English passengers (37 page)

Matters were not helped by the paucity of diversions to be found on the island. The supply vessel visited only every three months, making news and letters rare pleasures, and the days passed slowly indeed. Boredom will bring out the devil in men, and in our case its progeny were feuding and rumour. Louis and myself did our best to distance ourselves from all such behaviour, naturally, but this was not always easy. All too often to converse was to be entrusted with unwanted confidences, while to stand aloof from such talk was to find oneself quietly excluded. One of those with a particular love of gossip was the catechist, Mr. Smith, who was a lively man of, it was said, thwarted ambition. While we never encouraged Mr. Smith to call on us, in so small a place it was hardly practical—or wise—to prohibit others from visiting, while he could be most humorous in his retelling of some piece of news, so that even Louis, who was generally inclined to the serious, found him most diverting. After a time his visits to our home became commonplace.

It came as the greatest shock to us, naturally, when we learned that
the settlement’s commandant, Mr. Darling, was abruptly to be removed, and that this was largely the consequence of critical letters sent to the government in Hobart. Worse still was the discovery that the letters’ sender had been Mr. Smith. I knew the two had felt a coolness for one another for some time, ever since the commandant had accused Mr. Smith of wastefulness regarding settlement supplies, but still the action seemed wholly unwarranted. I understood Mr. Smith had accused Mr. Darling of neglectfulness in his religious instruction of the aborigines, a charge that was all the more dangerous for being to some extent true, as the man had hardly troubled to instruct the adult natives save in the most mundane of matters, such as farming. The commandant took the matter very badly, and confronted his persecutor one Sunday outside the chapel, calling him Judas in front of all. It was a most painful incident.

My instinct was to let the matter rest but Louis could not do so. He was much distressed by the commandant’s removal, believing Mr. Darling had been about to promote him, and he made it clear to Mr. Smith that he was no longer welcome at our home. The catechist, in turn, behaved quite as if it were ourselves, rather than he, who had behaved unreasonably, directing us haughty, wounded looks whenever we passed. Curiously enough he displayed particular coolness not to Louis but to myself If I found myself walking towards him in some part of the settlement he would embark on an elaborate and embarrassing charade of turning in another direction, while if I had the misfortune to meet him at another’s house he would stare quite over my head. The whole matter became most distressing.

In the event, of course, Mr. Smith’s treacherous conduct did have one happy consequence, Mr. Darling’s replacement being Mr. Robson. I had heard something about this man, of course, from both admirers and detractors: the famous Robson, who had journeyed for months at a time through the wilderness of Van Diemen’s Land with none for company but blacks, that he might endeavour to save their unhappy race. For some reason I had imagined he would be a giant of a fellow, with a look of military severity. How wrong I was! The man I saw sitting in the rowboat, as it made its way from the supply vessel to the settlement jetty, was a most ordinary-looking figure, round and clumsy in shape, whose speech, as he directed the coxswain, betrayed humble origins. Only the
lively look in his eyes hinted at the power of resolution that lay within. As to his family, I observed that his wife, sitting beside him, was regarding the island with what appeared to be an expression of distaste, while his sons seemed curiously distracted, showing no sign of the famous determination of their father.

‘‘He has a nice face,’’ I observed to Louis.

My husband, pressing forward that he might be among the first to offer his welcome, nodded in agreement. The blacks likewise seemed greatly raised in their spirits by the sight of this new commandant. He had brought with him a number of their fellows that he had found on Van Diemen’s Land, thus inspiring a most touching scene, as siblings separated all these years burst into tearful recognition, and mothers quite shrieked with delight at the sight of children who, doubtless, they had thought lost to them forever. All at once some of the natives began excitedly to babble to him in words of their own strange languages. I had heard that he was able to speak in their tongue, and was looking forward to hearing him reply in a like fashion, but instead he waved his hand with a look of cheerful firmness. ‘‘But you must speak English now,’’ he insisted kindly, ‘‘only English.’’ Thus he displayed, even then, his resolve to bring improvement to the unfortunate creatures.

He was especially proud of one of those he had brought with him, a slight boy by the name of George Vandiemen, of nervous disposition, who, most charmingly, tried to hide behind his commandant’s back. Robson explained, as our large party began walking back towards the settlement, that the child had been found wandering alone by some farmers near Devonport, who had then sent him away to Bristol to be schooled, where he remained long enough to acquire more than a little learning. Robson had discovered him working as a serving lad in the farmers’ house, and had induced them to release him only with some difficulty. Thus described, young George was of great curiosity to us all, and as we reached the area of the natives’ huts Mr. Robson attempted to coax him into giving a little demonstration of his knowledge. This was not easy, the boy being so shy, but finally he was enticed into uttering a few greetings, which he did with a fluency of language that was indeed remarkable, far surpassing that of any of our own aborigines, winning applause from his smiling watchers, and laughter too, as Mr. Dunn, the
baker, observed that the boy even spoke with an audible West Country accent.

The display was, sadly, of short duration. Just as the child grew more confident in his performance he seemed to falter, then uttered some incomprehensible cry in his own native speech. Then, greatly to our surprise, he began impatiently pushing his way between us and ran away towards one of the huts. There, staring at him with the strangest look, was Walyeric: that monster of a creature, undeserving of the title female, about whom such dreadful stories are told, and who answers the kindliest smile with a glower of insolence. It was hard to believe, but I could only assume from little George’s excited cries that this terrible woman must be his mother. Though I knew her to be wicked to her bones, still I could not help but be shocked by her behaviour. As he raced towards her, calling out, she simply rose to her feet, then delivered him a mighty slap to his face—though he was her own child, lost to her all these years— and cruelly strode away. Poor George was dreadfully upset, bursting into sobs, and though we tried to coax him back to us, he insisted on scurrying away alone.

It was not long before Mr. Robson’s presence among us—striding about, always so energetically—began to transform the atmosphere of the settlement, and greatly for the better. Everybody soon found himself thrown into activity, instantly banishing the devil boredom. Louis was required to rearrange all supplies in the cramped storehouse, as a new and better building was to take its place, this forming only one part of a mighty campaign of construction. The sawyer and bricklayer found themselves in constant toil, their lazy convict labourers lazy no longer, while even some of the aborigines were induced to help in the work. The fruits of these labours were soon evident, as new wooden huts sprang up almost like mushrooms, and a proper brick front was added to one of the double huts, which was to be fashioned into a new school chapel, it being Mr. Robson’s stated aim that the blacks should be both housed and led in worship entirely in buildings made of brick.

Mr. Robson’s chief concern, it soon became clear, was to mount nothing less than a crusade to civilize the blacks. Louis, who was much impressed by our new commandant, explained how the aborigines were each to be allotted a craft, from shoemaking to animal husbandry, that
they would be required to develop as their own. All were to work, although those of lesser ability would be expected only to perform some simple task, such as digging potatoes, or graves for their less fortunate fellows. We both considered this a most delightful notion, which might with time transform them into something like a happy band of English villagers. More ingenious still, Mr. Robson insisted that every one of them would receive a wage for his toil, and announced that a market would be held once each week, where the poor creatures might spend their new wealth on some useful item, such as tobacco, or a new straw hat. His intention was most clear: he was subtly introducing them to that most essential pillar of the civilized world, commerce. There are always grumblers, of course, and some among the officers’ wives complained, when we met for tea, that the market—which was, after the first week, somewhat poorly attended—was of little usefulness. I, however, strongly contested such pessimism, pointing out that the market’s value was as an example to the natives, and as such it was beyond all measurement.

A still more ambitious innovation was the announcement that the settlement was henceforth to have its own newspaper, the
Flinders Island Journal
, which—with Mr. Robson’s help—was to be compiled even by the aborigines themselves. The journal was, it was true, much restricted by the island’s lack of a printing press, which required all text to be repetitively copied out by hand by those few natives practised in their letters, and I recall seeing only one issue, whose brief pages were concerned with simple daily occurrences about the island (there being, in truth, little news to relate apart from further deaths among the natives, upon which it was undesirable to dwell). For all this both Louis and I thought the venture a fine demonstration of a new sophistication of settlement life. As I recall, it even won the praise of the
Colonial Times
in Hobart— Mr. Robson having written to the newspaper to tell of our efforts to bring advancement to the natives—which printed a most favourable account of all his innovations.

It never occurred to me, naturally, that I might myself become involved in Mr. Robson’s great campaigns, but so it was. This stemmed from the first occasion when I met him to speak to, being one morning when I happened to be passing the site of the new settlement store, just
as my husband was showing him how the building work was progressing.

‘‘Catherine,’’ Louis called out, delighted. ‘‘Look who is here.’’

Mr. Robson greeted me with a kindly smile. ‘‘Your husband has been doing a splendid job here.’’

Louis beamed.

‘‘You seem to be changing every inch of our little establishment,’’ I remarked to Mr. Robson in a faintly chiding voice. ‘‘What will we have next? I wonder. A railway? A manufactory?’’

He laughed with enthusiasm. ‘‘I’m afraid I must disappoint you, Mrs. Price. From now I will be concerning myself less with building and more with the natives’ learning. Their religious knowledge in particular appears to have been much neglected.’’ Though he did not mention any name I had no doubt it was to his predecessor, Mr. Darling, that he was alluding. ‘‘My intention is that every one of the blacks, including the adults, shall be thoroughly schooled. It will be no easy thing to achieve, of course, but it will be done.’’

It was Louis who produced the suggestion. ‘‘But you have taught, have you not, Catherine? Perhaps you should help.’’

It was a thought that had not occurred to me. ‘‘I would hardly call it teaching,’’ I insisted. ‘‘I have instructed the children in their letters and sums.’’

‘‘Then you are nothing less than an expert.’’ Mr. Robson’s laugh could be quite infectious. ‘‘The truth is, Mrs. Price, we will be in need of all the help we can find. I am planning to take classes myself’’

‘‘Go on, Catherine,’’ Louis coaxed. ‘‘You would not be required to instruct them in anything difficult.’’

Mr. Robson gave me a smile. ‘‘You would be greatly valued.’’

I began a week later. What a daunting moment that was, knowing that I would shortly find myself standing before a crowded class of those strange-looking faces, all awaiting my words. Mr. Robson proved a great comfort. ‘‘Remember,’’ he urged, ‘‘that they are far less acquainted with learning than you are with teaching. Simply start by asking one of them his commandments and you will find all follows from there.’’

I did just as he suggested and found it most effective advice. Then
again, I observed Mr. Robson possessed a quite remarkable understanding of the aborigines, being full of ideas as to how some point of grammar or theology might be explained in simple terms they would comprehend. With his kindly help I soon became accustomed to my new work, and even found I was enjoying myself. After so long spent merely passing time upon this island I suppose I was more than ready for an occupation, and those became times of great hope, there being something about the very process of learning which can instil in all a mood of smiling enthusiasm. The teachers were, it was true, a mixed group—they included Robson’s older son, two of the officers’ wives and also Mr. Smith, while the educated aborigine child, George Vandiemen, also took a few lessons—but we were kept so busily employed that disagreements were rare, and matters remained civil even between Mr. Smith and myself. As for the blacks, though these continued to seem strange to me, I gradually found I lost my earlier nervousness of the creatures.

Finally there came an evening when, as I was teaching Psalms to a class of children, I saw the door open and, greatly to my surprise, Mr. Robson quietly took a seat at the back, and began observing my poor efforts. By this time autumn had arrived, the nights were long, and I well recall the howling of the wind upon the classroom roof, and the flickering of the oil lamps, as I endeavoured to continue, feeling that my every utterance was foolish and ill chosen. What astonishment I felt when, as my students trooped away, Mr. Robson rose and gently patted me upon the hand, remarking, ‘‘Did I not say you would be greatly valued?’’

That was a proud moment indeed.