We got word from the Iconic that the Admiral Barrington, with the new governor on board, was not far behind. Mr Macarthur called for his horse and set off for Sydney before the breakfast things were cleared, determined to be the first on board to welcome him. Had himself rowed out to the ship, he boasted, almost before the anchor was let go. Enjoyed a lengthy private conversation in which he was able to lay before the new man an outline of the various personages and dilemmas he would be dealing with, and Mr Macarthur’s own view as to the best way to deal with them.
The new governor, like the first, was an officer of the navy and was immediately christened Old Hornpipe by Mr Macarthur. For a time he was as credulous as Mr Macarthur could wish. But he had been in Sydney Cove with the original fleet and he was no fool. He saw how the colony was faring, as a kingdom run by the Corps and powered by liquor. It was clear from the first month that he planned to get authority back from the officers by putting an end to those profitable rivers of rum.
As far as my husband was concerned, Old Hornpipe’s attitude was nothing but malice. It was a wish to destroy him, Captain John Macarthur, personally. It was an outrage. The man was a blackguard and a fool. The Inspector of Public Works threatened to withdraw his services, wrote long scathing letters to Whitehall about the governor, poisoned as many minds against him as he could.
Old Hornpipe put up a good fight. He called Mr Macarthur’s bluff on his threat to resign as Inspector and appointed a new one forthwith. Was known to be matching Mr Macarthur’s letters to Whitehall with his own, and never let anyone forget that he was, in his person and in his office, the representative on this continent of His Majesty King George the Third.
Colonel Paterson, now deputy to the governor and commander of the Corps, was still useful, and still warmly cultivated by my husband. But he no longer held those godlike powers that he had enjoyed as acting governor. There could be no doubt about it: the officers’ glory days were numbered.
More than once I surprised Mr Macarthur in closed dark brooding, a man who had tasted triumphs and now felt them in danger of being taken away. On every side his ambitions were blocked: for the moment there was no more land to be had, his profitable speculations were under threat, and the thing that he would not call a war smouldered on.
I knew the look of that closed dark brooding. It was my husband with something up his sleeve.