The Book of the Bush | Page 2

the bow and arrow, never built a hut or cultivated a yard of
land. Such people could show no valid claim to land or life, so we
confiscated both. The British Islands were infested with criminals from
the earliest times. Our ancestors were all pirates, and we have inherited
from them a lurking taint in our blood, which is continually impelling
us to steal something or kill somebody. How to get rid of this taint was
a problem which our statesmen found it difficult to solve. In times of
war they mitigated the evil by filling the ranks of our armies from the

gaols, and manning our navies by the help of the press-gang, but in
times of peace the scum of society was always increasing.
At last a great idea arose in the mind of England. Little was known of
New Holland, except that it was large enough to harbour all the
criminals of Great Britain and the rest of the population if necessary.
Why not transport all convicts, separate the chaff from the wheat, and
purge out the old leaven? By expelling all the wicked, England would
become the model of virtue to all nations.
So the system was established. Old ships were chartered and filled with
the contents of the gaols. If the ships were not quite seaworthy it did
not matter much. The voyage was sure to be a success; the passengers
might never reach land, but in any case they would never return. On the
vessels conveying male convicts, some soldiers and officers were
embarked to keep order and put down mutiny. Order was kept with the
lash, and mutiny was put down with the musket. On the ships
conveying women there were no soldiers, but an extra half-crew was
engaged. These men were called "Shilling-a-month" men, because they
had agreed to work for one shilling a month for the privilege of being
allowed to remain in Sydney. If the voyage lasted twelve months they
would thus have the sum of twelve shillings with which to commence
making their fortunes in the Southern Hemisphere. But the
"Shilling-a-month" man, as a matter of fact, was not worth one cent the
day after he landed, and he had to begin life once more barefoot, like a
new-born babe.
The seamen's food on board these transports was bad and scanty,
consisting of live biscuit, salt horse, Yankee pork, and Scotch coffee.
The Scotch coffee was made by steeping burnt biscuit in boiling water
to make it strong. The convicts' breakfast consisted of oatmeal porridge,
and the hungry seamen used to crowd round the galley every morning
to steal some of it. It would be impossible for a nation ever to become
virtuous and rich if its seamen and convicts were reared in luxury and
encouraged in habits of extravagance.
When the transport cast anchor in the beautiful harbour of Port Jackson,
the ship's blacksmith was called out of his bunk at midnight. It was his

duty to rivet chains on the legs of the second-sentence men--the twice
convicted. They had been told on the voyage that they would have an
island all to themselves, where they would not be annoyed by the
contemptuous looks and bitter jibes of better men. All night long the
blacksmith plied his hammer and made the ship resound with the
rattling chains and ringing manacles, as he fastened them well on the
legs of the prisoners. At dawn of day, chained together in pairs, they
were landed on Goat Island; that was the bright little isle--their
promised land. Every morning they were taken over in boats to the
town of Sydney, where they had to work as scavengers and
road-makers until four o'clock in the afternoon. They turned out their
toes, and shuffled their feet along the ground, dragging their chains
after them. The police could always identify a man who had been a
chain-gang prisoner during the rest of his life by the way he dragged his
feet after him.
In their leisure hours these convicts were allowed to make cabbage-tree
hats. They sold them for about a shilling each, and the shop-keepers
resold them for a dollar. They were the best hats ever worn in the
Sunny South, and were nearly indestructible; one hat would last a
lifetime, but for that reason they were bad for trade, and became
unfashionable.
The rest of the transported were assigned as servants to those willing to
give them food and clothing without wages. The free men were thus
enabled to grow rich by the labours of the bondmen--vice was punished
and virtue rewarded.
Until all the passengers had been disposed of, sentinels were posted on
the deck of the transport with orders to shoot anyone who attempted to
escape. But when all the convicts were gone,