by Paul Collins
The prosecution later asserted at Pearce’s trial that after he had killed the young man ‘he then cut a piece [of flesh] off one thigh, which he roasted and ate . . . [and then] he swam across the river with an intention to reach Port Dalrymple’. This is a summary account, and the actual butchering of Cox’s body took longer, which, as the Hobart Town Gazette of Friday, 25 June 1824 put it, was ‘a thrilling tale of almost incredible barbarity’. What happened was that after killing the young man, Pearce stripped the body naked, got the fire going, cut off the hands, decapitated the body and placed the injured head in a nearby tree. He carved up the torso and ate parts of it, including the flesh of the underarm, and fell asleep on the south bank of the King River.
He awoke early the next morning while it was still dark, ate some of the fish and had a little bread, then changed into Cox’s clothes, which were in better shape than his own. He gathered up his odds and ends, as well as the remains of the bread and pork they had stolen earlier from the hunters, and wrapped everything in a swag made from his own shirt, adding what he could carry of Cox’s flesh. As an afterthought he also shoved a sizeable piece of flesh into his pocket. As the dawn appeared, he swam across the mouth of the river and headed northward along the beach and sand dunes. With a full belly he walked quickly, and after about 5 miles (8 kilometres) he came to the upper end of Macquarie Harbour, passing by the little bay where the present-day town of Strahan is situated. His main aim was to avoid going anywhere near the pilot’s station at Hell’s Gates. Once he got to the northern end of the Harbour, he turned north-west across flat, sandy country behind the thick scrub and coastal tea-tree, hoping to reach the ocean beach and the Southern Ocean beyond the entrance to the harbour. Then he intended to head up the beach, sticking very much to the coast. He had no idea of how far he would have to travel to get anywhere near a settled district.
But as he walked across the flat land toward the ocean beach, something started to trouble him. It was a confused mixture of feelings. Perhaps it was that he just did not have the physical or psychological energy to push on much further, and could not face the prospect of an endless, lonely trek. Now that he was on his own he knew that once he had consumed what was left of Cox and the other food he had, he would be hungry again. Perhaps he also realised that there was a chance that he would be killed by Aborigines, as he guessed had happened to other convicts who had escaped from Macquarie Harbour. If he was going to stick to the beaches he knew that constant walking in soft sand is a demanding exercise. It also could have been that, at a deeper level, he realised that he liked human flesh and he began to feel something like remorse. These were new feelings for him. Whatever his reasons, he decided to return to the Macquarie Harbour area and try to survive somewhere near the King River by stealing whatever came his way. Perhaps he could attach himself to another party of escaping prisoners.
By late morning he had turned back and was heading again toward the scene of the murder at the King River.
As he walked back Pearce began to recall all that had happened to him. He suddenly felt that the only time he had been free and happy was the period he had spent on the run up-country, after he had killed Greenhill and reached the settled districts at the end of the nightmare journey from Macquarie Harbour.There he was with his old boon companions and there was rum, tobacco, food and the occasional woman to keep him warm at night. Once he regained his strength, he had been able to range freely over the country from hut to hut. He was confident that his mates would look after him if any bosses or soldiers came snooping around. He felt safe in this back country; he knew where he was, he could do what he wanted, and no man stood over him. There was one white woman who said she fancied him, but he did not really want to get stuck with her. As far as he was concerned you had your way with them, and then you left and looked after yourself. He did not want to get tied up with anyone, especially now that he was on the run. A woman could become a burden.
When Pearce got to the northern bank of the King River, he had to decide what he should do. Eventually he swam across to the south side, still carrying his supplies, and, skirting the remains of Cox, he began to head south across the sand dunes and coastal scrub to the medium-density forest that reached right out to the edge of Macquarie Harbour at Pine Cove Point. Here he could watch activity on the harbour and give himself time to decide what his next move should be. He had already gathered some dry driftwood for a fire which he would light later that night further back in the forest. He sat in the shade at the edge of the trees looking out over the harbour. It was the first time he had been alone and away from other convicts for months.
By now it was getting toward late afternoon. Although he did not spell it out for himself explicitly, he was shocked by the violence of his attack on Cox. He had almost torn up the body. He was also uncertain of what he should do. How long would his liberty last if he hung around the harbour? There was always the danger of wandering into a party of soldiers, or his being seen by someone who would report him in order to curry favour with Cuthbertson. He felt hungry and took out a piece of Cox’s flesh, but the scene at the King River came back to him and he was unable to eat it and put it back in his pocket. He felt exhausted and he dozed off to sleep where he sat. At least when he was asleep he did not feel so terribly alone.
When he awoke about twenty minutes later he looked idly across the water, and there was a ship! It was the pilot-schooner Waterloo, sailing toward Hell’s Gates from Sarah Island with James Lucas in command. It was just north of Liberty Point, about 5 miles (8 kilometres) away. Impulsively, and without thinking of what he was doing or what he would say, Pearce ran out onto the beach and was eventually successful in getting the dry driftwood to catch alight. Soon a good fire was burning, and by pouring some water on the fire he created a lot of smoke. Now at least he would have company and not be alone with his frightening thoughts. As he waited for the pilot-boat he reflected that he was a tough and strong survivor, and that he had talked his way out of lots of problems before. He had even convinced old Bobby Knopwood that he was innocent of all the killings on the terrible journey across the wilderness, and he hoped he would be able to do something similar with Cuthbertson. He would simply say that Cox had drowned in one of the rivers and leave it at that. He would cop a hundred and that would be that!
As soon as the smoke began to rise from the shoreline of the harbour it was spotted from the schooner’s deck, and Lucas ordered the Waterloo to change tack. As the schooner came close to shore, a boat was dispatched to pick up the lone figure on the beach at Pine Cove Point. As it approached the beach, Pearce was recognised, and William Evans, a tall seaman from the Waterloo, was sent ashore by Lucas. As Evans neared him, Pearce blurted out, ‘Cox was drowned in the King’s River’. Evans replied that he should tell that to the Commandant. The able seaman tied Pearce’s hands behind his back and marched him out to the boat. It was rowed back to the Waterloo and Pearce was brought on board.
Lucas ordered that Pearce be placed in leg-irons and searched. The piece of human flesh was found in his pocket. Lucas demanded to know what it was.
‘It is a piece of Cox, and I brought it to show that he is lost’, Pearce said, making up the story on the spot. Knowing his reputation as a possible man-eater, Lucas ordered that the Waterloo turn around and return to Sarah Island. It was the only safe place for a man like Pearce.
However, an observant guard at Sarah Island had also seen the smoke, and Cuthbertson immediately ordered out a whaleboat, boarded it and went up the harbour to investigate. It was nightfall when the schooner and Cuthbertson’s whaleboat met. The Commandant went aboard the Waterloo and, after conferring with Lucas, he confronted the escapee. He asked Pearce about the human flesh in his pocket and demanded that he explain why he was wearing Cox’s clothes. Immediately Pearce started fudging. He said he had cut off the piece of flesh to show that Cox really was dead, and that he was wearing the young man’s clothes because he would not be needing them any more. Cuthbertson could
tell he was lying and asked him directly: ‘Tell me, Pearce, did you do the deed?’
Without thinking, the Irishman replied, ‘Yes, and I am willing to die for it’. For the moment Cuthbertson was satisfied, but later while the officers were having a quiet drink together, Able Seaman Evans asked Pearce why he had killed Cox who, after all, had been his mate. By now Pearce had had time to think about his situation and had again become cagey. He said, ‘I’ll tell no one until I am going to suffer for it’. As time went on, he began to make all types of excuses for his behaviour. Perhaps this is because he found it hard to concede, even to himself, that he had been guilty of such sheer violence.
They all slept on the Waterloo that night, Pearce firmly chained to a bulkhead, and early the next morning Cuthbertson sent the whaleboat under the command of his coxswain, Thomas Smith, with Pearce aboard, in leg-irons and his hands firmly tied behind his back, to recover what was left of the body of Cox.
When they reached the King River, an appalling scene awaited them. This is how Smith described it to the Supreme Court in Hobart Town at Pearce’s trial for the murder of Cox. He told the court that when his party found the body ‘the head was away, the hands cut off, the bowels were torn out, and the greater part of the breech and thighs gone, as were the calf of the legs, and the fleshy parts of the arms. Witness [Smith] said to the prisoner, “How could you do such a deed as this?” he answered “No person can tell what he will do when driven by hunger”.Witness then said, “Where is the head?”The answer was “I left it with the body”. Witness searched for and found it a few yards off, under the shade of a fallen tree; witness then picked up what appeared to be the liver of the deceased and an axe stained with blood, on which prisoner was asked “if that was the axe with which he killed Cox?”, and he answered “it was”. The fragments of the body were quite naked . . . There had been a fire near the body, and not far from it lay a knife which the witness picked up . . . Prisoner on being asked “where Cox’s hands were” said “he had left them on a tree where the boat landed”; a search was made for them but they could not be found’.
Because this is a disinterested, eyewitness testimony given under oath at a murder trial in the Supreme Court, we can accept it as pretty close to the truth, at least as the witness saw it. The remains of the body were then wrapped in two rugs, and the whaleboat, with Pearce and Cuthbertson aboard, returned to Sarah Island. The Waterloo continued on its journey to the pilotstation just inside Hell’s Gates.
Back at the penal settlement Commandant Cuthbertson felt that he had to interview Pearce and get to the bottom of what had happened to Cox so that he could send a coherent report back to the Lieutenant-Governor. It was clear that the Irish convict was a murdering man-eater, and that what he had told Knopwood about the first escape was substantially true. Cuthbertson was convinced that he should never have been sent back to Macquarie Harbour, but hung in Hobart Town. So the Commandant set up a formal interview with Pearce, with John Douglas, his convict clerk, recording Pearce’s responses. At this stage Pearce was in the convict hospital, such as it was, in fear of his life but probably suffering from some type of food poisoning.
The original manuscript of his statement to Cuthbertson is now probably lost. However, the narrative may have come down to us in a long-hand version that is held in Sydney’s Mitchell Library and is headed ‘Pearce’s Narrative’. Dan Sprod considers that this Mitchell Library narrative is very early and may be either a direct copy of Pearce’s confession to Cuthbertson, or may even be a portion of the original. Another version of this interview with Cuthbertson comes down to us in summary form from a later surgeon at Macquarie Harbour, John Barnes. He gave evidence fourteen years later to the 1838 House of Commons Select Committee into Convict Transportation, chaired by the radical member of parliament, Sir William Molesworth. Barnes told the Select Committee that he had taken his information about Pearce from the Sarah Island records but, as with other witnesses who testified before the Molesworth Select Committee, the evidence given was sometimes exaggerated, and Molesworth himself was determined to paint the convict system in the worst possible light. So Barnes’s testimony needs to be balanced by the evidence taken at Pearce’s trial, which occurred only seven months after the actual events.
Surgeon Barnes shortens the time scale that the escapees were at large by saying that Cox and Pearce absconded on 16 November 1823, not 13 November as in the evidence given at the murder trial. But the most interesting extra detail that Barnes provides is that as well as having half a pound of human flesh in his pocket, Pearce also had other food with him when he surrendered. ‘Pierce [sic] could be in no want of food when he committed this horrid deed . . . [W]hen he was taken there was found upon his person a piece of pork, some bread, and a few fish . . . but which he had not tasted, stating that human flesh was by far preferable.’ When asked why he murdered Cox, Pearce said that ‘they quarrelled about the route they were to pursue, and Cox being the strongest man, he [Pearce] was obliged to take up an axe, with which he knocked him down and killed him’. Barnes says that the two escapees had stolen the food Pearce had ‘from a party of hunters two days before’.
Barnes’s description of the butchered body of Cox generally concurs with that given by Thomas Smith to the Supreme Court at Pearce’s trial, although there are some minor differences. Barnes says that Cuthbertson sent a boat over to the King River to collect the remains of Cox, that Pearce led the recovery party to a site about 400 yards up-river, and that ‘the body was found and brought to the [Sarah Island] settlement in a dreadfully mangled state, being cut right in two at the middle, the head off, the privates torn off, all the flesh of the calves of the legs, back of the thighs and loins, also off the thick part of the arms, which the inhuman wretch declared was the most delicious food; none of the intestines were found; he said that he threw them behind a tree, after having roasted and devoured the heart and part of the liver; one of the hands was also missing’. The Barnes account concurs with the Supreme Court evidence that Pearce gave himself up because he had no hope of ultimately escaping, ‘that he was . . . horror-struck at his own inhuman conduct’, and ‘that he did not know what he was about when he made the signal upon the beach’ to the passing schooner.
As long as he remained at Sarah Island, Pearce was kept in close confinement and separated from the other convicts. He finally left the penal settlement in heavy chains and carefully confined aboard the government vessel the Duke of York. As the signal came back from Hell’s Gates that the ship had cleared Macquarie Harbour and was underway for Hobart Town, the Commandant breathed a sigh of relief. His man-eater was gone. Pearce would soon be dead and all respectable people would sleep more soundly in their beds.
Ironically, Lieutenant John Cuthbertson himself was to die some seven months before the Irish cannibal was hung. The Commandant drowned on Christmas Eve, 1823.There was a gale blowing and Cuthbertson was concerned about what might happen to the first Sarah Island-built schooner, which was moored offshore. He was watching it from his verandah when he realised that it had slipped its moorings and was beginning to drift toward the mouth of the Gordon River. He immediately ordered out his whaleboat and went after the drifting ship. Eventually he and his crew secured the new boat. Cuthbertson and his men then turned to row back to Sarah Island. Ignoring the advice of a convict overseer who had been a ship’s mate, he ordered that they row straight through a high surf breaking on the flats at the mouth of the Gordon. They were tipped over in the heavy sea, and despite the desperate efforts of Smith, his coxswain, the Lieutenant and all but two of the crew were drowned. Cuthbertson was about thirty-eight at the time and had almost finished his tour of duty at Macquarie Harbour. Sorell, who respected him a lot, would have made sure he was promoted to captain on his return to Hobart Town. Instead, after temporary interment at Sarah Island, his body was brought back to the tiny colonial capital and was buried with due ceremony on 19 April 1824. So he was in his final resting place even before Pearce was execute
d.
After being shipped in late November or early December, Pearce had to wait six months for his Supreme Court trial. He was to outlive his Commandant by seven months.
6
THE DEATH OF A CANNIBAL
Fully wigged and robed, the 31-year-old, newly appointed Chief Justice of Van Diemen’s Land, John Lewes Pedder, strutted onto the exalted and uncomfortable bench of the Supreme Court in Macquarie Street near the corner of Murray Street in Hobart Town, on the very cold morning of Monday, 20 June 1824.There was a heavy covering of snow on Mount Wellington, and it was particularly chilly in the courtroom. Given the inadequate heating system, both judge and legal officers needed all the layers of court costume they could muster to keep warm, as did the respectable jury of seven commissioned officers.
Pearce’s trial would be the thirty-third case to be held before the Supreme Court since it had opened on 10 May 1824. Chief Justice Pedder, who had arrived in the colony just two months before, direct from the mother country, was a careful legal scholar who was sometimes tediously slow at arriving at what he considered a just verdict, no matter how depraved the malefactor before him. His enemies said that he was a high Tory with a lofty view of the divine right of government and the courts. As a convinced member of the established church he was profoundly opposed to aid of any sort being given to Roman Catholics and other sectaries, such as Methodists, and he certainly did not believe in the right of Catholic convicts to be exempted from compulsory attendance at Anglican services. Pedder often hectored condemned men and women from the bench at length, telling them that they should not complain about the harshness of the law when the penalties for crime were well known to everyone.