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LIEUTENANT PHILIP G. KING

The Commissioners of His Majesty's Navy, near the close of 1786, advertised for a certain number of vessels to be taken up for the purpose of conveying between seven and eight hundred male and female convicts to Botany Bay, in New South Wales, whither it had been determined by the Government to transport them, after having sought in vain upon the African coast for a situation possessing the requisites for the establishment of a penal colony. The following vessels were at length contracted for, and assembled in the Thames to fit and take in stores: the Alexander, Scarborough, Charlotte, Lady Penrhyn, and Friendship as transports; and the Fishbourne, Golden Grove, and Borrowdale– these latter as storeships. The Prince of Wales was afterwards added to the number of transports. The transports immediately prepared for the reception of the convicts, and the storeships took on board provisions for two years, with tools, implements of agriculture, seeds, etc.

On October 24th Captain Arthur Phillips hoisted a pennant on board H.M.S. Sirius, of twenty guns, then lying at Deptford. As the government of the meditated colony, as well as the command of the Sirius, was given to Captain Phillips, it was thought necessary to appoint another captain to her, who might command on any service in which she might be employed for the colony, while Captain Phillips would be engaged supervising the convicts on shore. For this purpose John Hunter was nominated second captain of the Sirius.

On March 5th, 1787, order for embarkation arrived, and on Monday, May 7th, Captain Phillips arrived at Portsmouth and took command of the little fleet, then lying at the Mother Bank.

Phillips had with him two lieutenants, Philip Gidley King and Mr. Dawes.

Philip G. King was the son of Philip King, a draper in Launceston, by his wife, the daughter of John Gidley, attorney, of Exeter. Philip G. King was born at Launceston 23rd April, 1758. He was midshipman on board the Swallow in 1770-5, and now was placed under Captain Phillips to assist in the settlement of felons in a colony at Botany Bay.

Whilst the little fleet was on its way down the Channel, it was discovered that a plot had been formed among the convicts on board the Scarborough to mutiny. They hoped to obtain command of the vessel, when those in the other transports would follow their example, and they trusted that the entire fleet would fall into their power. The scheme was insane, as H.M.S. Sirius could knock the transports to pieces with her guns. The plot was betrayed by one of the convicts to the commanding officer on board the Scarborough, and he at once communicated with Captain Phillips. The two ringleaders were brought on board the Sirius, and each was given two dozen lashes.

The fleet sailed for Teneriffe, and thence, on the 11th June, for Rio de Janeiro; and from thence for the Cape of Good Hope.

On November 10th, Captain Phillips sailed ahead of the fleet in the Supply to reconnoitre the coast of New South Wales, and ascertain where best to land, and he took with him the Alexander, the Scarborough, and the Friendship, and having on board his two lieutenants, King and Dawes.

On January 19th, 1788, he landed in Botany Bay, and sent Lieutenant King to survey the coast and inland as far as might be.

Botany Bay being found to be a station of inferior advantages to what was expected, and no spot appearing proper for the colony, Governor Phillips at once resolved to transfer it to another excellent inlet, about twelve miles further to the north, called Port Jackson, on the south side of which, at a spot called Sydney Cove, the settlement was decided to be made.

The spot chosen for this purpose was at the head of the cove, near a run of fresh water, which stole silently along through a very thick wood, the stillness of which had thus, for the first time since the Creation, been interrupted by the rude sound of the labourer's axe and the downfall of the ancient inhabitants – a stillness and tranquillity which from that day were to give place to the noise of labour, the confusion of carriers, and all the clamour of the bringing on shore of the stores, and the erection of habitations.

A flagstaff was set up and the Union Jack hoisted, when the Marines fired several volleys, and the healths of the King and Royal Family were drunk, as well as success to the new colony.

The disembarkation of the troops and convicts took place on the following day.

The confusion that ensued will not be wondered at when it is considered that every man stepped from his boat literally into a virgin forest. Parties of people were to be seen on all sides variously employed, some in clearing ground for the different encampments, others in pitching tents, or bringing up such stores as were more immediately needed. As the woods were opened and the ground cleared, the various encampments were extended, and all gradually assumed the appearance of regularity.

A portable canvas house, brought over for the governor, was erected on the south side of the cove, which was named Sydney, in compliment to the principal Secretary of State for the Home Department. There also a small body of convicts was put under tents. The detachment of marines was encamped at the head of the cove near the stream, and on the west side was planted the main body of convicts.

The women were not disembarked till the 6th February, when, every person belonging to the settlement being landed, the whole amounted to 1030 persons. The tents for the sick were placed on the west side, and it was observed with concern that their number was fast increasing. Scurvy, that had not appeared during the voyage, now broke out, and this, along with dysentery, began to fill the hospital, and several died.

In addition to the medicines that were administered, every species of esculent plant that could be found in the country was procured for them – wild celery, spinach, and parsley fortunately grew in abundance. Those who were in health, as well as the sick, were glad to introduce this wholesome addition to their ration of salt meat.

The public stock, consisting of one bull, four cows, one bull-calf, one stallion, three mares, and three colts, were landed and left to crop the pasturage of the little farm that had been formed at the head of an adjoining cove, and which had been placed under the direction of a man brought out for the purpose by the Governor.

Some ground having been dug over and prepared near His Excellency's house on the south side, the plants brought from Rio de Janeiro and from the Cape were planted, and the colonists soon had the satisfaction of seeing the grapes, figs, oranges, pears, and apples – in a word, the best fruits of the Old World – taking root and establishing themselves in this their New World.

As soon as the hurry and turmoil of disembarkation had subsided, the Governor caused His Majesty's commission appointing him to be Captain-General and Governor-in-Chief of New South Wales and its dependencies, to be publicly read, and he then addressed the convicts, assuring them that "he would be ever ready to show approbation and encouragement to those who proved themselves worthy of them by good conduct and attention to orders; while, on the other hand, such as were determined to act in opposition to propriety, and observe a contrary conduct, would inevitably meet with the punishment they deserved."

The convicts from the first gave much trouble. They secreted the tools, so as to avoid being compelled to work, and it was found almost impossible to get work out of them, as there was a deficiency of proper men to set over them. Those who were so placed were for the most part also convicts, men who by their conduct during the voyage had recommended themselves, and these had been appointed foremen over the rest, but it was soon discovered that they lacked the authority requisite. The sailors from the transports, though repeatedly forbidden to do so and frequently punished, persisted in bringing spirits on shore every night, and drunkenness was often the consequence.

Before the month of February was half through, a plot among the convicts to rob the store was discovered. This was the more unpardonable in that the rations given out to the convicts were precisely the same as those served to the soldiers. Each male convict received as his weekly portion 7 lb. biscuits, 1 lb. flour, 7 lb. beef, 4 lb. pork, 3 pints of peas, 6 oz. of butter; the women received one-third less.

The ringleaders were charged before a Court that was summoned. One was hanged, another reprieved on condition of becoming the public executioner; the rest had milder sentences.

The Governor having received instructions to establish another settlement on Norfolk Island, the Supply sailed for that place in the midst of February under the command of Lieutenant King of the Sirius, named by Captain Phillips superintendent and commandant of the settlement to be formed there. Lieutenant King took with him one surgeon, one petty officer, two private soldiers, two persons who pretended to have some knowledge of flax-dressing, and nine male and six female convicts. This little party was to be landed with tents, clothing, implements of husbandry, tools for dressing flax, etc., and provisions for six months, before the expiration of which time it was intended to send them a fresh supply.

Norfolk Island was to be settled with a view to the cultivation of flax, which at the time when the island was discovered by Captain Cook was found growing most luxuriantly where he had landed; this was the Phormi tenax, New Zealand flax.

Mr. King, previous to his departure for the new settlement, was sworn in as a Justice of Peace, and was empowered to punish such petty offences as might be committed among the settlers; capital crime being reserved for the cognizance of the Criminal Court of Judicature, established at Sydney by Governor Phillips.

The Supply reached Norfolk Island on February 29th, but for five succeeding days was not able to effect a landing, being prevented by a surf that was breaking with violence on a reef that lay across the principal bay. Lieutenant King had nearly given up all hopes of being able to land, when a small opening was discovered in the reef wide enough to admit a boat. Through this he succeeded in passing safely, along with his people and stores. When landed, he could nowhere find a space clear for pitching a tent, and he had to cut through an almost impenetrable jungle before he could encamp himself and his people.

Of the stock he carried with him, he lost the only she-goat he had, and one ewe. He had named the bay wherein he landed and planted his settlement, Sydney; and had given the names of Phillip and Nepean to two small islands situated at a small distance from it.

The soil of Norfolk Island was ascertained to be very rich, but Sydney Bay was exposed to the southerly winds, which drove the surf furiously over the reef. The Supply lost one of her hands, who was drowned in attempting to pass through the reef. There was a small bay on the further side of the island, but it was at a considerable distance from the settlement.

On February 14th, 1789, Lieutenant Ball sailed for Norfolk Island in the Golden Grove with provisions and convicts, twenty-one male, six female convicts, and three children; of the latter two were to be placed under Lieutenant King's special care. They were of different sexes; the boy, Parkinson, was about three years of age, and had lost his mother on the voyage to Botany Bay; the girl was a year older and had a mother in the colony, but as she was a woman of abandoned character, the child was taken from her, to save it from the ruin which otherwise would inevitably have befallen it. These children were to be instructed in reading, writing, and husbandry. The Commandant was directed to cause five acres of ground to be allotted and cultivated for their benefit.

In March, the little colony in Norfolk Island was threatened with an insurrection. The convicts plotted the capture of the island and the seizure of Mr. King's person. They had chosen the day when this was to be effected, the first Saturday after the arrival of any ship in the bay, except the Sirius. They had selected this day, as it had for some time been Mr. King's custom on Saturdays to visit a farm he had established at a little distance from the settlement, and the military generally chose that day for bringing in the cabbage-palm from the woods. Mr. King was to be secured on his way to the farm. A message, in the Commandant's name, was to be sent to Mr. Jamison, the surgeon, who was to be seized as soon as he got into the woods; and the sergeant and the party of soldiers were to be treated in the same manner. These being all properly disposed of, a signal was to be made to the ship in the bay to send her boat on shore, the crew of which were to be made prisoners on landing; and two or three of the insurgents were to go off in a boat belonging to the island, and inform the commanding officer that the ship's boat had been stove on the beach, and that the Commandant, King, requested that another might be sent on shore. This also was to be captured; and then, as the last act in this plot, the ship was to be taken, in which they designed to proceed to Otaheite, and there establish a colony.

The plot was revealed to a seaman of the Sirius, who lived with Mr. King as a gardener, by a female convict who cohabited with him. On being acquainted with the circumstances, the Commandant took such measures as appeared to him necessary to defeat the object of the plotters; and several who were concerned in the scheme were arrested and confessed the share they were to have had in the execution of it.

Mr. King had hitherto, from the peculiarity of his situation – secluded from society, and confined to a small speck in the vast ocean, with but a handful of people – drawn them around him, and had treated them in a kindly and even confidential and affectionate manner; but now he saw that these felons were too ingrained with vice to appreciate such treatment, and one of his first steps was to clear the ground as far as was possible round the settlement, that future villainy might not find a shelter in the woods. To this truly providential circumstance many of the colonists were afterwards indebted for their lives in an outbreak that took place after he had quitted the island.

At this time there were on the island 16 free people, 51 male and 23 female convicts, and 4 children.

In June, 1789, Lieutenant Creswell was sent with 14 privates of the Marines to Norfolk Island, and with a written order from His Excellency requiring Creswell to take upon himself the direction and execution of the authority invested in Lieutenant King, in the event of any accident happening to the latter.

In March, 1790, 116 male and 68 female convicts were sent to Norfolk Island and 27 children. Major Ross was appointed to supersede King; both the Sirius and the Supply arrived, but unhappily the former ran upon the reef on the 19th April. All the officers and people were saved, being dragged on shore through the surf on a grating.

King returned to New South Wales in the Supply. There had been disaster and distress in the colony there. The sheep had been stolen and the cattle lost in the woods, and these were not found till 1795, after they had been lost for seven years, and they were then found grazing on a remote clearing, and had increased to a surprising degree.

It was now determined that Lieutenant King should return to England and report progress. A Dutch vessel was hired to take him and the officers and men of the Sirius home. He sailed in the Batavia in April, 1790, and arrived in England December 20th, 1790.

Philip Gidley King was appointed Governor of New South Wales, September, 1800, and held that appointment till 15th August, 1806, when his health failing he returned to England, and died at Lower Tooting, Surrey, 3rd September, 1808.

He was the father of Rear-Admiral Philip Parker King, who was born on Norfolk Island, 13th December, 1791, after his father had left for England. He entered the Royal Navy as first-class volunteer in 1807, midshipman in 1809, lieutenant in 1814. He married Harriet, daughter of Christopher Lethbridge, of Launceston, and died at Sydney 25th February, 1856, and was buried at Parramatta beside his mother, who had been laid there many years before, not having come to England. There is no record as to who and what she was.

For information relative to Philip Gidley King his Diary may be consulted in John Hunter's Historical Journal of the Transactions at Port Jackson and Norfolk Island, 1795; see also David Collins's Account of the English Colony of New South Wales, 1798-1802.

HICKS OF BODMIN

William Robert Hicks was born at Bodmin on 1st April, 1808 – not to be an April fool himself, but to be a right merry jester, and not infrequently to make fools of others. He was the son of a schoolmaster, and he, Sir William Molesworth, of Pencarrow, and Colonel Hamley were educated together for a while in the school of his father.

William Robert became Clerk of the Board of Guardians, Clerk of the Highway Board, and Governor of the County Lunatic Asylum. He was a man of many parts, a good mathematician, a clear-headed and cool man of business, a musician, who could play on the violin and play it well. But he was noted above everything else as a humorist.

He was a short man and inordinately stout, weighing sixteen stone. He had a broad, flexible, somewhat flabby face, with a pair of twinkling grey eyes, a short nose, somewhat protruding thick under lip, and double chin that was very pronounced, and whiskers. What was noticeable in Hicks's face was its flexibility. He possessed the art and the power to tell his story with his countenance as with his voice. Indeed, the alterations of mood in his face were like a musical accompaniment to a song. He was thought the best story-teller of his day; was known as such in Cornwall and Devon, but was not so well appreciated in London, where the peculiar dry humour of the West, as well as the dialect, did not appeal to ordinary hearers as they do in the two Western Counties. One of his many Cornish friends once took Hicks up to town and dined him at his club, thinking that he would keep the table in a roar. But it was not so. His stories fell somewhat flat, and that damped his spirits and he subsided.

One of Hicks's earliest and best friends was George Wightwick, the architect, born at Mold in Flintshire in 1802, who set up as architect in Plymouth in 1829, and was employed to build additions to Bodmin Gaol in 1842 and 1847. He was author of The Palace of Architecture, published in 1840. And though he was an excellent raconteur, second only to Hicks, he was a most egregiously bad architect. Yet, strangely enough, Mr. Wightwick supposed himself to be enlightened in the matter of Gothic architecture, and in 1835 published in Loudon's Architectural Magazine "A few observations on reviving taste for pointed Architecture, with an illustrated description of a chapel just erected at Bude Haven under the direction of the author."

Wightwick it was who had the merit of discovering Hicks and of introducing him to notables in Devon and Cornwall, for, miserable architect though he was, he had got the ear of the public in the West as a man of charming manners and teeming with anecdote. Through him Hicks obtained access into many a country house, where they would sing, accompanying themselves on the violin, and tell stories.

Hicks was made Governor of Bodmin Asylum in 1848, and found the old barbarous system of treatment of the insane in full swing. He at once adopted gentle methods and in a short while radically changed the entire mode of treatment, with markedly good results.

One poor fellow, whom he found chained in a dark cell on a bed of straw as a dangerous lunatic, he nearly cured by kindly treatment. As the fellow showed indications of great shrewdness and wit, Hicks released him and made much of him. A gentleman on a visit to the asylum once said to the lunatic, "I hear, man, that you are Hicks's fool."

"Aw," replied he; "I zee you do your awn business in that line."

He was once asked, "Whither does this path go, my man?" He answered readily, "Zure I cannot tell 'ee. I've knawed un bide here these last twenty year."

He was sitting on the high wall of the asylum that commanded the road for some distance, with a turnpike at the bottom of the hill. The company of a circus passed by, with the various horses. As the manager rode past, the lunatic said to him, "'Ow much might 'ee pay turnpike for they there spekkady hosses?" "Oh," said the manager, "the same as for the others." "Do 'ee now?" said the man on the wall. "Well to be zure; my vather 'ad a spekkady hoss that never paid no turnpike. They there sparky (speckled) hosses don't pay no turnpikes here."

"Bless my life," said the manager; "I am much obliged to you for informing me of the fact. So, sir, I am to understand that piebald horses are exempt from paying at the toll-gate?"

"What I zed I bides by. They there spekkady hosses never pay no turnpikes here in Cornwall. What they may do elsewhere, I can't zay."

The lunatic watched the cavalcade proceed down the hill, and when it reached the turnpike, he enjoyed watching a lively altercation going on between the toll-taker and the manager. Presently the latter came galloping back, very hot and angry.

"What do you mean by telling me that in Cornwall piebald horses pay no turnpike?"

"Right it is so – cos you have to pay it vor 'un," said the man and stepped out of reach inside the wall.

One day this same man was put to watch a raving maniac, who, for his own safety, when the fit was on him, used to be put in a padded room. There was an eyehole in the door, and the lunatic, whom Mr. Collier calls Daniel, was set to watch him. The poor wretch in his ravings called, "Bring down the baggonets! Oh, marcy on me! Forty thousand Roosians! Oh! oh! oh! I wish I was in Abraham's bosom," and began to kick and plunge furiously. On which Daniel shouted to him through the hole, "Why I tell'ee if you was, you'd kick the guts out of 'un."

Daniel came from Tavistock, where he used to walk out with a girl. As he told the story himself – "I was keepin' company with a maid, and I went to the parson. Says I to he, 'I want you, however, to promise me wan thing,' says I. 'What is it?' says he. 'I want you to promise me,' says I, 'never to marry me to thickee there maid when I be drunk.' He zaid he'd promise me that, quite sure. 'Thankee, your honour,' said I; 'then I'm all right, for I'll take damned good care you never do it when I'm zober.'"

Daniel was then in the Volunteers and was out on Whitchurch Down in a review. An officer rode up to the bugler, and said "Sound a retreat!" The bugler tried, but could produce no sound. "Sound a retreat!" roared the officer. Again the bugle would not speak. "Sound a retreat!" shouted the officer for the third time. "Don't you see that the cavalry are charging down on us?" "There now, I can't," replied the bugler; "for why? I've gone and spit my quid of terbaccer in the mouthpiece o'un."

Hicks no doubt was quite justified in picking up and appropriating to himself stories wherever he could find them and from whomsoever he heard them. A common friend of ours was with him one day in Plymouth, and as they sat on the Hoe my friend told Hicks a couple of racy anecdotes about his own work.

That evening both dined with Lord Mount Edgcumbe, and Hicks told both these stories with immense humour, as though they had happened recently – the previous week – to himself.

And certainly some of Hicks's stories are very old chestnuts.

This, for instance, was told by Hicks as having to his knowledge occurred to two brothers, Jemmy and Sammy, in the Jamaica Inn, on the Bodmin Moors, between that town and Launceston.

They were to sleep in a double-bedded room, and they dined and drank pretty freely – the Jamaica Inn is now a temperance house – and went to bed. Before retiring to rest one of them put out the light.

After they had been in bed a little while Jemmy said, "I say, Sammy, there be a feller in my bed."

Sammy– "So there be in mine."

Jemmy– "What shall you do, Sammy?"

Sammy– "Kick 'un out."

Jemmy– "So shall I."

So they both proceeded to kick furiously, with the result that each fell out on the opposite side of the bed. By mistake in the dark the last to put out the light and go to bed had entered his brother's bed.

I have heard the same tale told of the Yorkshire moors some thirty to forty years ago.

The famous story of Rabbits and Onions, that Hicks would tell in such a way as to bring the tears rolling down the cheeks with laughter, may or may not be founded on fact, or it may be – and that is probably the case – a condensation into one tale of a good deal of experience with juries. But the same story is told by Rosegger of a trial in Styria.

The following is almost certainly genuine. Anyhow, it is an excellent example of the way in which Hicks could put a story.

"I met a man [name given] in Bodmin, and said to him, 'You are not looking well. What is the matter?'

"The man replied that he had spent an indifferent night.

"'How is that?' I inquired.

"'I sleep with father,' he replied; 'and I woke up all in the dead waste and middle of the night, and I reached forth my hand and couldn't feel nothing; so I ses, ses I, "Wherever is my poor dear old aged tender parent?" I got out of bed and strick a light, all in the dead waste and middle of the night, and sarched the room; sarched under the bed and in the cupboards; and ses I, "Wherever is my poor dear old aged tender parent?"

"'I went down over the stairs, all in the dead waste and middle of the night, and sarched under the stairs and in the kitchen; and ses I, "Wherever is my poor dear old aged tender parent?"

"'Then I went to the coal-hole, all in the dead waste and middle of the night, and sarched all about; and ses I, "Wherever is my poor dear old aged tender parent?"

"'And I went down into the garden, all in the dead waste and middle of the night; and ses I, "Wherever is my poor dear old aged tender parent?"

"'I went down to the parzley bed, all in the dead waste and middle of the night, and there I found 'un. He'd a cut his throat with the rape(ing) – hook. I took 'un by the hair of his head, and I zaid, ses I, "You darned old grizzley blackguard, you've brought disgrace on the family." I brought 'un in, and laid 'un on the table, and rinned for the doctor; and he zewed up the throt o'un avore the vital spark was 'xtinct. Zo you zee, Mr. Hicks, I've had rather an indiffer'nt night.'"

Here is another of Hicks's stories: —

A young curate was teaching some boys in the Sunday-school, and was impressing on them the duties to their parents.

"What do you owe your mother, Bill Lemon?"

"I don't owe her nothin'! her never lent me nothin'."

"But she takes care of you."

The boy stared.

"What does she do for you?"

"Her gives me a skat in the vace sometimes, and tells me to go to" – (curate intervenes).

"That is not what I mean. When you are sick, what does she do?"

"Wipes it op."

Hicks, as already intimated, was a very short man, very rotund about the belly. Following the Mayor of Bodmin into the room on the occasion of a public dinner, he heard the Mayor announced in a voice of thunder, "The Mayor of Bodmin." Following directly after he intimated to the butler "and the Corporation." The man, without a moment's consideration, roared out, "and the Corporation."

A man of Hicks's acquaintance – every man of whom he had a story to tell was an acquaintance – made a bet that he would drink a certain number of gallons of cider in a given time. The trial of the feat came off, and the man was reduced to the last stage of helplessness, in an armchair, his head resting on the back of the chair, his mouth open, utterly unable to proceed, when he sighed out to his backers, "Try the taypot!" The spout was used to pour down the liquor and the bet was won.

Hicks had a story of a farmer whom he knew intimately, and who had been canvassed for the approaching election, and had promised his vote to the lady of the candidate. Said she, "Dear Mr. Polkinghorne, when you come up to town, do come and see us, come any time – come to dinner. You are sure to be welcome."

Now, as it so fell out, Zechariah Polkinghorne did go to London on some business, and in the evening, when his work was over, he called at the member's house. As it happened that evening, a dinner party was given. When his name was taken up, the member's wife said: "Good gracious! What is to be done? We must, I suppose, have him in, or he will be mortally offended, and next election will not only vote against us, but influence a good many more voters."

So Mr. Polkinghorne was shown up into a room full of ladies and gentlemen in evening dress, and felt somewhat out of it. Presently dinner was announced and he went in with the rest and took his place at the table.

"So sorry, Mr. Polkinghorne," said the lady of the house; "so sorry we have no partner for you to take in; but, you see, you came unexpectedly, and we had not time to invite a lady for you."

"Never mind, ma'am, never mind. It doth remind me o' my old sow to home. Her had thirteen little piglings – zuckers – for a brood, and pore thing had only twelve little contrivances for them to zuck to."

"What did the thirteenth do then, Mr. Polkinghorne?"

"Why, ma'am, thickey there little zucker was like me now – just out in the cold."

Hicks was driving along a road in the dark one night when he came upon an empty conveyance, and two men close to the hedge on the roadside. One man was drunk – a Methodist class-leader – but the other was sober. The drunken man was lamenting: —

"Ah, too bad! What shall I do when I be called to my last account? What shall I zay?"