Almanac Travel: Closing The Book On Alexander Pearce

 

 

Ever since I heard ‘A Tale You Won’t Believe’ on Weddings Parties Anything’s 1989 album The Big Don’t Argue, I’ve been fascinated by the story of convict cum cannibal Alexander Pearce.

 

Mick Thomas has always penned brilliant authentic Australian songs, especially ones that have historical significance, like this track.

 

I’ll try not to bore you with the story of Pearce so here’s some bullet points in case you’ve never heard of him.

 

• Transported from Ireland to Hobart in 1819 for stealing some shoes.
• Gets up to some mischief, a bit of thieving but not serious, then tries to escape.
• In 1822, he is sent to Sarah Island in Macquarie Harbour, the most cruel and unforgiving penal establishment in Australia.
• He soon escapes with seven others and an axe into the bush but within a fortnight they are starving.
• After drawing straws, the first escapee is murdered and eaten. Three of the convicts decide this isn’t for them and attempt to return.
• Over the next 130-odd days and 170km, the only surviving member is Pearce. The rest are eaten.
• Pearce is found eating a stray lamb by some sheep thieves and arrested with them and taken to Hobart.
• The thieves are hanged and Pearce pleads his case expecting the governor to be impressed with his tale.
• Quite the opposite, his story is disbelieved and the colonials believe he is lying and that the rest of his escapees are now running amok as bushrangers.
• Pearce is sent back to Sarah Island.
• Pearce escapes again, this time with a young convict Thomas Cox. When Pearce is eventually found after ten days he still has rations on his person that he originally stole and had eaten Cox.
• Pearce was hanged in Hobart and his head dismembered for scientific purposes. It sits in either a London History Museum or another museum in the USA.

 

 

 

 

Strahan is one of Australia’s prettiest ports and was a hive of activity in the 1800’s. The precious Huon Pine brought many to the region but the journey to and from Hobart was a treacherous one.

 

Sailing up the west coast and into Macquarie Harbour must have been a nightmare for ships as they turned from the Southern Ocean into the relatively tiny entrance to Macquarie Harbour named appropriately Hell’s Gates.

 

Adjacent to Hell’s Gates is a stunning beach called Ocean Beach, just 6km from Strahan by car housing the best beach cricket conditions I’ve ever seen.

 

 

 

 

Macquarie Harbour is five times the size of Sydney Harbour and that leads to either the calm inlet of Strahan or further on, The Franklin River.

 

Today, there are two large catamarans that you take down the river which is without doubt one of the best things we’ve ever done.

 

Thanks to Dr Bob Brown and a rather unexpected collaboration with a bunch of retired “Pineys’ or loggers, this massive river and prehistoric forest was preserved for future generations under World Heritage Listing in 1983.

 

The air quality around the world is measured against the quality of The Franklin. True story. It is literally the definition of wilderness and we didn’t have enough superlatives to describe its beauty.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Just before entering the river is the infamous Sarah Island. I couldn’t get over how such a small piece of land could harbour so much evil.

 

 

 

 

The island eventually became a productive centre for shipbuilding with some hundred and thirty vessels completed over a twelve year period but it’s first eight or nine years of existence were notorious.

 

The convicts had little sustenance and were flogged regularly. Some of the guards were ex-prisoners themselves from the Napoleonic Wars and were called ‘Leather Backs’ because of the scars on their backs from being flogged during their time in captivity.

 

They used a modified ‘cat of nine tails’ which was doubled up to become eighteen tails. It was then embedded with lead and dipped in tar, therefore guaranteeing to open the skin of a convict’s back almost immediately.

 

A hundred lashes would take an hour but the convict would usually be unconscious well before the half way mark with death being a regular outcome.

 

Port Arthur was established after the success of Sarah Island’s isolation method with the convicts. This consisted of containing them in cells not dissimilar to a coffin, 6ft long, 6ft high and 4ft wide with no windows. All prisoners were so inadequately clothed I’m surprised any of them survived till morning.

 

Back to the boat and as we were sailing through the harbour towards Hells Gates we were up in the captain’s deck with other tourists at the behest of the captain who requested we pop up anytime and ask questions.

 

There was another person named Marge up there who announced herself earlier as an actor and chief director of a historical play that we could see that evening at the local amphitheatre in Strahan.

 

The play is based on another extraordinary story from Sarah Island whereby a group of convicts escaped on a boat and remarkably sailed it to Chile of all places. Incredibly they were arrested upon arrival, sent to Hobart and hung.

 

Anyway, I happened to mention to the skipper and Marge about my obsession with Pearce and the anticipation I was feeling.

 

I don’t think ambivalent would describe the response I received from the both of them. More-so the piano player stopping as I entered a western movie bar would be closer to the mark!

 

It was quickly evident that Pearce’s story was not welcome with the locals. It didn’t matter that I’d read two biographies, watched a documentary and a motion picture, I was a ‘mainlander’ who knew nothing about Alexander Pearce.

 

I’d found my Fawlty Towers ‘don’t mention the war’ moment. Let us never speak of this again.

 

I was suddenly triggered to when I first arrived in Tassie trying to do business as a ‘mainlander’ in the early 2000s. It didn’t matter what I was offering, they wouldn’t listen.

 

So we finally arrive at the foreboding Sarah Island and we are only allowed an hour to follow a guide whose name was ironically Sarah. She too was an actor and historian from the troupe that Marge was in.

 

She was very knowledgeable but I couldn’t help but notice that there wasn’t one mention of Pearce but plenty of exuberance for the Chile party. Turns out the play they perform is also about the Chile story…and the Chile story only.

 

The only reminder of Pearce’s existence was an inscription on a wall. I was starting to get the idea. So why was Alexander’s story so hurtful to these people?

 

 

 

 

Back on the boat I popped up to the skipper’s deck again for a look. It was just me and him this time and frankly I was feeling a little combative. He was very conciliatory straight away which I appreciated so I asked him questions about his young career and how he got there.

 

He suddenly whispered that he was sorry about the Pearce obstinance earlier but he isn’t allowed to discuss him with passengers. It seems that cannibalism isn’t something to be raised with tourists, even when it was proven that desperate sailors over the centuries were forced into it on occasion using a short straw method.

 

My intrigue in Pearce has never been about the cannibalism so much. It will always be the mental strength and capacity to overcome adversity that illuminates what he achieved.

 

The cold and impenetrable bush he forced his way through is beyond belief. This is a five minute piece from the ABC which covers a re-creation of Pearce’s journey in 2008 by a team of world class hikers.

 

Pearce was a simple man, a petty criminal, who was driven to madness by the cruelty of the colonists. He wasn’t responsible for his actions, it was the system.

 

On a lighter note, I was imagining what it would be like to have Alexander Pearce in your footy team. He’d be an ‘inside mid’ as they call them these days.

 

I imagined a descendant of Pearce’s, perhaps a great grandson and not the Dockers’ captain who is also Tasmanian. This guy would be Trevor Pearce.

 

The West Coast Eagles are soft and desperately in need of a hard man. They hear of a young man named Trevor Pearce playing on the gravel of Queenstown and take him in the mid-season draft.

 

He plays immediately and the Eagles go from 0-12 to 3-12 in an instant, when on the Monday, co-captains Allen and Duggan knock on the coach, Andrew McWalter’s office door.

 

“Come in. What can I do for you boys?”

“Well coach, we’re just not happy.”

“ What? We’ve just won three on the trot!”

“It’s Pearcey coach.”

“What about him?”

“He won’t connect with us.”

“in what way?”

“Well you know when you announced he was playing his first game, we like to pile on and rub the player’s hair in a sort of homo-erotic manner?”

“Yes I guess so.”

“ Well he stared us down with eyes so dark and hollow they looked like caves and we decided not to touch him.”

“Right…what else?”

“You know how we like to touch each other’s hands frequently even if we’re getting belted?

“Sure do.”

“Well Reuben Ginbey tried to give him a high ten last weekend and Pearcey punched him in the throat.”

“OK lets get to some facts. You both had about a dozen possessions each on the weekend correct?”

“Yes”

“ Pearcey has thirty two ‘hardball gets’ and twenty four tackles. He has also been charged by the MRO for biting four opponents on the thighs. Granted I’m yet to convince him to wear boots, but his barefoot approach is bringing the crowds back. You two got a problem with that?”

“We need the connection coach and if he’s not going to participate then its either him or us!”

“Don’t let the door hit your arses on the way out.”

 

There is plenty of accommodation in Strahan but you will need to book as you will need to do for evening meals. The Hamer Bar and Bistro serves great meals.

 

Both the boats take you out to Hell’s Gates and back down the Franklin River where you can get off for a short walk also. The cruises and education around the history of the region are very good. They go from 9am to 3pm and cost approx. $200 per head including food and limited drinks.

 

Without a doubt the Franklin Cruise is something we will never forget and regardless of what the locals think, Alexander Pearce is a legend in my eyes.

 

 

Read Kevin Densley’s poem about Alexander Pearce Here

 

 

To read more from Ian Wilson click here.

 

 

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