A Fictionalised Account of the life of Richard Kittoth Carkett

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.