Richard Kittoth Carkett was born in the
tiny village of Tamerton Foliot in Devon, England, a pampered only son alongside
three sisters. He grew up tall, handsome and somewhat arrogant, being used to
getting whatever he wanted. At nineteen he set his sights on local girl
Susannah Day.
“That girl has ideas above her
station,” said his mother.
“She’ll bleed you dry and then ask for
more,” warned his sisters.
Richard took no notice and they married
when he was 20. By 24 he was father to two sons and his wife was pregnant with
their third child. Her desire to better herself hadn’t lessened with motherhood;
if anything she was more insistent that the family should do better for
themselves.
“Why can’t we move to Plymouth?”
“When will you bring in more money?”
“I ordered a new settle today.”
Desperate for money, Richard stole
tools worth 30 shillings. It didn’t occur to him that he might be caught. Susannah
was over the moon with the things he bought and a month later, he burgled a
second house, earning himself another 33 shillings. This time he was caught and
in January 1800 was sent to Exeter Castle Gaol, 50 miles away, where neither
his parents nor his wife with their newborn son would have been able to visit.
He stayed in the gaol for fifteen months, after which he was sentenced for both
crimes and given 7 year’s transportation. From Exeter he was moved to a Prison
Hulk in Portsmouth Harbour.
Conditions there were harsh, with
prisoners expected to pay for ‘luxuries’ like vegetables and blankets. Richard
remained on the hulk until September 1802, two years and nine months after he
had been arrested, when he was put on board HMS Glatton for the voyage to
Australia.
The ship sailed via Rio de Janeiro to
avoid Napoleon’s fleet, and arrived six months later in Port Jackson, later to
become Sydney. His health actually improved on the journey due to the attention
of the Captain to the condition of his prisoners. During this time he met and
courted, Ann, from Lancashire, and they agreed to marry once they docked.
“All right, my lover?” he’d call across
the deck.
“All right, sweetheart?” she’d reply,
her laugh echoing across the boards and rippling out into the ocean.
On arrival, they sailed up the
Parramatta River and walked the short road to the new settlement. Although
officially kept separate, male and female convicts had been allowed to see each
other freely on the ship, but they were now taken to separate compounds.
“Annie!”
“Richard! Come find me!”
The women were washed and paraded like
slaves for officer’s wives and settlers to claim. Pretty Ann was one of the first
to be chosen, and she was taken to work on a farm outside the town.
Richard had been hoping to be given a
job near her, but he was set to work building the new Female Factory in
Parramatta and had little hope of seeing her again.
Convicts who had been married in
England were required to wait seven years before they could remarry and Richard
spent the time hoping he would find Ann gain. He never lost an opportunity to
try to escape so he could find her.
After eight years, believing he would
never see Ann again, he married Elizabeth Simons. At 24, she was ten years his
junior, but she was also from Devon and he liked to hear the soft dialect words
of his youth. Elizabeth had been transported for being ‘an incorrigible rogue’
and they suited each other. She’d been in Australia for five years and had
hardly spent a night alone during that time. He was attracted to her generous,
fun-loving nature and she found his arrogant manner and unusual good looks
fascinating.
“Come on, witpot,” she’d chide him,
“You ain’t ‘arf zart,” and he’d laugh, and agree with her and go along with
whatever shady scheme she suggested.
The companionship was welcome, but
Elizabeth brought out the worst in him and he was not altogether happy. He was
often in trouble and he even spent time in Windsor Gaol.
Richard’s initial sentence had been for
seven years transportation but he was not freed until 1828, twenty-five years after
his arrival in Port Jackson and twenty-eight after his arrest. Once free, he
was able to apply for land and start a small farm.
It was at about this time that he
caught sight of Ann during one of her rare visits to town. She was much older,
of course, but her smile still had the power to melt his heart. Walking up
behind her, he put his hand on the small of her back.
“All right, my lover?”
Annie’s hand stilled over the native
vegetables she had been sent to buy and he felt a shiver run through her.
She turned to look at him. He’d just
turned fifty but, despite the hard labour to which he had been subjected, he still
stood tall. The lines around his deeply tanned face only made him more ruggedly
handsome.
“All right, sweetheart?” she whispered.
He took her hands in his, looking for a
ring, “Are you married, Annie?”
“No…” she looked away as she spoke,
“but the man I work for... he….I…”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, knowing
such things were common, “You’re still my darlin’.”
In such a small community, leaving his
wife was not an option, and although Richard and Ann met often, he remained
true to Elizabeth. As she got older, her plans and escapades became less
dangerous and they lived mainly within the law. Their talk in the evenings was
of scrapes they’d been in and adventures they’d had in the past.
Richard was 62 by the time Elizabeth
died, and after almost three decades of marriage, he felt the loss keenly. Ann
was the one to comfort him and they were married the next year. Her figure was
no longer youthful, and her face was weather-worn, but in his eyes she was
everything. Immediately they were married the years fell away and it seemed
like they had been together for ever. They spent every waking moment with each
other and she became well-known as the woman who had tamed Richard Carkett.
The couple had a small farm in the
Field of Mars area of Sydney and they were married for twenty happy years, finally
moving to a house in Pennant Street.
Both are now buried at St John’s Church
in Parramatta, where you can still see Richard’s headstone. The names of his sons
are recorded under his.
Historical note: All the people and
historical events in this story are true. I have added motivation and
characterisation, so I apologize to any living relatives if I have portrayed
them as anything other than they are. This is the story of one man, but I am
sure it is echoed in that of many other convicts.
