Colleen McCullough - Morgan’s Run

The indefatigable Lieutenant Ralph Clark endeared himself even more to Major Ross by (snooping just a little) detecting the presence of an illicit letter from the Major’s clerk, Francis Folks, to the Judge Advocate in Port Jackson, Captain David Collins. The document accused Ross of extreme cruelty, oppression, depriving the free as well as the felon of rations, and so on, and so forth. Included with it were supporting papers and some opinions on the Lieutenant-Governor’s conduct of Norfolk Island’s affairs which depicted him as a mixture of Ivan the Terrible and Torquemada. Ross’s response was to clap Folks in irons, confiscate the letter, papers and opinions as concrete evidence, and order Folks tried at Port Jackson by the addressee, Collins. Who, though a marine officer, loathed Robert Ross passionately. Even as he acted, the Major knew whom Collins would believe. No matter. The protocols were specific, and Law Martial was a thing of the past. Alas.

Atlantic arrivedon the 2nd of November with news that came as a bolt from the blue to all save Major Ross himself. She brought the mail and parcels Gorgon had carried from Portsmouth: yes, Gorgon had finally arrived. Atlantic also brought a new Lieutenant-Governor for Norfolk Island, Commander Philip Gidley King, who had returned from England on Gorgon and brought his bride, Anna Josepha, with him. By the time they quit Atlantic at Norfolk Island she was in the last stages of pregnancy, coddled and cossetted by young William Neate Chapman, King’s protégé and (officially) his surveyor. To a community used by now to the reign of Major Ross, it was hard to tell which of the two, Anna Josepha or Willy Chapman, was the sillier; they called themselves “brother” and “sister,” giggled a lot, eyed each other archly, and drew everybody’s attention to the similarity of their facial features. King’s two boys by Ann Innet did not come, though rumor said that Norfolk, the elder, was being cared for-in England-by Mrs. Philip Gidley King’s parents. King’s own parents were more rigid, which led some to speculate that Anna Josepha’s family was more accustomed to bastards, so perhaps Anna Josepha and Willy Chapman were…

Also disembarked from Atlantic were Captain William Paterson of the New South Wales Corps and his wife-Scotch, of course-and the Reverend Richard Johnson, who had come to bless, marry, and also to baptize 31 Norfolk Island babies. Some of the visitors were staying a short time only. Queen, newly arrived in Port Jackson, was to bring the island yet more convicts-genuinely Irish convicts this time, embarked in Cork.

All of which spelled an end to the marine presence. Major Ross, Lieutenants Clark, Faddy and Ross Junior, and the last of the enlisted marines were to depart the island on Queen. They would spend time in Port Jackson to await the return of Gorgon from a food voyage to Bengalese Calcutta, the home of a sturdy, hardy kind of cattle. The years had gone by in Port Jackson, but of that vanished Government herd no sign had ever been seen.

So confusing! So upsetting! It all seemed to happen in the twinkling of an eye-ships and commandants coming and going, yet more mouths to feed. The old inhabitants of the island walked around in a daze, and wondered whereabouts it was all going to end.

Commander Kingwas horrified at what he saw in his beloved Norfolk Island. Dammit, the place was no better than a wooden version of that den of iniquity, Port Jackson! As for Government House-! How could he ask a new bride to live in such a run down, ramshackle, hideously small residence? And under the aegis of a vulgar trollop like Mrs. Richard Morgan, who had donned all her finery to greet him and usher him through the premises? She would have to go, the sooner the better.

King’s mood was not improved by the knowledge that the large supply of livestock that he had acquired on his own initiative at Cape Town had not thrived during Gorgon’s onward passage; a tiny remnant only came with him on Atlantic-a few sickly sheep, goats and turkeys, not a cow left alive.

Oh, the whole place was so dilapidated and slipshod! How had Major Ross allowed his jewel in the ocean to sink to this? Yet what else could one expect from a boorish Scotch marine? A trifle full of his own importance and with the Celtic side of him uppermost for the moment, King itched to do great things even as he despaired of Norfolk Island’s ability to give him the opportunity. Ever the romantic, he had genuinely expected a settlement of more than 1,300 people to look exactly like a settlement of 149 people. The only cheering fact apart from his darling little Anna Josepha was that his supply of port was wellnigh infinite.

He and Major Ross, thrown together for a number of days at least, eyed each other as warily as two dogs debating which would win a possible fight. With characteristic bluntness the Major made neither excuses nor apologies for the awful condition of the island, merely confined himself to clipped summaries of what his papers and records said at more length. What might have developed into a brawl over dinner in the sadly overcrowded Government House did not, thanks to the tact of the Reverend Johnson, the presence of the twinned Anna Josepha and Willy Chapman, the delicious food served by Mrs. Richard Morgan, and a number of bottles of port.

Captain William Hill of the New South Wales Corps did his level best to ruin the departing Major Ross’s reputation by having selected convicts examined on oath before the Reverend Johnson and Mr. William Balmain, surgeon, arriving to take the place of Denis Considen. Hill and Andrew Hume threw a great deal of dirt, but the Major fought back, establishing without much difficulty that the convicts were perjurious villains and Hill and Hume not far behind. The battle was bound to continue in Port Jackson, but for the time being the combatants declared a cessation in hostilities and set about packing or unpacking trunks and bags.

Richard remainedcarefully out of the way, very sorry that Major Ross was going, and not at all sure whether he wanted to see Lieutenant-oops, Commander-King take the Major’s place. Whatever Ross was or was not, he was first and foremost a realist.

The official changeover occurred on Sunday, the 13th of November, after the Reverend Johnson had taken divine service. The entire huge population was assembled in front of Government House and Commander King’s commission read out. Atlantic was making sail and Queen was retreating to Cascade, the two ships passing in the morning. Major Ross requested of the new Lieutenant-Governor that all the convicts in detention or under sentence of punishment be forgiven; Commander King graciously acquiesced.

“We did all save kiss,” said the Major to Richard as the big crowd dispersed. “Walk a little way with me, Morgan, but send your wife ahead with Long.”

My luck persists, thought Richard, nodding to Kitty that she and Joey should proceed without him. His transaction with Ross to secure the services of Joseph Long, a fourteen-year man, as his laborer and general hand for the sum of £10 per annum had only recently been signed into effect. For after considering a number of men, he had decided that simple, faithful Joey Long was preferable to any other. As several of the recent arrivals were cobblers, Major Ross had been willing to let Joey go. This change of employment was as well for Joey too; Commander King was not likely to have forgotten the loss of his best pair of shoes.

“I am glad of the opportunity to wish ye well, sir,” said Richard, dawdling. “I will miss ye greatly.”

“I cannot return the compliment in exactly the way ye mean yours, but I can tell ye, Morgan, that I never minded the sight of your face nor the words that came from your lips. I hate this place every bit as much as I hate Port Jackson, or Sydney, or whatever they are calling it these days. I hate convicts. I hate marines. And I hate the fucken Royal Navy. I am obligated to ye for the services of your wife, who has been precisely what ye said-an excellent housekeeper but no temptress. And I am obligated to ye for both wood and rum.” He paused to think, then added, “I also hate the fucken New South Wales Corps. There will be a reckoning, never doubt it. Those idealistic Navy fools will let a pack of wolves loose in this quadrant of the globe, wolves who masquerade as soldiers of the New South Wales Corps, which I gather marine wolves like fucken George Johnston intend to join. They care as little for convicts or these penal settlements as I do, but I will return to England a poor man, whereas they will return fatter by every carcass they can sink their teeth into. And rum will be a very large part of it, mark my words. Enrichment at the expense of duty, honor, King and country. Mark my words, Morgan! So it will be.”