey, at the time of his death, was twenty-six years of age.
He was 5 feet 9 inches in height, with fair hair, blue eyes, and a
ruddy complexion.
Shortly after the death of these men, Mr. John Price, superintendent of
Port Arthur, was sent to Norfolk Island with instructions to break up
the settlement and remove the prisoners to Van Diemen's Land, and this
was gradually effected. Two or three years later the Government of the
Island was again transferred to the Governor of New South Wales, and
in 1857, about two hundred of the Pitcairn Islanders--the descendants
of the Mutineers of the _Bounty_ were landed there and have remained
unmolested to the present time, and the later history of this beautiful
island may be summed up in the one word "peace."
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 35: _Launceston Chronicle._]
[Footnote 36: "Posperity" in the paper is so obviously a typographical
error that I have taken the liberty of correcting it.]