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‘Peter Grose has a natural ability to tell a good yarn and the
story of the Japanese subs that slid into Sydney Harbour in
1942 is about as good as any Aussie yarn can get. This is the
kind of history writing that ensures the reader is engaged not
only with the story but also the background drama.’
Sydney Morning Herald
An Awkward Truth:
The bombing of Darwin, February 1942
Ten Rogues_TXT.indd 7
Rogues_Title page.indd 2 26/11/19
21/8/19 11:33 am
5:37 pm
First published in 2020
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INTRODUCTION xiii
PART 1 Convicts 1
CHAPTER 1 Jimmy 3
CHAPTER 2 Transportation 17
CHAPTER 3 Expansion 29
PART 5 Prisoners 153
CHAPTER 10 Trial 155
CHAPTER 11 Appeal 169
CHAPTER 12 Norfolk Island 179
CHAPTER 13 Whatever happened to . . . 187
APPENDIX I 199
APPENDIX II 205
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS 215
INDEX 225
I never planned to tell the story of Jimmy Porter and the seizure
of the brig Frederick.
In February 2016 my wife, Ros, and I took a week’s holiday
in Tasmania with my lifelong friend Richard Walsh (who also
happens to be the original publisher of this book) and Richard’s
wife, Sue. We all met up in Hobart and drove together to the
north coast of Tasmania, then down to Strahan on the west
coast to take a cruise on the beautiful Gordon River.
At the time, I had a half-baked idea to write a book called
Punishment, which would have been a history of that tortured
subject and would have dealt with all those futile historical
punishments, from administering hemlock to dunking witches
to hanging thieves. I planned to write it with my daughter
Anouchka, a London psychoanalyst who has written more books
than I ever will.
If I’d stuck to this original plan, I would very likely have come
up with all the usual facile liberal conclusions that punishment
doesn’t work, and that the best way to treat criminals is to keep
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them apart from the rest of society, then give them something
useful to do. That was about as far as I’d got.
Then, as part of the Gordon River cruise, I visited the
early nineteenth-century penal settlement of Sarah Island. It
can be found in Macquarie Harbour, near the small village of
Strahan. As I wandered around Sarah Island, my first reaction
was that here was perfect proof of everything I believed: give
those convicts a useful craft—in this case shipbuilding—while
simultaneously making sure they were better fed and better
housed, and discipline would improve out of all recognition.
Hanging and flogging could go out of style. I began busily
taking photographs of various plaques scattered around Sarah
Island illustrating this transformation.
Then I came across the story of the seizure of the brig
Frederick and the ten convicts’ epic voyage to Chile and freedom.
I could suddenly see the major thesis of Punishment gift-wrapped
and packaged as an irresistible narrative. It was a story with
everything: defiance of authority, an adventurous sea voyage,
cheeky convicts, stuffy, sadistic and occasionally buffoonish
bureaucrats, and above all a compelling tale with a happy
ending. Who could ask for more? I started researching and
discovered that there was a wealth of original source material
easily available. For instance, the handwritten convict records
from the early nineteenth century had been digitally copied
and were available online, which meant they could be accessed
easily from anywhere in the world.
Furthermore, my central character, Jimmy Porter, had left
two first-hand accounts of his life. One was written in Hobart
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CONVICTS
In his account, two boys put him up to the next crime. The
trio passed a wealthy house, looked through the parlour window,
and spotted a handsome clock on the mantelpiece. Would Jimmy
come back at dusk and sneak in and grab it? Yes, he would. He
managed to do as he was asked and run off with the clock, duly
receiving a small share of the proceeds when it was ‘fenced’.
But he had been seen entering the house, and identified. He
was subsequently nabbed, and taken to his grandmother, ‘who
swooned away’. His parents arrived to discuss the matter with
the gentleman victim, who agreed not to prosecute, according
to Porter, ‘on the account of the respectability of my parents’.
All agreed that young Jimmy’s career in crime could only lead
to the gallows, and the best move would be to send the lad to
sea while his neck remained unstretched.
Jimmy had an uncle living in Gravesend, then an important
river port on the Thames Estuary, east of London. The uncle, a
ship’s captain who owned a brig and a schooner,1 was no stranger
to trouble with the law; he had lost several vessels after being
caught smuggling. However, he proved to be an artful dodger,
and his smuggling successes outnumbered his failures to the
point where he became a rich man. He was tanned, ferocious
looking, and in no mood to indulge his nephew. Young Jimmy
was ordered to sea in the brig Sophia, whose captain, he was
told, would ‘either make a sailor of you or an idiot’. Jimmy
didn’t much care for any of this; he planned to run away but
was not quick enough, and within a few days found himself
setting out to sea in the Sophia, under the command of the
tyrannical Captain Lindsay. His first voyage was to be long and
arduous, 9271 kilometres (5761 miles) across the wild Atlantic
Ocean to Rio de Janeiro.
After six months’ cruising, the John Bull put into the port of
Valparaiso in Chile, to replenish supplies. Jimmy went ashore.
His account of what happened next is as interesting for what
he doesn’t tell us as for what he reveals. We know nothing of
the circumstances, but in Valparaiso he met a girl, Narcissa
Martel (or Martell). He doesn’t say he fell in love, nor does he
tell us anything about her, though we can deduce from later
events that her family was at least moderately wealthy. We know
nothing of her age, her beauty, or her many other attractions.
All he tells us in his journal is: ‘Having a good deal of money
about me, I bid farewell to the Ship, and a Spanish girl stowed
me away on her father’s premises until the ship sailed again.’
In other words, he deserted ship and Narcissa’s family hid him.
He continues: ‘I began to think of marriage by the continual
persuasion of her friends.’
There has to be more than a suspicion that Jimmy’s motives
were not romantic. Being Jimmy, he must have realised that
he was onto a good thing. In Chile at the time, there was a
fashion among high-society girls for marrying British sailors;
marrying a European was seen as marrying up. There has to
be a further suspicion that Jimmy spun a good yarn about his
background and prospects. He says he had plenty of money at
the time, so his story would have rung true. Perhaps he told the
Martels that his uncle owned a shipping line, and that Jimmy’s
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When the Chilean civil war was entering its sixth year, there
came an event that changed everything. On 18 June 1815
Napoleon was defeated at Waterloo in Belgium, ending France’s
dreams of leading a European empire with satellite colonies
around the world. Spain was already weak after its defeat by
France. As a result, Britain became the dominant world power,
and the possessor of the biggest and most imposing navy,
guarding a lucrative colonial empire spanning the globe.
In Chile the Royalists were finally defeated in 1821, and
Spain gave up in 1826. So the Patriots won, and Jimmy’s
new family found themselves on the winning side. Yet the
independent Chileans had mixed feelings about the British. On
the one hand, they distrusted all European powers, particularly
those who maintained colonies. On the other hand, it would
have been both churlish and counterproductive not to cooperate
with the British when they seemed willing to offer practical
help. So independent Chile’s relations with Britain could be
characterised in three words—warm but wary.
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Jimmy does not say in either of his memoirs whether the farm
was successful but nor does he complain about hard times.
So we can reasonably assume that married life on the farm
treated him well. However, throughout his life he displayed
a spectacular gift for making terrible and self-destructive
decisions, and that gift did not desert him now. Growing tired
of what was almost certainly prosperous contentment on the
farm, he took a decision that would wreck his life for years
to come:
By the time the Saint Juan reached Callao, the port of the
Peruvian capital of Lima, Jimmy had discovered that the ship
was on a smuggling trip. He decided to jump ship. The captain
went ashore, headed for Lima. Without proper leave, Jimmy went
ashore too. This made him an absconder, so the military were
called in to find him. What might have been a minor incident
now blew up into a major disaster.
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It was not until the next day that I was stung with remorse
at the very idea of leaving my wife and child behind me.
I hoped I should see them once again. In the course of a
fortnight or three weeks I felt a little easier in my mind and
was determined that, should I reach England in safety, after
having an interview with my friends, I would immediately
ship for Valparaiso, consider it my native land, there to rest
happy with my wife and child.
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opted for the last big hustle. As he tells it: ‘I was persuaded
to make one push which would make me rich or cost me my
life.’ With two accomplices, he took part in a raid on a cutter8
anchored at Northfleet, near Gravesend on the Thames Estuary.
They made off with a good haul of silk and beaver fur, and
might have got away with it if one of the others had not secretly
hidden some of the loot under his clothing, hoping to score a
larger than fair share of the spoils. The trio made it safely as far
as London, but the fraudster was caught. He then betrayed his
two accomplices. All three were imprisoned, found guilty, and
sentenced to death. It was something of a milestone in young
Jimmy Porter’s life—his first death sentence, though not his last.
Jimmy says he had planned to keep all of this from his
parents and grandmother, and simply accept his fate. But the
betrayer somehow got word to Jimmy’s parents. ‘The shock
nearly cost my mother her life,’ he wrote. ‘But, being of strong
constitution, she recovered.’ Not so Jimmy’s grandmother. She
died with, according to Jimmy, ‘my name being the last words
she pronounced’. Her death came before she could be told
that he was to be spared the gallows. Instead his sentence was
commuted. He now faced the lesser penalty of transportation
to Van Diemen’s Land. For life.
8 A single-masted sailing ship, similar to a sloop but with its mast more to
the rear.
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