Why does this genealogist and family history writer love history podcasts so much? Context. Names and dates tell only part of the story. There will be gaps between what you know for sure and what you can only suppose. By learning about the history surrounding your ancestors you can better imagine, and write about, their life.

Podcasts for quick trips

On the way to the archives I listened to Open Book by the National Records of Scotland. It was an episode about a court case in 1804 to suppress the publication of the love letters between the bard, Rabbie Burns, and his lover, Agnes Maclehose. This podcast episode was just made to delight me: Rabbie Burns, family history, court records, and Scottish law. This was the first Open Book I listened to and it won’t be the last. I’m particularly looking forward to listening to Crime and Punishment: How Archives Can Inspire Fiction, with Dr Elaine Thomson. Tipped as an episode for budding writers and those who have an interest in the National Records of Scotland, crime, or Victoriana, I can simply say yes please, all of the above.

On the way home from the archives, I listened to an old favourite, Revisionist History by Malcolm Gladwell. I do love a story with a legal case at its heart (eight years of law school will do that) and Season 2 Episode 3, Miss Buchanan’s Period of Adjustment, concerns one of the most significant cases in US history, Brown v Board of Education.

Now in its sixth season, Gladwell’s podcast is a “journey through the overlooked and misunderstood.” I’m very interested to see how The Little Mermaid fits into the latest episodes.

Some of my other favourite podcasts for short drives are the beautifully produced podcasts coming out of the State Library of NSW. The Burial Files takes you back to 19th century Sydney to explore the Devonshire Street Cemetery which was located where Central Station now stands.

This has to be a go-to podcast for taphophiles. I didn’t find any of my ancestors in these Burial Files, but maybe you will.

The Gatherings Order looks at the 1918-1919 influenza pandemic. Using the resources of the State Library, historians, public health experts, and scientists examine the history which is so reflective of our present.

Soldiers and nurses returning home from the war on the Western Front brought the illness back to Australia. Quarantine, lockdowns, vaccinations, second wave illness. How were these now familiar measures and situations handled over 100 years ago? Did we learn from it?

Podcasts for a road trip

But what to listen to if you have a LOT of time on your hands? A weekend adventure in north-west NSW allowed me to indulge in some longer, serial-style podcasts. It’s about a seven hour drive to Inverell via the Hunter Valley and Gunnedah. When I wasn’t stopping to take photos of painted silos and sunsets over the Breeza Plains I was listening to podcasts I’d saved for a road trip.

On the long drive north, I listened to Aaron Menke’s Unobscured. I’d previously listened to the first season about the Salem Witch Trials. (Salem is not at all connected with my own family history, but I’ve always been interested in the Trials. Spoiler alert. Not witches.)

These podcasts are “season-long audio documentaries about history’s most mysterious topics“ This time, flying up the New England Highway, I was learning all about the hunt for Jack the Ripper, how the police force was established, and late-Victorian London.

On the return journey I stayed with the Age of Victoria, listening to the podcast of the same name, researched and presented by Chris Fernandez-Packham. I’ve especially enjoyed the episodes on empire building, crime and punishment in the Australian colonies, because there’s a fair sprinkling of convicts in my own family tree.

I’ve a lot more episodes of the Age of Victoria podcast to enjoy. I’m now in the midst of the Napoleonic episodes which will give context to my research about my Holmes family, living through these times in London.

These are some of my favourite history podcasts and I am always looking for more. Do you enjoy history podcasts to add context to your family history writing? What podcasts do you recommend? Tell me your favourites in the comments below.

Podcasts QUick Reference List

Age of Victoria podcast by Chris Fernandez-Packham

Unobscured with Aaron Mahnke (Grim & Mild production)

The Gatherings Order by State Library of NSW

The Burial Files by State Library of NSW

Revisionist History by Malcolm Gladwell (Pushkin)

Open Book podcast by National Records of Scotland

Recruitment

Private Herb Bartley was a big man; six foot tall and 182 lb. His friends proudly said that ‘when Herb got at the Turks they would certainly feel some weight behind the bayonet.’ He had a fair complexion, brown hair and eyes. He was 25 years old when he enlisted, youngest son of a large family long in the Monaro district. The people of the district were proud to see ‘splendid specimens of young Australian manhood’, like Herb, ‘answering the call.’

Between enlistment and his final leave and farewell party, Private Herb Bartley attended training at Liverpool, NSW. His time encamped there was surprisingly short. On arrival, the new recruits were asked if they were experienced with ‘musketry.’ Herb stepped up, referencing his drills with the Delegate Rifle Reserves club. He was subsequently placed in the 6th Reinforcements, 1st Battalion. This unit embarked from Sydney for Egypt on 16 June 1915, on board HMAT A63 Karoola.

When Herb enlisted (15 May 1915), Police Sergeant Macinnis of Delegate provided a reference which stated that Herb was ‘a first class penman and book keeper.’ This reference must have carried some weight because Herb was assigned to the orderly room on board the Karoola. His duties included processing the mail, issuing orders, and taking the minutes of disciplinary courts. There was a lot of work involved in the latter after the ship berthed at Fremantle. Of the soldiers given leave on shore, about 60 faced court for ‘playing up in Fremantle’. Some didn’t return to the ship at all and were left to the military police on shore, as HMAT Karoola left on 25 June 1915 for Egypt.

Herb broke his wristlet watch on the ship.

Overseas

Suez, Egypt

When HMAT Karoola arrived at Suez on 18 July 1915, Herb’s first priority was delivering the mail to the Suez post office. Over 5000 letters had been written on board, all of them passing through Herb’s orderly room. After a look around Suez, Herb embarked for Cairo and the Heliopolis training camp. The 1st battalion, including Herb’s unit, 6th Reinforcements, went into camp in the desert outside Cairo. Camp life was demanding work for the new recruits; Herb wrote home about hard marches and warned those coming after that it was not a holiday. It was a very brief stint in the desert, as he soon left for the Dardanelles.

Gallipoli, Turkey

In the Dardanelles, the Gallipoli campaign dragged on. An attempt was to be made in August 1915 to break out of the beachhead. Newly promoted Lance-Corporal Herb Bartley and the 6th Reinforcements arrived 6 August 1915 and were ordered to reinforce the assault on Lone Pine that very afternoon. There followed ‘four days of intense hand-to-hand fighting.’ Herb experienced trench warfare for the first time. The Turks retaliated with heavy counter attacks. Bombs were often being thrown into the trenches. Herb survived a close shave on sentry duty when a bullet ripped through a sandbag, then his cap, and grazed his scalp. Some of his mates weren’t so lucky. Herb helped bury friends from home, Bricky Davis and Harold Lewis, side-by-side.

Herb was caught up in the disease that swept through the Gallipoli camp in September 1915. Dysentery decimated the ranks, and Herb and others afflicted were moved to the hospital on Lemnos. At this time some of the brigades were being rested, so Herb did not return to the fighting until December 1915. By that time Lieutenant-General Birdwood had taken over command of the peninsula and signalled that the troops were to be pulled out of Gallipoli. Herb’s company was one of the last to leave on 20 December 1915.

The Gallipoli veterans were reorganised in Egypt. Herb was taken on strength to the newly formed 53rd Battalion. Long marches from Tel-el-Kebir to Suez Canal were gruelling. The 53rd assisted in guarding the Suez Canal transport route. While in Egypt, Herb was promoted to Company Quartermaster Sergeant.

Fromelles, France

The 53rd Battalion embarked for France on the OC Royal George, 22 June 1916. They arrived in the billet area of Thiennes on 30 June 1916. The 53rd Battalion had only recently arrived, when the battle of Fromelles commenced. The objective of the offensive was to bring down Sugar Loaf, a raised German position. A bombardment began 19 July 1916. Its purpose was to incapacitate the German trenches in preparation for infantry attack. Unfortunately, the Germans were well prepared for the Allied attacks and had pulled their troops back. When Herb and the men of the 53rd Battalion went ‘over the bags’ the Germans were ready for them.

Missing

Herb Bartley was reported missing in action after the Battle of Fromelles. The confusion of the battle is reflected in the responses of the men interviewed by the Red Cross. There is no doubt that Herb was killed in the battle, but exactly how he was killed and where buried remains a mystery. Reports from fellow soldiers include information that he was killed by machine gun fire, or a shell; that he was last seen in No-Man’s-Land or in a shell crater.

Back home, Herb’s father, Michael Bartley, had received the news that Herb was missing. Herb’s final letters arrived from France, which told of him being in good spirits and weighing in at 16 stone (102 kg) in Marseilles; he was a well-fed quartermaster sergeant.

Michael had to wait ten months for confirmation of Herb’s death. In the meantime, he desperately hung onto the hope of Herb being alive. Michael wrote to the army after he saw a request in the newspaper to identify an unknown soldier with amnesia. Despite the poor quality of the photograph, Michael thought it might be his son. It was not Herb.

Commemoration

I visited Herb’s panel on the Roll of Honour at the Australian War Memorial, Canberra. CQMS Herb Bartley is also commemorated in France at the Australian Cemetery, Fromelles. His name is on panel seven on V.C. Corner. Herb’s family holds some hope that he is among the Fromelles soldiers unearthed in 2009. His family continues to gather DNA evidence that will hopefully identify him and lead to his being interred in a named grave. In Delegate NSW Herb’s sacrifice is commemorated in the local war museum and at the cemetery.

‘Far away from home and loved ones in a hero’s grave he lies.’

Lest we forget.

wHAT DO I DO WITH ALL THESE OLD PHOTOGRAPHS?

A cousin, and fellow family historian, gifted me with a pile of old photographs when she moved overseas. It was late. We’d had a few drinks. She was about to step onto a plane. I really don’t remember who she said these people are, just that they’re from our Jones family. Yep. Jones. The silver medal winner to that commonest of Australian names, Smith.

These poor photos have been hanging around the house for a while now. They lived on the scanner for a time, until my husband “cleaned up” and moved them from his study to my study. They perched precariously on the edge of my desk for a few more months. But today, I announced to no one in particular, “Carpe diem!” On a freshly cleared desk and in good light I examined the evidence.

Who is in this photo?

There are two copies of the same wedding portrait. The woman is seated, her lace veil artfully draped over the arm of the chair. Her dress reaches just below the knees, exposing thick white stockings and white shoes. She is holding a large, beribboned bouquet. Her husband stands. His suit is single-breasted with a curved hem. He wears a flower on his lapel. His bow tie is white and he holds white gloves in his left hand. His right hand rests on the back of her chair. The photo is taken in front of a stained glass window. Given the clothing, it looks 1920s-1930s.

One copy of this wedding portrait is in pretty poor condition - stained and mildewed - but my first clue is written on the back.

Uncle, Auntie & Bob. From Olive & Ken.

I turned to an old, hand-written copy of the Jones family tree. In one of her rare moods when she was happy to talk family trees, my Grandma had fired off name after name of her aunts, uncles, and cousins, and I had scribbled them down on any paper I could get my hands on in her sewing room. I must have been hauling around these scraps of paper for over 20 years. Slowly but surely I have proved the branches of the tree she outlined for me and added sources to my Jones family tree.

I’ve found only one Olive - Olive Cavanagh, daughter of Charlotte Jones and Patrick Cavanagh. Charlotte died young. Grandma had told me this and I’d put a cross next to her name on that old family tree sketch. Olive was only one when her mother died in 1908. Her oldest brother Allen was five and her other brother, Ernest, was just three. Ernest was sent to live with his grandparents on ‘Eastview’ near Canberra.

So, did Olive marry a Ken? Yes she did. Olive and Ken were married in St Stephen’s Memorial Church, Lidcombe, in July 1928. They honeymooned in Queensland, perhaps visiting Olive’s father and brother Allen. They had remained in Queensland after Charlotte’s death.

Strictly speaking Olive’s husband was Charles Kensington George Gore, but on his headstone, Olive had had inscribed, “My Ken”. Her Ken died young and tragically.

Jas C. Cruden, Wedding portrait of Olive Cavanagh and Charles Kensington George Gore, 1928, black and white photograph 140mm x 190mm, personal collection.

Tragedy Strikes

Olive and Ken lived in a little weatherboard house in Bridge Street, Hornsby. It had a large garden. Ken had worked for the railways for 8 years, so it was convenient to live a stone’s throw from Hornsby Station. Ken was a train guard. Olive kept house.

On 31 August 1933, he was the guard on the Hornsby to Central train. As the train passed Lindfield station, he waved the “right of way” signal to the porter. When the train arrived at Roseville Station, Ken was missing. Another railway employee saw the accident.

“While walking along the railway line between Lindfield and Roseville on August 31, Richard Bateup, a railway fettler, saw clouds of dust issue from under a passing train, and then the body of Charles Kensington George Gore somersaulting along the permanent way in the wake of the train. Gore, who was 29 years of age, was the guard on the train.”

'GUARD'S DEATH', The Sun, 11 September 1933, p. 11

The newspapers speculated whether Ken’s death was an accident, but the coroner did state that he didn’t think it was suicide. Ken had a happy disposition and had had no worries. The coroner’s finding was that “death was probably accidentally caused by falling from the train and then being run over”. He was just 29 years old.

What happened to Olive?

Poor Olive. A widow at 27. With no nearby family, she had to go to work to support herself. She worked as a shop assistant.

Did she marry again? Yes. Five years later Olive married Douglas Michell of Artarmon. It was “a pretty evening wedding” on 21 June 1938, at St Basil’s Church of England, Artarmon. The Yass Tribune-Courier carried an extensive description of the wedding and the young couple’s prospects. There was even a glowing review of the couple’s future home, “being remarkable for its brightly lacquered floors and orange shaded sunroom”.

The wedding was reported as crowded with friends and family. Olive’s brother Ernest had come up from Canberra. Her cousin Bob Jordan was also there. That’s the same Bob who was named on Olive’s first wedding portrait. (Bob is also the chubby baby in the photo collage at the top of this post.) I wish I knew whether my grandmother went to the wedding. She would have been 13.

solving the Mystery

Most importantly there was a description of what the bride wore. A golden coronet. There it was. The clue I needed, to discover the identity of the woman in the photo. The frock colour could be described as rust. I wish I could see the front of the dress to see the rhinestone-studded bodice.

Here’s a research tip.

Read wedding notices carefully.

In Olive’s two wedding notices, as well as the descriptions of dress, which helped me identify her photographs, many names were mentioned. I was able to identify family connections and the places people lived at the time. Inferences could be made too about people who were not mentioned, like Olive’s father. He did not walk her down the aisle. The descriptions of the parties and gifts can tell a lot about the socio-economic status of the couple and their families.

Du Barry Studios Sydney, Wedding portrait of Olive Michell, 1938, colour-tinted photograph 195mm x 245mm, personal collection.

Family Connections

Olive and her brothers were my grandmother Nola Gwenneth Jones’s first cousins, making them my first cousins twice removed.

Bob Jordan was also my grandmother’s cousin, son of Nellie Jones, one of Charlotte’s sisters. Charlotte and Nellie were just two of Robert Leslie Jones’ 10 children.

Olive’s brother, Ernest (1904-1993) was a grazier most of his life. He was a chairman of the ACT Bush Fire Council with which he served 55 years. He was awarded an MBE in 1968 for community service. If you go to the Canberra suburb of Gungahlin you will find a street named after him, Ernest Cavanagh Street.

If you’re a Jones descendant too, please leave a comment below, or contact me.

The Maitland embarked 199 convicts in August 1843. The convicts were “embarked from the hulks at Deptford, Woolwich, Chatham, Portsmouth, and Plymouth”. Other passengers on this ship included the incoming superintendent of Norfolk Island, Major Joseph Childs, his servants and their families. There were two assistant superintendents and six overseers of convicts. “Eighty-two rank and file of the 51st regiment” were also on their way to Norfolk Island. The master of the Maitland was George Thompson. The surgeon superintendent was Dr Allan McLaren. After collecting all passengers and convicts the Maitland left Plymouth on the 1st September 1843.

By the 1840s, convict voyages from England to Australia generally took about four months. Ship’s master, George Thompson, planned not to stop en route, if he could help it. However, circumstances on the Maitland determined that they did stop at Cape Town, around the 17th November 1843. Two sick soldiers were offloaded to hospital at Simon’s Bay. The ship was also beset with an outbreak of scurvy and water supplies were low.

What did the Surgeon-Superintendent do on a convict ship?

Prior to putting in at Simon’s Bay, Dr McLaren had been treating nine patients for scurvy, testing three different treatment regimens. McLaren reported that all patients seemed to improve, and he could not favour one treatment over the others. The time in port, where the diet was supplemented with fresh vegetables, did more for the patients than any experimental treatment. A sufferer of scurvy, Thomas Bramich, “an indolent prisoner”, who had somehow conspired to stay below decks for months, “enjoyed the benefit of fresh meat and vegetables for eleven days”. Bramich was well enough to be discharged after the stop at the Cape.

The sickness and death rates were typical of the convict voyages in the latter days of transportation. Dr McLaren described in detail twenty cases of illness in both soldiers and convicts, but overall, he dealt with 165 illnesses and injuries. There were four deaths during the voyage of the Maitland to Norfolk Island; all convicts. George Hughes died of synochus (fever). Cork Lindo, who refused to eat, died of diarrhoea. Henry Smith died of croup. John Herne died of pneumonia, complicated by scurvy, barely a week out from the Maitland’s arrival in Sydney on the 12th January 1844.

In January 1844, the transfer of the management of the Norfolk Island penal settlement from the colony of New South Wales to Van Diemen’s Land was not yet finalised. Accordingly, Mr Thompson felt the need to put in at Sydney for orders. However, for the first time the convicts were not disembarked nor transferred to a smaller inter-colony transport. They continued aboard the Maitland and arrived in Norfolk Island on 7 February 1844. The voyage had lasted 159 days; about a month longer than usual, given the stops at Cape Town and Sydney.

In 1842, Lord Stanley had addressed a despatch to the Lieutenant-Governor of Van Diemen’s Land, Sir John Franklin. This despatch laid out the plan for the convict system in the latter years of transportation. There would be “five stages through which a convict will have to pass…1. Detention at Norfolk Island. 2. The Probationary Gang. 3. The Probation Passes. 4. Tickets-of-Leave; and, 5. Pardons.” The Maitland voyage was the first to implement this new system in its entirety. In line with Lord Stanley’s despatch, these men were selected to serve detention on Norfolk Island as the first stage of their convict lives, because “detention in Norfolk Island will be the invariable consequence of all sentences of transportation for life”.

Most convicts sent to Australia were serving sentences of seven years. The Maitland’s convicts were predominantly serving sentences of life. The shortest sentence was sixteen years, that of James Stanyer Wilson, convicted at Staffordshire Assizes for burglary. The Maitland men’s crimes included rape, murder, violent robbery, forgery, and fraud. They had been particularly selected for this voyage.

Lord Stanley’s despatch had also included the directive that Alexander Maconochie was to be replaced. Maconochie, since 1840, had been trialling prison reform. He had implemented a “Marks System” where good behaviour was rewarded with tally marks that could ultimately shorten a prisoner’s sentence or, in the short term, buy “luxury” items such as pen and paper to record their experiences. Treating the worst of the worst convicts humanely was not much in favour, neither in the colonies of New South Wales or Van Diemen’s Land, nor back in England. He was particularly derided for allowing the prisoners a holiday on Queen Victoria’s birthday.

The Maitland brought a new superintendent to Norfolk Island; a military man, Major Joseph Childs. As Maconochie embarked on the Maitland with hundreds of convicts he had approved to be transferred to Van Diemen’s Land, for the next stage of their convict lives, Childs got straight to work. He re-built the gallows. He ordered the convicts’ vegetable gardens destroyed. Childs was “a dull, vacillating military hack, distinguished only by his severity.”

It is unclear whether the Maitland convicts had any expectations of what their life would be like on Norfolk Island. Dr McLaren opined in his summary of the voyage that the outbreaks of scurvy were related to the “depressing passions” felt by the prisoners leaving their friends forever and the prisoners’ thoughts about the “bad odour Norfolk Island was held in”. If they had heard of Maconochie’s “experiment” in penal reform, they may have fostered some hope that good behaviour would be rewarded. Unfortunately, any hopes the men may have had of humane treatment on Norfolk Island departed on the ship which had brought them.

This Essay was originally written for the Convicts in Context unit of the Diploma of Family History, University of Tasmania. If you would like a copy of the fully footnoted version of this biography, please contact me.

Patrick Joyce was nicked.

Conviction 

Patrick Joyce and his erstwhile getaway man, Isaac Saynor, were brought before a magistrate at the Yorkshire Quarter Sessions, held at Sheffield on the 26 March 1835. Charged with larceny, the justice made out the elements of the offence thus:

“That Patrick Joyce late of Wakefield in the West Riding of the County of York Labourer and Isaac Saynor late of the same place Labourer on the eighteenth day of February…at the Parish of Sheffield in the West Riding of the County of York one cheese of the value of ten shillings and twenty pounds weight of cheese of the value of ten shillings of the goods and Chattels of one Matthew Furniss then and there found and then and there feloniously did take and carry away aforesaid…”

The court found that earlier that same day, Joyce and Saynor had stolen another cheese from Joseph Green. Patrick was sentenced to transportation for a term of seven years. Isaac received a significantly lighter sentence – one month’s hard labour in the house of correction. There are no reasons stated in this record of the trial for the difference in sentence. Perhaps it was because Isaac didn’t actually enter the shop; Patrick was the one who lifted the cheese.  

Joyce’s convict life began at York Castle. He remained there about seven weeks, until 12 May 1835, when Joyce and other prisoners under sentence of transportation were moved from York Castle to the hulk Leviathan. 

Convict Hulk Leviathan

Once a proud ship that took part in the Battle of Trafalgar, HMS Leviathan was now at the end of its life, moored in Portsmouth Harbour.

“New prisoners are made to pass along the quarter deck every morning with their hats off, for a fortnight after their arrival, in the presence of the officers and guards, that their features, gait, etc, may be made familiar to them, in case of any attempting disguise to effect an escape.”

The officers and guards, watching Patrick Joyce parade along the quarter deck, would have seen a boy of fifteen, five feet three and a half inches tall. He had a short, pugged nose, and his complexion was ruddy. He had light brown hair and blue eyes. For a boy, he had a surprising number of distinguishing marks; mark of a burn near right elbow, woman and MN inside lower right arm, mark of a burn on upper arm, man, JJ inside lower left arm. Figures of men and women as tattoos sometimes referred to loved ones or family members. Did Patrick’s parents have the initials JJ and MN?

Patrick would not have been idle while housed on the Leviathan. A typical day began with a muster at quarter to six. After breakfast, the convicts proceeded to the dockyards. Their leg irons were checked as they went on shore to work, supervised by the non-convict dockyard workers and first and second mates from the Leviathan. The convicts returned to the ship for the midday meal, and then resumed their labours at the dockyards. At quarter to six the convicts returned to the ship. Patrick may have attended school and chapel before being locked up again for the night.

The Voyage

Some prisoners might remain on a convict hulk for many months, but for Patrick, by the time he’d finished his daily parade he was on the move again (‘disposed of’ 1 June 1835). The convict ship that transported Joyce to the colony of New South Wales was the England. A square-rigged sailing ship, this voyage was its second as a convict transport. Leaving Portsmouth on 8 June 1835, it had an uneventful voyage of 112 days – no deaths - arriving in the colony of New South Wales on 28 September 1835 with its main cargo of 230 male prisoners. Obediah Pineo was the ship's surgeon-superintendent. He recorded minor ailments and injuries of the prisoners and crew, but no significant outbreaks of infectious diseases or scurvy. On leaving England, Pineo noted in his journal the feelings of the convicts.

‘…strong excitement on leaving their native land, many of them forever. For all men however hardened must have experienced painful emotions on leaving their native land under such circumstances.’

Convict Life

William Henry Broughton was one of the earliest landowners and settlers of the Yass Plains. He had been part of a European exploration party with Hamilton Hume that sighted the area in 1821.  Broughton established a station “Broughtonsworth” near Boorawa (or Burrowa), on Ngunawal land.

Patrick Joyce was assigned to WH Broughton, near Yass. He possibly helped in the building of “Broughtonsworth.” His convict indent listed his trade as “plasterers boy,” so he may have been useful to Broughton establishing a new home for his family.

In 1837 the Yass Plains and Boorawa were on the very edge of the settled counties of the colony of New South Wales. It must have felt like the end of the earth to a boy from the bustling Manchester area. Its little wonder that Patrick Joyce absconded. He was missing from 9 October 1838 to 26 December 1838.

Family Life

From 1839 onwards, Patrick Joyce is strangely missing from the convict records. There is no ticket of leave, pardon, or certificate of freedom to be found for this Patrick Joyce who arrived on the England. He did not die in this period. He appears to have just dropped out of the convict system. Much later, 1867, he appears in Goulburn gaol records (his distinctive tattoos are a match), but is listed as a native of NSW. (I highly suspect he lied about his origins.) If the NSW police had cross-referenced databases in 1867, they might have discovered what happened to their convict, Patrick Joyce.

Patrick Joyce was not one of those convicts who sailed to the colonies and became an upstanding member of a new society. He married Charlotte Holmes, the daughter of another convict, in 1847. The marriage certificate describes Patrick Joyce as a native of Manchester. Over 28 years Patrick and Charlotte had 12 children and moved many times. He was fined for sly grog selling near Goulburn, hunted by police in Victoria for assault, and gaoled for burglary in Deniliquin.

He died in 1883, near Lake Bathurst, NSW. The coroner’s finding was that he died from “suffocation through lying on his face whilst drunk.” This short statement, while factually true, glosses over the truly tragic nature of Patrick’s death. His 12-year-old son, Richard Joyce, was with his father. Patrick tripped, fell, and hit his head when he tried to catch and beat Richard for being too slow getting his father’s tea.

Patrick Joyce is my great-great-great-grandfather. He is buried in Ryansvale, NSW.

This biography was originally written for the Convict Ancestors unit of the Diploma of Family History, University of Tasmania. If you would like a copy of the fully footnoted version of this biography, please contact me.