The Commander was not happy when he was told the same. He gave way to his temper in front of us all. ‘Does that man give no thought to anyone’s inconvenience?’
Antoine continued to defend him to me. ‘Why make such a fuss? Citizen Péron will come back when he is ready. At every step he sees nothing but molluscs, and will not be satisfied until he has upended every rock, then noted all his findings. He cannot be blamed for being so dedicated a scientist.’
Unable to hide his annoyance, the Commander decided to send the carpenters ashore to cut wood for the construction of the new longboat. He ordered them to pick up Citizen Péron. ‘Warn him, if he cares not to return this time, I intend leaving him behind.’
In the midst of this, a lone sealer rowed over. His boat was heavy with cargo, the pile well hidden by sealskins. I recognised him as one of the cut throats who had demanded the knives. Antoine grabbed my arm. ‘Do not be alarmed! He is a friend. During the storms our supplies ran out, but he and the other sealers kept us well fed. There is no harm in his coming to replace what we used.’
Antoine described how the sealers welcomed them all to their huts, which were only bits of wood driven into the ground and joined at the top, then covered by bark. ‘Day and night they kept a great fire burning, and fed it with large tree trunks,’ he told me. ‘We dined on native game: emu, wombat, kangaroo, which they cooked in their own juices, altogether, in the cauldron. Most savoury it was, although Citizen Péron wished in vain for bread or biscuit for the dipping.’
On hearing the same story, the Commander thanked the sealer for such consideration of his scientists’ welfare. Without delay he ordered cinquante pounds of biscuits, a wicker-cased bottle of rum, vingt pounds of sugar, trois of tea and six red wine to be given to the sealer for his troubles.
‘He is like a father the way he cares for you all,’ I reminded Antoine.
The sealer had brought along some emus, a male kangaroo and trois wombats. The Commander went to the Great Cabin to arrange payment. He was always looking out for creatures to add to the collection.
Late afternoon
Antoine and I were amusing ourselves by stroking the newly purchased kangaroo, which for so wild an animal seemed very tame, when Citizen Petit strode over to us. He was full of complaint. The Commander had seized one of his sketches. The one he did of Officer Robbins’ land claim. ‘He told me it would cause trouble if seen by the English,’ Citizen Petit said, ‘but I have another. Such a farce should not go unrecorded in history.’ He waved a sketch under my nose. ‘Not for Citizeness to see, not our little convict girl. Close your eyes!’
I snatched the drawing from his fingers. He knew very well that I could not resist looking. A redcoat with a bayonet in hand sat beneath a tree next to the scientists’ camp. From a bough above his head dangled a limp flag, like wet washing flung up to dry. Citizen Petit insisted to me that the flag was raised that way, but I did not believe for one minute that His Majesty’s officers would permit an upside down flag to be hoisted.
‘Citizen Petit, your wit could easily start another war,’ I scolded.
25 December 1802
5 Nivôse XI
This day has passed like any other. All afternoon I yearned for some yuletide offerings, and dreamt of mistletoe, Mumma’s mincies, a tidy dollop of creamed butter and a heady drop of parsnip wine to wash it all down.
Later Antoine showed me the latest specimens. We looked at sponges, tube worms, acorn barnacles, a lobster creature, two types of lizards, two snakes with venomous fangs, and three small emus. ‘I wish I was allowed to go ashore with you,’ I said.
The sealers’ work is too brutal for a girl’s eyes,’ he answered. ‘Sea elephants shake violently when attacked, taking on such an air of sadness that tears stream from their eyes.’
‘Hobbledehoy!’ I said. ‘Sea creatures do not cry.’
‘Believe what you like,’ he replied and walked off, without me any the wiser.
27 December 1802
6 Nivôse XI
Last night there was little sleep to be had. I had to tend the Commander into the early hours for he was spitting more blood and full of fever. ‘If I am going to die, please let it be quickly,’ he moaned.
I sat by his side, cooling his forehead with a bread and water poultice. ‘Ain’t no help to go speaking that way, sir,’ I told him, dreading to think what would happen if he was not fit and well enough to lead the voyage. The men would be merciless to us both.
Good fortune came with the morning sky. His fever had broken. He was in better spirits. When a lookout sighted Casuarina arriving back from her surveys, the Commander was even more pleased. He sent word we were all to leave King Island immediately and continue heading west through the southern waters. He said he has had enough delays.
29 December 1802
8 Nivôse XI
Today we discovered that five of the stowaways who we thought had been sent back on the Cumberland were with us once again. At first they refused to disclose how they came to be back on board.
The Commander blamed the oarsmen who had picked up Citizen Péron from Sea Elephant Rock. He seemed convinced they had sneaked the convicts back. His shouts could be heard all over the ship. ‘Let the stowaways be fed at their expense!’
The oarsmen swore they were innocent. Citizen Péron and the carpenters were adamant the stowaways were not on board the small boat. But the Commander refused to listen. They told him he had no proof. That he should not dishonour his men so shamefully.
Not long after, the stowaways confessed that the sealer helped them. That cut throat one, who had sold the emus, wombats and tame kangaroo to the Commander. The convicts hid under the sealskins.
At this revelation the Commander’s face turned pale. ‘Keep the stowaways in the hold,’ he ordered hoarsely. ‘They shall be put on the next ship we meet or landed at the next settlement we reach.’ With a vague gesture, as if to add such things no longer interested him, he strode away.
By not believing his men, I fear he has given them another reason to dislike him.
3 January 1803
13 Nivôse XI
Today we have been sailing along the rocky western side of Kangaroo Island. But with the construction of the new longboat still only a little way on, we have been unable to sail as close as we would like to the shoreline. Our ship is too heavy, making it too difficult to manoeuvre. However, the sailors have been sounding the depth often to make sure we do not end up in shallow waters.
We have already visited the sandy and treeless south-eastern side of the island, where Captain Flinders and Commander Baudin encountered one another last April. The Commander made much of this meeting to me, saying how surprised he was to hear his name called out by Captain Flinders in this far off place. He only learned later that the Investigator had left eight months after Géographe and Naturaliste, and already knew about his expedition.
‘Captain Flinders’ crew were all wearing kangaroo skin caps when I encountered the Investigator,’ the Commander told me. ‘So abundant are the kangaroos here, he named the island, Kangaroo Island. However, while he may have been the first to reach here, my honour comes from being the first to circumnavigate it. So I have given the island a new name, Ile Borda. Oblige.’
‘Eel-Border,’ I dutifully repeated, wondering at the confusion of having opposing names for the same place, which was bound to muddle the mapmakers or any future mariners.
When I made this point to the Commander, he replied, ‘Time will reveal the chosen name. History is only ever told by those who survive to tell the tale.’ He sounded serious. ‘Let us hope Captain Flinders and I will complement one another’s discoveries.’
6 January 1803
16 Nivôse XI
We have set anchor in a place the Commander has named Bougainville Bay, while Captain Flinders has called it Nepean Bay. The caulkers have been fixing a leaky hull on the Casuarina; the smiths busy repairing one of her anchors and forging new hoops for her topmasts.
A party was due out again to search for water and to find more timber to finish the longboat. On hearing this I pleaded with the Commander to let me go ashore. ‘Plee-ase, I am eager to lose my sea legs.’
‘Yes, go!’ he agreed finally, ‘Grant me some respite. In fact while you are there, oblige me by naming the beach.’
I knew he was only making a jest, but I happily agreed to take up his good-humoured challenge.
The presence of Antoine and Citizen Petit in one of the boats ensured I would not be left behind. We rowed through seawater that was blue-green, lit by the sun so clear you could observe the seabed two fathoms down.
Stepping into the shallows I immediately lay claim to the beach, yelling at the top of my voice, ‘I name this Baudin’s Beach!’ Caring not if everyone was watching, I jumped up and down so hard the water splashed up to my neck. I made a pow-pow sound from my throat like the sound of a musket salute. I called out my own made up words for the Act of Possession, untied my bandana and raced up the chalk white sand to where the tough undergrowth prickled my feet. A lone tree stood, its bark peeled back by salt winds. Up went my bandana, as high as any flag. I twirled back down the beach, my dark hair spinning, my wet shift so blown full of breeze it dried quickly and bulged like an air balloon. And I called out to the sea, I called out to the sky, I called out to Ann and Tibs, Bridget and her rebel Joe, Mumma, Dadda—
Gasping for breath, I stopped dead, only to realise most of the citizens were looking at me while circling their fingers on either sides of their forehead. Poor Citizeness, they meant, addled in the head. I raised my chin and waved my arms at them, calling, ‘Liberté, Citoyens! Hip, huzzah! Hip, huzzah! Hip, huzzah!’
Antoine charged over. ‘Keep up your spirits by all means, but do not provoke them any more.’
Together, we wandered into the scrub, at first walking in silence, awed by a mob of kangaroos that stood seized by fear, like statues, then bound away with startled suddenness. Antoine pointed out plants, but decided not much new or undiscovered flora was in these parts. Eventually we wandered back to the sandy white beach. Oh, Antoine! Did he feel as snug as I did in our own company?
Back in the Great Cabin the Commander was displeased with our day trip. ‘No water! Timber fit only for firewood! Wasted time!’
I took it upon myself to cheer his spirits and said, ‘I took possession of the beach, naming it after you, sir.’
This raised a smile. ‘Captain Flinders would be most aggrieved!’ he said, ‘And fortunate for you no natives were sighted, nor any signs of their encampments on the island, or else they would be aggrieved too. However, I am afraid Baudin Beach will not do, for I cannot over-flatter myself by perpetuating my own name.’
‘But you are a great explorer. Everyone in the colony said so. You have been to so many places, found so many new things, you deserve glory—’
‘Sometimes I fear I will go down in history as the one who followed the great Captain Flinders around the world, even if I did sail first!’ His eyes narrowed. ‘You will be more remembered.’
‘Me, sir? A convict?’
‘But a girl! Consider, you are the first European girl ever to set foot on Ile Borda for instance.’
Lawdy! Me? I ventured on, ‘About Eel- Border, sir, the name confuses me. You see, while there, I did not come across one single eel.’ I dared not add that Captain Flinder’s name of Kangaroo Island seemed much more befitting, considering kangaroos were everywhere.
He looked perplexed, then broke out in a peal of laughter. ‘Ah, let me explain. Île means island, not the eel you find in your Parramatta River. Borda is in memory of Jean Charles de Borda, a prized mathematician. We think it better to name a place in honour of a distinguished personage, rather than a mere animal.’
Sometimes I could be such a silly dolt! There was so much to learn. At least the Commander was back in good spirits.
Later
This evening, Citizen Petit handed me a sketch drawn in charcoal, of me dancing on the beach. ‘Did I not promise to capture you?’ he said, ‘Although I did change my view about the white bird.’
Now through his artist’s eye I resembled the rigid mast of a proud and powerful ship. My dress ballooned into a tall wall of sail hanging from the yardarm. Atop, my flung bandana had become a regal and defiant flag. In the background, a quaint old tree bent against the wind like a grizzled old man.
When I attempted to give back the drawing, he waved me away. ‘Yours to keep.’
His kindness overwhelmed me. I placed the sketch flat on the bottom of a timber box the Commander had provided for my few possessions, along with the rose that Tibs carved, my writing pouch, and this, my precious cloth-bound journal.
Ile Borda
9 January 1803
19 Nivôse XI
Antoine and I came ashore together today. We set out with the Commander, but he hurried off leading a party in the usual quest for water.
We spent some of our time observing sea creatures. How they shimmered below the clear water in the rock pools! Dark red ones with brilliant blue, with white and pink spotted tentacles. White ones with green and orange stripes. Beautiful starfish in shades of red, pink, blue, and purple.
Eventually we strolled over to an officer who was chiselling an inscription into a rock. Antoine read the French words aloud. He can read most ably. ‘On a slow improve,’ he admitted humbly, when I praised him, ‘although Citizen Péron says I spell exceedingly poor.’
‘He never has a good word for anyone. Not even you, who call him “friend”.’
Citizen Petit called across from where he was sketching, ‘I will draw for you another keepsake, d’accord?’
‘Mais oui, Citoyen, merci,’ I said gratefully, my spoken French being on a slow improve as well.
Back in the cabin as the light was fading, I sat admiring the sketch Citizen Petit had drawn for me of the rock inscription, which meant “Expedition of discovery by Commander Baudin on the Géographe 1803”.
Overwhelming curiosity made me take out the other drawing he had given me. I laid the two side by side, and traced the letters on the rock inscription that spelt: “Baudin”. There was no mistaking the same name was also scribbled along the tree trunk of the earlier sketch. Why had I not seen it before? Nor the fact that the tree I thought looked like a grizzled old man was in truth a mocking image of the Commander. Shame on Citizen Petit for putting his talent to such mischief! And for taking me for a fool!
10 January 1803
20 Nivôse XI
Casuarina is to leave us again for twenty days to examine the bays further west. Some of our drinking water was sent over earlier for their crew. Precious water it is. Our daily ration is already so meagre. In this heat, sweet wine and tart spirits will be a poor stand in.
Géographe is to remain anchored. The Commander has ordered us to use the time in search of more fresh water, and to hunt kangaroos.
11 January 1803
21 Nivôse XI
I have told Antoine that I am not going ashore with him today. As much as I wish to spend our time together, it is too pitiful to hear the cries of the hunt. Kangaroos are such harmless creatures, gentle like sheep. Their weakness is they suspect no danger at all. A sealer’s dog we brought from King Island has been trained for the kill, and the other dogs too, chasing down and attacking and tearing at the kangaroos until our hunters shout and whistle at them to stop.
Afternoon
They have brought back many giant kangaroos alive and put them in pens on the gangway. While I was on deck, one kangaroo fought back magnificently by trying to throw itself into the water. Three females had young tucked in their pouches.
The dead ones have been sent to the cooks. They intend stewing down their heads, tails and forequarters to make soup. The rich red meat they will keep for steaks.
Later I went below to see what specimens the boat had brought back. As well as pelican eggs, I counted trente birds taken from their nests, deux golden-winged pige
ons, deux lizards, molluscs, and six ear shells.
21 January 1803
1 Pluviôse XI
I have grown used to hearing the Commander’s harsh voice coming from the Great Cabin when he loses patience. Today I could not escape it, the Commander almost seeming to forget I was there.
‘You are idle! You do nothing!’ he shouted, but not at me, at the officer standing before him in the cabin.
The officer shouted back, ‘It is not up to gentlemen of rank to supervise the building of the longboat! You are wrong to give us such orders. We are required to know only two things. Un: how to guide a ship! Deux: how to rest when our Watch is finished!’
The Commander waved his hand in frustration. ‘Do not waste more of my time! Better I go ashore myself to supervise the carpenters!’
Who could deny the Commander had every right to be enraged? The longboat was far from complete. Yet every one of the officers avoided going near. It was plain they thought supervising the work was beneath them. With the Commander going ashore I did not want to be left behind to listen to all their sniping. I made sure I was in the boat too.
‘Do not get underfoot,’ the Commander grumbled. Luckily, he did not send me back on board.
On shore he scolded the carpenters into working faster. ‘No more delays, do you hear?’
Oh, the looks they gave him when his back was turned.
Soon after, the carpenters were felling a casuarina tree when it tumbled in the wrong direction, knocking the Commander to the ground. I rushed over to help, dragging off the branches that trapped him. There were cuts and bruises to his face and chest. Luckily the bulk of the tree had missed him. I cradled his head and demanded the men bring me water to clean the wounds.
Convict Girl Page 13