By Michaela Ann Cameron

Supported by a Parramatta City Council Community Grant – St. John’s First Fleeters

“Sober and grave grows merry in time…”[1]

The sun rose over Tottenham on the wintry morning of Saturday 18 January 1783 and illuminated Mr. Charles Pratt’s yard. The master of the house himself was not there, for he was living in town with his mother, but his servant William Sharpe was an early riser and was soon going about his daily duties. Sharpe glanced out at the yard fully expecting to be greeted with the sight of his master’s birds ‘running about,’ and he was not disappointed. There was the turkey cock…‘all picked away under the gills.’ And over there was the gamecock strutting about with one foot bigger than t’other. The red speckled hen clucked a little and with a sudden burst of energy ran to where the grey gander was pecking at the ground. Pratt’s second hen, newly bathed in dust, soon joined them. The ducks, one white and one with a reddish cast, then rushed with well-synchronised waddles towards this pecking trio, fearing that they were missing out on some tasty morsel of grub or insect in the dirt.[2] Yes, everything was just as it should be, so Sharpe turned his attention elsewhere. Perhaps it was a deafening silence where the usually ever-present background hum of clucks, quacks, cackles, and squawks ought to have been that prompted Sharpe to look into the yard again around seven o’clock that morning. When he did so this time, though, his eyes were disappointed indeed—nary a bird was to be found.[3]

Much later that night, at the home of one Mrs. Killpack, a great deal of ‘merry making’ was afoot. So great was the merriment, in fact, it lasted well into the wee small hours of Sunday morning. Did the festivities have anything to do with the seven fowls Mrs. Killpack’s twenty-six-year-old son David had in his possession? Whatever the reason for the celebration, David had decided he would have his fill of mirth before setting out to transport the fowls to his uncle’s in Greenwich.[4] It was not until the ‘unreasonable hour’ of half past two in the morning, therefore, that David turned into the Back-lane at Clapton with his bagful of birds.

“A Bird Without A Wing”

The peculiarity of such an untimely sight did not escape the eye of John Glover, the ever-watchful watchman of Hackney, who was at that very moment in his box on the corner of the Back-lane. Glover immediately regarded David Killpack with suspicion.

“You’ve got some wet nets!” said Glover, conversationally.

“No, fowls!” replied Killpack, most forthcomingly, like a man with nothing to hide.

With that, Glover, who must have already received a report of the fowl theft, ‘turned into [his] round and called’ his colleague, one Mr. Randall. Meanwhile, Killpack began to walk off—perfectly cool, calm, and collected—as though he believed the watchman would not have the slightest cause ‘to call any assistance.’[5]

When Randall joined Glover, he ‘pursued [Killpack],…overtook him in Back-lane’ and demanded to see the fowls he had on his back. The suspect ‘readily agreed to it.’ Randall ‘immediately examined the budget…[and] drew out the turkey.’[6]

“What else have you got in there?” Randall asked sternly, upon which he became acquainted with the rest of Killpack’s booty.

“I brought the fowls from my mother’s, and I’m carrying them to my uncle’s at Greenwich,’ Killpack began to explain.[7]

“And what are you doing here at so unreasonable an hour?” probed Randall.

“Well, I have been down at my mother’s making merry, and I’m a sawyer, so I took this road, and brought the fowls this way in order to get home in time, because my partner cannot work without me.”

Nonsense, thought Randall. This was clearly a young ne’er-do-well who was knowingly transporting stolen property under the cover of darkness. Without further ado, Randall took Killpack into custody and delivered him to the watch-house where he was thrown in the watch-house ‘cage.’ From there, Killpack was carried before Justice Sheppard who committed him to Newgate prison. Also in Newgate at this time was John Martin who, just over two months earlier, had been returned to the prison from the Africa-bound transport Den Keyser when he was found to be infected with a highly contagious illness: ‘gaol fever.’[8]

The Old Bailey

It did not take long for Newgate’s maleficence to break down Killpack’s constitution. On the 26^th day of February, just over a month after the great bird heist, Killpack was standing before Justice Buller at London’s Old Bailey, robbed of his powers of vocalisation by the dreaded ‘gaol distemper.’ He was ‘so hoarse,’ that he had to petition ‘the honourable Court,’ so his defence could be read aloud on his behalf.[9]

PRISONER’S DEFENCE.

(Read.)

On Saturday I went to Tottenham-hill, to a person that owed me some money, coming home near Hilliard’s ferry, I found the fowls in two bags, and the turkey with his legs tied; I told the watchman that I had brought them from my mother’s, but little thought at the same time, that they had been stolen; but supposed they had been dropped from some cart or waggon.[10]

Not an impossible turn of events, to be sure; it adequately explained how an innocent man could have been found with the birds that Mr. Pratt’s servant, Sharpe, had subsequently positively identified as his master’s missing poultry.[11] The most damning evidence presented to the court during Sharpe’s testimony, however, was that Sharpe had actually seen Killpack with his own eyes passing through the ‘turnpike gate joining Mr. Pratt’s house’ on the morning of the theft, placing Killpack right at the scene of the crime.[12]

The verdict was ‘GUILTY’ and the punishment was seven years transportation: one year of Killpack’s life for every fowl he had stolen.

The Year of the Game Cockerel 

(26 February 1783–26 February 1784)

The rooster is renowned for being the first bird to herald the new dawn with his crowing each day; it is only appropriate, therefore, that the first year of Killpack’s sentence should belong to none other than Mr. Pratt’s asymmetrically footed rooster.[13] But it was not just the rooster’s symbolic value as the proclaimer of new beginnings that made the first year of Killpack’s sentence the Year of the Game Cockerel. For, before the year drew to a close, Killpack would also have reason to channel the fighting cock’s famed watchfulness, masculine aggression, dominance, extreme courage, and utter refusal to give up the fight.[14]

Sick as he was, Killpack had been thrown back into the wretched Newgate immediately following his guilty verdict and remained in those squalid conditions until mid-August.[15] On 16 August 1783, a Mr. Akerman received an order to transfer 74 convicts, including Killpack, from Newgate to ‘Black Fryers’ and to deliver them on board a ship bearing the name of a bird, ‘the Swift,’ at Blackwall to the ship’s mate, Thomas Bradbury.[16] More male and female prisoners were sourced from the Censor hulk the following day, bringing the Swift’s cargo to a grand total of 143 convicts bound for America.[17] England was going to attempt to, quite literally, ‘Empty [her] Jails on [the Americans]’—rather audacious, since the United States had not only formally declared independence from the mother country, but had already decisively won the right to that independence in the Revolutionary War.[18] Not surprisingly, even the sailors on board the Swift were nurturing strong doubts that the Americans would accept this shipload of undesirables. Soon after sailing from the Downs on 28 August, therefore, the sailors—heedless of the trouble it would unleash—informed the convicts that if they could not be ‘disposed of’ in America, they would be unceremoniously dumped in Africa instead.[19] As the ship had already set sail, there was but one way for the convicts to ensure that this dreaded fate would not befall them: mutiny.

On the night of 28 August 1783, in a heightened state of desperation, a number of the convicts confined between decks successfully removed their own irons.[20] The next morning at ten o’clock a number of them took advantage of being on deck and made ‘what they called a rush; they came all at once into the cabbin, and secured the Captain, [the ship’s mate Thomas Bradbury], and all the ship’s company, and the fire arms [sic].’[21] The ringleaders freed their fellow cons, ‘hoisted both of the ship’s longboats out, and as many as could, got into them.’[22] The longboats would have been able to take more than the 48 convicts who escaped but those who were already in them ‘were so desperate…they would not take any more.’[23] A number of convicts were ‘knocked down that wanted to go’ and some perished in the attempt.[24] Killpack was one of the 48 mutineers who ‘cleverly’ made it onto those vessels of freedom and ‘got on shore’ by six o’clock that evening.[25] To have gained one of those sought after positions amid such fierce competition, Killpack undoubtedly would have had to muster some of the gamecock’s masculine aggression, dominance, and fighting spirit.

As Mr. Pratt’s rooster had already proven, though, even game cockerels get caught. On 31 August 1783, merely two days after the Swift mutiny, a man named James Winter recaptured Killpack at Sandhurst, near a place called (ironically enough) Hawkhurst in Kent. Killpack, decidedly unrooster-like by then, ‘surrendered himself quietly,…and very [civilly]’ without ‘the least’ bit of resistance.[26] This was one of those occasions where not playing the rooster was actually necessary for survival, because those who did resist recapture immediately forfeited any possibility of arguing in court that there was ‘a lawful cause of being at large.’[27]

Killpack subsequently appeared at London’s Old Bailey for a second time on Wednesday 10 September 1783 along with another 23 mutineers who had likewise been apprehended and charged with ‘return from transportation.’ Though he was not hoarse from gaol fever at this trial, Killpack did not even try to defend himself. He simply stated, ‘I have nothing to say.’[28] The verdict was ‘GUILTY.’ The sentence: ‘Death.’[29] ‘The Trials being ended, the Court adjourned to the Saturday morning’ for the judge’s final word.[30] Over the next two days in a dank, dark cell at Newgate, Killpack likely thought a great deal about those seven birds that had once been such a source of merriment to him and his kindred and were now to be the death of him.

Judgement day came at last and many of the death sentences were commuted to transportation to the American colonies for life.[31] Eighteen of the 24 recaptured mutineers were thus spared, including Killpack. But, lest he forget those seven birds that had almost cost him his life, among the 18 mutineers given a reprieve was a convict who had—of all things—an avian name: Richard Partridge.

Thenceforth the bird-burglar, Killpack, and his fellow Swift escapee, Partridge, spent the remaining five months of the Year of the Cockerel on the Censor hulk moored on the River Thames, waiting indefinitely to be transported ‘for the term of their natural lives.’[32] It was a miserable existence. But at least they were alive.

The Years of the Hens

(27 February 1784–26 February 1786)

The Mother Hen: a symbol of security, warmth, safety, and charity.[33] Nothing even remotely resembling those comforts was to be found during the two years Killpack served on board the Censor hulk in honour of Mr. Pratt’s precious hens. Censor was one of five ex-naval vessels that had been deemed unseaworthy and converted to floating prisons to cope with England’s overabundance of incarcerated felons. As such, Killpack’s floating prison was damp, confined, food was scarce, the labour was hard, and disease was rife.

All in all, Killpack, Partridge, and some of the other Swift mutineers—John Coen Welch, Jonathan Keeling, Charles Wilson, William Bradbury, and Joseph Dunnage—would endure being cooped up together on the Censor for over two years; a time when the hulk’s prisoner population peaked at 261 men.[34] Fortunately, an alternate destination for these transportees-in-waiting was being considered. And, mercifully, thanks in part to a second convict mutiny on the America-bound Mercury in April 1784, that destination was neither America nor Africa.[35]

The Year of the White Duck

(27 February 1787–26 February 1788)

White is the colour of new beginnings and the duck is a symbol of transition and migration. Rather fittingly, therefore, the first day of Killpack’s Year of the White Duck began with a wagon-ride to Scarborough. Unfortunately for Killpack this was not the place immortalised in the traditional ballad Scarborough Fair, but a ship named after the North Yorkshire town. It was the first step in a long, forced migration to the warmer climes of a new world: Kamay (Botany Bay).[36] Richard Partridge, James Wright, Thomas Eccles, Edward Elliott and John Irving were also among more than 200 other convicts who embarked on the Scarborough.

Within a week of boarding the all-male convict transport ship, an unidentified convict was being ‘Punished with 1 Dosen Lashes for hideing a knife in his Shoe [sic].’[37] Nevertheless, the corporal punishment inflicted on that fellow did not dissuade two other cons, Philip Farrell and Thomas Griffiths, from plotting more mischief. The First Fleet set sail on 13 May 1787 and within a week Farrell and Griffiths were ready to draw on their previous experience as seamen to become the ringleaders of a ‘Scarboro‘ mutiny. Unlike the convict mutineers of the Swift and Mercury, however, Farrell and Griffiths were detected by officers and prevented from accomplishing their rebellious vision.[38]

Despite those early indications of convict rebellion, Scarborough arrived safely at Kamay (Botany Bay) on 19 January 1788, and Warrane (Sydney Cove) in Cadigal Country on 26 January 1788, bringing Killpack’s great migration ‘beyond the seas’ to an end.[39]

The Year of the Turkey

(27 February 1789–26 February 1790)

The turkey, a bird of abundance and thanksgiving, is traditional English yuletide fare. The Year of the Turkey might have ended up being a time of abundance and thanksgiving for Killpack and everyone else in the colony, too, had it not been for the Guardian’s unfriendly encounter with an iceberg on Christmas Eve, 1789.

The ‘fast-sailing’ Guardian had sailed from England on 8 September 1789 carrying ‘two years provisions’ worth approximately £70,000.[40] The provisions included,

295,344 pounds of flour, 149,856 pounds of beef, and 303,632 pounds of pork, for the settlement; a supply of clothing for the marines serving on shore, and for those belonging to the Sirius and Supply; together with a large quantity of sails and cordage for those ships and for the uses of the colony; sixteen chests of medicines; fifteen casks of wine; a quantity of blankets and bedding for the hospital; and a large supply of unmade clothing for the convicts; with an ample assortment of tools and implements of agriculture.[41]

At the Cape of Good Hope, the ship’s Captain, Edward Riou, had also taken on board ‘a quantity of [live]stock for the settlement, and completed a garden which had been prepared under the immediate direction of Sir Joseph Banks, and in which there were near one hundred and fifty of the finest fruit trees, several of them bearing fruit.’[42] In addition, David Collins later wrote, ‘There was scarcely an officer in the colony that had not his share of private property embarked on board of this richly freighted ship.’[43]

However, when an iceberg shattered, ripped, and tore a gash in the Guardian, Riou had little choice but ‘to throw overboard the greatest part of her valuable cargo….The stock was all killed (seven horses, sixteen cows, two bulls, a number of sheep, goats, and two deer), [and] the garden destroyed.’[44]

There was a human cost to this calamity, too. Over 300 people had been aboard the ship and while the 62 who remained on the shattered wreck miraculously reached safety, only 15 of the 259 people who took to the boats on Christmas Day survived. This death toll also meant a loss of labour and sought-after skills in the colony. ‘Government had sent out in the Guardian twenty-five male convicts, who were either farmers or artificers, together with seven persons engaged to serve as superintendents of convicts, for three years from their landing, at salaries of forty pounds per annum each. Of these,’ continued Collins, ‘two, who were professed gardeners, were supposed to be drowned, having left the ship soon after she struck, with several other persons in boats.’[45] Incidentally, two convicts who survived the wreck, Edward Page and John Morris, did not survive long in the colony anyway; by early 1791, they were both lying in unmarked graves in the parish of St. John’s, Parramatta.[46]

The wrecking of the Guardian was more than the fledgling colony could bear. Had the shipwreck not occurred, Collins later hypothesised, the ship ‘would probably have arrived in the latter end of January or at the beginning of February’ 1790 and the colony, ‘perhaps,…should never again have been in want.’[47]

At that period the large quantity of live stock in the colony was daily increasing; the people required for labour were…strong and healthy; the necessity of dividing the Convicts, and sending the Sirius to Norfolk Island, would not have existed; the ration of provisions, instead of the diminutions which had been necessarily directed, would have been increased to the full allowance; and the tillage of the ground consequently proceeded in with that spirit which must be exerted to the utmost before the settlement could render itself independent of the mother country for subsistence.[48]

‘But,’ Collins sadly realised, ‘to what a distance was that period now thrown by this unfortunate accident!’[49]

The colony was soon plunged into a ‘distressed situation’ for want of provisions and news from the motherland.[50] Convicts, like Elizabeth Scott, were dying from the ill effects of the reduced rations and, with no ships arriving from England since the First Fleet reached Warrane (Sydney Cove), morale was low. At this stage the colonists still did not know that the Guardian had even sailed, let alone that it had met with misfortune. For all Killpack and the rest of the colonists knew, they had been abandoned by England entirely. And, with all that precious cargo sacrificed to the ocean, they might as well have been.

The Year of the Red Duck

(27 February 1790–26 February 1791)

Red is a colour that can symbolise many things, but in the Year of the Red Duck it clearly stood for passion. On 6 June 1790, instead of the much-needed ‘cargo of provisions,’ the colonists received ‘a cargo so unnecessary and unprofitable as two hundred and twenty-two female [convicts],’ along with a ‘supply of provisions…so inconsiderable as to permit only an addition of one pound and a half of flour being made to the weekly ration.’[51] That ‘unnecessary and unprofitable’ cargo arrived aboard what one ultra-conservative mid-twentieth century historian would disdainfully and inaccurately label the ‘floating brothel’: Lady Juliana.[52]

Among the convict women of the Lady Juliana was Killpack’s future wife, Eleanor McDonald, a convict with a history of stealing linen items who had, under the influence of alcohol, reverted to her old tricks and stolen and pawned four linen sheets from her employer when ‘she was only four days in her service.’[53]

The Year of the Goose

(27 February 1791–26 February 1792)

David Killpack married Eleanor McDonald at St. Phillip’s Church, Cadi (Sydney) on 15 June 1791 in the Year of the Goose—a bird symbolising family.[54] Before the Year of the Goose was over, the Killpacks added a third member to their family with the birth of their first daughter, Martha, in January 1792. The family continued to grow in subsequent years with the births of Elizabeth (born 1793), Eleanor Magell / McGill (born 1795) and David (born c.1796).[55]

Like the migratory duck, the goose also symbolises personal freedom. Had it not been for that mutiny, the Year of the Goose would have been Killpack’s final year as a convict. But, he was a ‘lifer’ now and the only way that would change was if he received a pardon.

A Farm and Freedom

On 11 December 1794, Killpack was granted 30 acres ‘in the North Brush in the District of the Field of Mars’ in Wallumettagal Country.[56] The very next day, after almost twelve years as a convict, he was given a pardon on the condition that he was never to set foot in England again.[57]

At the same time as Killpack received his farm and his freedom, Captain John Macarthur started buying a number of small holdings in the Field of Mars, Wallumettagal Country from ‘foolish’ and inebriated soldiers of the New South Wales Corps who were prepared to sell their 25 acres of free land for little more than ‘a gallon of rum.’[58] Sometime after Killpack received an additional 50 acres of land on 22 July 1795, Killpack also sold his 80-acre farm to Macarthur.[59] Thus, the old Killpack Farm, a site that is now bounded on the east by Pennant Parade and subdivided by Carlingford Road, was absorbed into the ‘Cornish Hills Farms’: the shrewd Captain’s conglomeration of smaller properties, which covered an area including present-day Dundas, Carlingford, Beecroft, and Pennant Hills. Killpack reportedly continued to manage the former Killpack Farm for Macarthur, but it was not a role he would be able to hold for long.[60]

On 30 November 1797, at just 40 years of age, David Killpack passed away having enjoyed less than three years of freedom. Carved on his headstone was Psalm 40:1,

“I waited Patiently for the Lord

And He inclined unto me

And Heard my Cry.”

The ‘loving Husband, affectionate Father and…sincere Friend’ was survived by his widow, Eleanor, and four children.[61]His son, David, however, died a mere three months later, aged 15 months. The little boy took the family name with him, for Killpack’s other children, all daughters, married. In the case of Killpack’s second eldest daughter, Elizabeth, her married name proved to be hardier. In 1810, Elizabeth married James Milson, a prosperous free settler whose surname not only lived in flesh and blood but was immortalised in the newcomers’ place names for the headland and North Shore suburb Milsons Point in Cammeraygal Country and the Milson Borough Estate at Cherrybrook in Dharug Country, as well as other locations.

But the Killpack name lives on, too. On Darwin Street, Carlingford in Bidjigal Country, ‘Kilpack Park’ bears the First Fleeter’s name. And in Cherrybrook’s Milson Borough Estate, two private roads named ‘Scarborough Way’ and ‘Juliana Way’ hint at the connexion between the well-to-do Milsons and the merry, bird-stealing, mutinous First Fleeter and his linen-thieving lady of the Juliana.[62]

CITE THIS

Michaela Ann Cameron, “David Killpack: The Merry Mutineer,” St. John’s Online, (2016) https://stjohnsonline.org/bio/david-killpack/, accessed [insert current date]

References

• Charles Bateson, The Convict Ships 1787 – 1868, (Glasgow: Brown, Son & Ferguson, 1969).
• Michaela Ann Cameron, “Scarborough,” Dictionary of Sydney, (2015), http://dictionaryofsydney.org/entry/scarborough, accessed 17 July 2016.
• David Collins, An Account of the English Colony of New South Wales Vol. 1 (London, Printed for T. Cadell Jun. and W. Davies, in the Strand, 1798).
• Judith Dunn, The Parramatta Cemeteries: St. John’s, (Parramatta: Parramatta and District Historical Society, 1991).
• John Easty, Memorandum of Transactions of a Voyage from England to Botany Bay, 1787–1791: A First Fleet Journal, (Sydney: Trustees of the Public Library of New South Wales, 1965)
• Penny Edwell, “Lady Juliana,” Dictionary of Sydney (2016), http://dictionaryofsydney.org/entry/lady_juliana accessed 18 July 2016.
• A. Roger Ekirch, “Great Britain’s Secret Convict Trade to America, 1783-1784,” American Historical Review, Vol. 89, No. 5 (Dec., 1984): 1285-1291.
• Mollie Gillen, The Founders of Australia: A Biographical Dictionary of the First Fleet, (Sydney: Library of Australian History, 1989).
• London Lives 1690 to 1800, (www.londonlives.org, version 1.1).
• National Maritime Museum UK, Royal Museums Greenwich, (http://www.rmg.co.uk/national-maritime-museum).
• National Portrait Gallery, London, (http://www.npg.org.uk/).
• Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.2).
• Edward Riou, Letters to the Admiralty, Manuscript letter  MLMSS 5711/4 (Safe 1/233b).
• Edward Riou, The Log Book of a Voyage to Port Jackson in New South Wales, performed by Lieutenant Edward Riou Commanding his Majesty’s Ship Guardian by Order of the Right Honourable the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty, 21 April 1789-5 May 1790, Manuscript volume  MLMSS 5711/1 (Safe 1/233a).
• State Library of New South Wales, “The Guardian in Verse,” (http://www.sl.nsw.gov.au/) accessed 18 July 2016.
• Thomas Tegg, Melancholy Disaster of His Majesty’s Ship The Guardian, Bound to Botany Bay with Stores and Convicts, Lieut. Riou, Commander, &c., (London: Printed for Thomas Tegg, 1880). Printed material  MLMSS 5711/6 (Safe 1/233b).

Notes

[1] This line, which can be interpreted two very different ways, is from “Riddles Wisely Expounded,” (Child Ballad No. 1), and is the same line that later inspired “Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme” in the traditional English ballad “Scarborough Fair.” The line could mean, essentially, that time heals all wounds so that even “sober” and grave” will be “merry” given enough time. However, the syntax of the sentence means the opposite can also be true; all that is “merry” will eventually become “sober and grave.” The latter, more pessimistic interpretation seems more likely as older versions also contain a refrain “There’s never a rose grows fairer with time.” Another related English folk song is The Elfin Knight (c.1650) (Child Ballad 2). See Francis James Child, The English and Scottish Popular Ballads, Vol. I, (Massachusetts: Courier Corporation, 2003), p.6

[2] The behaviour of the birds has been dramatised to help set the scene, but with reference to research on the usual behaviour of these birds. The original court transcript merely described them as “running about.” Descriptions of the birds’ physical characteristics are drawn directly from William Sharpe’s statements in the trial transcript. Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.2, 17 July 2016), 26 February 1783, trial of DAVID KILPACK (t17830226-27).

[3] Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.2, 17 July 2016), 26 February 1783, trial of DAVID KILPACK (t17830226-27).

[4] The court transcript does not reveal why the birds were being transported to Killpack’s uncle’s at Greenwich. Changing the location of the birds at night when most people were asleep or indoors might have been attempted in the hopes that this would make the stolen property harder to trace. Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.2, 17 July 2016), 26 February 1783, trial of DAVID KILPACK (t17830226-27).

[5] Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.2, 17 July 2016), 26 February 1783, trial of DAVID KILPACK (t17830226-27).

[6] Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.2, 17 July 2016), 26 February 1783, trial of DAVID KILPACK (t17830226-27).

[7] Randall’s testimony is incorrect regarding the number of roosters. There was only one cockerel listed in the indictment, bringing the total of live birds stolen to seven. Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.2, 17 July 2016), 26 February 1783, trial of DAVID KILPACK (t17830226-27).

[8] Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.2, 17 July 2016), 26 February 1783,Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.2, 17 July 2016), 26 February 1783, trial of DAVID KILPACK (t17830226-27); Cassandra Pybus, Black Founders: The unknown story of Australia’s first black settlers, (Sydney: University of New South Wales Press, 2006) pp.59-60

[9] Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.2, 17 July 2016), 26 February 1783,Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.2, 17 July 2016), 26 February 1783, trial of DAVID KILPACK (t17830226-27).

[10] Waggon is an old way of spelling wagon. Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.2, 17 July 2016), 26 February 1783,Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.2, 17 July 2016), 26 February 1783, trial of DAVID KILPACK (t17830226-27).

[11] Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.2, 17 July 2016), 26 February 1783,Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.2, 17 July 2016), 26 February 1783, trial of DAVID KILPACK (t17830226-27).

[12] Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.2, 17 July 2016), 26 February 1783,Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.2, 17 July 2016), 26 February 1783, trial of DAVID KILPACK (t17830226-27).

[13] Hope B. Werness, Continuum Encyclopedia of Animal Symbolism in World Art, (New York and London: A&C Black, 2006), p.89

[14] Hope B. Werness, Continuum Encyclopedia of Animal Symbolism in World Art, (New York and London: A&C Black, 2006), pp.89-92

[15] Mollie Gillen, The Founders of Australia: A Biographical Dictionary of the First Fleet, (Sydney: Library of Australian History, 1989), p.206

[16] Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.2, 17 July 2016), 10 September 1783, trial of CHARLES THOMAS (t17830910-4) ; Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.2, 17 July 2016), 10 September 1783, trial of DAVID HART (t17830910-5).

[17] Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.2, 17 July 2016), 10 September 1783, trial of DAVID HART (t17830910-5).

[18] A. Roger Ekirch, “Great Britain’s Secret Convict Trade to America, 1783-1784,” American Historical Review, Vol. 89, No. 5 (Dec., 1984): 1289

[19] Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.2, 29 March 2016), 10 September 1783, trial of CHARLES KEELING (t17830910-20); Emma Christopher, A Merciless Place: The Lost Story of Britain’s Convict Disaster in Africa, (New York: Oxford University Press, 2011), pp.256-7; Don Jordan and Michael Walsh, White Cargo: The Forgotten History of Britain’s White Slaves in America, (Washington Square, N.Y.: New York University Press, 2008), p.277

[20] Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.2, 17 July 2016), 10 September 1783, trial of DAVID HART (t17830910-5).

[21] Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.2, 17 July 2016), 10 September 1783, trial of DAVID HART (t17830910-5).

[22] Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.2, 17 July 2016), September 1783, trial of CHRISTOPHER TRUSTY (t17830910-10).

[23] Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.2, 17 July 2016), 10 September 1783, trial of DAVID HART (t17830910-5).

[24] Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.2, 17 July 2016), 10 September 1783, trial of DAVID HART (t17830910-5).

[25] Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.2, 17 July 2016), 10 September 1783, trial of DAVID HART (t17830910-5).

[26] Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.2, 17 July 2016), 10 September 1783, trial of DAVID KILPACK (t17830910-8).

[27] Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.2, 17 July 2016), 10 September 1783, trial of CHARLES THOMAS (t17830910-4).

[28] Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.2, 17 July 2016), 10 September 1783, trial of DAVID KILPACK (t17830910-8).

[29] Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.2, 17 July 2016), 10 September 1783, trial of DAVID KILPACK (t17830910-8).

[30] Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.2, 17 July 2016), 10 September 1783 (s17830910-1).

[31] Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.2, 17 July 2016), 10 September 1783 (s17830910-1).

[32] Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.2, 17 July 2016), 10 September 1783 (s17830910-1).

[33] Hope B. Werness, Continuum Encyclopedia of Animal Symbolism in World Art, (New York and London: A&C Black, 2006), p.212

[34] Maree Agland (transcriber), Convicts on the Censor Hulk, 1787-1788, (3 April 2003), accessed 14 July 2016

[35] Outside the world of the Censor hulk, the Year of the Red-Speckled Hen saw another shipload of convicts sailing for Georgia in America, where they were, of course, still unwanted. The ship was called Mercury. Some of Killpack and Partridge’s old mutinous mates from the Swift were on board, so it is hardly surprising that it, too, became the scene of a convict uprising in April. William Blatherhorn, John Jones and Joseph Hall were Swift mutineers who also mutinied on the Mercury. All were held on the Dunkirk hulk before being transported on the Charlotte with the First Fleet. In October 1784, a highwayman named James Wright joined the Censor’s populace. Little did any of them know at the time that Wright would one day be responsible for baking their bread. But even if the convicts had known, their immense hunger as they struggled to get by on their poor hulk diet would have made that day seem ever such a long way off.

[36] Mollie Gillen, The Founders of Australia: A Biographical Dictionary of the First Fleet, (Sydney: Library of Australian History, 1989), p.206. Regarding Aboriginal endonyms and their European exonyms, e.g. Kamay (Botany Bay) and Warrane (Sydney Cove) see Harold Koch and Luise Hercus (eds.), Aboriginal Placenames: Naming and Re-naming the Australian Landscape, (Canberra: ANU E Press, 2009), https://books.google.com.au/books?id=HyHh-OrnRGoC&lpg=PR1&pg=PR1#v=onepage&q&f=false, accessed 26 August 2019. For a general discussion about adopting a dual-name policy but giving prime position to indigenous endonyms and subordinating European imposed exonyms in both the colonial Australian and colonial American contexts as a mark of respect and to “sound” language, see “Name-Calling: Notes on Terminology,” in Michaela Ann Cameron (Ph.D. Diss.), “Stealing the Turtle’s Voice: A Dual History of Western and Algonquian-Iroquoian Soundways from Creation to Re-creation,” (Sydney: Department of History, Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences, University of Sydney, 2018), pp. 25–35, http://bit.ly/stealingturtle, accessed 28 March 2020.

[37] John Easty, Memorandum of Transactions of a Voyage from England to Botany Bay, 1787–1791: A First Fleet Journal, (Sydney: Trustees of the Public Library of New South Wales, 1965), accessed 15 July 2016. This incident took place on Monday 5 March 1787.

[38] Christopher Kelly, A New and Complete System of Universal Geography, (London: Weed and Rider, 1819), p.228

[39] Michaela Ann Cameron, “Scarborough,” Dictionary of Sydney, (2015), http://dictionaryofsydney.org/entry/scarborough, accessed 17 July 2016

[40] David Collins, “Chapter X,” An Account of the English Colony of NSW Vol. 1 (London, Printed for T. Cadell Jun. and W. Davies, in the Strand, 1798), accessed 15 July 2016; Ernest Coleman, The Royal Navy in Polar Exploration: From Frobisher to Ross, (Stroud: Tempus, 2006), p.109

[41] David Collins, “Chapter X,” An Account of the English Colony of NSW Vol. 1 (London, Printed for T. Cadell Jun. and W. Davies, in the Strand, 1798), accessed 15 July 2016

[42] David Collins, “Chapter X,” An Account of the English Colony of NSW Vol. 1 (London, Printed for T. Cadell Jun. and W. Davies, in the Strand, 1798), accessed 15 July 2016

[43] David Collins, “Chapter X,” An Account of the English Colony of NSW Vol. 1 (London, Printed for T. Cadell Jun. and W. Davies, in the Strand, 1798), accessed 15 July 2016

[44] David Collins, “Chapter X,” An Account of the English Colony of NSW Vol. 1 (London, Printed for T. Cadell Jun. and W. Davies, in the Strand, 1798), accessed 15 July 2016

[45] David Collins, “Chapter X,” An Account of the English Colony of NSW Vol. 1 (London, Printed for T. Cadell Jun. and W. Davies, in the Strand, 1798), accessed 15 July 2016. For more on the Guardian wreck, see Edward Riou, Letters to the Admiralty, Manuscript letter  MLMSS 5711/4 (Safe 1/233b); Edward Riou, The Log Book of a Voyage to Port Jackson in New South Wales, performed by Lieutenant Edward Riou Commanding his Majesty’s Ship Guardian by Order of the Right Honourable the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty, 21 April 1789-5 May 1790, Manuscript volume  MLMSS 5711/1 (Safe 1/233a); State Library of New South Wales, “The Guardian in Verse,” (http://www.sl.nsw.gov.au/) accessed 18 July 2016; Thomas Tegg, Melancholy Disaster of His Majesty’s Ship The Guardian, Bound to Botany Bay with Stores and Convicts, Lieut. Riou, Commander, &c., (London: Printed for Thomas Tegg, 1880). Printed material  MLMSS 5711/6 (Safe 1/233b)

[46] Parish Burial Registers, Textual records, St. John’s Anglican Church Parramatta, New South Wales, Australia.

[47] David Collins, “Chapter X,” An Account of the English Colony of NSW Vol. 1 (London, Printed for T. Cadell Jun. and W. Davies, in the Strand, 1798), accessed 15 July 2016

[48] David Collins, “Chapter X,” An Account of the English Colony of NSW Vol. 1 (London, Printed for T. Cadell Jun. and W. Davies, in the Strand, 1798), accessed 15 July 2016

[49] David Collins, “Chapter X,” An Account of the English Colony of NSW Vol. 1 (London, Printed for T. Cadell Jun. and W. Davies, in the Strand, 1798), accessed 15 July 2016

[50] David Collins, “Chapter X,” An Account of the English Colony of NSW Vol. 1 (London, Printed for T. Cadell Jun. and W. Davies, in the Strand, 1798), accessed 15 July 2016

[51] David Collins, “Chapter X,” An Account of the English Colony of NSW Vol. 1 (London, Printed for T. Cadell Jun. and W. Davies, in the Strand, 1798), accessed 15 July 2016

[52] Charles Bateson, The Convict Ships 1787 – 1868, (Glasgow: Brown, Son & Ferguson, 1969), p.106; Penny Edwell, “Lady Juliana,” Dictionary of Sydney (2016), http://dictionaryofsydney.org/entry/lady_juliana accessed 18 July 2016

[53] Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.2, 18 July 2016), 12 December 1787, trial of ELEANOR M’DONALD (t17871212-19) ; London Lives 1690 to 1800, (www.londonlives.org, version 1.1, 18 July 2016), “Old Bailey Sessions: Sessions Papers – Justices’ Working Documents, 19 October 1786 – 21 December 1787,” 7 November 1787 re: Eleanor McDonald, (LMOBPS450320711). Eleanor seems to have been involved in an earlier crime involving the theft of linen items; Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 7.2, 18 July 2016), 26 April 1786, trial of ELIZABETH STANLEY ELEANOR MACDONALD ELIZABETH EDWARDS (t17860426-39).

[54] Mollie Gillen, The Founders of Australia: A Biographical Dictionary of the First Fleet, (Sydney: Library of Australian History, 1989), p.206

[55] Martha Killpack was born 16 February 1792 and baptised at St. John’s Anglican Cathedral 20 February 1792; Elizabeth Killpack was born 16 June 1793 and baptised at St. John’s Anglican Cathedral on 14 July 2016; Eleanor Magell Killpack was born 30 May 1795 and baptised at St. John’s Anglican Cathedral on 5 July 1795; Parish Baptism Registers, Textual records, St. John’s Anglican Church Parramatta, New South Wales, Australia.

[56] Registers of Land Grants and Leases, Microfilm Publication 2560–2561, 2846, 2548–2550, 2700–2702, 2704–2705, 11 rolls. Record Group NRS 13836, New South Wales, Australia.

[57] Mollie Gillen, The Founders of Australia: A Biographical Dictionary of the First Fleet, (Sydney: Library of Australian History, 1989), p.206; New South Wales Government, Copies of returns of Absolute and Conditional Pardons granted, Series 1165, State Records Reel 774, copy of 4/4492, State Records Authority of New South Wales, Kingswood, New South Wales, Australia.

[58] Beecroft-Cheltenham History Group, “Small Farms to Subdivision,” BHCG,  accessed 18 July 2016

[59] Registers of Land Grants and Leases, Microfilm Publication 2560–2561, 2846, 2548–2550, 2700–2702, 2704–2705, 11 rolls. Record Group NRS 13836. New South Wales, Australia.

[60] Beecroft-Cheltenham History Group, “Small Farms to Subdivision,” BHCG,  accessed 18 July 2016; Mollie Gillen, The Founders of Australia: a biographical dictionary of the First Fleet, (Sydney: Library of Australian History, 1989), p.206

[61] Mollie Gillen, The Founders of Australia: A Biographical Dictionary of the First Fleet, (Sydney: Library of Australian History, 1989), p.206; Judith Dunn, The Parramatta Cemeteries: St. John’s, (Parramatta: Parramatta and District Historical Society, 1991), p.120. David Killpack, his wife and son, also named David Killpack are buried in Right Section, Row 10, Memorial P (R.10.P), St. John’s Cemetery, Parramatta. Also in the family vault are their daughters Martha and Eleanor and their respective husbands etc.

[62] Hornsby Shire Council, “Scarborough Way,” accessed 18 July 2016; Hornsby Shire Council, “Juliana Way,”  http://www.hornsby.nsw.gov.au/ accessed 18 July 2016

© Copyright 2016 Michaela Ann Cameron