Nine Mile Marsh Convict Station, Victoria
Valley
Jennifer Jacobs Member no 1826
I knew my husband was not going to be happy as we turned
from the Lyell Highway into Strickland Road and the GPS announced that there
was 16 km of unsealed road before us. That was before we turned right into
Victoria Valley Road, to another unsealed 5 km section. Riding ahead with my
sister, I watched through the rear vision mirror as he disappeared into clouds
of billowing dust. We had spent two nights at Derwent Bridge and I had
announced that as we were close enough on the way back, I wanted to see the remains
of Nine Mile Marsh probation station at Victoria Valley.
My interest was aroused when, as part of one of the convict
courses at UTAS, I had studied Frederick BISHOP, the second of my great, great
grandmother’s three husbands. Upon arrival in 1845, Frederick had been sent to
Victoria Valley.[1]
Being completely unfamiliar with this probation station, I checked maps and
researched the area. Discovering that it was north of Ouse, I spoke with my
neighbour who had lived in the region for many years. A few days later she
brought me a copy of the Highland Digest containing
an article and a map, a copy of which I clutched as we bumped along the road.[2]
So excited was I upon realising that we had reached the spot, that I missed the
marker at the junction with Bashan Road.
Patchwork was the only word to describe the vast plain that
appeared through the forest to my left. Amid the surrounding rolling landscape,
it was just so flat. On this beautiful autumn day, it was hard to imagine the
hardships, the cold and the desolation of this area in 1842, when the
government used convicts to clear and drain the land to create a farm.[3]
After three years, the 800 acres was to be sold in 50 acres lots to raise money
to cover the cost of incarcerating 300 convicts whose duty it was to perform
the task.
How excited they must have been when assigned the duty of
digging a drain twenty one feet wide and nine feet deep across the landscape in
order to capture the waters of Kenmere Rivulet which drowned the valley in
winter.[4]
A reservoir was to be constructed at the head of the marsh to provide
irrigation in summer and to run the mill wheel which would grind the vast
quantities of grain to be grown on the fertile ground.
Alas, a year later, the station was failing in its purpose.
The potato plants had been spindly and sickly due, it was supposed, to poor
preparation of the land. It had not been manured or turned over satisfactorily
and the potatoes, planted with a dibble, after the New Zealand fashion, did not
thrive.[5]
Convicts were then ordered to break the ground between the rows and one can
imagine that their aim with the hoe may have been a little astray. As winter
arrived, frost descended heavily upon the plants. Accepting a challenge, the
overseer charged the men with constructing “cats” each with 20 grass tails with
which the icy residue was to be beaten away. Is it any wonder that the crop was
looking a little sad? Pruning away the shattered and slimy remains did not
improve the situation, yet somehow, it was still hoped to harvest a crop.
It seems that the one sergeant and twelve guards were
finding their task overwhelming. In March 1843, a letter to the Colonial Times
stated that scarcely a cart managed to get past the station without being
robbed and thought should be given to arming the carters.[6]
In November, it was suggested in another newspaper that the men were spending
half their time “kangarooing” and the rest complaining about their provisions
and abusing their overseers.[7]
They may have had a basis for their complaints. When siting the station,
thought had not been given to the distance and the time required to negotiate
the rural roads and even when goods could be delivered without spoilage the
transport cost of £9 per ton was prohibitive.[8]
Fresh meat had to be abandoned in favour of salt.
Green spikes of wheat and oats gave new hope for a new
direction in agriculture as spring arrived but the climate (which one
correspondent likened to that of Macquarie Harbour) again took control and it
failed to ripen.[9]
Buildings had been erected for a doctor and other services but almost
immediately abandoned. Nobody, it seems wanted to live there and suffer winter
temperatures up to 17 degrees below freezing. Cattle were killed by the cold
and wet, and sheep could survive only in the summers.
By April 1844, some progress had been made with road
construction.[10]
A bridge over the River Dee and more cleared roads had opened up the area
considerably. However, there were still complaints that escaped prisoners
roamed the area. In January, Mr BISDEE had been robbed at gunpoint and in June,
George BULL had been threatened with a noose around his neck.[11]
Fifteen prisoners previously from Norfolk Island, now of Victoria Valley broke
out from the Hamilton lock-up in December in an attempt to steal arms and
escape into the bush.[12]
Clearly the penal station was not under control.
A final potato crop was planted in the hope that the land
could be sold at increased value before, in an incident packed final few days
beginning late January 1845, the station was abandoned and the men were walked
to Port Cygnet.[13]
With one convict overseer to 100 men, supervision was not strong. Assembled
near the Clyde Bridge in humid weather, they were allowed a cooling bathe in
the river. However, they came close to the main road and were described as a
disgusting and disgraceful sight and people could not cross the bridge while
they were there. At “Shawfield,” they treated Mr SHAW in a brutal manner,
forcibly stole several gallons of spirits from him, and attempted to rob other
persons and buildings on their way. The whole entourage was stretched out over
two or three miles on the road.
However, back at the Valley, the early autumn was preparing
with icy tentacles of frost which would creep across the flats and one again melt
the healthy green potato crop into a sodden mess. Profit from the planting was
not forthcoming. Despite years of advertising and lowering of prices, nobody
wanted to take on the gamble of Victoria Valley.
From a sign posted high point on the hill, we were able to
see the remains of the drains crossing the manicured pasture. In 2017, it was
hard to imagine the scene alive with busy workers and tilled paddocks as we
shared the peace with a few birds and grasshoppers. Yet, there was more to see.
A short way back along the road we found the track leading to a wide rock wall,
the remains of the dam. Fifty feet through at its base, and curving across the
rivulet, it was quite impressive despite the blackberries and scrub which
threatened to engulf it. Of the mill for grinding the grain there was no sign,
as it had never been built.
Though we did not see buildings, they were mentioned by J E
Calder, Surveyer General when he visited in 1860.[14]
‘We “heave in sight” of some ungainly hovels that once formed the Victoria
Valley Probation Station which have unluckily escaped destruction amongst the
general wreck of the system of which they are remaining , though not a very
abiding monument. These disconsolate looking wigwams appear to very little
advantage by contrast with the rich and beautiful savannah on the margin of
which they are planted.’
Calder also mentioned that in the winter of 1837, weather in
the area had been so severe that all vegetation and timber of the lowlands had
been destroyed and skeletons of dead trees dotted the landscape for years
afterwards.
One has to question the wisdom of a government that decided
that this was a good place for a Probation Station.
Arriving home, I reached to retrieve our bags from under the
canopy of the ute. Thick brown dust had infiltrated every fold and caked itself
along the zippers. My memories overrode the inconvenience.
[1]
TAHO, Con33/1/59. p. 13827, Frederick Bishop Barossa 2, 1844.
[2]
SHOOBRIDGE, John, ‘TASMANIAN TRAIL CONVICT DAM’, The Highland Digest, Centralink, Ouse Online Access Centre. July
2016, p. 5.
[4]
‘The United Services magazine Vol 42, H Coulbourn 1843 – E Books Google p. 210,
211
[11]
'THIS DAY'S POST. (17
January 1844) The Cornwall Chronicle (Launceston, Tas: 1835 - 1880)’, p.
3.
[14]
‘TOPOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES OF TASMANIA. (27 Jan 1860) Hobart Town Daily Mercury (Tas: 1858 -
1860)’, p. 2.
