prepared the conveyancing of some property in your name. It’s free, of course. As Governors we are entrusted with such authority, when the occasion is deemed necessary.’
Bligh frowned.
King went to his desk, smiling at the sea captain in the manner of one man taking another into his confidence.
‘Read your letters of appointment,’ he advised. He offered his, indicating the paragraph. Bligh scanned it, quickly. The authority undoubtedly existed, he recognised. Australia was a developing country, he thought, immediately. To own land here would be to guarantee his family’s future. He’d wanted for a long time to be a landowner, like Sir Joseph and all the other men of importance with whom he came into constant contact.
‘Again, I’m obliged sir,’ he said, accepting the papers that King offered him.
‘There’s provision for 240 acres of land for a private residence sit Petersham Hill, on the Sydney to Parramatta road, adjoining Grose Farm,’ listed the Governor. ‘All that remains is for you to name it.’
It would have to be something fitting, decided Bligh, fingering the document. He’d served with undoubted distinction at Camperdown, he recalled.
‘Camperdown,’ he instructed, watching King complete the document with the name.
‘And,’ continued the outgoing official, ‘I’ve allocated you 105 acres of land on the north side of the river at Parramatta …’
He looked up, expectantly.
‘Mount Betham,’ decided Bligh, instantly. It would carry Elizabeth’s maiden name and be bequeathed to her in his will, should he predecease her, he determined.
‘… and finally, 1,000 acres on the western side of the Hawkesbury road, near Rouse Hill.’
Another naval engagement would be proper, reflected Bligh. Nelson had personally praised him after Copenhagen. So that would be it.
He was a landowner, he thought happily, as King completed the third document. Just like his ancestors had been, in Cornwall. This was going to be a happy appointment, he decided.
King was proffering another book, which Bligh recognised as a record of previous Governors.
‘It has become a custom,’ continued King, gesturing as if it were one to which he was indifferent, ‘for incoming Governors to initiate their land privilege by awarding a tract to the man they succeed.’
‘Of course,’ accepted Bligh, leafing through the book. Governors lived very well, he saw. Very well indeed. Sir Joseph had estimated he would be able to save at least £1,000 of his salary each year. There would now be a welcome addition to his income from the lands officially in his name. Never again, he thought, would he have to worry about money. It was a comfortable feeling. He would begin his letter to Betsy that night telling her of their unexpected good fortune.
‘No doubt you’ve selected an area,’ he anticipated. Perhaps King’s hurry was that he was to sail for England so shortly, thought Bligh.
The Governor nodded. ‘In the district of Evans,’ he listed. ‘I have other land already, of course. So I thought it would be a pleasant farewell present if it were in my wife’s name.’
His first function as Governor, realised Bligh, affixing his signature to the document. He remained hunched over the paper, reading his own name. ‘William Bligh – Governor.’ It looked good, he thought, proudly. And the seal was heavy and impressive. An important man now, he realised. It was he, William Bligh, who ruled this colony, not a shambling collection of convict-soldiers and a few men who had been allowed to get ideas above their station because of the lack of previous authority. Sir Joseph was going to be proud of him. And perhaps the King, as well.
The reflection reminded him.
‘When you return to England,’ he said, firmly, ‘I want you to take with you, under arrest, Captain Short.’
‘Captain Short?’ queried the Governor.
‘The convoy captain,’ enlarged Bligh. ‘Damned man refused to accept my superior authority on the outward voyage … actually fired warning shots across my bows and stern when I countermanded a ridiculous course he had set and changed direction. I’ve prepared the accusation against him. He’s to be court-martialled.’
How easy, wondered King, would it have been for Bligh to have diplomatically handled the irritating difference in rank? He’d remembered the name as Bligh had been speaking.
‘But doesn’t he have his family with him … an intention of settling here?’
‘Don’t give a damn about that,’ rejected Bligh. ‘I’ll not have my authority flouted. It’ll set an example to everyone here. I don’t have time to waste on niceties. I want everyone to know the sort of man William Bligh is to be, from the outset …’