The Rum Rebellion

by Libby Gleeson

  Wednesday 2nd November

  There is one thing that I must write about. Uncle George may be going to England.

  Some months ago now, he and Mr Thompson and Mr McDougall decided that they had to act. They called a meeting of all those settlers who opposed Macarthur and the way in which he and the Officers have been running everything since they imprisoned poor Governor Bligh.

  The meeting chose Uncle George and another man, whose name I do not recall, to go to England and tell everyone, maybe even the King, what the Soldiers and Mr Macarthur and everyone in Sydney Town have done to the colony.

  One of the farmers who was there said he knew that there were 2,000 fewer acres of wheat planted this year and maybe people would starve, just like twenty years ago. He said if there were a flood like before, that would surely happen because the wheat that is there would all get washed away. I have never seen our mighty river in flood but Aunt Sarah says it was terrible to see how it washed away land and houses and stock and that even some men were drowned.

  There was such anger at that meeting. People were jumping up and shouting about how terrible everything is now and how all the good of Governor Bligh’s time has been worn away. They said Uncle George and the other man had to tell the people in England that the settlers and farming men knew nothing of the Rebellion until it had happened and some of them had signed that paper that Uncle George refused in the street that time. They said they only signed because they were threatened and they feared that some great harm might befall them and their families. When Uncle George said he had refused to sign they said three cheers for him and that he was the bravest of men and I felt myself very proud of him.

  But I did wonder what Aunt Sarah would say.

  I listened to them talking long into the night. He did not tell her immediately but waited until everyone was in bed and asleep. I lay there trying to imagine this house without him. The meeting said that the settlers would raise money to look after Aunt Sarah and the family but who would tell Arthur and Ebenezer and Jim what they had to do? Who would work long hours to make sure that the clearing and the planting gets done? Who knew exactly when each of the vegetables had to be planted or the seed gathered? Who would make the notes about the way each type of seed bore fruit so as to send the results to Mr Banks? Who would piggyback three children at once at the end of the day or on Sunday? And what if that ship which carried them to England should meet with some danger?

  These same thoughts were in Aunt Sarah’s mind. She talked of the men who must be supervised, of the children who need their Father and of she herself who has been so ill.

  ‘I do not want to be selfish,’ she said, ‘but if you leave I will miss you every day of your absence and pray for your safe return.’

  She wept then and I felt it wrong to listen more and so I pulled my shirt up over my ears and then buried my head under my pillow.

  For days my Aunt was pale and quiet. I had never seen them quarrel but surely they had come close to it over this. My Uncle went out early every morning because there were lambs expected in the bottom paddock and I did not see him until nightfall. Nothing was said in front of us of the meeting and I wondered when he would go.

  It is now almost three months and still no talk of this venture. I have not dared to ask my Aunt and my Uncle says nothing and goes about preparing for the harvest as if he plans to be here. Perhaps the money has not been forthcoming and he has abandoned his plans.

  Friday 4th November

  I am so happy to have my diary returned. Even tonight, when I have nothing special to write, I take pleasure in holding my quill and thinking of putting down words.

  Sunday 6th November

  Mr Lewin is here again. This time he is drawing flowering plants. He sits in the sun, beyond the house, and he has in front of him samples of all the wildflowers from the creek bed and other places in the bush.

  He let me help him mix the colours from special powders. This morning we made a green that sometimes, in some light, seemed almost to be blue. It is so hard to get exactly the right colour. Each leaf of each plant is different.

  Monday 7th November

  I spent much of today with Mr Lewin. He gave me three sheets of paper to draw whatever I like. I filled the first with flowers like his. I just made pencil sketches and then watched as he mixed his colour and applied it.

  Tuesday 8th November

  My Uncle may not be hastening to England at this time but he has not lessened his opposition to the current Government. Major Foveaux is now in charge and my Uncle says he is no better than the others. He calls him ‘the Butcher of Norfolk Island’, but I am not sure what he means. He says that the events at that place were so terrible, so vicious and cruel, that he would rather not talk about them.

  For the last two nights there has been a steady stream of visitors to our farm, all come to sign a Petition which is to go to the Parliament in England. Perhaps my Uncle will go and take it in person. It tells of the way that there is no regular Clergyman because the Reverend Mr Johnson supports the Governor and so is not allowed to preach in his Church. It says too that there is one law for the businessmen and another for the farmers and that they cannot get the labouring men they need and will not be able to produce enough food for themselves and their families, much less for the whole colony. When men say this, I look at our table, rich in the fruits of our trees, the vegetables and the grain and everything that comes from our animals, and I know we are well-off but many others are not.

  Thursday 10th November

  Mr Lewin left this evening. He said he must return because he is waiting for a shipment from London. He has painted a book called Birds of New South Wales with Their Natural History and expects the printed copies to arrive quite soon. I will miss his lessons.

  Sunday 13th November

  My Aunt is ill again. I asked if she wanted me to go to the O’Farrells’ to fetch Kitty’s Mother but she said this time it was a different illness and Mrs O’Farrell could not help her. She has a fever but still does not have the shadowed eyes I remember from my Mother’s last days.

  Sometimes that is all I do remember. I try to bring to mind her whole face but I cannot. I remember moments, gestures and smells. Once she said her head ached and ached and she asked me to rub her forehead. I sat there beside her bed, rubbing till my fingers felt they would drop off. She said it made her feel better and so I would not have stopped for anything. Her bed smelt sickly sweet from lavender oil and other powders.

  Tuesday 15th November

  My Uncle says the wheat is nearly ready for harvest. I went with him this morning and we looked at the plump heads filled with grain. The weather is dry and perfect for the wheat’s last days of growth.

  Saturday 19th November

  My Aunt is still in bed. They argued long into last night. It seems Major Foveaux has said that all the landowners must gather at a Muster. They are to be counted but my Uncle feels he cannot attend such a gathering while the Governor languishes in gaol. The colony is being ruled illegally and my Uncle says he must stay loyal to His Majesty’s Governor.

  My Aunt says she is too ill to protest but she would rather he went along to avoid trouble. She says he must think of her and the children. He says a man must obey his conscience.

  Monday 21st November

  Kitty came today to bring some of her Mother’s fine broth for my Aunt. I believe Ellen may have sent word to tell them she was ill again.

  Daniel O’Farrell is going to the Muster. Kitty says her Father is no friend of the Officers but he does not intend to go to gaol again for anyone or any cause, however just.

  ‘What would you do?’ I asked her. I really wanted to know because I am not sure how I would act myself.

  ‘I might go,’ she said. ‘And then again I might not. I might be like our great heroes of the uprisings back home, men who fought for their rights against England, the oppressor.’

  ‘But here you would be fighting for the legitimate Governor who is English
,’ I said.

  ‘Maybe I would fight to get rid of him and of the Officers and to run the country ourselves,’ she said.

  When she speaks like that, I do not know what to say.

  Thursday 24th November

  My Uncle did not go to the Muster. He spent the day going round all the crops and talking with Jim as to when we should start the harvest. If it stays fine we may begin in a week.

  In the evening he sat beneath the kitchen tree and the dog lay with its head in his lap. He scratched the dog’s ears and it seemed that both were deep in thought. I kept my distance.

  Perhaps I shall draw them. I could practise here in my log.

  Saturday 26th November

  A Constable came to the door just as we were sitting down for our midday meal. Uncle George was not present, as he had gone to Mr Smith’s house to find out what had been said at the Muster. The Constable waited out under the tree until his return.

  My Aunt made me take him a drink of water. I did not want to as he could well be here to imprison my Uncle but she said a thirsty man should have drink, no matter what his purpose or his thoughts were.

  When my Uncle returned the Constable told him he must attend the next Muster, due at Parramatta, or he would have to go before the Sydney Magistrates.

  My Aunt wept at this news. I believe she feels that the Magistrates would send him to the Coal River at Newcastle, as they did with Mr Gore. If that is the case then perhaps Mr Smith and Mr McDougall will be with him because they did not attend the Muster either.

  Tuesday 29th November

  William was playing at a Muster this morning. He had the toys lined up in front of him and Sarah. He was counting them and asking questions of them—how much land they had under cultivation and how many sheep and cattle, pigs and fowls.

  I thought it funny and laughed to see it but when my Aunt rose from her bed to see what was the cause of our laughter her face crumpled and she wept again.

  Thursday 1st December

  My Uncle is to go to trial. I am not sure exactly what the reason is but he announced that he had received a letter that he must appear before the Magistrates in Sydney Town in seven days’ time.

  There is gloom and fear in this house. If he goes to gaol, what will we do? How will we live?

  Friday 2nd December

  Last night my Uncle wrote a letter to Colonel Foveaux. He told him that if he must go to Sydney Town now when the harvest is about to start and if all the men are to go to Parramatta then there will be no-one left to look after the farm.

  He has appealed to the Colonel’s humanity and good sense.

  He told my Aunt that he felt the Colonel would postpone the proceedings until after the harvest, maybe even until the New Year, but he warned me, in private, that this might not be the case.

  ‘They wish to silence their critics,’ he said, ‘and I am amongst the loudest in my attacks upon them and their actions.’

  Wednesday 7th December

  There is no reprieve. He must go.

  Thursday 8th December

  He is gone to Sydney Town. When the children were in bed he spent many long hours writing instructions for me as to what tasks needed to be done—how the harvest is to be conducted and where and how the grain is to be stored and then organised for sale. We are then to burn the stalks and hoe them back in for the next planting.

  He fears he will be away for some time.

  ‘Arthur and Ebenezer have done this before. There should be no problems,’ he said. ‘They can easily do the whole harvest.’

  But then he wrote the information down as if he felt I might need to know it. Perhaps he felt better doing something.

  I woke in the middle of the night to see him still at the table, writing. Every now and then he would get up and stand over the bed where his children lay and just stare down at them as if drinking in the image of their faces.

  He lined us up in the morning and bade us all goodbye in a serious tone. My Aunt was too ill to get up from her bed but the rest of us stood there and he shook our hands and then embraced us with such energy that I thought he would burst with emotion. Ellen wiped a tear from her eye and swore that she would look after my Aunt as if she were her own Sister.

  My Uncle then went to speak with the men and I saw him deep in conversation with Arthur and the others.

  I do hope that his case is dismissed and he is home again soon.

  Friday 9th December

  There are long faces around the farm today. I went in to my Aunt at the end of the morning to report and she said to me, ‘Where would he be now, Davy? Is he in Sydney Town yet?’

  Of course I had to reply that he would be still on the road. Even with the fastest horses in the Colony, it is still two days’ journey. And he is not on the fastest horse.

  Aunt Sarah is crying herself to sleep.

  Saturday 10th December

  The men are gone. How could they?

  I woke in the night to frantic barking from Dog and then there was silence. I could not return to sleep and so got up and went out. There was light from the moon and stars and the faint beginnings of dawn.

  I walked towards the huts where Jim and Arthur and Ebenezer sleep. Their door was open. Everything was gone—bedrolls, food and everything that they had for their comfort.

  I wandered around the yard, thinking foolishly that I would stumble across them and it would all be a dream. I could bear it if Arthur left. But Jim?

  Stumble I did. But it was Dog. I almost fell across his body but he did not stir. Blood was on his face from a cut across his cheek. His eyes were open and his long, pink tongue hung out, quite still.

  I was strangely calm. I placed my hand on his chest and felt the faint beating of his heart. I picked him up and he lay motionless in my arms. I carried him back towards the house and placed him on the ground.

  Ellen was up and she came with me and we washed the blood and put a bowl of water beside his head. I scratched his ears and whispered, ‘Who did this to you? Who?’

  Later this morning I walked further around the yards and found six fine heifers gone and the gate to their area open. I walked further, calling to Jim, wanting to see his cheery face, but there was only silence when I called. I knew I had to return to my Aunt with more bad news.

  I did not expect the quiet resignation my Aunt displayed. Ellen was furiously angry. She was making bread and she pounded the dough as if it were Arthur’s head. She said in no uncertain terms that hanging, drawing and quartering was too good for him.

  ‘Sly, evil man,’ she said. ‘This is his doing. Ebenezer just does what he wants. Jim is a surprise though. I thought more of him.’

  My own feelings exactly. But my Aunt just sat there, shaking her head, her eyes downcast. ‘When will it end?’ she muttered.

  Later I helped Ellen with the cheese-making. Out of my Aunt’s earshot we decided that I should go around all the neighbours and tell them what had happened. I gathered the children and made Georgie and Thomas in charge of feeding the pigs and the fowls. William wanted a task and so he was made responsible for keeping the birds out of the vegetable garden. I then set out for my long walk to the McDougalls’, the Smiths’ and the O’Farrells’.

  John McDougall was working on the fences near the road. He told me his Father and Mr Smith were also in Sydney on charges similar to that of my Uncle. I did not know that all were to appear in Court.

  ‘You cannot run the farm alone,’ he said, ‘not with Mrs Suttor so poorly. We will have to make a plan.’

  And he offered me one of his horses to take me on the next part of my mission. When I told him I could not ride he mounted the horse himself, put me up behind him and we went together back to the farm. What a strange, bouncy feeling horse riding is! He then went off, saying that he would talk with his Mother and then go around the other farms and come back in the morning with a way to make sure we get in the harvest.

  Sunday 11th December

  At last a plan. John McDougall, Thoma
s Smith and Daniel O’Farrell came this morning. Kitty and Patrick came too. We all sat around the table and my Aunt got up from her sick bed. They each proposed to lend us workmen, through the harvest and until my Uncle has returned. John McDougall will report the matter to the Police when he goes to Parramatta tomorrow.

  Daniel laughed at that suggestion and said that he felt the Police knew already our predicament and perhaps they had even organised for it to happen.

  My Aunt had been very quiet throughout the discussion. Then she said, ‘I want David to go to Sydney Town and tell George what has happened. He must know the dire situation we are in now. I know the Colonel refused sympathy when he first wrote but now the men have deserted us we are even more destitute than before. If we cannot get in the harvest, we will have no money for the Winter. The fruit and the cheeses can sustain us for a little and we have the fowls, but my medicines are expensive and we really must replace the stock.’

  ‘But how will I travel? What will I say?’ My mind was racing. I wanted to go, but travel the Sydney Road? Alone?

  ‘You can take the vegetables to the market there instead of to Parramatta. Then you are to go to Mr Lewin and, with him, visit your Uncle and tell him he must convince the Court to let him return home.’ My Aunt was calm yet quite sure that this was possible.