The 200th anniversary of hell on earth

When I signed us up for this trip to Norfolk Island I suppose I had a fond notion that the advertised 200^th anniversary was for the arrival of the Pitcairn descendants of the Mutiny on the Bounty. Silly me. Elementary research would have shown me that 2025 was the anniversary of the establishment of Norfolk’s second European settlement, the one where the British created a penal colony for the worst of the worst. The anniversary was noted but not celebrated. It would have been like celebrating the establishment of Auschwitz. We had a special lunch and listened to a couple of historians talk about the years between1825 and1828.

Norfolk was uninhabited in 1788 when the British first established a colony there, just a few weeks after the settlement at what became Sydney. That colony was closed for various reasons in 1814 but in 1825 the British government, wary of increasing crime in New South Wales, reopened the island as a place of secondary punishment reserved for the worst reoffenders from the Australian mainland. Norfolk was intended to be a deterrent: harsh, brutal, and inescapable. And it was.

Most prisoners were housed in prisoner barracks but the Pentagonal Prison was completed in 1847 as a high-security facility for the harshest penal colony offenders. Built to enforce reform through isolation, it featured a central pentagonal block with 84 small stone cells, additional cell blocks, service buildings, and notorious solitary and “dumb” cells that deprived inmates of light and sound. Regarded as a model of prison design at the time, it was feared by convicts for its severe conditions. Nothing much remains. The stone was put to more useful purposes by the Pitcairners. There’s more information and a picture here.

Most Commandants enforced rigid discipline. Flogging, chain gangs, and backbreaking labour were routine. Convict labour constructed the beautiful Georgian sandstone buildings in Kingston, including the barracks, mills, and the formidable jail. There were many rebellions and mutinies. It was not for nothing that the soldiers’ barracks and the Commandant’s quarters were surrounded by a high stone wall.

We didn’t delve into Norfolk’s history as a penal colony on this visit but we did in 2017. Norfolk Island’s Convict Past recounts a little of what we were told at that time, augmented with research. Here’s an extract:

“There is no doubt that Norfolk Island prison was a hell on earth, but the prisoners sometimes put up a fight. In 1846 William Westwood, known as Jacky-Jacky, led a revolt, killing four prison officials. This was a man who couldn’t be contained. He escaped in Sydney, was sent to van Diemen’s land (Tasmania) where he escaped more than once, then finally ended up on Norfolk. His story is worth reading. He and several others were hanged for their part in the revolt, and their remains placed in unconsecrated ground. The commandant at the time, a man named Childs, was replaced by John Price, who had a fearsome reputation. Our guide told us about a particularly awful punishment, being confined in the dark cell. The prisoner was lowered into a tiny cell without doors and windows. Then the cell was sealed at the top (although it must have been opened to provide food and water). One man was kept in these conditions for a year and when he was removed, he was insane. All these stories reminded me very much of Auschwitz and even more of the prison on Rottnest Island. We haven’t learnt too much over the centuries.”

There’s a plaque on a wall telling the story of Joseph Anderson, commandant on Norfolk between 1834-39. It explains that one of his first tasks at his new post was to investigate a revolt where prisoners attacked the barracks. 162 convicts stood trial for mutiny of which 29 were found guilty and sentenced to hang. Later, 16 of then were reprieved. “These 16 wept at the fate of being left to live, preferring death to a life that was only torture and degradation.”

Prisoners who died were buried in the cemetery but usually the sites were identified with simple wooden crosses which have disappeared over the years. The exceptions were those who were executed. They got a headstone as a warning to others.

While visiting Norfolk’s Bounty Folk Museum we found a hand written document called Norfolk Island Diary by Bill Winner. I think it is in part a transcript of documents detailing events starting from the establishment of the Sydney and Norfolk Island settlements. It lists births, deaths, and marriages and who received grants of lands. But mainly it summarised events. You’ll find out who drowned crossing the bar, attempts at rebellion, floggings, executions, and the day to day barbarity of the penal system. Peter photographed all the pages. It’s fascinating reading. The pages from the years of the second settlement highlight the dreadful life the convicts lived.

The colony was closed in 1855 because of its isolation and the cost of maintaining it. Besides, a cheaper and closer alternative had been established at Port Arthur in Tasmania.

However, I think the selection of the year had something to do with another piece of history taking part on an even smaller speck in the Pacific.

By the 1850s, the population of Pitcairn Island (settled in 1790 by the Bounty mutineers and their Tahitian companions) had outgrown the tiny island’s ability to sustain it. Food shortages, limited fresh water, and lack of arable land became serious problems. In 1854, representatives of the Pitcairn community petitioned the British government for help. They did not write directly to Queen Victoria, but their appeal was passed through official channels to the British Colonial Office. The request made its way to the Queen as part of routine government reporting, and she approved the plan.

Call me Miss Cynical, but the boffins in Whitehall would have rubbed their hands in glee. It was perfect. They could abandon the Norfolk Colony and move in a bunch of (nearly) Englishmen before the dratted Froggies tried to move into the place.

And so it came to pass that the British government selected Norfolk Island as a suitable new home for the people of Pitcairn. It was fertile, larger, and already had infrastructure in place. The government promised the island would be granted to the Pitcairners in perpetuity.

On 8 June 1856, 194 Pitcairn Islanders—the entire population—arrived on Norfolk Island aboard the Morayshire. The move was voluntary, though not without sorrow; many were homesick, and a few families eventually returned to Pitcairn – which was just as well because the French were eyeing off the apparently abandoned island with a view to taking it over.

Which brings us to Norfolk Island’s annual foundation celebration, Bounty Day. Stay tuned, Mouseketeers.

Meanwhile, here’s a picture of one of Norfolk Islands magnificent feral roosters.

This is the second post for this trip. If you missed anything, pick up the whole journey here.