Macquarie Island Quotes

For fourteen years Wiliam Walker alias Brown alias Shields alias Swallow alias Waldon alias Todd alias Watson had been a major irritant to British authorities on both sides of the world. To the London police he was an accomplished thief. To the colonial government in Van Diemen's Land, he was a clever and determined escaper; he had stolen one of its vessels and caused much embarrassment by making it back to England not once but twice, one of only a handful of runaways to do so. To these skills of theft and evasion must be added outstanding seamanship, a glib tongue, extraordinary resourcefulness and a capacity for leadership. Among his more admirable attributes his loyalty to his family should also not be forgotten. To the convicts of Macquarie Harbour and Port Arthur he was a living legend, tangible proof that escape from the island prison was possible. By any standards, he was a remarkable man...

The Convict's Arrival" "In transit storms as I set sailing, Like a bold mariner my coast did steer, Sydney Harbour was my destination, That cursed harbour at length drew near; I then joined banquet in congratulation On my safe arrival from the briny sea; But alas! alas! I was mistaken Twelve years transported to Moreton Bay. Early one morning as I carelessly wandered, By the Brisbane waters I chanced to stray, I saw a prisoner sadly bewailing, While on the sunbeaming banks he lay. He said, I have been a prisoner at Port MacQuarie, At Norfolk Island and Emu Plain, At Castle Hill and cursed Towngabbie And at all those places I've worked in chains. But of all the places of condemnation, In each penal station of New South Wales, Moreton Bay I found no equal, For excessive tyranny each day prevails. Early in the morning as the day is dawning, To trace from heaven the morning dew, Up we are started at a moment's warning, Our daily labour for to renew. Our overseers and superintendents All these cursed tyrants language we must obey, Or else at the triangles our flesh is mangled, That is our wages at Moreton Bay. For three long years I've been beastly treated; Heavy irons each day I wore, My poor back from flogging has been lacerated, And oftimes painted with crimson gore. Like the Egyptians or ancient Hebrews, We were sorely oppressed by Logan's yoke, Till kind providence came to our assistance And gave this tyrant his fatal stroke. Yes, he was hurried from that place of bondage Where he thought he would gain renown, But a native black, who lay in ambush Gave this monster his fatal wound. Now that I've got once more to cross the ocean, And leave this place called Moreton Bay, Where many a man from downright starvation Lies mouldering today beneath the clay. Fellow prisoners be exhilarated, And your former sufferings don't bear in mind, For it's when from bondage you are extricated We will leave those tyrants far, far behind.