The Secretary-General Comes To Norfolk.

I had the pleasure of touring Dr. William Shija, Secretary-General of the Commonwealth Parliamentary Association, and his personal assistant, Lusanne Chesham, around Norfolk Island in November.  Dr. Shija, who is originally an MP from Tanzania, is effectively the CEO of the Association (the CPA), with responsibility for coordinating the work of parliamentarians from over 50 British Commonwealth member countries.  He is a very learned and charming person and careful with his words, as would be expected of the administrative head of such a diverse international organization.  He would introduce himself as William, but the people around him addressed him as “Secretary-General”, and so did I.  At least I did until I heard him sing.

Secretary-General William Shija
 

The Secretary-General was on Norfolk Island to speak at a conference entitled, The Future of Norf’k Language and Culture, on his way to a regional CPA conference in the Cook Islands the following week.  He travels much of the year from his headquarters in London and mentioned he decided to visit Norfolk prior to the Cook Islands conference, rather than any number of other member places along the way, because of what he had heard of its history and beauty.  Norfolk actively participates in the CPA through the Australian regional branch.  I toured with the Secretary-General and Mrs. Chesham the day before they left.

It’s no secret that Norfolk speaks for itself on a sunny day.  It can call to you and welcome you in simple ways that even seasoned travellers notice.  That day was such a day.  The skies were clear and the seas a deep, cobalt blue: perfect for sightseeing.  I first took them to Mt. Pitt, our second highest point, which lies in the middle of the Norfolk Island National Park.  From Mt. Pitt, you can view almost the entire circumference of the Island.  It was in the Park discussing some of our unique species of plants and animals that I learned Mrs. Chesham was originally from Tonga.  Wan she ai’len gehl.   We started identifying plants Norfolk and Tonga had in common and from there quickly segued to which plants were good for plaiting and weaving.  As a Pacific Islander, I guessed that not too far beneath her measured diplomatic exterior was someone who probably liked to laugh.  She giggles, with a glint in her eyes and a shy hand to her mouth.   It was great to see.

What I often say to visitors is to pack a lunch and just go for a drive.  Everywhere on Norfolk is a good place for a picnic, and everywhere we went locals and visitors alike were at tables or on blankets fully enjoying their surroundings.  I would introduce the Secretary-General to people and I believe he was genuinely taken by everyone’s friendliness and informality and affection for the Island.  It was initially “Secretary-General Shija”, but I quickly learned to let him introduce himself as “William”.  But the highlight of the day, for me and I learned for the Secretary-General and Mrs. Chesham, was a small moment later in the day when we went into St. Barnabas Chapel. 

Until the Chapel, the Secretary-General’s questions and remarks about Norfolk were observant and kind, but fairly generic.  They were the comments of a diplomat who travels the world and is aware of being quoted.  But when we entered the Chapel, which is ornate and beautiful and described here, a friend of mine, Naomi Hallett, happened to be inside playing the 380-pipe Willis organ.  Naomi and I will periodically meet at the Chapel, she to play and I to sing, so at some point it seemed natural that we play something for our guests.  The selection seemed natural, too: the traditional Norfolk hymn, “Oakleigh”, composed by my great-grandfather, Gustav Quintal.  Neither had heard a Norfolk hymn before.

I opened a hymn book, Naomi started to play and we quietly began the hymn.  By the start of the third verse, Mrs. Chesham, who up to that time had been somewhat reserved, was singing along in beautiful harmony.  If you had never heard a Tongan Congregational Church Choir, you were hearing one now.  And by the fourth verse, I could hear the Secretary-General’s baritone tentatively chime in.  He, too, had a church choir background, but from an ocean and continent away.  By the fifth and final verse, there we were singing this most Norfolk of hymns in St. Barnabas Chapel in full voice, with 380 clarion pipes resounding in the background.   Wow.  It was a sublime, wholly unexpected moment of cultural fellowship and something I’m certain the Secretary-General and Mrs. Chesham never thought would occur on a routine trip abroad: to sing with abandoned joy. 

We all know it’s difficult to remain formal after a good sing-along, especially if you don’t hit all the notes.  We said our goodbyes to Naomi and exited in a wonderfully light-hearted mood.  It was our last stop and on the way back to their hotel we used music and the role of religion to explore those elements of Norfolk’s cultural history they probably wouldn’t find anywhere else in the world.  I think they agree.  It sure was fun. 

Rick Kleiner

Finding King Fern Valley

I had heard of King Fern Valley in the Norfolk Island National Park.  It is where you can find the rare King Fern (Marattia salicina).  I have wanted to go there for years, ever since first hearing local icons, Owen and Beryl Evans and Jackie Ralph Quintal, describe a King Fern’s grandeur.  But like Shangri-La or something from The Lord of the Rings, finding King Fern Valley has proven elusive.  Wherever I was, the Valley always loomed just over the next ridge or horizon.  So when Lyn Bryant recommended we go there one day, I quickly suggested the next available weekend.

Lyn is one of those people who wear multiple hats, but one at a time.  We knew each other well enough to say “hi” at the supermarket, but I didn’t know of her long-time interest in Norfolk history and natural history; of her collection of historical photographs or of her knowledge of the Island’s hydrology.  Wow.  One day recently, as part of their annual company party, I took the team at KC Industries and their partners on a tour of Norfolk.  By the way, it’s a particular challenge for a tour guide to show locals their own island.  It was fun and I learned a lot.  And the next thing I knew, I’m making plans to meet Lyn and Mark for a walk through King Fern Valley.

Okay, so we didn’t find King Fern Valley.  I said it was elusive.  But it was genuinely interesting to try.  Credit the Park Service with rehabilitating the forest along the Mt. Bates Track to its present healthy condition.  The re-growth is now sufficient to obscure old paths and landmarks from just a few years ago.  But in searching for a trail from the grassy forest road, Mark noticed limestone rocks underfoot.  At first thought, this was an unusual find on top of a volcanic peak.  But we quickly surmised the rock was probably calcarenite excavated from the Kingston area during World War II.  Mt. Bates was the site of a radar installation erected in 1942.  We knew the road we were on was built at that time, but evidently it was originally covered with limestone fill. 

Lyn started to become a bit embarrassed about not finding the trail, but she shouldn’t have.  I called my good friend, Ed Hooker, for some advice.  Ed has hiked across the Island countless times with the late Harry Buffett, including to King Fern Valley.  But Ed didn’t quite remember the start of the trail, either.  He thought it began down from us, near the Hollow Pine.  So we got in our cars and made our way to what remains of a huge Norfolk Island pine.

The Hollow Pine is a landmark for its sheer size and the fact that adults could comfortably stand inside its hollow trunk.  Even in death with its top portion missing, it is impressive and reminds us of how Norfolk must have been before the axe and the cross-cut saw.  I hear there are a few of these virgin-growth trees still living, but their locations are kept hidden out of concern that onlookers might adversely impact them by compacting the surrounding soil.  For that reason, a viewing platform had been constructed uphill from the Hollow Pine, but this great tree is now posing a threat to public safety and the platform has been dismantled and the trail blocked-off.  However, we were there on a mission and away from the tree began to search for a tell-tale sign of a trail leading to what I hoped was King Fern Valley. 

Okay, so Ed was mistaken.  We couldn’t find a trail.  But it was another chance to appreciate the work Parks is doing to rehabilitate the forest.  Because of the prevalence of grazing cattle before the National Park was established, much of the Park was initially filled with noxious trees and other introduced flora.  These plants are considered “colonising” species.  They are hearty and opportunistic, and hard work to cull and keep out, which is what the Parks crew has progressively been doing.  Indeed, the historical record going back to Captain Cook’s visit in 1774 speaks of Norfolk being so densely forested that there was little ground cover.  That’s what we’re seeing now: little ground cover.  The native trees need to bushy-up a little more, but it looks good and the ground is clear enough to reveal a trail – if one existed.

It’s me, of course.  Maybe I’m not supposed to know.  But we’re going to try it again on another day, and Ed will join.  King Fern Valley.  Everyone seems to have been there.  They say it’s just over the ridge.

- Rick Kleiner

Who Owns Norfolk Island? Herein, Lies The Problem.

This article might as well begin with the words in which it ends: “The law says one thing, we in our hearts say another.  Which is right?  Does it matter?  Yes, it matters.” 

Who owns Norfolk Island is a question most recently put in the local newspaper, The Norfolk Islander, some three months ago (July 14, 2012).  Yet it first surfaces on Norfolk with the arrival of the Pitcairn Islanders on June 8, 1856.  Although the question in many respects has been overcome by recent events, the answer remains pertinent, elusive and, for many, bittersweet. 

Codex Pitcairnensis: Pitcairn Island constitution, 1837.

Most of us of Pitcairn Island descent were raised to believe Queen Victoria gave Norfolk Island to the Pitcairn Island people.  It didn’t matter your opinion of the future political relationship between the Australian Commonwealth and Norfolk, which could always generate heated community debate.  It didn’t matter in which country you were born.  If you were of Pitcairn descent, you were raised hearing at least one of your parents and all your Island grandparents passing on the same opinion: Queen Victoria gave Norfolk to the Pitcairn Islanders.  That sentiment can be observed on Norfolk to this day.  Witness the beautiful Queen Victoria Garden opened in 2009 by Marie Bailey as a testament to the Queen’s gift to the Pitcairn people.  Even as recently as two weeks ago (October 6), a member of the Norfolk Island Legislative Assembly in a letter-to-the-editor in the local newspaper refers to Norfolk as the homeland granted the Pitcairn Islanders by the Queen.  It’s probably true that the younger generations of Norfolk Islander no longer feel the same passion of commitment to this belief, but the decision-makers of this island still do.  After the beauty of this place, that Queen Victoria ceded this island to the Pitcairn Islanders in 1856 and the consequent gratitude to her may be the two things over time that Norfolk Islanders have agreed on most.

There is, in fact, little doubt that the Pitcairn Islanders arrived on Norfolk believing the Island was theirs.  This is consistently mentioned in the correspondence and diary entries of the Islanders and of the three Englishmen who had married into the community and arrived with them.  Indeed, it is clear that not only would the Pitcairners not have left Pitcairn had they not believed Norfolk had been ceded to them, but according to the log of Captain Montresor of the “HMS Calypso”, who in 1860 interviewed the first group of Islanders who subsequently returned to Pitcairn, they returned because “they did not consider Norfolk Island as their own” [1].  The Crown, however, although remarkably generous in the Pitcairners’ relocation to and establishment on Norfolk, equally believed it had never ceded control.  Moreover, to relinquish British land to another people, as it were, would have been highly unusual and would have required an Imperial decree that evidently never occurred.  And therein lies the problem: two well-meaning peoples with two profoundly contradictory views of the same place.  Who “owns” Norfolk Island?  Since June 8, 1856, it has depended on who you ask.

How can this be?  How could such a basic question about ownership occur?  The historical record, to date, only clarifies the dilemma, without providing any answers.  But if we use the historical data as dot points, we can try to connect them to form a picture of how such a fundamental misunderstanding could have become so firmly entrenched.  The dot points are, in chronological order: 1) Governor Sir William Denison's letter-of-instruction to Lieutenant George W. Gregorie, charged with relocating the Pitcairners to Norfolk, included in a dispatch dated February 27, 1856 [2], which Gregorie takes to Pitcairn; 2) Denison’s second letter-of-instruction to the same dated May 16, 1856 [3], significantly amending the first letter, of which the Pitcairners wouldn’t have been aware until they arrived on Norfolk; 3) the Letter-of-Cession, which Islanders still refer to as the document that formally ceded Norfolk to them and which Chief Magistrate George Martin Fredrick Young and First Councillor Thomas Buffett attest in affidavit was required to be surrendered to Denison in 1859 [4], and 4)  the letter from Captain Stephen Fremantle of the “HMS Juno” to Chief Magistrate Young dated June 25, 1856, affirming Denison’s authority to determine land ownership on Norfolk [5].  There are, as well, interstitial events in this time period – most notably, correspondence between Denison and senior officers of the Colonial Office expressing an interest in prohibiting all grants and sales of land on Norfolk to non-Pitcairn Islanders (“… until the present experiment be fully tried”.[6]); the establishment on 24 June, 1856, of the distinct and separate Crown Colony of Norfolk Island, so that no other colony could pass legislation affecting the wellbeing of the Pitcairners [7], and the corresponding creation of the Great Seal of Norfolk Island upon which is engraved a ship named “Pitcairn” sailing into a bay lined with Norfolk Island pines – all of which unwittingly seemed to only solidify these two conflicting notions about ownership of Norfolk Island.

Great Seal of Norfolk Island, 1857.

 The backdrop to Gov. Denison’s first letter-of-instruction is the Pitcairner’s desire by the 1850s to, once again, relocate to a larger island.  (Their first attempt at resettlement was a disasterous five months in Tahiti in 1831, during which they lost some 20% of their numbers to influenza.)  Hawaii was a candidate, for example, on the invitation of King Kamehameha III.  But the Pitcairners were loyal subjects of the British Crown and wanted to maintain their link to it, as well as their separateness in the world.  Norfolk Island, in the meantime, was in the process of being disbanded as a penal settlement.  Relocation to Norfolk loomed enticing both to the Pitcairners and their supporters in England eager to represent their interests, and to the British Colonial Office, which was pleased with the thought of a loyal, English-speaking people maintaining the considerable infrastructure they had created.  In addition, Napoleon III was by now in power in France and French activity in nearby Noumea was escalating, so continued occupation of Norfolk was strategically desirable, as well.  But cession?  Even as late as 1854, the Pitcairners were informed by British Consul, B. Toup Nicolas, that ceding the Island to them would not be possible [8].  So how do we get from that point to the Pitcairners arriving in 1856 believing Norfolk belonged to them?  Even if you presumed an island naiveté borne of culture and isolation, which their private and public correspondence does not suggest, the decision to relocate to Norfolk included the participation of Buffett, Evans and Nobbs, three reasonably well-educated Englishmen, and the active involvement of Admiral Fairfax Moresby, a staunch friend of the Pitcairn people and Commander-in-Chief of the Pacific Station.  So, again, if Norfolk hadn’t been ceded to them, how could a reasonably well-counseled people come to so firmly believe otherwise?  There is one other element to the background story: particularly given their experience in Tahiti, not every Pitcairner wanted to leave their home for Norfolk and there was a great reluctance to break the community up.  Concurrently, Gregorie had been advised by Denison that, “… it would be well that you use your influence to induce the whole community to move together” [9].  This is what I think happened.

Denison’s first letter-of-instruction speaks of setting aside some 1000 acres for various public or common purposes and the remainder of the Island, plus stores, livestock, etc.,"... be handed over to the different heads of families..." [10].  The precise distribution of land would be based on what was agreed upon between Gregorie and Chief Magistrate Young.  What follows is entirely speculation, but had Gregorie returned without the Pitcairn Islanders the mission and perhaps his military career would have been considered a failure.  I have often wondered to what extent Gregorie may have oversold the interpretation of the “remainder” of the island being for the Pitcairners.  His official log sheds no light on the subject.  But that first letter is profuse in extending the use of Norfolk to the Pitcairners and I can imagine the temptation to exaggerate a little to salvage the mission and get everyone onboard.  I still search for Gregorie’s personal diary or letters; something in which he might have recorded his private thoughts and experience.  People have argued that if Gregorie did oversell Norfolk, as an agent of the Crown, it would have amounted to a contract.  Meanwhile, well after Gregorie and the Pitcairn Islanders are en route to Norfolk, Denison amends the first letter-of-instruction to Gregorie regarding the Pitcairners’ use of Norfolk.  This second letter stipulates that all arrangements for land can be revised and amended by himself as Governor-General of New South Wales, a position Denison held concurrent with that of Governor.  This condition is new and unknown to the Pitcairners when they arrive. 

The wording of the Letter-of-Cession, which reputedly ceded Norfolk to the Pitcairners, is unknown.  We know its purpose by its absence.  In an (undated) affidavit, Chief Magistrate Young and First Councillor, John Buffett, declare that upon arrival a document (the Letter) was presented to Chief Magistrate Young by Commissariat Officer, Thomas Samuel Stewart, giving them “… possession of Norfolk Island and all stores, livestock, houses, etc. etc. on Norfolk Island...”.  (Steward and a small party had remained on Norfolk after the closure of the penal colony to meet the Pitcairners and would have been the highest-ranking authority on land.) 

This Letter-of-Cession is what people refer to when they state that Queen Victoria gave Norfolk to the Pitcairners.  It is a belief I share.  George Martin Fredrick Young was my great-great-grandfather and his having to relinquish the Letter to Denison remains the lore of my family.  This particular document, after being returned to Denison, has not been seen since.

While it is documented that Denison’s second letter-of-instruction was given to Captain Henry Denham of the “HMS Herald” for delivery to Gregorie upon his arrival on Norfolk [11], I can’t help but think that the Letter-of-Cession is, in fact, a copy of Denison’s first letter-of-instruction.  Both documents – the affidavit and the first letter-of-instruction – refer to the same thing: the Pitcairners having full use of the land and what is on it (less a portion for public use).  The affidavit claims that their document was signed by Denison, as would have been the first letter.  And it is known that Gregorie, on Denison's recommendation, called on Norfolk on his way from Sydney to Pitcairn to confer with Stewart in preparation for the Pitcairners’ arrival.  He would have had ample opportunity and reason to share a copy of his instructions with Commissariat Officer Stewart, with whom the final preparations for the arrival lay. 

It's quite possible that the Pitcairners arrived without knowledge of the wording of Gregorie's first letter, which is why their emphasis is on what they received from Stewart.  There is no entry in Gregorie’s journal of his reading his instructions to them on Pitcairn.  This is not entirely surprising since the instructions contained personal comments about Nobbs, which would not have been for public consumption.  Moreover, Gregorie was tasked with reading a specific letter to the community from Governor Denison [12] and presumably wouldn’t have read them both.  Stewart’s journal is of no help.  Although there are indications of a second volume, the one published account of his time on Norfolk ends in January, 1856, many months before the relevant correspondence and events occur.  Consequently, there is no corroborating evidence supporting the handing of a document by Stewart to Young.  Nevertheless, it was the belief of the Pitcairners present that a document giving them possession of the Island was handed to Young, and demanded from him by Denison some three years later.  The wording of this document seems to only have upheld their understanding of Norfolk as being theirs.

There is, as well, no record in Gregorie’s journal of his receiving the second letter-of-instruction from Denham or of his informing the Pitcairners of its content.  But that would have been of little consequence.  Within three weeks of the Pitcairners landing, Captain Stephan Fremantle arrives to read a dispatch authorised by Denison to Chief Magistrate Young.  Dated June 25, 1856, it codifies the spirit of the second letter by now stipulating that all land arrangements on Norfolk will be subject to the Governor’s approval.  To the Pitcairn Islanders, this was reneging on the very agreement which brought them here.  It is at this point that the contention between Pitcairn Islanders, now Norfolk Islanders, and authorities on the Australian mainland about ownership firmly begins.

Flag of Norfolk Island.

Who owns Norfolk Island?  As I mentioned, the historical record only clarifies the dilemma, not answers the question.  The law says one thing, we in our hearts say another.  Which is right?  Does it matter?  Yes, it matters. 

 

Whether we like it or not, we’re now clearly on a new course.  My only point here is to reaffirm our history as we begin, lest it be forgotten or revised.

- Rick Kleiner

 

***

1.  The British Admiralty, upon learning of two families returning to Pitcairn in 1860, directed Captain F.B. Montresor of the “HMS Calypso” to visit Pitcairn and enquire about their condition.  One of the questions asked was why they left Norfolk Island.  To the Captain, the Islanders mentioned climate and homesickness.  Captain Montresor goes on to add, to his officers, more confidentially, they pointed to the arrival of non-Pitcairner Islanders “among them, who were not of them” and ensuing issues of ownership of property.  [Public Records Office, “Calypso”, 1860.]

2.  “Correspondence on the Subject of Removal of Inhabitants of Pitcairn’s Island to Norfolk Island”, 1852-1856; presented to both Houses of Parliament, 5 February, 1857; p. 30.  Go to www.rickstours.nlk.nf/Letter%231.pdf to read the complete document.

3.  “Correspondence on the Subject of Removal of Inhabitants of Pitcairn’s Island to Norfolk Island”, 1852-1856; presented to both Houses of Parliament, 5 February, 1857; p. 35.  Go to www.rickstours.nlk.nf/Letter%232.pdf to read the complete document.

4.  Go to www.rickstours.nlk.nf/Affidavit.pdf to see the Young/Buffett affidavit as we have record of it.

5.  Proclamation from Capt. Stephen Fremantle, Captain of “HMS Juno”, Senior Officer in Australia, to “The Chief Magistrate of the Pitcairn Islanders Now Resident On Norfolk Island”, June 25, 1856.  This document was discovered among Bishop Selwyn’s papers in the Auckland Museum by historian, Merval Hoare, in 1963.  Go to www.rickstours.nlk.nf/Proclamation%20from%20Capt.%20Fremantle.pdf to read the complete document. 

6.  “Correspondence on the Subject of Removal of Inhabitants of Pitcairn’s Island to Norfolk Island”, 1852-1856; presented to both Houses of Parliament, 5 February, 1857; p. 25. 

7.  “Correspondence on the Subject of Removal of Inhabitants of Pitcairn’s Island to Norfolk Island”, 1852-1856; presented to both Houses of Parliament, 5 February, 1857; p. 29. 

8.  Letter from B. Toup Nicolas “To the Pitcairn Islanders”; Raiatea, July 5, 1854. 

9. “Correspondence on the Subject of Removal of Inhabitants of Pitcairn’s Island to Norfolk Island”, 1852-1856; presented to both Houses of Parliament, 5 February, 1857; p. 31. 

10. “Correspondence on the Subject of Removal of Inhabitants of Pitcairn’s Island to Norfolk Island”, 1852-1856; presented to both Houses of Parliament, 5 February, 1857; p. 31. 

11. “Correspondence on the Subject of Removal of Inhabitants of Pitcairn’s Island to Norfolk Island”, 1852-1856; presented to both Houses of Parliament, 5 February, 1857; p. 34. 

12. “Correspondence on the Subject of Removal of Inhabitants of Pitcairn’s Island to Norfolk Island”, 1852-1856; presented to both Houses of Parliament, 5 February, 1857; p. 32. 

 

Edward Young, "Bounty" mutineer.

Midshipman Edward (Ned) Young is in many ways the enigma of the Bounty mutineers.  Although educated and well-connected enough to receive a letter-of-recommendation from Admiral Sir George Young, literally nothing is known of his family or upbringing.  Indeed, the only documented reference to Ned’s genealogy is from the Bounty muster, which lists his birthplace as St. Kitts, West Indies, in 1764.  Yet correspondence in 2009 with St. Kitts National Archivist, Victoria O’Flaherty, and St. Kitts-based genealogists, Hazel Brookes and Lindon Williams, reveals there is no record of an Edward Young in St. Kitts in that time period.  Their various explanations for this lack of data include the loss of historical records over time to natural disasters (e.g., hurricanes and fires), as well as the possibility Ned may have been born out-of-wedlock.  In any event, this complete absence of information reduces any discussion of Ned’s pedigree  – that he was the nephew of Admiral Sir George Young; was mulatto – to hearsay.  The hearsay, however, can be quite helpful.

Mutiny on the HMAV Bounty

The literature records several of the Bounty’s crew recalling Ned’s statements and actions. This comes mostly from both Bligh’s and the accused mutineers’ court-martial hearings.  But only two people offer insights into Ned’s actual personage: Bligh and fellow mutineer, John Adams.  John Adams holds a singular significance in Pitcairn history.  Not only is he after Ned’s death in 1800 and for the next 24 years the sole English person and patriarch of the emerging society, but virtually all published Pitcairn history until the arrival of Buffett and Evans is told through him.  (The exception is Teehuteatuaonoa, or “Jenny”, one of the original Tahitian women who was interviewed after leaving  Pitcairn Island in 1817.)  Adams and Young are early compatriots on Pitcairn and by 1798 the two surviving Englishmen.  From Adams we get a sense of Ned, but nothing of his personal history prior to the Bounty.  Capt. Beechey of the HMS Blossom, calling at Pitcairn in 1825, transcribed excerpts from the journal (now lost) Ned began shortly after landing on the island.  From that, we know, for example, that Ned was instrumental in educating the first generation of Pitcairners.  But nothing was written of his background.  It is Bligh who offers the most clues.

Bligh provides the only physical descriptions of Ned.  Notably, they all occur after the mutiny, so he’s not too keen to flatter.  This is where we read Ned was stout, dark-complexioned, with few remaining, rotting teeth.  Interestingly, Bligh never attributes African features to him.  Nor does he mention Ned’s West Indies connection, even though Bligh would have known and that was their destination.

Similarly, the literature will still occasionally cite Bligh as referring to Ned being Admiral Sir George Young’s nephew.  Bligh’s only mention, however, in his log, is of Ned being “recommended” by the Admiral.  Given the common surnames, it is easy to imagine how that could drift to the latter assumption, and it’s rife with potential, but not yet established.

What we know is this:  Admiral Sir George’s genealogy was developed in 1927 by his great-grandson, Sir George Young, 3^rd Baronet, under the title, “Young of Formosa”, Formosa being the name of the Admiral’s home in Devon, England.  His great-grandson disputes the notion that Ned was the Admiral’s nephew.  But in an appendix, he includes the research of a Young relation, Rev. Charles Russell Cooke, who postulates in 1882 that Ned could have descended from the Admiral’s first-cousin, James Young.  Based on Ned’s age, Cooke tentatively allocates him a place on that branch of the family tree.  We get into a wild set of coincidences, but in this extended family of Youngs, it is tradition that the firstborn of a family be named, “George”.   This happens to be the name Ned gives his firstborn, and is the name given the firstborn for the first three generations.  More remarkably, the five names listed on this family tree as possibly being Ned’s father, aunts and uncles are to a person the very names Ned gives his children on Pitcairn.  The one omission is Ned’s first daughter, Polly, which presumably was his mother’s name and thus excluded from the Young genealogy. 

It’s been suggested that if Ned were related to the Admiral or anyone in this nautical family, a possible explanation of why there is no account of him is his being expunged from family records after committing a treasonous act.  Correspondence with the present Baronet, Sir George Young, 6^th Bt^., supports this proposition.  This then begs the question, on what information did Cooke base his speculation of Ned’s place in the Young family.  Unfortunately, Cooke dies in 1892 without offspring and his estate is subsequently sold.  Locating his personal papers has so far proven difficult and his work may need to be recreated. 

So that’s all, in fact, we know of Edward Young.  The Bounty muster lists his birthplace as St. Kitts in 1764, and Bligh notes he was recommended to him by the Admiral.  We know he spoke the King’s English from extracts from his journal.  Beyond that, we simply don’t know.  When someone says Ned was related to Admiral Sir George Young or that he was bi-racial, the son of a plantation owner father and slave mother, we don’t know.  We don’t know how old he was when he left for England, only that he was 21 when he signed-on to the Bounty.  In fact, we can’t even be certain Ned spoke anything but English.  Hopefully, if linguists presently combing the Pitcairn and Norfolk languages for St. Kittian-derived words can determine a significant number, more than might have been contributed by Fletcher, who had made two voyages to the West Indies himself and from court testimony “mixed well” with the locals, we can more confidently infer Ned at least lived long enough in St. Kitts to learn the local creole and that those words likely came from him.  If this bears out, biographers can start to look to his arriving in England at an older age, rather than younger.  I think we have a ways to go.

Rick Kleiner
Norfolk Island
July 8, 2012

Norfolk’s Oldest-Known Song (Podcast)

Click link to play the song, "Ucklun": www.rickstours.nlk.nf/ucklun.mp3
English translation below.

The coincidence of the occurrence still brings a smile to my face.  Within a week of the late Maude Buffett recalling to me a song she sang in the Norfolk language as a young school girl, Philip Hayward commented that he couldn’t find such a song written before the 1960s.  Phil is a musicologist, now at Southern Cross University, who was on island researching the music of Norfolk and Pitcairn Islands for what became his book, Bounty Chords (2006).  His research was long and thorough.  I know, because I lent a small hand with one of the sections.  It was towards the end of his work.  In fact, the book was in its final review that I remember and about ready to go to print when he voiced his surprise to me that no one seemed to have composed songs in the local language until some 40 years earlier.  That’s when I mentioned Maude’s song, which would beat that timeline by almost 50 years.  The song, “Ucklun”, may be the oldest known sung in Norf'k.

This possibility surfaced some seven ago.  Maude remembered Audrey Scott (nee Robinson; Girlie’s sister) first singing "Ucklun".  It turns out that several girls of that generation remembered Audrey singing it.  Mary Selby is another.  Mary is now in her early-90s and Audrey is a few years ahead of her.  I’m trying to be circumspect, but you get a sense of time.  I gave Audrey a call and we got together.

Audrey always conducts herself with a regal bearing and I have never seen her not dress smartly.  I’m imagining this was always the case, even when Norfolk washed clothes in copper cauldrons and pressed them with heavy cast irons.  Charming, articulate; sharp as a tack.  To say the least, it was an enjoyable couple of hours listening to her reminisce of her school days 85 years ago.
 

Audrey Scott, "Bounty Day", 2010;
Photo by Kim Partridge.

Audrey says she didn’t write the song and believes it was written by her uncle, and the school’s headmaster, Gustav Quintal.  This delights me because “Guttie”, besides being my great-grandfather, is known today as the composer of some fairly solemn hymns.  The thought that he would also write a kid's ditty finally adds a smile to the seriously stern-looking portrait that hangs in the school library.

Gustav Quintal

Audrey recorded the song for me in 2008.  If you haven't yet, you can hear it by following the link below.  Her translation into English follows.  I'm pleased to say Audrey's doing well.  Thank you, Audrey.

Click below to play "Ucklun":

www.rickstours.nlk.nf/ucklun.mp3

Ucklun (Us)

I wish to show you all How hard we little kids find it
To read and write in good English And speak out our minds

We go to school nearly every day And try to learn things
We read and write and talk and play And sometimes we would sing

And when we all go home from school We never try to do
The things our teacher told us And [we] never talk it [ie English], too.

How can we learn if that’s what All of you are going to do
Cause you all know before I told you The thing I’m saying is true

We examined it again [And] We are worse than first I believed
Cause you all know the Englishman We never will deceive [them]

And because our examiners Are Peter, Tom and Jack
Don’t you all be frightened If we don’t get any prizes to take

Now I have finished and now I bet You’re all glad it’s me
Cause you all know before I told you The thing I’m saying is true

 - Rick Kleiner

380 Pipes and a Rear-View Mirror

I happened to run into Naomi Hallett at St. Barnabas Chapel while touring two journalists around Norfolk.  Naomi wears several hats on the Island, including being one of the Church of England organists who play the magnificent 380-pipe Henry Willis organ.  The walls of the Chapel are constructed of big blocks of local limestone which create excellent acoustics for the organ’s soulful, resonate tones.

 

The Henry Willis Organ: two views

 

I always enjoy the look on visitors’ faces when they first enter St. Barnabas and behold its elegant beauty.  Jaws drop and eyes widen.  The stained-glass windows are by the well-known pre-Raphaelite artists, William Morris and Edward Byrne-Jones.  The pews are hand-carved from New Zealand kauri, the ends of each inlaid with intricate patterns of mother-of-pearl.  The extensive marble mosaic of the floors and chancel come from Torquay, England.  It’s a truly exquisite example of an English country chapel, made wholly the more surprising by finding it a small Pacific island.  It’s another reason why Norfolk’s history is so colourful.  But if they can also hear the Willis played, that moment becomes one of the unexpected highlights of their trip.

 

Interior, looking towards the altar.

The organ arrived on Norfolk in 1875, about the time the Chapel’s construction began, and was installed by the Chapel’s consecration on December 7, 1880.  Until the 1950s, some young boy was charged with hand-pumping air through its bellows.  Albert Buffett was one of those former kids and recalls if the organist wanted more volume, he had to pump faster.  I guess it was suppose to be an act of devotional duty, but I imagine for an 11 year old it would have been like inflating a house. 

Something as prominent as the Willis, and as central to a service, would naturally hold a significance on a Sunday that only the most confident musician could match.  And their names still resound in the community.  To this day, I cannot see the Willis without imagining Tim Lloyd at the keyboard, a place for decades you would have found her on most Sundays.  It was Tim who installed a rear-view mirror above the keyboard to better monitor wedding ceremonies behind her.  Others mention Aunt Daisy Buffett and Anne Swift, before her.  And there are a number of organists alternating Sundays today.  Naomi is one of them. 

One of the things I love about Norfolk is its hospitality and informality, and it’s shared with everyone.  Naomi and I meet at the Chapel once a week, she to play and I to sing.  We do it solely for our pleasure and don’t take for granted at all how privileged we are to be able to enter such a historical space and fire-up the organ’s bellows, for fun.  However, when I mentioned to the journalists that visitors were welcome to play it, as well (as long as they knew how), and from whom to get the keyboard key, they simply couldn’t believe the community’s benevolence and trust.  But these acts of good will almost never go unrewarded in some fashion.  Twice I’ve had a visitor on a tour so proficient on a pipe organ they’ve ended-up giving a free concert during their holiday.  No one was more delighted than they to fit a recital into their itinerary.  You say you don’t play a pipe organ, but, perhaps, only a ukulele?  No problem.  Naomi’s brother, Donald, has a group of ukulele players meet at his house every Saturday.  Come join.

My two favourites.

 

- Rick

Spring Forward

It’s springtime on Norfolk Island.  The surest signs are when you first notice the rose-coloured petals emerging from the buds of the bush peach trees.  This happens about the same time each year that the white terns return.  I saw my first one alight on a pine in my backyard yesterday.  Soon the skies will be filled with them.  Oh, and the flying ants, another certain (and blessedly brief) sign of spring.  More on that later.

Photo by Dave Wiley

The white tern (Gygis alba) is a photographer’s delight.  The feathers are a snowy white, broken only by the jet-black of its eyes, bill and feet.  They have the ability to hover and if you catch them with the sun in the background, just so, you can see some beautiful gossamer silhouettes through the plumage.  Lazy people like them, too.  I’ve spent countless hours watching them from my verandah fly in incredibly tight aerial formations and have always considered it time well-spent.  These aerial exercises are especially intricate when the parents are teaching their chick how to fish.  But right now, they’re busy pairing-up and courting. 

That I’m aware, no one has tagged the white terns, so we don’t fully know where they winter.  But the birds are such an indelible part of our summer sky, it’s almost reassuring when you first notice their coming back.  Many of us believe the terns return to the same limb each year to raise their young.  This could be coincidental, but there are some limbs which will invariably have a chick on it and usually at the same place on the limb as the year before.  There is also the occasional case in which one of the parents has been killed nurturing the chick.  There will be feathers below, sometimes a carcass; usually the result of a feral cat.  It’s been my experience that that limb will no longer be used to nest, suggesting they may pair for life, as well.

Photo by Barb Mayer

The white tern has a couple of unusual characteristics.  Notably, it doesn’t actually build a nest, but will lay an egg in a shallow depression of the limb, with one or the other parent taking turns with incubation.  When the egg hatches, the chick for the first several weeks of its life needs to instinctively know not to move.  Occasionally, one will and fall prematurely from the tree.  Another characteristic is the parents don’t regurgitate food, but will feed the chick entire, small fish fry.  It’s not uncommon to find small fish that have fallen from a parent’s beak in the most unlikely places.  I had the opportunity of being on the top of Mt. Pitt with a visitor who had the look of almost Biblical wonder when he picked up a fish atop our second highest peak.  I hated to disappoint him.  Actually, I wish I hadn’t.  Who knows what new religion could have ensued?

Photo by "Island Life"

It’s difficult talking about white terns without mentioning an ominous phenomenon.  For some reason, to my eye beginning six years ago, their numbers have plummeted.  My guess is at least by half.  There may have been a trend we didn’t notice, but it seemed to occur between one year and the next.  They just didn’t come back in anywhere near the numbers expected.  Some people have speculated that it may be due to habitat-loss where they winter.  There was also a severe windstorm from Australia that year about the time the terns would have been in the vicinity.  Another concern is climate change, and a disconnect somewhere with a food source.  In any event, the population doesn’t seem to have yet rebounded.  The skies will still be filled, but there’s a noticeable absence, as well.

We’ll have the white tern until sometime in late May.  It happens every year, of course.  It’s also a sign that winter is approaching and the firewood had better be split.

- Rick

A Genuine Bastard.

Ungeria floribunda is its taxonomic name.  Common name: the Norfolk Island Bastard Oak.

The very presence of this now rare tree on Norfolk speaks to how much of this beautiful island we still cannot explain.  Not only is the individual species, floribunda, unique to Norfolk Island, but the entire genus, Ungeria, is, too.  This is astounding.  For a relatively young, small and remote land mass, it defies explanation.  I love it.

By way of comparison, in addition to the iconic Norfolk Island pine (Araucaria heterophyla), the Auracaria genus includes some 18 other species ranging from South America across the Pacific to Australia and New Guinea.  These species numbers and broad geographic range reflect Auracaria’s long and diverse evolutionary history.  Similarly, the genus, Cyathea, contains two separate species of tree fern unique to Norfolk, one considered the tallest in the world, and over 400 other species spread across the globe.  Ungeria floribunda, however, the Bastard Oak, is the only species in its genus and the entire genus is found naturally-occurring only here. 

Bastard Oak

Attempts to explain this circumstance are complicated by Norfolk’s relatively young geologic age (estimated to be some 2.5 million years since the last volcanic eruption) and evidence (from Peter Coyne) suggesting it has been isolated from other land masses during all of this period.  Beginning with a naked volcanic landscape, you could expect some species to variously reach Norfolk and diversify within this short time span.  But to have an entire genus, this higher unit of time, seemingly just pop-up or somehow be the last to survive stymies even the most imaginative scientific mind.  “Kaa waa”, would be the local phrase.  Who knows?

Taxonomic names are useful both to systematically identify one plant or animal from another, and to indicate its evolution over time.  Common names, on the other hand, can reflect the local lore and be much more colourful, as well as easier to remember.  I’ve heard two explanations of how the Bastard Oak got its name.  It does have an oak-sort-of-look to its leaf.  The other explanation is it’s the only one in the family that doesn’t know its pedigree.  In any event, its mystery delights me. 

By the way, while reviewing Peter Coyne’s field guide, Norfolk Island’s Fascinating Flora, I think I recognised a plant in my backyard which Peter suspects may have become extinct.  If I’m correct, it’s the wild cucumber, Sicyos australis.  I won’t be able to confirm the species until it flowers.  But I wrote Peter with the good news and the even better news that I’ve since stopped trying to kill it.  It’s a creeper and no one could identify it, so I considered it just another introduced pest.  That I know, I have one plant left.  We’ll see.

- Rick

Cheryl Poulson's eye.

I recently had Cheryl Poulson on a tour.  She called me from Governor’s Lodge wanting to go on a photographic tour.  My answer was, “of course”, if we could find at least one other person.  There are a minimum number of people on a tour to make it worthwhile.  We scheduled a tour date, didn’t find another taker, and went anyways.  I’m glad we did.  It was worth it to me for the experience.  I think Cheryl had a good time, too.

Cheryl is a professional photographer.  She had also been on Norfolk for six days, which meant she had already seen the usual and basic.  We talked about her interests, what subjects she wanted to shoot – birds in the National park, mostly, but she was open – and we took off. 

To paraphrase F. Scott Fitzgerald, and I don’t too often, photographers are different from the rest of us.  They see what we don’t and can spend a day being delighted with one thing after another.  One of the first places we visited was Aunt Amy’s, an uninhabited island home built sometime in the 1880s.  I wasn’t sure if it as an image was what she had in mind.  It fascinated her, from every angle and every lens. 

Aunt Amy's

Aunt Amy Christian was one of the Island’s first entrepreneurs, starting what was called the “Clothing Club” in the late 19^th- century.  A portion of the house was a shop and women would gather by horse-and-buggy to buy goods, exchange community information (usually about someone not present and always incorrect), and make clothes.  Then it would be a long ride back home.

Bloody Bridge from below.

If you’ve been a visitor to Norfolk, you no doubt have seen Bloody Bridge from the road.  (We’ll discuss how it got its name some other time because I don’t believe it’s true.)  Another view of Bloody Bridge is from the valley beneath as the stream empties a short distance into a stretch of coastline called Duffy’s Whale.  You have to straddle a low fence to get to the trails leading to the shore, and you’d want to follow a local the first time, but once you’re there you have a seldom-seen view of Nepean and Philip Islands in one direction and Gannett Point in another.  Es goodun fe lookorn.

Because a theme of my tour company is small group size and we travel in a van, we have the opportunity for conversation along the way.  It turns out Cheryl didn’t get into photography until she retired.  That was Day One and she’s since developed herself into a master.  One characteristic of that accomplishment, I think, is she’s able to anticipate her shot, to make her camera see what she does, and not have to delete so much.  (Just joking, but I imagine even masters on occasion delete with the same kind of puzzlement and relief as the rest of us.)

I’ll tell you now, after almost four hours, we never made it to the National Park.  I felt I had let her down a bit in not managing our time better.  But there was so much to do and see, and at each stop she would find an angle or focal length I would never have thought to use.   To wit, this is the best photo of the “other side” of St. Barnabas Chapel I have seen.

Back side of St. Barnabas Chapel - Poulson Photography

Like most of our visitors, Cheryl expects to return.  There’s definitely more for her to see.  I’ll take her to Monty’s, for one, near Crystal Pool, and perhaps to nearby Philip Island, where the vivid colours of the geology will make her hands tremble.  I hope to be able to feature her Norfolk photos on my website soon.

It was a great day.  I had a great time on my tour.  Thanks, Cheryl.