And he sailed in a ship called Success. . .

James Stirling and the beautiful killing of King George’s Sound

 

Above: Having won command of HMS Success ten months earlier, 35-year-old Captain James Stirling arrived at the burgeoning colonial city of Sydney. It was late November 1826, and he held within him an overwhelming desire. After completing a substantial delivery of cash (20 000 Pounds Sterling) to the Governor, General Ralph Darling, his orders were to sail for the Trincomalee Naval Base at Ceylon, where he and Success were to be stationed. However, Stirling took it upon himself to convince General Darling to grant him an expedition to Australia’s western seaboard so he could witness first-hand the attributes of a location he argued was an essential point of settlement. Though Darling had already dispatched an army contingent and convict detail to the vicinity, Stirling remonstrated, insisting it was in the wrong place, and the heretofore overlooked Swan River must, at the very least, undergo survey. Though twenty years his senior, Darling bent to the younger man’s exhortations. Thus, in March 1827, James Stirling spent twelve fine autumnal days exploring the Swan and surrounding coastal waters, running his eyes over a warm sunlit landscape upon which all he had imagined seemed not only possible, but inevitable. At the height of his persuasive powers, Stirling’s intentions included addressing the threat posed by the newly established garrison at King George’s Sound. There could be no competing entity. Stirling’s plans for the Swan River Colony, a commercial venture intended to revitalise the family’s shrinking fortune, gained over previous generations through the slave-driven tobacco and cotton industries of the North Atlantic, were worth more to him at this time than his interrupted Naval career. And he would not cease until the colony was brought about with himself as inaugurating Governor. Image: AI generated Romantical image of 36-year-old Captain James Stirling standing at the wheel of HMS Success during March 1827, based on his 1833/34 portrait with the Swan River Cup made in London when he was in his mid 40s.

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Black Anderson: A Story of the South Coast – Part 2c

A long revision of one of the South Coast’s most disreputable historical characters

What was going on at Albany between January 1835 and December 1836

Continued from Part 2b
Cheyne, Albany and the root of James Stirling’s Swan River quest.

 

Above: Portraits of the (London) textiles and (Scottish) coalfields businessman, Andrew Stirling 1751-1823 (left), and his 5th son, James 1791-1865. The Stirling family were Navy men down their mother’s side and landowners and businessmen on their father’s. James Stirling was the second son to enter the Royal Navy under the patronage of their mother’s older brother, Charles. Images: Andrew – from Pamela Statham Drew’s biography, James Stirling, and James – drawn from the public internet domain.

 

Okay, before we go on to the four Anderson related court-cases of 1835 and 1836, we need to lay the groundwork beneath them as far as the town is concerned.

When we left off at the end of 1834 Cheyne had brought a settler collective from the Buffalo (Henry Townsend), Gem (Gordon & Sinclair), Jolly Rambler (R. H. Maddocks) and James Pattison (et al) together at his cottage for the purposes of petitioning the Colonial Secretary in London. The door to that position, however, had become something of a revolving one. The incumbent Secretary had changed five times since Stirling began campaigning for the colony in December 1826, the latest switch occurring just five months prior, so it’s likely Cheyne’s group didn’t know in particular who they were appealing to. A scenario in keeping with the general state of affairs vis-a-vis the troubled colony.

Cheyne was exasperated on multiple fronts and desperate to get things moving. Already, he was into his fourth year at the Sound and the best chance yet to kick-start the economy was withering before his eyes. The petition begged that Albany be reinstated as a convict depot in order that prisoners carry out essential road works, even though the idea was a breach of the social and economic precept upon which the colony was established. It might have taken a year, at best, if the plan worked, but it was more the impetus to try something than lean back and do nothing at all.

On the surface of things, Cheyne’s tactic had little to no chance of success. However, despite the urgency he was clearly trying to address, it begs the question as to why he thought it might. The answer to that lies in the frustration he felt toward the town’s agricultural prospects, but also with Stirling’s fundamental motivations for commencing the colony and the fact that Albany was not, originally, part of it.

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