Removal to NORFOLK ISLAND
WHEN, in 1853, Admiral Moresby visited Pitcairn Island, he saw that the
rapidly increasing numbers of the inhabitants would soon necessitate a
removal of a part, or the whole, of the community to a larger place,
although he judged that Pitcairn Island, if brought under proper
cultivation, was capable of maintaining a thousand inhabitants. The
admiral argued that as a removal must be made at some future time, it
would be the wisest course to have it done as early as possible, only
he stipulated that all the people should go together.
And now the time was rapidly approaching. A report was sent to the
home government concerning the matter, and early in the year 1856 H.
M. S. _Juno_ was sent from the colonies to inform the islanders that
arrangements were being made for their removal to a larger island,
and also to advise them to make the necessary preparations for their
departure.
The tidings were received with different feelings. Some were ready to
seize the opportunity of improving their worldly prospects, and the
very thought of a change from their hitherto quiet lives was hailed
with delight, while others, to whom home and its associations were
dearer than any prospect that could be held out to them, preferred to
remain, and probably were only restrained from so doing because the
advice of their good friend, the admiral, was that all should go and
receive their grant of land.
The island chosen for the future home of the Pitcairn islanders was
Norfolk Island, once a penal settlement. The island is about twenty
miles in circumference, and well capable of maintaining several
thousand inhabitants.
In the latter part of April, 1856, the _Morayshire_, commanded by
Captain Joseph Mathers, arrived from Sydney, to carry the emigrants
to their new home. By the second day of May everything was ready,
and the time had come to say farewell to the dear old spot where
all their lives had been spent. Some, with buoyant hopes and bright
expectations, stepped on board the ship that was to carry them away,
while others—and these the far greater number—with sad hearts and
tear-dimmed eyes left their island home. Utterly lonely and desolate,
the little rock stood in the vast ocean as it slowly receded from view,
and many a silent tear was shed and final farewell whispered for the
dear old home that most of them were to behold no more, and which to
many was most sacred because of the loved ones sleeping there.
The passage to Norfolk Island was accomplished in thirty-six days, and
was, on the whole, rather pleasant than otherwise to the emigrants.
But few of them suffered from seasickness during the entire voyage. On
the 8th of June, 1856, the _Morayshire_ arrived at Norfolk Island, and
well pleased was the worthy captain to get rid of the noisy crowd, the
children more especially, who tried his patience sorely, and who often
enlivened the ship with their cries and screams. No death occurred
on the passage, but one poor little baby who was sick all the way,
lingered only a few days after landing, and then died.
When the _Morayshire_ arrived at Norfolk Island, H. M. S. _Herald_
was already there surveying. Boats from the latter ship boarded the
new arrival, bringing acceptable supplies of fresh provisions. Her
people also very kindly assisted in landing the emigrants and their
goods. The crew of a whaling vessel rendered help as well. When the
_Morayshire_ left, after a stay of a little over two weeks, the captain
took away the few persons that had been on the island to take care
of the property ere it passed into other hands. The passengers who
left Norfolk Island on the _Morayshire_ were a Mr. Stuart, who acted
as governor, and his wife, a man by the name of Rogers, his wife and
little daughter, and an elderly couple named Waterson. Besides these
were eight reformed convicts, whose work was to look after the affairs
of the place.
Old Mrs. Waterson related a dream that made an impression upon her
mind. A few nights before the emigrants landed, she seemed to see a
woman, tall, large, and dark complexioned, standing by her side. So
vivid was everything connected with the dream, even to the woman’s
name, Rachel, that she felt convinced that the person was on the coming
ship. Accordingly, when the people landed, she started off in search
of the reality, and scanned with curious eagerness each face that she
saw. Not meeting on the street anyone that answered to the description,
she went on toward the pier, and, within a few minutes’ walk of the
place, discovered the object of her search sitting on the steps of the
Convicts’ Hospital. A warm welcome and greeting followed, with the
explanation that the acquaintance had been already made in a dream,
and Mrs. Waterson was especially gratified to learn that the dream was
true to the very name, the person being Rachel Evans, the daughter of
John Adams. Even before the old lady left the island, the pleasing
acquaintance had ripened into warm friendship.
Rogers’ occupation on the island was that of a stock keeper and
overseer. Walking along a certain road one day, in company with some of
the recent settlers, he observed, in a playful spirit, that when that
particular road was being made, he was among the gang of convicts so
employed, having been sent to Norfolk Island on the charge of striking
down his superior officer. “But,” he remarked pleasantly, “my term of
punishment expired some time ago.” Seven other men, ex-convicts nearly
all, made up the total of those who remained to look after the place.
These men attended to the live stock, milked the cows, kept the dairy,
and performed such work. The kindness and attention shown by every one
of them to the newcomers could not be surpassed.
Each one exerted himself in pointing out to the new arrivals the
different buildings and their various uses, among them the old and
new barracks, the government house, the jail and prison, all strongly
built of stone, some of which were beautiful as well as strong. Many
dreadful tales were also told concerning the island and those who were
sent there to be punished, but scarcely a trace remained to testify to
the truth of the dark stories of blood and crime. At one place, outside
of the burying ground, was shown a mound several feet in length, where
moldered the dust of thirteen men who were hung for some dreadful crime
on the trees above, while their open grave yawned beneath them.
[Illustration: GROUP OF NATIVE CHILDREN.]
An eyewitness related how, one day, when a gang of convicts was
constructing a bridge over a stream, one of them murdered a constable
who was in charge of the gang. From this dreadful act the scene of the
murder received its name, and the “Bloody Bridge” stands, a lasting
monument of the awful crime committed there. A tragic story was told
of a convict who contrived to make his escape from Norfolk Island to
another small island some three miles distant, called Philip Island.
By some means this man, known as Jacky-Jacky, was discovered, and a
boat was immediately dispatched to secure the escaped prisoner. Finding
himself discovered and pursued, and choosing death rather than capture,
Jacky-Jacky started to the highest point of the island, several hundred
feet above the sea level, where he cast himself off and so perished.
These were only some of the stories that were told by those who were
themselves witnesses of the awful scenes, stories still more dark and
fearful in their nature than were those in connection with the early
settlement of the island lately deserted by the emigrants. But the
deeds of horror and bloodshed had passed away with the lives of those
who committed them, and everything betokened calmness and peace when
the little colony entered on their newly granted possession.
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