“Trying To Resolve The Question: Did Bounty Mutineer, Edward Young,
Have A Singular Influence On Pitcairn Island Creole”

Richard Kleiner
The Journal of Pidgin and Creole Languages
Spring, 2021.

            I suspect instances of a book review alone producing fresh insights isn’t common, but that’s what occurred when I read Ian Hancock’s review of “Norfolk Island, history, people, environment, language”, by Peter Mühlhäusler and Joshua Nash.^1.  Perspectives are relative, of course, and Hancock’s different take contained in that review on the origins of the Pitcairn Island and Norfolk Island creole languages was new to me.  I am not a linguist.  My research interest in these two islands is primarily historical and I was unaware of the existence of a debate until I read Hancock’s work in August of last year.  As a non-linguist, I can only participate in this discussion with caution.  That said, I would like to add some biographical information and personal observations which I believe are pertinent to the conversation.

            By way of a brief historical background,^2. in January, 1790, after seizing the HMAV Bounty from Captain William Bligh, nine mutineers, along with six Polynesian men, 12 Polynesian women and an infant girl, landed on remote and tiny Pitcairn Island to avoid capture by the British navy.  The mutineers were a diverse group, geographically and linguistically: two reasonably well-educated midshipmen, one from Cumbria, the other from St. Kitts, West Indies; a Londoner; a Scot; someone from East Midlands; one from French-speaking Guernsey, and an American.^3.  The Polynesians were mostly, but not all, from the island of Tahiti.  In October of that year, the first child was born and more children followed, and this disparate amalgam of individuals in utter isolation settled into the task of trying to live together.  In 1793, through internecine warfare, every Polynesian man and all but four of the mutineers, including Fletcher Christian, were murdered.  The remaining four adult males fell into opposing camps of two, with one camp prevailing over the other in 1798. 

            Of the two surviving men, Midshipman Edward Young had been teaching the growing number of children to speak a standard English quite understandable by the first ship’s captain to later discover the community.^4./5.  When Young died in 1800, it left his compatriot John Adams as the sole adult male, with—by then—nine Polynesian women and 25 children, the oldest child only 10 years old.  Thus was formed, I would imagine, one of the few societies to be bilingual – Tahitian and English – from its very inception, or more accurately tri-lingual, given the multiple dialects that melded within the Bounty crew.  It is clear that at least some of the Pitcairners were still speaking all three languages, English, Tahitian and their own emergent creole, into the 1850s.^6. 

            In 1856, the entire population of 194, their customs and creole language relocated 6,300 kms west to larger Norfolk Island.  By 1864, some 20% of the population had returned to Pitcairn Island.  Since that time and only until the last few decades, the two populations have lived largely removed from each other.  The language of the two communities, however, pronounced in both places “Pitkern” and “Norfuk”, has remained mutually intelligible, with some explicable differences which have developed over time. 

            Peter Mühlhäusler has led the development of the idea that Pitkern creole and by extension Norfuk was inordinately influenced by one mutineer, Edward Young.  I have been interested in Edward Young’s genealogy for a number of decades, he is my grandfather seven-generations removed, and have been discussing that subject with Professor Mühlhäusler since 2008. 

            Edward Young was born in St. Kitts, West Indies, around the year 1766.^7.  Mühlhäusler & Baker in a paper published in 2013 reported over 50 words in the Pitkern vocabulary thought to derive from St. Kittian creole.^8.   Since Young was the only person on the HMAV Bounty who would have likely known St. Kittian creole, the logical assumption is he was the source of those words.  As a consequence, Mühlhäusler postulates that one must look to St. Kitts as a primary source of Pitcairnese.  Hancock in his review expresses scepticism that a single individual among many could have such a disproportionate effect on the development of a language.  I must say I coincidentally have shared that scepticism these years, for the following reasons.  

            From a personal standpoint, I have spent the past 23 years listening to Norfuk being spoken on Norfolk Island and am struck by the great similarities with the dialects of maritime England.  I know of native-speaking Norfolk Islanders having the experience of holding extended, meaningful conversations with older persons in Somerset, England, each speaking their respective languages.   Conversely, I’ve heard similar impressions by visitors to Norfolk Island from Devon and Cornwall who could easily recognize the accents and some of the phraseology of the Islanders.  This neglected element of the linguistic puzzle requires more exposition.

            Moreover, for Mühlhäusler’s premise to be correct essentially requires that Edward Young spoke St. Kittian creole as his first or preferred language and that he held a singularly influential position among the first-generation of Pitcairn Island youth, presumably as the community’s first de facto teacher.  How otherwise could the perceived influence of that West Indian creole emerge in the nascent Pitkern language?  For Young to be fluent in St. Kittian creole, the argument would be further supported if he were of mixed-ancestry and, in this particular context, that his mother were African, presumably a slave, and his father in a position to provide his West Indian “mulatto,” creole-speaking son an education and entrée into English society sufficient to produce a midshipman’s commission in the British navy of the late-18^th-century.  Indeed, Mühlhäusler and Baker make the claim that Young was the offspring of the influential Admiral Sir George Young and a plantation-slave mother.^9.  This is based entirely on the fact that the Admiral, then Lieutenant George Young, is known to have been in the West Indies (Antigua) in October, 1766, the year Edward Young is thought to have been born in St. Kitts, 100 kms away.  It is possible.  But given the birth years of Lieut. Young’s first three children in England – 1764, 1766 and 1767 – a nine-month gestation period and the two- to three-month voyage each way, finding the required time from a strictly logistical standpoint to then make his way to St. Kitts to impregnate a slave seems unlikely.^10.

            So little is known of Young’s pedigree that we’re faced with deducing what he was based, in part, on what we know he was not.^11.  All that is documented, in addition to his birth place and age (21) when he signed-on to the Bounty in 1787, is an Edward Young was known to Admiral Sir George Young prior to the Admiral’s recommending him to Captain Bligh.  Admiralty records show an Edward Young, age 18 and born in St. Kitts, who worked under the Admiral for six weeks in 1785 on the royal yacht Catherine, two years before the Bounty sailed.^12.  We also know that he was dark-complexioned.  This is based on Bligh’s log kept after the mutiny, in which he is describing the physical characteristics of each mutineer in preparation for his, and possibly their, court martial.^13.  But Bligh never ascribes African features to Young, neither in his log nor during his court martial.  Intending to characterize each mutineer in as discredited a light as possible, had Young had African features of any sort, in the prejudice of that time, Bligh would have undoubtedly pointed them out. (Fletcher Christian is also described as dark-complexioned in the same proceedings.)  Furthermore, within the excerpts of a diary that Young kept on Pitcairn, transcribed by Captain F.W. Beechey during his two-week visit to Pitcairn Island in 1825, whether the diary was for private use or public record, there is not one instance of his using a non-standard English word to infer a creole language was a part of his regular vocabulary.^14.  As for Young’s influence on the Pitcairn language, he would have needed to be significantly more influential than the other eight mutineers who landed on Pitcairn in 1790 and, more specifically, since 1793, the other three surviving mutineers, one (Adams) who would outlive Young by another 29 years.

            The historical record doesn’t assist in ascertaining to what extent Young was familiar with St. Kittian creole.  For example, we don’t know how old he was when he reached England.  That he was born in St. Kitts certainly implies he was familiar with the local language.  But there is nothing to indicate it was his first- or most commonly used language. 

            The biography of Admiral Sir George Young, written by his grandson, Sir George Young, 3^rd, Bt., and published in 1927, contains an appendix of an extended Young family tree produced in 1882 by a distant relation.^15.  The author of the appendix speculatively places Edward Young in this family tree and where he does would make him a descendant of the Admiral’s first cousin, James Young.  What is remarkable about this placement are the names listed as Edward Young’s prospective father, aunt and three uncles are to a person the names he gave his children on Pitcairn Island.^16.  Equally telling are the notes of a Doctor Collie, the medical officer who visited Pitcairn Island with Captain Beechey in 1825.  It is not clear who is speaking to him, presumably John Adams, but the note states that Young’s father, in line with the aforementioned Young family tree “… was either a planter or clerk to one and cousin of Admiral Sir Geo. Young, who at one time commanded one of H.M.'s Yachts”.^17.  That is not to say an Englishman in the West Indies at that time would not know creole, but the information overall suggests that Edward Young was probably not of mixed-English/African ancestry and certainly that creole was likely to have not been his first language.  It does, however, fit well with the scenario described above: a third-cousin to the Admiral; not a son or nephew as supposed by others, but close enough to be asked a favour by a relation. 

             

Acknowledgments:

I would like to thank Pauline Reynolds, University of New England, Australia, for her helpful review of this article.

 

References:

1.         Hancock, Ian F., “Review of Mühlhäusler, Peter & Joshua Nash (2012) Norfolk Island, history, people, environment, language”.  Journal of Pidgin and Creole Languages 32:2, 433-437 (2017). 

2.         Of the many historical works published about Pitcairn Island, the most concise and precise remains for me, “The Pitcairners”, by Robert Nicholson (Angus&Robertson Ltd.; 1965).

3.         See, “Bounty’s Crew Encyclopaedia”, Pitcairn Island Study Center, Pacific Union College (https://library.puc.edu/pitcairn/bounty/crew.shtml).  The birth places of the remaining two mutineers who landed on Pitcairn are uncertain.

4.         Captain Mayhew Folger of the American sealing ship, Topaz, unexpectedly comes across Pitcairn Island on 6 February, 1808.  See, “Log of the Topaz 1807-1809”, Nantucket Whaling Museum, MS220 Log 105. 

5.         Edward Young and later John Adams would also teach the first-generation Pitcairn children reading, some numeracy, but because of the scarcity of paper and ink, only a modicum of writing.

6.         There was considerable interest among some British religious societies, such as the Society for the Promotion of Christian Knowledge as late as 1854, to employ selected Pitcairn Islanders as South Pacific missionaries for their knowledge of both Church of England doctrine and the Tahitian language.  In addition, Pauline Reynolds, a Doctoral Candidate at the University of New England, Australia, who is knowledgeable of the Tahitian language, mentioned in personal communications she viewed a letter held at the British Museum written in 1853 by Hannah Young, a first-generation Pitcairn Islander, in which she translates Tahitian phrases into English.

7.         There is no known record of Edward Young’s birthdate.  His birth year is approximated based on the age he listed, 21, on the Bounty muster of 1787.

8.         Baker, Philip & Peter Mühlhäusler, “The Creole legacy of a bounteous mutineers: Edward Young’s Caribbean contribution to the language of Pitcairn and Norfolk Islands”, Acta Linguistica Hafniensia: International Journal of Linguistics, 45:2 (2013); p. 174-179.

9.         Ibid, pp. 181-182.

10.       Admiralty records note that then Lieut. George Young’s was discharged at Jamaica in March, 1763, and he next appears on the muster of the HMS Phoenix at the Leeward Islands Station (Antigua) in October, 1766 (ADM 36/6285 & ADM 1/7466).  There is no known record of Lieut. George Young visiting St. Kitts.  What is known, however, according to the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, is George Young returned to England in 1763, married that year, and had children in relatively quick succession: 1764, 1766, 1767 and 1768.  (Precise birthdates aren’t provided.) 

11.       Much of the literature uses the lack of any record of an Edward Young in St. Kitts in this time period as an indication he was “unregistered”, i.e., the son of a slave.  It is the experience of St. Kitts National Archivist, Victoria Borg-O’Flaherty and St. Kitts genealogist, Hazel Brookes, that loss of records due to the number of hurricanes and other natural calamities to have hit the island over the centuries is an equally plausible explanation.  (Personal communications.)

12.       Peacock, Erica, The National Archives, UK; personal communication citing ADM 35/447 Catherine (Yacht): 1Feb.1785-6Nov. 1794.  Edward Young is listed on the Catherine’s muster, but not its payroll, suggesting he is working for the Admiral in a personal, unpaid capacity.

13.       Bligh, William, “Notebook and list of mutineers, 1789”, Item 2, National Library of Australia [MS 5393].

14.       “Narrative of a voyage to the Pacific and Beering’s Strait, to co-operate with the Polar Expeditions: Performed in His Majesty’s ship Blossom, under the command of Captain F.W. Beechey, R.N. F.R.S&c. in the years 1825, 26, 27, 28”; Vol. 1, Chpt III; London: H. Colburn & R. Bentley (1831).

15.       Young, Sir George, 3^rd bt, “Young of Formosa : I, Family history, II, Memoir of Admiral Sir George Young “, Appendix III; Poynder & Son, Holybrook Press, (1927).  “Formosa” is the name of the Admiral’s home.

16.       In Appendix III of “Young of Formosa”, Edward Young’s prospective father is named, George, and the father’s siblings named Dolly (or Dorothy), Robert, William and James.  Young’s children on Pitcairn were named, in chronological order, Polly (presumably Edward’s mother, not included in the Young family tree), Dorothy, George, Edward (after himself), Robert, William and James.

17.       The West Australian, “DR. COLLIE AND THE BOUNTY-His Visit to Pitcairn Island in 1825”; Thu, 3 Sept 1936, p. 21.

 

 

Author’s address:

Richard Kleiner

17 Rocky Point Road, Box 933

Norfolk Island 2899

South Pacific

rickkleiner1@gmail.com

Testing a social theory of small, remote communities.

The following is my submission to the Norfolk Island Interim Advisory Council, which sought inputs into future models of Island governance.  It is a social theory regarding a characteristic of small, remote communities which, if correct, needs to be factored into governance for government to work.  I welcome feedback.

The Norfolk Island Interim Advisory Council

Dear Members:

If we have the opportunity to design the optimum model of government for Norfolk Island – at any level of authority – it would need to take into account a very predictable characteristic of virtually every small, remote community: the great reluctance of people to speak out.

This attribute of human nature was best expressed to me by a tourist from outback Australia.  He said: in a small community, it is more important to get along, than be right.  That is, it is paramount that people not be openly critical.  The equivalent phrase we hear on Norfolk Island is, "I would [speak out], but I have to live here."  This is an exceptionally real concern in an environment in which we see each other so frequently and where our lives are so closely interconnected.  By being candid about a situation or event, however well-meaning and correct, you never know who you could offend that you might need sometime in the future.  You might want a service done or you could end up working with (or even for) that person.  He or she could be a valued customer or become a neighbour.  What is certain, in a small community, is you will see that person and his or her family repeatedly.  So people are understandably reluctant to speak their minds.  It can be wise not to.  Anyone who has lived in a small community knows this to be true.  But what does this mean politically?

Simply put, if people are reluctant to speak out, candour suffers and without candour, accountability in government doesn't exist.  Full stop.  People tolerate small moments of self-interest, cronyism and nepotism, additional elements of human nature, which accumulate over time and become the norm.  You can end-up with a government composed primarily of friends and relations who become protective of what they have, yet another aspect of human behaviour.  But this is also not the type of environment that welcomes new people, ideas and innovation, those things that help a community manage change.  Particularly in a democracy, what to do?

There's no easy answer to this dilemma.  Democracies require candour to work.  The accountability which comes from candour maximises the likelihood that wise decisions will be made.  But the system fails in practical terms if too many people feel they have reason to not speak their mind.  So, again, what to do?  What kind of political model is best for a small, remote democracy?

I've advocated the Lord Howe Island model of governance several times in the past.  Taken from a letter to The Norfolk Islander on 24 November, 2011:

"… Lord Howe’s equivalent to our Legislative Assembly is a seven-member Board.  Four members of this Board are elected by the community and three are appointed by, in their case, the NSW Minister for Climate Change, Environment and Water.  It’s a hybrid form of government which, after the initial shudder at the thought, neatly addresses some of the shortcomings of very small communities while upholding the essential principle of majority rule.  Put another way, the community retains a majority voice in its decision-making while ensuring that, theoretically at least, there are also Board members who are there to insert the types of skills … that typically don’t exist in small populations."

Much more importantly, this hybrid model can enable an accountability in government that otherwise simply wouldn't occur.  Appointees, who should always be a voting minority so elected members can hold sway, in addition to introducing new skills, by virtue of not being of the community, can be candid in a way that would be unimaginable on a small island.  And all you need is the prospect of accountability to keep the system relatively open.  The concept is admittedly contrary to many democratic values we hold dear, indeed inalienable.  But it adds a preeminent practicality to the dilemma of politics in a small, remote community that is foolish to ignore.  It does not matter what level of government.  Without candour we don't even have the prospect of accountability and without that, what is democracy?  We should do this for Norfolk.

Rick Kleiner
Norfolk Island
18 August, 2015

A Letter from the Elders of Norfolk Island
to the Prime Minister of Australia

The following is a copy of a letter I composed on behalf of the elders of the Norfolk Island community, addressed to The Honourable Kevin Rudd, Prime Minister of Australia and printed in The Norfolk Islander newspaper on 17 January, 2009.  It is a plea for the well-being of the Norfolk Island people and contained the signatures of 76% of our community born in or before 1928 and of Pitcairn Island-descent.  The letter was read to the Legislative Assembly by The Hon Lisle Snell, Chief Minister of the Government of Norfolk Island, on 11 June, 2014.

The letter reads:

The Honourable Kevin Rudd
Prime Minister

Canberra

Dear Prime Minister Rudd,
 

When our people arrived on Norfolk Island en masse from Pitcairn Island on June 8, 1856, it was with the understanding that this island would become our new home.  A Great Seal was issued for the new Crown Colony of Norfolk Island by Her Majesty, Queen Victoria, with the name of Pitcairn Island and a ship landing amidst Norfolk Island pines to commemorate this great gift to the Pitcairn people. On that day, Pitcairn Islanders became Norfolk Islanders. This island has been our home ever since.
 

We, the undersigned, representing the majority of the island elders of our community, welcome the ensuing dialogue between the Australian government and our elected officials regarding improving the relationship between the Commonwealth and Norfolk Island.  We are Australian citizens and are grateful for the protections that bestows.  But as the elders, we are also concerned at what these talks may hold for the future of the Norfolk people. 

As your government proceeds to examine our best interests, we ask you to keep in mind these two related questions: when the new conditions are fully realised, will we as a people still exist and will Norfolk Island continue to be our home?  It would be to everyone’s eternal shame if the answer were “no”.

Very humbly yours,
 

William “Pumpa” Adams, Marie Bailey, Lorna Christian, Owen Evans, Peggy Evans, Edith Mack, Baker “Foxy” McCoy, Rae “Tiny” Olsen, Doreen Olsson, Jim Olsson, Greg Quintal, H.J. “Jackie Ralph” Quintal, Mary Selby, Audrey Scott.




The Greal Seal of Norfolk Island

 

A Breakthrough Moment: Robert Ellicott, QC, and Greg Quintal

In the history of the Pitcairn Island people there have been critical periods which, in retrospect, required the assistance of “outsiders” to proceed.  The original John Buffett may be the initial one of these people.  He was the first to bring new ideas and skills to the community.  Captain William Driver, who took it upon himself in 1831 to return the Islanders to Pitcairn after their disastrous five-months in Tahiti, would be another.  Some 20% of the community died within that short period, mostly from influenza.  It was a horrible and desperate time.  Certainly Admiral of the Fleet, Fairfax Moresby, would need to be included.  No one represented the interests of the Pitcairn people, in London and within the halls of the Colonial Office, more loyally than the Admiral, particularly during the years leading to the relocation of the people to Norfolk Island.  This special relationship with the Admiral is reflected, among other things, in the number of sons named Fairfax or Moresby in his honour, or Fortescue, after one of his sons, well into the 20^th Century.  Former Australian Commonwealth Territories Minister, Robert Ellicott, QC, must also be on this list.  He was the principal architect in 1979 of The Norfolk Island Act, which still forms the basis of the Island’s government.

This thread is not about politics, but about the bond of trust that formed between two initial foes, Minister Ellicott and Island farmer, Greg Quintal.  Greg, a sixth-generation descendant of Bounty mutineer, Mathew Quintal, was a member of the Norfolk Island Advisory Council in the 1970s and a part of the Island’s negotiating team during a very bitter stage of negotiations between the Council and the Commonwealth regarding Norfolk’s political future.  A little-known incident occurred between them in 1978 that demonstrates what great things can happen when people of goodwill meet, even in trying times.  One is now 95, the other 87, and their ensuing friendship continues to this day. 

As uncertain as the future of Norfolk Island might seem today, it was probably more so during the 1970s.  All politics aside (and I’ll do my best), after more than a century of contention regarding the “ownership” of Norfolk – the Pitcairn Islanders arrived believing Queen Victoria had given them the Island; the Colonial Office disagreed – a 1976 Royal Commission report initiated by the Commonwealth, the Nimmo Report, essentially recommended the External Territory of Norfolk Island be absorbed into the Commonwealth.  The Norfolk Council of the day rejected the report in its entirety.  Particularly for Norfolk Islanders of Pitcairn-descent, a tremendous amount was at stake and emotions ran high.  Add to that a couple more years of vitriolic name-calling and the stage is set for intractable negotiations between the parties with seemingly no middle ground.  Enter Commonwealth Territories Minister Bob Ellicott and Norfolk Councillor Greg Quintal.  The incident, told to me by someone present and confirmed by both Greg and Ellicott, is as follows:

From the Norfolk Island perspective, talks were at an all-time low, with time and resources always on the Commonwealth’s side.  At a particularly frustrating meeting, Greg suddenly begins to sing the hymn, “Praise God From Whom All Blessings Flow”.  This is what Norfolk Islanders sang on the shoreline in the 1930s as a much-disliked Administrator finally sailed away from the Island.  It’s been considered a protest song amongst Islanders of that generation ever since, Norfolk’s version of “We Shall Overcome”, and Greg is singing it now at the negotiating table.  It helps that Bob Ellicott turns out to be a committed Methodist.  This is what I think happened.

Greg’s response was so unusual, so un-Western-like, that Bob gets the sense that maybe Norfolk is different, too, and pauses to take a second look.  At that moment, preconceptions disappear and political agendas momentarily vanish.  At that instant, as well, Greg, Bob and the others in the room start to see each other as people, with families and histories and equal concerns about the future, rather than merely as opponents. 

I don’t believe it was entirely coincidence that the negotiations seemed to quickly change afterwards.  News accounts of the day reveal a genuinely surprising, sudden turnabout.  The controversial recommendations of the Nimmo Report were shelved by the Commonwealth in favour of entirely new legislation, The Act, which rightly or wrongly bestowed on a people about as much self-determination as most likely could have legally been given.  

That point in time in the negotiating room I call an Ellicott moment.  It could just as easily be called a Quintal moment.  It is an instance of empathy and understanding between peoples that can change the course of events.  I think we could use such a moment now.

- Rick Kleiner

Postscript:  Some 30 years later, when Greg’s grandson was holidaying in Australia, he stayed with Bob’s daughter.  The Minister and the Farmer.

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.