As we ate a picnic luncheon delivered by Lady Franklin’s maid, I learned much more about the state of the colony from my hostess. For Lady Franklin, prison reform was a pressing issue, especially for women. She spoke of the severe difficulties keeping the inmates of the women’s prison occupied in productive activity. Rather than floor-scrubbing and pan-swilling, she believed they needed educational programs, sewing, cooking and parenting lessons. One of the many disadvantages of the penal system was its exceedingly harsh punishments. Recidivism in New South Wales was not tolerated, and offenders were transferred to the draconian penal colony at Port Arthur. It was said the men were locked in leg-irons and whipped. They were fed such poor diets that flesh was eaten from their bodies, and many sickened and died.
‘I encountered a row of these men, chained like beasts, the day we disembarked,’ I said.
‘What an introduction for you. I do apologise.’
‘It’s not your doing,’ I said.
‘The combination of deprivation and punishment is deadly,’ said Lady Franklin. ‘When they are emancipated, they no longer care about the society to which they have paid their debt. They are, for want of a better term, broken in half. And what do many do on being granted their tickets of leave? Why, they return to drunkenness, violence and thievery.’
‘But the streets are so quiet in the evenings. There’s nobody about. I don’t understand.’
‘That’s because of the curfew. Sir John has proposed to have it lifted, but the local council will not hear of it. All ticket-of-leave bearers must be indoors after seven o’clock. Anyone found loitering runs the risk of arrest and overnight imprisonment – and, in the morning, expensive bail that few, if any, can afford.’
Despite all these challenges, it was clear that rather than being discouraged, Lady Franklin was devoted to the colony and determined to do whatever she could to help it thrive. The Van Diemen’s Land colony could not ask for a better champion – her grasp of what her people needed and the energy she put into everything she did was nothing less than inspiring.
Lady Franklin suddenly apologised for monopolising the conversation and asked to see the roll of drawings I had brought. I was delighted when she showed obvious pleasure at my work. Prompted by the images, she told me of the efforts she had put into bringing the joys of natural science to the settlers. She had started a nature club, instigated a botanical garden and encouraged the restoration of native plant species on the grounds of Government House. She had applied to the British Parliament for grants to construct a natural history museum and for funds to begin a Royal Nature Society. But the Parliament had been unimpressed, denying all petitions.
‘I’m going to put my personal allowance into the museum,’ she said, unperturbed. ‘For the present, our small collection of natural history specimens will continue to be stored in a lightless cell in a building adjacent to the courthouse, with no intention to display. Your Reverend Ewing is our most enthusiastic supplier.’
‘At least the low light will keep them well preserved,’ I said.
Lady Franklin laughed. She offered to help me organise transport for my botanical gleanings if I needed it. As we walked back to the buggy, she turned to me and took my hand. ‘I’m glad to have made a friend such as you. Do you feel it?’
‘I do, Lady Franklin,’ I said, basking in her easy warmth.
‘We are kindred women of science. A rare breed. I’ll keep you close, Mrs Gould. You and your husband are to come to supper at Government House. We entertain most evenings. I will write to you shortly.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, making no attempt to hide my pleasure. ‘I shall look forward to it.’
Riding back to the inn, I reflected on the encounter, impressed with Lady Franklin’s great intelligence, and her passion and commitment to her adopted home. I sensed I had earned a measure of my new acquaintance’s trust. She had seen my paintings and knew I was no mere appendage to my husband. By my works, I stood apart. As did Lady Franklin. It was not difficult to picture her discussing the pressing issues of the morning with the Colonial Secretary, and then in the afternoon helping her husband reduce the swathe of letters filling the bulky government mail bag, offering solutions to knotty moral problems with the grasp of an expert. She was a woman with whom I anticipated making an attachment, not just for the sake of our enterprise, but also for our mutual enjoyment. Finally I had found a true friend in Hobarton – a woman who, like me, was not following the path society had set out for her, but rather forging her own way.
Government House was a simple but impressive two-storey wooden building, stuccoed in lime plaster, with crossed beams and wraparound verandas. The outbuildings for servants included several cottages – I could not help thinking how suitable these would be for storing our specimen collections – and on the grounds I could see a flourishing herb and vegetable garden, livestock and a fleet of coaches.
Sir John Franklin welcomed us with a tired smile, leaning in to reassure me that they were beyond happy to entertain us. ‘You’re the seventy-first and seventy-second visitors to Government House today.’
‘Goodness,’ I said to Lady Franklin. ‘Perhaps we should have waited to visit another time.’
‘Oh, pay him no mind. It’s petition day. It only happens once every quarter. He’s just weary.’
Determined not to arrive for luncheon empty-handed, I had coloured a sketch of a waratah flower gleaned from the Botanic Gardens. John had knocked up a quick frame, putting boards around the drawing and enclosing it behind a sheet of glass. On presenting my gift, there followed such exclamations of delight that I felt myself grow quite pink.
John had also made a gift, a diorama of a grey fantail and a welcome swallow arranged inside a glass dome. ‘They are two new species,’ he said with relish. ‘Can you believe in fifty years of settlement, nobody noticed that these common birds differed from our British tribes? Their subtle and persistent nuances are enough to convince me they are our first Australian curiosities.’
Lady Franklin clapped her hands together, obviously thrilled. ‘We’re delighted to receive such unique gifts. I cannot wait to display them.’
We dined on the wide veranda, flies buzzing around the gravy, a dog nipping at our feet, our bottoms perched on horsehair cushions stuffed into wide-armed cane chairs. It was a far cry from any dinner I had attended in London; I had never felt so welcome or at ease.
‘Where on earth do you store your collections?’ asked Sir John. His hands were thick but soft, the fingernails wide and blunt.
I narrowed my eyes at my husband. It was almost as if the Governor knew exactly what we wanted. I could see John was on the verge of an impassioned reply, but on receiving my look, he began slicing at his mutton. How painful it must have been for him to bite back his words and arguments and heartfelt petitions. But the Franklins required my more measured approach. I could keep the need from my expression and voice. Where passion was John’s strength, self-possession was mine, and as the sun shone over the harbour on that fine spring afternoon I went to work.
‘We’ve hired a room but it’s fast becoming crowded. Each day I fear eviction, not for ill-behaviour, but for slopping paint on the walls like a child, for housing dead birds like a smuggler. I’ve a fragile constitution,’ I said, looking at Sir John, ‘So I’m sure you can appreciate that my stomach is sometimes too tender for the specimens that are pulled from my husband’s hunting brace.’
‘But you must work closely with them to render their likeness?’ asked Sir John.
‘Yes, but only after they’ve been divested of all flesh. In London we had the luxury of separation, my own studio at the top of the house. John maintained his stuffing room in the cellar, like a wine collector and his shelves of dusty bottles. We almost have a trunk to ship home already. We’re contemplating our next move. Hobarton has served as an excellent base for expeditions, and there are many species still to be plucked from its brushes.’ I glanced at John. ‘We’re considering leasing a fourth
room.’
Lady Franklin slapped at a fly. She looked from John to me. ‘We want to ensure, in whatever way we can, that you have all you require for your incomparable project.’
‘We appreciate the sentiment, Lady Franklin,’ said John, with a warm smile. ‘Our plans are not yet firmed.’
After our meal, the Governor excused himself to attend to urgent paperwork while Lady Franklin insisted we tour Government House. As she led us through its palatial rooms she complained of the residence’s shortcomings. ‘It was constructed without much forethought. The practical problems associated with it are numerous: water leaks, draughts, subsidence, crumbling walls, uneven joins.’ She sighed. ‘All in all, it is simply not to the appropriate standard of living quarters for the colony’s administrator.’
‘Can you commission a new building?’ asked John.
‘We cannot commission new stationery,’ said Lady Franklin, laughing. Clutching my elbow, she suddenly drew in a breath. ‘I just had a thought. Perhaps you would be interested in using one of the cottages on our grounds as your base. We have one that has a shed for storage, a kitchen, two bedrooms, a large living area and a wide veranda. Better still, it’s furnished.’
‘This is an exceedingly generous offer, Lady Franklin. But I fear you are much stretched. I cannot but admire your many commitments, and should not wish to get under your feet,’ I said.
Lady Franklin patted my hand. ‘I must warn you not to get excited,’ she said, cheerfully ignoring my objections. ‘I’m not sure if it’s what you have in mind at all. You may be in wont of luxury. However, if work is your concern, you can certainly drip blood and paint on its unvarnished floors. I’m confident it’s habitable. Should you accept the offer, I’d merely have to arrange for the kitchen to be stocked and the beds to be put in linen. What do you say? I could take you now. Can you spare a few moments for another tour?’
‘If you insist.’ I smiled.
I felt John’s palm at my waist. He pinched the flesh there, and it required a good deal of self-reserve not to return the attack. I reminded myself to keep control. We had not yet seen the building. It could prove as uninhabitable as a common dosshouse.
Without further ado, Lady Franklin was bustling us down a sloping path, past the servants’ quarters and stables, the harbour sparkling royal blue in the distance. We came to a clearing where the cottage named New Norfolk stood, surrounded by a fence cordoning off a small yard and a row of rose standards leading to the front steps. The cosy timbered dwelling with its gabled roof and wide veranda made me sigh inside. Two enormous eucalypts had been permitted to remain standing in the front garden, providing the porch area with shade from the morning sun. A grey fantail, its tail making rapid swishing motions, landed on a railing of the veranda. As we moved towards the stairs, it began trilling. The bird rose into the air, circled our party and then alighted on the doormat. It watched us boldly, twittering and flicking its tail. Before even stepping inside, I had made my decision to move in.
Lady Franklin unlocked the front door and showed us around the deliciously cool rooms – a plain but serviceable kitchen with an iron stove, a decent-sized sitting room and two bedrooms, furnished with all we required to store our belongings. The long dining table would serve for our work. In the yard, she pointed out a storeroom in which we might house our collections. We need not concern ourselves with purchasing food, said our hostess. Both Sir John and Lady Franklin enjoyed company, and we were welcome to dine at Government House whenever we liked or to have our meals sent down from the main kitchen.
And so it was decided. Lady Franklin assured us the cottage would be ready in a matter of days. Back at the inn, John and I shared a celebratory glass of port. We could hardly believe our good fortune.
Chapter 14
Southern Giant Petrel
Macronectes giganteus
NEW NORFOLK, Hobarton 1838
In the pre-dawn darkness, mist wreathed John as he hefted a trunk onto the back of the cart. Hidden deep beneath its solid walls and brass locks were all the necessities for a birdman in the bush: field kits carefully wrapped in leather containing scalpels, scooping and scraping equipment, scissors, arsenic, blotting paper and tow, stakes for filleting bird meat, specimen boxes, notepaper and pencils. John had stowed field nets for small genera such as thornbills, and climbing boots and rope to scale tree trunks for egg collecting. There were straws for candling and cases to store eggs and nests. Alongside the axes and machetes, which the party would deploy to grub a path through the thickly clustered bush, were spare guns and shot to stave off trouble-makers.
It had been a week of packing. We had gathered our belongings for our move to New Norfolk cottage, and John had skimmed off materials to bundle into his expedition knapsacks. He had secured three places onboard a small sloop called the Eliza for himself, Gilbert and Benstead to take part in Lady Franklin’s surveying voyage to Port Macquarie. I would have loved to accompany him, but having discovered that I had another child on the way, I could see that it was no longer possible.
Amid the turmoil, we had farewelled Will, who would travel by steamer and bullock cart to the Liverpool Plains, to join my brother Stephen in Dart Mouth.
‘Be sure to look after the little one, eh?’ said John, patting my stomach and giving me a tender kiss goodbye.
I savoured the moment: my husband before me stilled and gentle was a rare pleasure.
‘I expect to be put to heavy work upon your return,’ I said gruffly, a little overwhelmed. ‘Write everything down. I want a full account.’ Leaning in to hold him, I whispered, ‘Keep safe.’
I was unable to concentrate on practical matters for the chore of hiding my emotions. A magpie hopped back and forth on the low bough of a eucalypt, throwing its head every now and again to chortle, as if it were overseeing the expedition’s departure.
Buckles clanked. Grain bags were untied from the horses’ mouths. Water swished about. Hats slid onto scalps. Inventories were checked and searched. Guns were stored for safe-keeping. Packages of treats for the road were fiddled into pockets.
I felt unprepared for John’s absence. The reality of him leaving had crept up on me and I found it impossible to settle or order my thoughts. The morning had found me fussing about arranging the wallaby skins that I had bought for John, Gilbert and Benstead on the wagon’s hard benches. I had been drawn to a market stall advertising Hobarton’s famous bedrolls, essential for travellers having to sleep outside. The stall also sold goods fashioned from the native marsupial into wallets, slippers, rugs, cushion covers, hat liners and gloves. The explorer who slept under the stars on these bedrolls was guaranteed a warm and comfortable rest atop the soft pelts. The fur felt like velvet to the touch, and the leather was beautifully preserved.
I imagined Lady Franklin’s sloop bobbing steadily in the slip dock, having passed the final inspection to allow her maiden voyage. I tried not to feel disappointed that I was unable to join the adventure as planned. Perhaps it was because I was expecting again that I felt an uncustomary apprehension at being separated from John for three weeks. My nerves were agitated, locusts caught in tangles of wheat stems, wings rotating in a frustrated purr, unable to pull free.
An authoritative crunch of pebbles was followed by a dog’s sharp bark. Lady Franklin’s retinue had arrived: the sloop’s skipper, two government surveyors, two manservants and a huge cargo of canvas sacks. The Governor, his jowls run to salt and pepper prickles, brought up the rear.
Last, but far from least, came the leader of the expedition, Lady Franklin. A seasoned explorer, she wore a simple, uncluttered outfit, almost masculine in its lines, made of plain brown fabric and clearly bereft of supporting undergarments, and the working-man’s boots that she preferred. Instead of a bonnet she had donned a practical wide-brimmed hat. Two of her servants followed her from the house bearing a cushioned chair, which they proceeded to load onto the wagon. It was a palanquin, the sort of contraption upon which an Indian raja might be transported
about his realm.
‘What’s this grand contrivance?’ I asked, smiling.
‘I assure you I’m no slouch,’ said Lady Franklin. ‘It’s a last resort. I’ve a dreadful toothache. If it plays up, I’ll be in poor spirits indeed. I’m not a young woman. Though I like to travel and tramp, I cannot always master the terrain. You must understand.’
‘Of course. I would never take you for someone who needed to be pampered, not without reason! I’m just thankful my husband hasn’t discovered such an aid – I’d be allowed no rest,’ I joked.
‘It’s a pity. I would have enjoyed you as a travelling companion,’ said Lady Franklin, her eyes resting on my middle. ‘You’re to take plenty of rest.’
‘There will be other opportunities, I’m certain. And you’re to ignore any outbursts from my husband. His bark far exceeds his bite.’
‘I’m well acquainted with busy men. It’s my strongest housekeeping skill, you might say,’ Lady Franklin replied. We shared a knowing look.
The menfolk dismissed from her mind, her expression changed. ‘Now don’t fuss. I’m sure that a letter from your mother will find you soon. Be sure to check the government mail bag. It’s delivered twice daily. Don’t hesitate to remind the Governor of your needs. He understands. And if you find you cannot rest your thoughts, simply march yourself down to the port office and pay a visit to the mail clerk. I’ve done so on more than one occasion. Like your dear John, I’m not one for twiddling my thumbs.’
At a farewell dinner the previous night, Lady Franklin had admitted that the most important item she had packed was a kid-bound journal. She was possessed by the pastime of keeping a diary in the same way I was by writing my letters home. For an hour of a morning and several more in the evening, she simply had to set down her reflections in ink. And of course she understood better than anyone my need to hear news of my children back home.
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