‘You’ll need to spend time to familiarise yourself with all the finer details,’ said Welbank.
Davison paid particular attention to the terms pertaining to his duties and responsibilities. A Master’s logbook and a Surgeon’s diary were required to be maintained. Both were to be completed in duplicate, one copy of which was to be left with Governor King on arrival at Port Jackson, the other to be returned to the commissioners in London. Reeve and Green had lodged the required bond of £1,000 as security for performance.
Some of these stringent terms were due to the scandalous 27 per cent death rate of convicts on the second fleet that sailed to New South Wales in 1790. The contractors, who had been paid up front for their convict cargo, apparently felt no incentive to ensure the convicts were alive and well on arrival, and looked only to their profits.
The new terms stipulated £10 for each convict embarked and a further £5 for each landed.
The meeting with Welbank concluded.
Davison returned to the offices of Brown, Welbank and Petyt a week later. He had carefully considered the offer, and after long and often late night discussions with his wife, had decided the benefits of such a voyage outweighed the concerns. The money he would earn was more than he had imagined, and while the opportunity to sail halfway around the world was daunting, it was also the sort of challenge he had been craving.
This next meeting with the agents was more congenial and less formal. The three partners were happy with Davison’s acceptance of the position and a quick discussion about timetables commenced. Captain Davison was told that Perseus had been untied from her berth at Bell’s Wharf and moved down the Thomas River to Deptford. Coromandel was already there. The expectation was that the fit out of the ships would be completed by late December, with an early January sail to Portsmouth for the loading of stores, freight, passengers and convicts. This loading time could take as long as a month.
It was time for Davison to inspect his ship at King’s moorings, a short walk from the offices of Brown, Welbank and Petyt. Perseus was tied up at the dock and men were working on all parts of it. The smell of sawdust and the sound of hammering filled the air. The ship itself looked small, particularly next to Coromandel, which was 522 tons and as he gazed towards it, Captain Alex Stirling and Joshua Reeve, one of the owners, walked down the gangplank. Introductions were made.
‘How did you find Coromandel?’ Davison asked Stirling while shaking hands.
‘More carpentry to complete but nothing crucial to the seaworthiness of the vessel. I hope Perseus is in as good a shape,’ said Stirling.
The two men talked for a bit more before Stirling headed off.
Davison and the owner of Perseus boarded. Davison was apprised of its history. It was only twelve years old, had not been built for speed but was a square rig typical of its class with narrow steep sides and a flat bottom. Reeve assured Davison the workmen would be installing a significant quantity of ballast prior to sailing to ensure she stayed upright in large swells.
Foremost, Davison was keen to inspect and survey the quality of the hull to ensure there was no rot, worm or gaps in the timbers and that the caulking was in good condition. He was very particular and thorough with his inspection. The lives of all on board depended on the ship being sound.
The erection of the convicts’ quarters was still in progress and Davison could see at least two more months of work ahead for the carpenters, who, he noted, were working to ensure adequate ventilation. The accommodation area was being furnished with double bunk beds each side of the vessel, 29 on each side, making a total of 116 beds. Each bed was installed with chains.
Access to these quarters was via a wooden ladder which was let down from the deck above. This had been done as a safety precaution, so the convict area could be sealed off if needed. Behind the convict bulkhead was a space set aside for a surgeon and a small hospital.
The general crew’s quarters were not remarkably different from the convict area in design, but with no provision for irons. He approved the captain’s and officers’ quarters.
Davison quickly inspected the non-perishable freight being loaded, including heavier clothing for the officers and crew for the Southern Ocean crossing and convict attire. Davison did not want to bring any disease on board so he had asked for this fresh clothing for the convicts as well as new bedding.
Being satisfied all was in order, Davison left the wharf, walking slowly towards home, lost in thought. December 1801 would be a busy month with officers and crew needing to be finalised. There were two critical positions he needed to fill for the voyage, that of first mate, the one responsible for the day-to-day running of the ship, and second mate, the navigator. The previous week he had tapped the shoulder of a first mate with whom he had sailed before, who had readily agreed to join him, but Davison would need to talk further with the agents to identify his second mate. It had to be someone who had already made the voyage to Port Jackson and had experience with the seas. And he had yet to find the cook and a sail maker. Davison needed to interview the rest of the crew, whom he had already selected from a long list given to him by the agent. It had also occurred to him that there would be some useful hands and relevant skills among the convict community.
Christmas came. Davison was glad he was able to spend it with his family and he overindulged them with presents. He was almost certain they would be spending the next one without him. The day was a respite from the hectic, last-minute details that needed attention.
The officers and crew were finally identified and selected and were due to board three days prior to sailing. This had now been scheduled as 9 January 1802.
On schedule, the lines were untied and the raised sails caught the breeze. Coromandel and Perseus moved slowly down the Thames River. Wives and children of the crew were gathered on the wharf waving frantically as their loved ones sailed out of sight. All were praying the ship would have a safe return journey.
The distance to Portsmouth was 197 nautical miles and Captain Davison wanted to use this time to become familiar with the workings of the ship and to allow the crew to settle into their routines. At six knots he had estimated two days of sailing to reach their destination. The time of departure, as usual, had been set to catch the falling tide. All going well, both ships would be into the estuary by nightfall, where they would drop anchor and wait for the next falling tide.
Captain Stirling considered it anything but a pleasant trip, describing in his log book the mid-winter weather as ‘found, with snow and sleet, with a wind to match’. It was so cold that the crew was obliged to douse the decks with salt water to prevent the buildup of ice which, if left unchecked, could unbalance and overturn the ship. There was no joy for the officers and crew in being on deck.
Late on the second day the ships dropped anchor at Spithead. This was an area known as a safe anchorage in the Solent, between the Isle of Wight and Portsmouth. Here the ships were able to avoid most of the winds. As usual it was congested with other ships, boats and smaller watercraft.
The majority of the provisions and beverages had yet to be brought onboard. The fresh food stores included potable soup, meat, 72 tons of potatoes, vegetables and fresh fruit. Barrels of fresh water, fortified wine and bottles of rum were also stowed. Davison adhered to the contemporaneous theory that a quart of fortified wine, together with lime juice, drunk daily, would prevent malnutrition and scurvy.
The next morning a succession of boats began hauling all the provisions needed from Portsmouth to Spithead.
On the evening of 15 January the surgeon, William Fielding, joined the ship and was immediately busy overseeing the storage of his list of medical supplies.
Perseus now had a full complement.
8.
Voyage of the Perseus
PORTSMOUTH HARBOUR, JANUARY 1802
On Saturday, 16 January 1802, Captain John Davison authorised the loading of convicts on board Perseus.
On Capacity’s A Deck, the overseer gathered t
welve prisoners, including William Foster and his three great mates, Thomas Stokes, Thomas Hughes and Henry Hunt, to tell them they would not be joining the boat for work ashore. Instead, they would be the first prisoners to board the ship Perseus. Feelings of elation overtook them all, tinged with fear, regret and sadness.
For William it was a time to look forward and not dwell on what could not be changed. The experiences of the past twelve months had toughened his personality. He was looking forward to the adventure of the sea voyage. He had no expectations but was determined to use it to develop further life skills, whatever they maybe. By following all the rules, he had done what he could to ensure he was one of the first to leave the hulk. He had achieved a goal he had set himself. Further, his mates were leaving as well.
From the moment William stepped on deck he felt all right about things. Although the Perseus was small it compared favourably to the many other ships around them. It seemed strong, and this helped quell his fears of the unknown oceans and of dying at sea. And it was clean.
After a wash and new clothes he was allocated a bunk bed. The bunk still carried the familiar, reassuring smell of recently worked timber and although small and cramped, William, being somewhat small himself, was comfortable. He took delight in the swaying of the hull in time with the swell under the ship’s keel.
For security, prisoners were ferried from the hulks in small groups. The crew was ever vigilant, as this was the time when prisoners faced the reality of leaving their family and homeland, probably forever, and opportunities for freedom were dwindling. There were no attempts to escape during this transfer. Towards the end of January all were successfully on board.
Little did William realise that the ship would be sitting in the harbour for another month. He observed the comings and goings of the crew, the storing of endless provisions and freight, and the mounting excitement of everyone as they readied themselves for the journey.
The days were intersected with physical exercises on deck. William enjoyed them and they helped keep him warm. Better food on Perseus enabled him to build muscle and feel good about himself. These exercises were much preferable to the hulk’s work details. The days were still icy cold and the nights were even colder. Schooling was mandatory for a couple of hours each day. William, despite his previous lack of interest in school, had a sharp mind. He was now keen to learn because he believed the more he knew, the more real opportunities there would be for him to create a new life for himself in New South Wales. Maybe he would end up getting rich in this new land and build a big house and bring his parents and siblings out to live with him.
Perseus and Coromandel were precluded from raising their anchors until all persons, including convicts, had passed the required health inspection. Only those who were considered healthy were permitted to stay on board and travel to New South Wales.
Sir Jerome Fitzgerald, the official acting on behalf of the Home Department, had already carried out the inspection on Coromandel. Now it was the Perseus’s turn. John Davison welcomed Fitzgerald on board on 26 January to carry out his inspection. Fitzgerald advised Davison that while he was carrying out the medical inspection he intended to record the skills and age of each of the convicts. He considered the latter would provide valuable information to enable the Home Department to better match the needs of the colony with the convicts being transported.
Accordingly, each of the passengers and convicts were called one by one to be inspected by Fitzgerald and each was duly recorded in his notebook. At the conclusion Fitzgerald advised Davison that he believed all his convicts were sufficiently healthy for the voyage. Davison was surprised at this outcome, given that they were the product of the hulks. He had expected a reasonable failure rate. However, it was not up to Davison to question Fitzgerald’s findings.
Fitzgerald, however, was extremely worried about two of the female passengers. They were both in an advanced stage of pregnancy. Davison had observed the women coming on board and he too had concerns. Elizabeth Loyde and Margaret Jones were respectively eight months and seven months pregnant. Fitzgerald recommended that both women should be disembarked. His concerns arose due to the confined space they would have on board and the discomfort they would face from the equatorial heat on the voyage. Davison ordered his men to assist the women to disembark.
Fitzgerald, prior to disembarking, shared his skills and age analysis of the convicts with Davison. ‘Captain, I have some interesting information here. Of the 250 convicts on board Coromandel and Perseus, 119 are tradesmen, 10 are sailors and 121 are unskilled.’
‘Sir, that’s a lot of unskilled labour.’
‘Yes, it is. I trust some work will be found for them to do.’ Fitzgerald continued, ‘Of those convicts with trades, my analysis shows the most common trades are sailors, butchers, watermen, gardeners, carpenters and lawyers. Quite interesting, don’t you think?’
‘Ah, very interesting,’ commented Davison. ‘Some of those trades could come in very handy on the voyage. I may need some of those skills when we reach the southern ocean.’
Fitzgerald continued, ‘And if you analyse the convicts by age, 13 are aged between twelve and sixteen; 29 are between sixteen and twenty; 60 between twenty-five and thirty-five; 73 between thirty-five and forty-five; and 10 are over forty-five years.’
‘At least you can train the young’uns into some useful trade, but the unskilled old ones – good luck!’ remarked Davison as he saw Fitzgerald off Perseus.
On this same day ten prospective settlers were conveyed to the ship, four of whom were wives of convicts who had decided to accompany their husbands to New South Wales.
Throughout the month of January, Davison had been refining the daily schedule he wished his crew to follow. Once all the officers and crew were on board he gathered them together.
‘Cooks,’ he said, ‘must be up first in the morning, five fifteen a.m. Everyone else will be up by half past five to wash. At seven a.m. water and biscuits will be issued.’
He detailed the rest of the routine:
7.30 am
Upper deck crew to wash the decks and empty water closets.
8.00 am
Breakfast. Mr Fielding to attend to the sick after breakfast.
9.30 am
Inspection of the prison deck followed by school with half the prison deck.
Midday
Dinner. Wine to be issued to prisoners where permitted.
2.30 pm
Other half of the prison deck will attend school.
3.45 pm
All to be given their allotment of salted meat for the next day.
5.00 pm
Supper.
6.00 pm
(or before dark, depending on sunset times) All to be below deck.
8.00 pm
Evening prayers.
9 pm
Final inspection.
‘Further,’ he added, ‘Wednesday and Thursday will be specified as washing days, Tuesdays and Fridays will be shaving days and Sunday Divine Service.’
Davison invited questions or, indeed, suggestions. He looked around and after a moment said, ‘There being no comment, let us get to work.’
The first mate had transcribed the daily schedule and it was posted around the ship for reference.
On 7 February 1802, Captain Patton of the Port Authority gave clearance for ships to set sail in the company of two other ships, Coromandel and Buffalo, the latter a Royal Navy store ship. Three East Indiamen and a large West Indies fleet were also outward bound, setting off for the Mediterranean and West Indies.
The harbour was congested with ships. Visibility was poor with snow, sleet, squalls and fog creating extreme hazards. Captain Stirling, taking all factors into account, decided it was too dangerous to set sail and dropped anchor to wait for better weather. He relayed his decision to Davison, who also felt it advisable to wait. The other ships took their chances and continued.
After four days, the fog lifted somewhat and visibility improved. The de
cision was made to leave just after midnight. Davison had been watching for Stirling’s signal and started to follow. Quickly, however, they both realised that with heavy cloud cover and a new moon it was too dark. Another false start.
At first light on the morning of 12 February it was clear though overcast. A breeze was blowing from the north-northeast and with these favourable winds the sailors on both ships were sent aloft to set the sails. Below decks the convicts were again woken by the sounds of chains clanging as anchors were raised, signalling the ship was on its way. All wondered whether this day would be their last in English waters.
As the Isle of Wight slipped past and disappeared into the distance the ships turned to starboard to catch the channel tide. Both were soon heading into the Atlantic Ocean. A course was set for Madeira Island, a Portuguese-held colony off the Moroccan coast and signpost to the south.
The ocean was rough. The design of the Perseus was not intended for this type of weather. She tossed and turned with every swell. As the ship cannoned into an approaching wave, water and foam burst over the bow and timbers creaked and groaned. Each time she crested a wave and emerged on the other side, she was again confronted by a formidable peak of green water. It took all Davison’s skills and experience to guide the ship and he relished the challenge.
None of the passengers or prisoners had ever been at sea before and most suffered seasickness. The sailors enjoyed poking fun at their fellow travellers’ misfortune. The further they moved into the Atlantic, the worse the squalls and storms. Decks were awash with vomit and had to be continually sluiced. Many convicts and passengers were unable to leave their beds. Fortunately for William he kept a steady stomach and was able to keep his balance even on the roughest of days. He enjoyed being on deck when waves crashed and salty water sprayed on his face. He even helped his cell mates, bringing them sips of water and broth and cleaning out their buckets.
The Tailor and the Shipwright Page 7