New historical novel puts feisty colonial woman Mary Bligh in spotlight

In this case, the person concerned is Mary Bligh, the "trouble-making" daughter of master mariner William Bligh (1754-1817), the one-time governor of early colonial NSW sent here to tackle the corrupt antics of the so-called Rum Corps.

The pair scandalised early Sydney from their arrival, but at least his feisty daughter Mary mellowed, although she probably never got used to him double-crossing her.

It was just in his nature to be a martinet, a man whose word must be obeyed at all times.

Many readers, of course, might recall the famous Governor Bligh having another claim to fame.

For lovers of Australian history, Bligh was hailed as a hero when in 1789, as commander of his majesty's ship Bounty, he was deposed in a mutiny led by a friend Fletcher Christian.

Bligh and his loyal crewmen weren't killed though but set adrift instead in a longboat on the wide Pacific with little chance of survival.

Then in a maritime miracle, Bligh kept everyone alive between Tahiti and Timor, the group rowing on an astonishing voyage of 3618 nautical miles.

About 19 years later, Bligh, now the newly appointed governor of colonial NSW, faced another mutiny (how embarrassing), this time by his army, not the navy, in what became known as the Rum Rebellion.

About 300 armed soldiers marched to Government House to arrest him. And who was there to defend this haughty, but by now legendary figure?

Why, not farmers or dissenting soldiers, but none other than Bligh's daughter, Mary. Standing defiantly by the gates as the uniformed troops with fixed bayonets advanced, she tried to fight them off with her parasol, usually only a protection against the sun.

She failed to stop them deposing her domineering father, but she entered legend through her actions.

Now, the twice married Mary, once dismissed simply as the spoiled daughter of a controlling father, is the subject of an engrossing, well-researched book by journalist Sue Williams.

In her new book, That Bligh Girl, Williams spins a fascinating yarn of yet another strong-willed, untold female character from our colonial past. I'm not usually a big fan of historical fiction, but I have to admit giving this book two-thumbs up.

Author Williams charts the life and times of this remarkable father and daughter double-act by making history come alive by fleshing out the characters admirably.

The author's interpretation of Bligh makes you appreciate why so many of his troubles seem self-inflicted.

Self-righteous, arrogant, unbending with no apparent concept about the implications of his actions, Bligh might be testy and unyielding, but Mary at least gains a little more understanding with maturity.

The English-born author Sue Williams arrived in this country in 1989, but was immediately startled "that so many Australians didn't know much of their own fascinating history either".

In the case of the bullied Mary Putland (nee Bligh), the woman who felt belittled by her father and who she even felt sometimes despised her, would ironically then become his protector at his greatest hour of need.

The book also abounds in historical figures, such as Colonel William Paterson, after whom the Hunter Valley's Paterson River is so named.

After the Rum Rebellion, Bligh, now under house arrest, expected Colonel Paterson would take action against the 1808 revolt leader (Major George Johnston).

Paterson is, of course, Johnston's superior officer, but no such luck, as Colonel Paterson is down in Van Diemen's Land (Tasmania) establishing a settlement and refuses to return to Sydney. He must have realised a political hot potato when he saw it.

And this is despite there being no love lost between himself and another of the rebellion's ringleaders and wool pioneer John Macarthur. Paterson had been wounded by Macarthur in a duel seven years before.

Paterson finally returns to Sydney, but refuses to reinstate Bligh, instead taking command himself to let others later sort out the whole mess.

It's all a compelling tale of a flawed father and daughter. In the words of fellow author, the famed Australian storyteller Tom Keneally: "I love this stroppy sheila."

(That Bligh Girl, published by Allen & Unwin, $32.99)

P.S. Meanwhile, according to Williams, another strong woman with leadership qualities is the former Queensland premier Anna Bligh, who is descended from Mary's sister Elizabeth.

FORMER long-time Newcastle lord mayor John McNaughton has shed more light on the historic Japanese submarine shelling of our sleeping city on June 8, 1942, and its aftermath.

McNaughton's memory was nudged by an invitation by fellow surveyors to attend a tour of sites in Sydney eastern suburbs shelled only two hours earlier by another giant enemy submarine 1-24.

Before that, on the night of May 31, 1942, in a brazen Japanese midget submarine attack, the Newcastle-built HMAS Kuttabul, a converted harbour ferry being used as a dormitory, was mistakenly hit by a torpedo.

Some 21 sailors died with 10 others injured. One Newcastle naval survivor much later lived at Swansea.

Meanwhile, estimates of the number of Japanese submarine shells that rained down on a sleepy wartime Newcastle itself vary between 13 and 34 rounds (including star shells).

Officially, from 21 to 24 rounds probably fell on Newcastle's East End and elsewhere. A number of shells failed to explode or fell in the Hunter River.

City damage was, in effect, minimal although one shell exploded in Parnell Place and another on the seawall near the Ocean Baths.

But the whole terrifying episode was a wake-up call to complacent Novocastrians.

"With the (81st) upcoming anniversary of the incident, you might be interested in what I recall," McNaughton tells Weekender.

"Do you remember Ivan Welsh, a former Lake Macquarie Mayor and MP? Well, he was asleep in a first-floor Newcastle East End room back on the night of the submarine shelling.

"It may have been on the corner of Scott and Zaara streets. He was suddenly woken up by this noise of a shell passing right above his bed. I know this because he told me about it himself," McNaughton says.

Salvos from Fort Scratchley's six-inch guns firing in reply soon frightened off the enemy submarine, the 1-21, but people remained jittery for days over the audacity of the attack.

"Then a little later, maybe the next night, the fort's big guns fired again in the dark," McNaughton says.

"My father was on duty when these shots went out from the fort.

"But Dad was sure, absolutely certain, that what the gunners were firing at out to sea were whales, given it was the time of year for their annual migration."

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