I have read a considerable amount of Australian history over the years and though The Lieutenant is at least part invention, this fictionalised story has had a more powerful effect on me than has reading the more dispassionate histories.
I approached ‘The Lieutenant with a sense of foreboding, knowing that its theme of first contacts between English settlers and Aboriginal people in Sydney must deal with cruelty, violence and dispossession.
Kate Grenville has managed, however, to write about the characters and their actions in such a way that we see only obliquely the brutality of life for convicts and soldiers, and are spared being made to face the actuality of an atrocity ordered by the colony’s governor.
Atrocities similar to that planned in ’The Lieutenant’ did take place in Australia, with hunting parties sent out to kill Aboriginal people to demonstrate superior force, as ‘punishment’, or simply to push them off the land they occupied.
The character of Daniel Rooke chooses not to take part in the daily life of the new convict settlement, but to isolate himself on a nearby hill top where he establishes a primitive observatory. Rooke’s preferred displacement allows the reader to see through removed eyes as well, confronting the horrors only when Rooke is forced to: hanging a marine who contested an order (this in England before being sent to Australia); the flogging of a food thief in the colony; and enforced participation in the punishment expedition against the ‘natives’.
Isolated here, he is able to forge relationships with several Aboriginal people and to learn and record their language.
Rooke conceals this, knowing that the Governor desperately wants contact between the two peoples and to have someone to learn their language. He is aware, and so are we, that concealment might have consequences. But he also feels that revelation is likely to be a betrayal of some sort, and it too will have consequences.
We see early in the book the dilemma that will haunt the soldier Rooke and that he must eventually confront: will he obey unquestioningly or hold to principles he believes in.
This realization stirs in England when he is forced to witness the punishment of three marine lieutenants who talked about disobeying – potential mutiny. The leader was hanged, the other two humiliated and expelled from the forces; ‘sent into oblivion, …They would never again have a place in the world’.
‘Rooke knew he would not forget. In that afternoon in which feeling had been assaulted into numbness he saw that under the benign surface of life in His Majesty’s service, under its rituals and its uniforms and pleasantries, was horror.
‘He had thought to find a niche in which he could make a life [as astronomer and navigator]. What was forced into his understanding that eternal and burning afternoon, was that a payment would be extracted. His Majesty had no use for any of the thoughts and sensibilities and wishes that a man might contain, much less the disobedience to which he might be inspired. To bend to the king’s will required the suspension of human response. A man was obliged to become part of the mighty imperial machine. To refuse was to become inhuman in another way: either a bag of meat or a walking dead man’ (p. 29).
A little later, when Rooke is offered the opportunity to join the first fleet to the new colony of New South Wales, he accepts, knowing he cannot trust the machinery of life to move in harmony, as he had. ‘Now he did not trust that machine. He did not think he ever would again. Life might promise, but he knew now that while it gave it also took’. (pp 38-39)
These warnings come throughout the book, with perhaps too heavy a hand.
Rooke volunteers to join th expedition to found the penal colony of New South Wales, urged by his friend Silk, a great story teller, who is excited at the prospect of writing about the new land.
Rooke realises that Silk too ‘had been marking time, waiting for his vocation to become possible….[W]hen Silk told those stories in the mess it was not simply to entertain. For Silk, the making of the tale – the elegance of its phrases, the flexing of its shape – was the point of the exercise. The instinct to rework an event, so that the telling became almost more real than the thing itself – that had been born in Silk the way the pleasures of manipulating numbers had been born in Rooke’. (p39)
Silk becomes increasingly unpleasant a character throughout the book, manipulative, spiteful. He pries for information to round out his stories for publication, regardless of consequences. Rooke becomes increasingly careful about what he tells Silk, protective of himself and friends, white and black. Silk’s gaze on Rooke is ‘wordless coaxing’. Rook ‘felt ugly in his skin, clumsy in his attempt to be secret. He wondered if writers of narratives could smell when there was more to a story than met the eye.
‘All Silk hungered for was a piquant addition to his narrative [about the capture of Aboriginal men]. But if he should get hold of the story the way Gardiner had told it [to Rooke] in the privacy of the hut, and make it public, it would be a catastrophe.’ Gardiner would be sent back to England for court-martial and punishment. (p122-3).
In this scene, Rooke is running through the consequences, not of Gardiner’s disobedience to orders, but to his regret at having obeyed them.
Not long after this scene, Rooke at last sees ‘how different they truly were, he and Silk. Silk’s impulse was to make the strange familiar, to transform it into well-shaped smooth phrases.
‘His own was to enter that strangeness and lose himself in it’.
Silk is slippery, smooth, slick. Slid a suggestion to the Governor that Rooke be included in a punitive expedition against the natives to Rooke’s utter horror. Slipped sharpened hatchets into bags to carry their heads back in triumph to the settlement.
Rooke is straight, moves in straight lines like the rook on the chess board, vulnerable to unforeseen attacks from the side. When the final terrible decision has to be made, he acts to save Aboriginal lives and puts himself outside the life he has known, into exile.
This story is based on real characters in the early years of the settlement of Sydney in the colony of New South Wales from 1788 onwards. William Dawes is the model for Daniel Rooke. Watkin Tench, the diarist, is the original around whom Captain Silk is draw. Governor Phillip has become Governor Gilbert. Author Kate Grenville notes that though she used historical sources, including Tench’s works, this is a novel, not history.