The Secret Diaries of Watkin Tench

By Russell Schneider AM

FACT OR FICTION?

Why did the British Government invest a fortune in 1787 to send the worst of its people to the other side of the world? And what was behind the mysterious disappearance of French naval hero and explorer La Perouse, whose two frigates arrived in Botany Bay only days after the First Fleet?

Marine Captain Watkin Tench’s daily journals open a new perspective on international politics in the late 18th century and explain why English spymaster Evan Nepean insisted Tench take part in the Botany Bay expedition. They expose the British Government’s real intentions in the South Seas, and reveal a secret society vital to the convict colony’s survival.

Tench explores the background of the convicts on board his prison ship Charlotte, finding many are quite different from their depiction as “dregs of society”.

Along the way he discovers much about his fellow man (and woman) and befriends two convict veterans who fought on opposite sides in the American War of Independence. This friendship will save his life, but put theirs in danger. And he discovers more and more about the secret life of the Governor, Arthur Phillip, whose destiny became entwined with naval hero La Perouse and the Frenchman’s wife.

Tench, Phillip and their secret society form critical alliances with both convicts and the indigenous population. And they become increasingly concerned about the actions and intentions of La Perouse until the French ships leave Botany Bay, never to return, leaving a mystery which has never been solved—until now.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: Jul 2, 2019
• ISBN: 9781922261922

Russell Schneider AM

Russell Schneider AM was born in Sydney and grew up in Newtown. He started his career as a journalist with the Sydney Daily Telegraph, became News Ltd’s Canberra Bureau Chief and Political Correspondent for The Australian newspaper between 1978 and 1983 during which time he wrote two books and a weekly column on politics. He has been adviser to a Federal Ministe (they were known as Toecutter and Son) r, ran an industry association for 22 years, then became Director of a major Australian company.In 2015 he took part in the Museum of Australian Democracy’s oral history program reflecting on life in Australia’s Old Parliament House. (https://oralhistories.moadoph.gov.au/russell-schneider), and in 2016 became Chair of a Task Force set up to deal with a massive flying fox colony which had settled in the township of Batemans Bay.He has maintained a deep interest in the history of early Australian settlement particularly as shown through the journals and books written by those with first- hand experience of the venture. His Facebook page First Fleet-myths and mysteries-what your teachers didn't tell you reveals little known facts about the late 1780’s.As well as being an amateur historian Russell dabbles in local politics, tries to paint in water colours, shares cooking with his wife Pamela, and looks over the gorgeous waters of Broulee bay, once entry port for the Mogo and Araluen goldfields, on the far south coast of New South Wales.Russell was made a Member of the Order of Australia in 2008.His earlier books are War Without Blood: Malcolm Fraser in power; , and The Colt from Kooyong, a political biography of Andrew Peacock, both published by Angus and Robertson.

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To my darling wife Pamela, my grandson Louis Jackson Schneider, and in loving memory of his father Lance Corporal Lincoln Jon Schneider.

Introduction

I didn’t really want to go to the funeral. I don’t like funerals, and I didn’t like him over much. But he was a close friend of my late father’s, so close I called him uncle, and as he had no relatives I was his only heir. So I felt I should at least pay him some respect. The funeral was a bleak affair, as most funerals are. After it we, me and a group of his old cronies, went back to his flat for the wake. It seemed to go on for days, but finally the last old drunk poured himself out the door, leaving me to clean up the mess and make something of what he had left me.

Cleaning up seemed to take forever. Finally I broke open the locked cupboard at the foot of the enormous partners’ desk in his study to find a large cardboard box bearing a return to sender label. Inside were a dozen very old booklets, frayed at the edges, filled with copperplate handwriting. With them was an envelope addressed to his friend, a professor of history, who, unfortunately for them both, had beaten my uncle to the grave several weeks earlier. And so the box had been returned, put back in the cupboard, unopened until he joined his friend in whatever place old drunks go when they die. And so I opened the letter.

Dear Martin, he had written to his friend "The enclosed books comprise the daily journals of Captain Watkin Tench, who, as you know, was a marine officer in the First Fleet sent from Britain to Botany Bay and whose two published works provide the basis for much of the early history of the Australian colony. Tench said they were drawn from his daily journals, but the diaries themselves were believed lost forever until they came into my possession a few months ago. Many of them tell us little new, but several, especially those which deal with events leading up to the voyage, the first few weeks in Botany Bay and Sydney, relations with the aborigines and the mysterious disappearance of French explorer La Perouse place quite a different perspective on the assumptions historians have made.

The information in the journals will, at the least, be controversial, and I have no doubt will be criticised and disputed but the fact is the diaries have a voice of their own, and I believe we have a duty to place them before the public. They have been examined by a forensic document expert who confirms they were written in the late 1780’s, but there are many who would like to challenge that and if possible destroy the evidence. In these circumstances I do not trust either the libraries or the Archives, and so I have only one non-negotiable requirement as did the person who gave me these books: the originals must be protected. When you read them you will see why. Keep them in a safe place.

As I leafed through the diaries I began to understand those comments.

I have transcribed the relevant sections from Watkin’s original handwriting so that his record can be more easily read. I have not included most of those matters which were dealt with at length in his two published books[i], except where they provide essential context. Are the diaries real? Do they tell the whole story? Fact or fiction? The reader can be the judge.

Russell Schneider 2019

The Secret Diaries of Watkin Tench

October 27th 1786

Today is the first day of my new life, and I have decided to celebrate it by commencing this diary. After a rather painful period of enforced inactivity I have at last, been invited to re-join the Corps, assigned to travel to the yet to be established colony of Botany Bay, on the other side of the world. The last few months have been something of a misery, for I have been on half pay since May of this year and, like most of my shipmates, foresaw little opportunity for re-enlistment in the marines until, of course, the next inevitable war with our neighbours across the Channel. But while we may think such a conflict inevitable, that view is yet to be shared by those who provide the necessary funds to maintain naval and military forces, as a result of which so many with skills useful in battle have been cast adrift to make what they can of themselves in a world which prizes quite altogether different attributes.

I owe my appointment in large part to a friendship which began shortly after I joined the Corps almost a decade ago. It was at Plymouth where I first met Evan Nepean, then a Lieutenant, about five years my senior who had joined the Navy three years prior to my joining the Marines, and we may never have encountered one another but for the accident, or the fate, of both being members of the same Masonic Lodge, as a result of which we became not merely friends but also understood we would share our destinies whenever opportunity may present itself. We were posted separately, as is the way of the Navy and Marines, and Nepean, unlike myself, was spared the indignity of defeat, nor the even worse indignity of being captured, an experience I do not wish to repeat[ii].

After I was exchanged I spent the remainder of the war in the West Indies. During that time I discovered my friend Nepean had been discharged from the navy and become involved with government service. From time to time I heard of his progress which, I observed, was rapid and significant, with his appoint­ment as Under Secretary at the Home Office a major milestone in his early career.

On my return to England I was reluctant to initiate renewing my acquaintance with one who had risen so high. This state of affairs continued until and even after I was discharged from the Corps, as part of the general relinquishment of those who had served our country during the war with its former colonies. As a Marine lieutenant’s pay is hardly a princely sum, and half of it more closely aligned to that of a pauper, I could see the need to find other employment, though this was a difficult task for one without independent means or a family with sufficient connections to provide one with an appropriate occupation; nor, I must admit, does one’s experience as a soldier on a ship of war provide one with much to endear oneself to shopkeepers and merchants. Like many of my former shipmates I was, in part, awaiting for the resumption of hostilities; the only question was when it would come and by whom it would be begun, ourselves or the French … not to mention, of course, the Spanish and Dutch whose ambitions to extend and protect their own possessions are notorious, even to those of us who know more about warfare than politics. And even though the war against our former colonies has ended, the possibility of it being renewed by a mere spark remains, in the view of many of my colleagues and myself, a highly likely event.

To fill in that time, and, indeed, in the hope of securing employment I returned to my birthplace of Chester. My father had died a few years earlier, in 1784, and his boarding school, where I had learned mathematics and grammar as well as several foreign languages, particularly French, was no longer in operation, and therefore the opportunity, which I regarded anyway with a degree of circumspection, of becoming a teacher of linguistics was not readily available. Nor did I see myself following in my father’s footsteps as a teacher of the dance, although I must admit this art provided both balance and discipline for those who were inclined, or required, to study it, and it served me well when I first stepped aboard one of HM’s vessels, and even better when trying to oversee Marines firing from the heaving deck.

I spent some time with the family of my father’s friend, the Wynn’s, who kindly invited me to stay with them and the prospect of some form of employment within their estates seemed possible, but it was not the adventure I had become accustomed too, and felt I still would need. The Wynn’s were, however, well connected in Whitehall and it was my hope that, perhaps, they may be able to assist in restoring me to my former career.

I gather it was through those connections that my presence and my plight came to the notice of my old friend Nepean, for at the start of October of this year, only a few weeks ago, I received a letter at their estate inviting me to attend at my earliest convenience on the Under Secretary of State for the Home Department. And so I journeyed to London by flying coach and on the eleventh of the month found my way through the misty streets where a typical October soft rain was falling, to an unpretentious, in fact non-descript, two storey building on which, in faded writing, remained an ancient sign proclaiming it as the Board of Trade. A shiny brass plaque at the doorway identified the 2nd floor as in fact being the offices of the Home Department. I climbed the stairs and found myself in a large room occupied by ten clerks sitting at a long table, armed with quills and inkwells and writing or copying letters. Polished oaken cabinets on all walls surrounded them, and these were obviously for filing for I observed various clerks taking documents to or from them. After I had identified myself I was invited to take a chair near the stairwell where I remained for what seemed several hours, until finally being ushered into the exalted presence of the Under-Secretary who occupied a room with carpet and fireplace and which was much more inviting than that outside.

My old friend and Lodge mate was about 35 years of age, young, I thought, for such an important title, rounder faced than I remembered but retaining the same outwardly jovial demeanour of his youth, despite the demands of his high office. He still had the bearing and the walk of a naval officer but had made the transition to civil servant without any apparent difficulty. We shook hands warmly, as old friends, and he ushered me to a seat opposite his desk where we talked briefly about old times; briefly, as it seemed obvious he had something on his mind. Then he became more serious, so much so that I still recall all the detail of our conversation, the colours of the room, the feel of the weather, every aspect of that day as if it had only just occurred, and so seminal was it to my new found situation I must recount it in full.

***

Nepean asked me whether I was enjoying being on half pay. No sir I replied. Apart from the fact that it’s hard to make ends meet, I find the lack of activity far from stimulating.

That I understand, he replied, leaning forward, his elbows on the table, his fingers under his chin, almost as though in prayer. Tell me, would you consider a posting to a foreign country, a relatively unknown land, with heaven knows what dangers may exist, and on the other side of the world? I was immediately fascinated and, given the boredom of my life in recent times, sorely tempted.

I nodded and was about to ask the destination to which he referred, but before I could speak he must have seen the excite­ment in my eyes so went on: "Watkin, I will speak frankly with you. As you know all too painfully we lost the American colonies only a short time ago. We are not, at the moment, at war with France, but it is only a matter of time before that conflict arises again, something I am sure you understand. Our fleet is not well prepared and our armies need to regroup after the American problems. The French outmanoeuvred us in the Americas, for without their support the rebels would never have been able to sustain a conflict. Now the French, Spanish and Dutch are extending their control of the Indian and Pacific Oceans: true, they are mainly minor islands or small nations but nevertheless each day that goes by increases their control of what is still a largely unknown sea. Not long ago, despite our best efforts, the French and Dutch completed a treaty which would allow their combined armies and navies to attack and perhaps conquer our settlements in India, particularly Bombay, Madras and Calcutta. The French have already indicated they believe they should be able to sail up the Ganges River without paying customs duties. Their naval power in the East is increasing.

"The recent war made it clear that hostilities no longer involve us merely on the territory directly involved but extend throughout the known world, wherever we or our opponents may have colonies, settlements, trading stations or interests of any kind. As you would well know, the American affair resulted in our fighting not just the rebels in what they now call the United States but our various European enemies in the Americas and the Caribbean and in India as well. American privateers harassed our coastal shipping trade not just off the American coast but also on this side of the Atlantic, aided and abetted by the French. They even launched raiding parties on English soil! The cost of insurance increased dramatically and far too many of our vessels had to be kept on this side of the Atlantic simply to deal with these attacks rather than dealing with the rebels in America.

"China has become an increasingly important trading outpost but our shipping routes there are far from secure. If the next war is not fought in or over the Indian and Pacific oceans they will nevertheless be an important, even vital, theatre. We cannot afford to ignore that area, nor allow our opponents to make gains there which would and should otherwise be ours, for any future conflict may well be on a global basis. And, of course, there is unknown wealth in the islands and lands of the south seas which may prove to be of vital importance to England in the years to come.

Now it seems to me almost convenient that we have a growing problem at home with our convict population, both those who are out and out criminals and those, particularly the Irish, whose crimes are really more of a political nature. In the last few years the problem of criminal activity within London, not to mention the country as a whole, has worsened to the point where civil order has become a matter of real concern. Dozens of crimes are subject to the death penalty, which would perhaps reduce the scale of the problem, but our judges and juries are reluctant to impose it and even when they do, as often as not commute it to transportation, so we need somewhere to which we can transport those convicted. Once we could send this problem to the Americas, or, more recently but not so successfully, to Africa. We shall continue, for the time being at least, to look to Africa but I suspect it will be in vain for the country is diabolical. We need to find another place to which we can remove the worst of the criminal class that increasingly haunt our country, for we are fast running out of prison hulks in which to keep them. And if we continue keeping them on hulks the Thames will become unnavigable. But, of course, if we find somewhere to send them which also just conveniently becomes a base from which we can launch either offensive or defensive actions in the Pacific we would have solved both problems. Come, now, let’s lunch.

We climbed down the stairs together, out into the wintry streets, around several corners and then into the warm confines of Evan’s club, one of the more exclusive clubs even for Whitehall, where a wigged attendant took our coats after greeting Evan with a combination of familiarity and respect, indicating my friend often visited this establishment. Evan led the way to the dining room and then, acknowledging greetings from a number of other club members on the way, took us to a table set for two which, it appeared, was kept aside for him and his guests alone, for it was far enough away from the other tables to ensure any conversation between the Under Secretary and his guest would be as private as if it had occurred in his own office. A waiter came by and Evan recommended we both have the fish, with which I heartily agreed, and confirmed he would have his usual bottle of hock, perhaps two. The waiter left and the thought occurred to me that this elegant club was a far cry from the ward room of a ship of war, or the Marine Officer’s mess at Plymouth, or even Portsmouth.

Toying with his knife, Evan resumed our somewhat one sided conversation virtually where he had left off.

As you know, among other things Captain Cook’s voyages included the mapping of the eastern coast of the great southland, New Holland, that section of the coast which is not yet claimed by the Dutch or, to the best of my knowledge at least, any other power … not yet, anyway. Dr Banks has joined with others suggesting the desirability of establishing a colony at the anchorage Captain Cook called Botany Bay. Mr Matra, who is well connected to the government and who sailed with Cook and Banks, has similarly promoted the strategic virtues of this place. Mr Pitt, having been made aware of the French and Dutch manoeuvrings in India and the Pacific, agrees. And I am therefore pleased to say that in August the Cabinet decided to establish a settlement there, and agreed to my suggestion that it should be protected by a contingent of marines.

Not the army? I asked, for one would expect land based troops would be more appropriate as a garrison for any settlement.

In this case, no, Evan replied. "At the moment there are a number of people like myself who consider the marines more reliable than the Army, particularly after the army riots in 1783, and this operation will give them a chance to prove their value yet again.

"New South Wales offers us a number of opportunities to deal with the problems and threats I have outlined. If we can establish a presence there it gives us the opportunity to build a base from which we can project influence into the Pacific, as well as denying such capacity to our enemies, each of whom would regard this part of the as yet unsettled world with interest. The Spanish have their South American colonies to protect, particularly as many of their colonists would prefer to be free from Madrid, as well as those they have established in the northern Pacific such as the Philippines, and the French … enough said!

Even our former colonists have made it clear they intend extending their presence beyond their borders. I have already received reports of American sealing and whaling boats travelling further and further south in the Atlantic. They frequently sail around the Cape, are sending ships to trade with India, and they must inevitably round the Horn, if they have not already done so, and there is every reason to suppose their whalers and sealers are already in the southern oceans. We can expect the Americans will join the European powers in trying to extend their influence further and further. It will not, I suspect, be long before they begin sending naval ships into the Pacific to protect" their fishermen, and if we are not very careful they may claim New Holland as yet another State! That would not do at all. So the Pacific Ocean is already a contestable arena, where all the great powers are seeking to exert influence, and time is not on our side.

With luck time will allow us the opportunity to rebuild our forces so that when the inevitable occurs we will be better equipped to match our foes across the Channel. And we can reduce the domestic pressure to do something" about the criminal classes that are filling our hulks, and who would previously have been transported to the Americas, if we can only find a place to send them. Of course, if there was a war we could no doubt accommodate most of them in the army or the navy, but that opportunity is yet to present itself.

In this regard the convict ‘problem’ becomes something of a useful, in a political sense, solution. We could hardly announce that we plan to establish a naval base in the South Seas which would allow us to harass our enemies or trading competitors: to do so would be provocative in the extreme, and I am sure you share my uncertainty about our capacity to defend such provocation. But we can, and this is what I expect the King to do in his speech to Parliament, (and at this stage he looked down at a bundle of papers which he had clearly been working on when I arrived in his office and apparently regarded them as so important he had brought them with him) announce that ‘a plan has been formed’ –by His Majesty’s direction, of course –‘for transporting a number of convicts in order to remove the inconvenience which arose from the crowded state of the jails in different parts of the kingdom’. And if he also includes a reference or two to some positive relations with our European neighbours, even though I do not believe that would amount to anything, no one could claim our motives are other than pure and we can expect both Houses will provide the necessary to execute that ‘plan’.

And you have already written the King’s speech on this subject, I asked, pointing to the papers.

Oh, Watkin, one would never aspire to be the author of the words uttered by our Monarch … let it simply be said that his divine wisdom is such as to embrace the recommendations of his humble servants, but at times the demands on the throne are such that we humble servants must assist in providing the correct documentation to meet whatever occasion may arise … .and yes, of course we are writing his speech, he replied, a slight smile creasing his face as he leaned back in his chair.

"So we are proposing to establish what is, superficially, a penal colony at Botany Bay, but which Lord Sydney and I, and, I am sure Prime Minister Pitt and indeed at least a majority of the Cabinet, perhaps even the King, would hope will become a major British presence in the Southern Pacific Ocean, denying its use to the French and our other continental enemies … not to mention those former rebels in what is now the United States. At the very least if we can establish a settlement there we will have laid claim to much of that country and can legitimately challenge anyone who may seek to establish their own forces there, as well as stiffening the spine of those who might at some stage in the future comprise our own Government.

"We know both the French and the Dutch have mapped and landed on part of what they believed to be the great south land, but have not yet attempted settlement, although both have planted their flags on the inhospitable western coast. And only recently Dufresne claimed Van Diemen’s land for France before he was eaten by the Maoris in New Zealand.

This plan gives us an opportunity to forestall them all, for the first to establish a settlement will be the first to have a legitimate claim. But to do this I … we … need men who we can rely on and trust not just to do their duty in establishing a penal colony but to understand the wider political ramifications of this venture. While it is inevitable that many of those who will embark on this journey will be adventurers and opportunists – nothing wrong with that, of course- we also need a hard core of men, intelligent men, men who will understand the importance of protecting Britain’s interests in a far off place, knowing that such protection can have far reaching ramifications at home and abroad.

He reached for his glass of hock, raised it near his lips, and then, staring directly into my eyes, added: From what I have known of you Watkin, and from those who have spoken in your support, you are just such a man, one who can act on his own initiative while still understanding how his actions may fit into the broader picture, and exercise discretion when relating those actions to superiors and the broader community. Do you feel I can rely on you in this way Watkin?

What could one say? I had always hoped to have shown initiative in my duties while respecting the decisions and orders of my superiors, nor had I taken time to complain as and when my sense of duty and the commands I had been given disagreed, although I must confess I have not been backward in suggesting alternatives if they can be justified as being more efficacious[iii]. Evan and I had not spent much time together given our differing duties, but we had established a camaraderie at Plymouth and this had been enhanced by our relationship within the Lodge. But I sensed that my old friend was suggesting something broader than a soldier’s commitment to duty or even a Lodge Member’s fraternal obligations to his fellows and I must confess I was uncertain how to reply.

I sense that you have a difficulty understanding precisely what I am asking, Evan offered. It is simple, really. I would require to be confident that should appropriate circumstances arise you would be capable and prepared to act on your own initiative in the best interests of the nation and, while reserving the right to discuss matters affecting your unit as and when appropriate with your own commanding officer, that is the head of the marine contingent, you would not hesitate to execute such orders as may be given you by the Governor of this new establishment, regardless of your own personal views or intentions and even if those orders may conflict with those of your immediate superiors, including the commander of the marine detachment. That, of course, requires trust and faith in those to whom your loyalty must lie and I am pleased to say I have confidence that the leader of this expedition will reward you with equal trust and loyalty in return.

And who is to command this expedition? I asked. Without hesitation, and a certain air of dogmatic confidence, Nepean responded I am recommending Captain Arthur Phillip’s appointment and expect to hear the outcome tomorrow.

I had vaguely heard of a Captain Phillip but, within the Royal Navy, there were many captains, both in full service and on half pay, and I could not say whether I knew enough, or indeed, anything about the person to whom Evan would expect me to give unflinching loyalty should I accept … or rather, should my volunteering be accepted. Nepean seemed to understand my hesitation.

Captain Phillip is in my view one of our most respected commanding officers, and I have offered that view to Lord Sydney, who concurs. His experience particularly suits him to the role we are to impose upon him. As well as serving with our own Navy he spent several years as an officer, with our consent, with the Portuguese Navy, where he served with some considerable distinction. He oversaw a lengthy voyage with convicts across the Atlantic when most of his crew became too ill to man the vessel, and so he had to call on the convicts to sail it, an experience which makes him well placed for a venture such as this. He speaks a number of languages fluently, which will assist him in dealing with the various nationalities he … and, I hope, you, Watkin, will encounter. He has a very good understanding and knowledge of the capacities of those who would compete with us for influence, especially our friends the French. And he has provided a number of services for me and Lord Sydney over the past few years. He is perhaps better informed on the capacities, plans and aspirations of the French, and particularly their navy, than anyone, perhaps even many of the French themselves given the intrigues and unrest that now occupy them as their King struggles to retain his control. Another glass, Watkin?

My glass was almost empty, as was Evan’s, and he caught the eye of the waiter who, though apparently disinterested, was clearly surveying his masters at all times to ensure any wish would be granted immediately. The waiter nodded, walked over to the sideboard and carried a silver bucket containing another excellent bottle of the same hock. Evan is clearly a regular and distinguished member, and the staff clearly familiar with his requirements. After the waiter left he resumed:

"You should know that Captain Phillip does not have the full confidence of Lord Howe, the Secretary of the Navy, who does not know of his … er … achievements as I do. And perhaps it is better that his Lordship remain ignorant of them. Unfortunately his Lordship seems primarily concerned about Captain Phillip’s ship handling, which even I must admit has tended to be a little on the rough side when entering or leaving port, costing the navy a little in respect of replaced timbers and the like, though he is not alone in that respect, not by any means! On the other hand his strategic skills demand no complaint whatsoever. So whether he can sail a boat without hitting a wharf or a buoy or even another ship is, in fact, of little import in respect of what we are currently proposing, and Captain Phillip will be spending much more time on major affairs than on ship handling, a matter which can and should be accommodated by other officers more skilled in that art than the broader picture.

While this venture is an important nautical expedition it is not totally within the purview of their Lordships of the Navy and therefore we have considerable leeway, especially in relation to determining some key issues and appointments. The Foreign Office would like to oversee it, but it is not theirs either. Dealing with the population of our prison hulks, even if this results in the establishment of a colony in a far place, is a matter, given its importance to our domestic considerations, for the Home Office, as are the southern seas, and we shall ensure it remains thus, and Mr Pitt certainly sees it so … at least for the moment. There are, of course, very significant foreign policy consider­ations as well, but Lord Sydney and I believe, as does the Prime Minister, that these are far too important for the Foreign Office which seems more concerned with appeasing our enemies than dealing with them. Do you understand me, Watkin?

I was quite uncertain whether I did or not, Nepean was clearly talking about matters which were, quite frankly, above my level of training and competence to fully understand, but it was clear that he was in full knowledge of what he was about. He also conveyed a sense of confidence in himself, an attribute which, when possessed by those of good and honest commitment and demeanour is a very good thing as it inspires confidence in others.

So what would you have of me my friend? I inquired, leaving his question to one side.

Commitment, loyalty, discretion and initiative, he said. Your commitment must, in the first instance, be to the nation, but it really means commitment to executing the orders and intentions of the King’s representative, the Governor, Captain Phillip. The same is true of loyalty, though in the case of this expedition it must be not to your immediate commanding officer but the Governor of the new colony. Discretion is a vital component of this compact: We live in troubled times and a misplaced deed or a misplaced word can easily plunge us back into conflict with our European neighbours, especially the French, or the Spaniards, or the Dutch, or the Americans, or other competitors at any time, worst of all at a time when we are ourselves unprepared, and so it is essential for the nation that those who choose to serve in this endeavour are themselves possessed of an understanding of the need for discretion. Of course, international politics will be played out by politicians, but it is easier to play that game if one does not have to deal with inconvenient facts that are better kept out of the picture. And finally initiative: battles are won or lost by those who choose, or not choose, to exercise their independent judgement of what must be done, even though it may not be backed up by formal orders. You are recommended to me as an officer who could comply with each of those attributes and I need only to have your personal assurance that you would be faithful to them … and, Watkin, I am sure that goes without saying.

I tried to digest exactly what my friend was saying, but he persisted. So, Watkin, are you willing to be part of this adventure? and it was clear he was not in a mood for delay or obfuscation.

What must I do, I asked.

Simply apply to re-join the Marines, Evan said, and leave the rest to me.

Evan was as good as his word.

October 31st 1786

I am due to report to Chatham Barracks on