George BATES

George "Fireball" Bates - refer to part of article on another page of this site: Towns,people and things we ought to know 39

George Bates (1800?-1895), sealer and trader, was born possibly on 13 April 1800 at Cheapside, London, son of a militiaman. After attending the Marine Society's school George proceeded to a school-ship at Deptford. He began life at sea in the man-of-war H.M.S. Warriorwhen aged 11 and saw Bombay, the Persian Gulf and the Cape of Good Hope on naval service. In 1823 in the crew of the convict ship Commodore Hayes he reached Hobart Town, where he joined the sealing vessel Nereus, which operated in Bass Strait and beyond. While anchored in one of Kangaroo Island's sheltered bays in January 1824, he and a mate stole ashore and hid in the scrub.

At first Bates planned to return to England, but soon joined other renegades and remained on the island. His impressive figure, red hair and beard earned him the nickname 'Fireball'. Many of the fugitives, including Bates, abducted Aboriginal women from Van Diemen's Land and the mainland. Using their traditional skills, these captive women helped islanders to gather seal, kangaroo and wallaby skins and salt from the lagoons. Islanders bartered this produce with crews of vessels from Port Jackson and Hobart Town for subsistence requirements, including rum and tobacco, enabling the men to survive in relative ease.

Bates relished his independence and roamed far and wide, living by his own rules. On one excursion to the mainland he glimpsed Lake Alexandrina, passed on the information and inadvertently contributed to growing interest in South Australia. In July 1836 he shared the dismay of other unofficial settlers as the South Australian Co.'s official colonists disembarked from the Duke of York. William Light hired Bates and his women. The islanders' uncivilized appearance alarmed the newcomers who, to survive, eventually adapted some of their unconventional companions' skills. Bates chose to retain his independence and bypass authority. He retreated to Hog Bay (Penneshaw) where he continued to live by trading. In the 1840s he loaded ships on Port Adelaide wharves. Sometimes he helped those in authority, such asAlexander Tolmer, to pursue lawbreakers but his sympathies were with the fugitives, whom he also assisted.

On 7 August 1848 at Holy Trinity Church of England, Adelaide, Bates married illiterate, English-born Elizabeth Mainstone. In the 1850s he joined in the rush to the Victorian goldfields but had little success and returned to island life. Building a stone cottage at Hog Bay he settled into a degree of conformity. By 1870 he was unable to support his wife; neighbours arranged for the frail couple to receive government assistance. Aged 87, Bates was an honoured 'Old Colonist' at the Jubilee Exhibition in Adelaide, where his reminiscences of the lawless years entertained the staid citizens. [see article below - A Kangaroo Island Relic] An interviewer in 1895 reported that the old man's 'intellect is clear, his hearing fair, and his speech good'; he liked reading history, geography and travel books but 'did not care for . . . love novels'. Predeceased by his wife, Bates died in the Destitute Asylum, Adelaide, on 8 September 1895. His remains were buried in the hilltop cemetery above his former dwelling at Penneshaw.

-Jean M. Nunn

I was born in London on April 13, 1800, so you see I shall soon, please God, be eighty-three. I went to sea when I was only eleven years old on board the 74guns, commanded by Lord Torrington. I remained four years in the service. I then joined one of the King's yachts, commanded by Sir Thomas Hardy, who fought with the gallant Nelson at Trafalgar. I remained with Sir Thomas Hardy for twelve months. I then entered the merchant service, and went on a voyage which lasted twelve months. We were then paid off. I then joined an expedition ship, the Stephen Lushington, chartered by the Spanish Government. Remained in this service three years. I then engaged myself on shore as gardener to Captain Bacon. Stayed with him nine months. I still had a desire for the sea, and joined the ship Commodore Hayes in London. We brought out 320 prisoners to Van Dieman's Land, and after landing them at Hobart Town, we proceeded to Sydney, where I left my ship and joined a sealing party coming to King George's Sound in the brig Nearest of Sydney, which had twentythree men and three boats. We cruised about for twelve months. We signed articles to proceed to New Zealand, but having heard of the wild state of the natives there, for they were then cannibals, I resolved in my own mind, if possible, to escape from my ship. In the course of our cruisings we called at American River, on Kangaroo Island. That was in the year 1824. Myself and another escaped from our ship, and landed at American River just fifty-eight years ago. There were on the island at that time five men sealing and kangaroo-hunting. Their names were Wally, Everett, Currey, Randall, and Andrews. These have all passed away. Nathaniel Thomas died on the island two years ago. I am therefore the oldest inhabitant left on the island, and though in my eighty-third year I can see to read without glasses. . . . When the South Australian Company was formed, and I remember it well, in the year 1836, there were only six of us on the island, and eight aboriginal women, four belonging to Cape Jervis tribe, and the rest from Tasmania. In reply to the question how did you live before the colony was formed, Oh ! we got on fine ; we hunted for kangaroo and sealskins. Captain John Hart, of the schooner Isabella, cf Launceston, traded here. I have seen as many as 12,000 kangaroo-skins shipped at once. We also shipped 2,000 sealskins a year. The kangaroo-skins then sold at 30s. per hundred, and the sealskins 10s. each. Things were very dear at that time. Why, we actually had to pay £3 10s. for a gallon of rum, 10s. for a pound of tobacco, and actually 10s. for a common shirt. 

A KANGAROO ISLAND RELIC.

One of the visitors to the Old Colonists' Court last week was George Bates, the pioneer settler of Kangaroo Island - a thorough relic of the old rough days when tbe mainland was a terra incognita and the Adelaide Plains were the hunting-grounds of aboriginals in happy ignorance of the contemplated invasion of the superior race who were to civilize them off the soil. Old George is very proud of having been born in the first year of the century, and speaks of events that came within his own personal observation in England before South Australia was founded. his memory is truly surprising, and the old man's intellect is clear, although he is getting physically feeble. He must have had a splendid constitution, and have been a good specimen of the hardy pioneer half a century ago. He is a medium-sized man, with a frame that must have been as hard and wiry as a sheaoak, and his physical powers must have been remarkable judging from the hardships and exposure to which he has been subjected during his Robinson Crusoe like life on Kangaroo Island for sixty-five years. 

The old man does not say much about what took place on the island in the earliest years of his existence there when he and a young fellow who stood in the position of a man Friday to him were the only whites on the place. Although his memory is quite clear, his keen glance simply rests on the questioner awhile, and he goes off on another tack if asked about those times. About later experiences he is ready enough to speak, and furnishes reminiscences enough to entertain any old colonist by the hour. 

He was shown over the Jubilee Exhibition, and was, to use his own expression, "taken all aback, and brought up all standing" by what he saw of South Australian progress, especially when he remembered that sixty or more years ago he hunted with the blacks over the Adelaide Plains when there was nothing but kangaroos, emus, and wild game of all sorts there. Mention the name of an old identity, and Bates straightway twists a yarn "as long as the maintop bow line;" refer to events of half a century ago within his ken, and his eye brightens as he talks of seal-fishing, kangaroo hunts, and the arrival of the first settlers' ships in the South Australian waters before his middle-aged hearers were born. He was especially interested in the Old Colonists' Court, and identified a good deal there that he had known of in the old days. 

"I landed on Kangaroo Island," said he, "in 1824 in Smith's Bay, and I remember we had a south-east wind. She was a brig that I came out in named the Nereus. She came from Sydney, and I was in the employ of Sir Robert Campbell. We were on a cruise, and when we landed on the island there were three boats' crews of us. We were working along from the Australian Bight right up to Cape Leuwin on a sealing voyage. I wanted to go back to Sydney and get home to England, so I stopped at the island hoping to be taken back by a vessel bound for Sydney. Another young fellow landed with me; we were active young chaps, and were not afraid of a stay on the island, but when the brig had gone in the morning I was a bit sorry. 

Where was I born ? I was born in Old-street, St. Luke's, London, in 1800, and my parents were not rich, I can tell you, for there were several of us. I was sent to the Marine Society School, and then I was drafted on board the Warrior, seventy-four guns in 1811. No, I was not in any naval engagement; the French was afraid to come out. I went to the West Indies, and I have seen some sights there, I tell you. I was at Leith when we went there with George the Fourth, who was in his own yacht. I was aboard Colonel Bacon's yacht. 

How long was I on Kangaroo Island before I went on the mainland ? Well, I think it was about eight years. We used to cross over in a boat and hunt on the Adelaide Plains. I think the first time I landed on tbe mainland was in 1826. I know that in 1827 I was on the Adelaide Plains, that was before any of your settlers had been there by a good bit," he added with a grim smile. " There was any amount of kangaroo and emu, and fine kangaroo at that, regular boomers. We used to get plenty skins in those days. I have known Captain Hart take away 7,000 skins in one trip. We used to take it out in rum and tobacco, specially rum," with a quaint humorous look. The old man told his story with a sort of dry humour and many a quaint remark. 

He continued - "I was three years on the island without seeing a bit of bread or tea or sugar. We lived well on kangaroo meat. No, there were no natives on the island - except what were fetched there. When I went there first there were herds of kangaroos-big boomers - but bush fires and we with dogs soon cleared them off. I remember one bush fire that swept the island. No; there is no truth about what they say of a black lubru escaping and swimming across to the mainland. She went off from Antechamber Beach, but was never seen again. Why, sharks were swarming in those times as they are now. Besides, the tide runs like a horse. I was there. She was brought from Rapid Bay. I think she did not like stopping. The first pig was landed in 1832. We never saw any dingoes on the island, and I don't believe there ever was any there. Snakes, black ones, and guanas were in plenty. Me and a person named Walker set fire to American River, and  the fire went right across to Cape Willoughby. I know all about Tolmer and the bushrangers, and remember Harry Alford well. He was a light, smart, plucky young chap. I got a black woman to track the bushrangers. No, there never was a prisoner (convict) on Kangaroo Island; we would not have them there; we used to ship them off the first chance. One or two tried to stay, but we would not let them. I remember when the Americans built the General Gates in American River in 1824, and some of the old piles are there now. Yes, we used to do a good bit of sealing; there was plenty of fur seal then, skins worth £3 a piece. We got 6s. 6d. each for them. It was all the fashion then, fur was." And so the old man ran on until he was escorted off to see the picture of his old hut and to "do" the Exhibition. His memory never seems to fail him, and what he could tell if he chose would make a rather sensational tale.

See also Heinrich, D. (2011) "The Man Who Hunted Whales", Awoonga, p.50

An invitation [for a pioneers reunion at Glenelg] was sent to old George Bates at the Destitute Asylum, and he felt highly flattered, remarking that he was "glad they had not forgotten the old fossil of Kangaroo Island, but he was a bit shaky in his lower timbers, and could not carry enough canvas to get under way." Old George's intellect is as clear as ever, and his eye as bright— it is the clear eye of a man accustomed to the open air. The old man frets a bit at the confinement within four stone walls, and wishes he could be in his old hut on the Island. He opens his ear to Tom Coward, who visits him frequently, and can talk the vernacular of the bush till old Bates fancies he smells the gum leaves and wattles once again, and hears the wind wailing through the sheaoaks.  

AN OLD COLONIST IN DISTRESS.

TO. THE EDITOR.

Sir — I venture to apply through your   columns to some of our old colonists for a little assistance to the oldest of them all George Bates, of Kangaroo Island. He is eighty-four years of age, and has been here since January, 1824, when he 'left' the sealing vessel he was in to avoid going to New Zealand. He states that he showed Sir John Morphett the country round about Yankalilla, and that he helped in the search for Captain Barker, who was killed by the natives on the Murray Beach. Captain Barker had walked from Yankalilla to the Murray Mouth to correct or verify some observations. He swam across the Murray with his instrument on his head, and disappeared over the sandhills on the other side.He was never seen alive again. The natives' account to Bates was that he was coming along the beach after taking his observation, that he was attacked by them, and took to the surf, but had to come back, and was killed as he landed. Bates and his mate, Nat Thomas, were afterwards sent out as special constables with a warrant to arrest the murderers, but were unsuccessful. The old man and his wife have rations, but are now unable to earn anything. A few shillings a week would enable them to procure some little comforts which at their age they require. I should be glad to take charge of any moneys which charitable persons might contribute, and which could be disbursed weekly by the Resident Magistrate; or any parcels of bedding or clothing left at the Church Office would be forwarded to me for them.   I am, Sir, &c, C W. MORSE.Yankalilla, June 22.  

"OLD GEORGE BATES."

Few are aware that there still lives in South Australia one who, in point of years, eclipses all the old residents of the province, who, years before the colony was declared, lived in it a wild and adventurous life, who remembers the arrival of all the pioneer ships from first to last, and welcomed them in many instances to these shores, and who still lives in the vicinity of Hog Bay, existing on Government rations with his aged wife in a miserable hut. 

George Bates, or "Fireball," as he was called by his mates from his red hair, was born on April 13, 1800, in Woodstreet, Cheapside, London. His father was in the militia. The lad was of a roving adventurous turn of mind, and his thoughts turned early towards the sea. When about 10 years old he joined a schoolship lying at Deptford, and subsequently made several voyages to the Cape, India, and elsewhere. In 1823 he joined the ship Commodore Hayes, chartered by the English Government to convey convicts to Hobart Town. After discharging her load of unfortunates the vessel proceeded to Sydney, whence Bates embarked on a sealing excursion to the islands of the Great Bight. 

On her way back the brig put into Kangaroo Island and took on board 60 tons of salt from the lagoon. Here Bates's adventurous spirit prompted him to leave the vessel and try a hunter's life on the lonely island. He induced a comrade named John Randall to accompany him, and, together, they slipped ashore at night —all hands having turned in more or less drunk—in a boat with three dogs belonging to the captain. Next morning the absence of the runaways was discovered, and the captain, with three of the sailors, came ashore. They recovered the dingy in which Bates and his comrade had landed, and which they had left on the beach. After waiting a day for them to return the vessel set sail, and the two men were left on the island. 

Their landing-place was the mouth of American River, and they had brought some stores with them. After the departure of the brig they set to work to build a hut and find water. The following day they took the dogs hunting, and caught three wallabies. On the third day just before sundown Bates went outside his hut and saw three men on an adjoining hill making towards him. His first idea was that they were black fellows, and he rushed for his gun, but on their nearer approach he saw they were white men. They turned out to be whalers, named Warley, Kirby, and Everett, who had run away from their ship at Hog Bay a few weeks before, and were then searching for water. Kirby had a black woman with him, whom he had brought over from Van Diemen's Land. They all decided to stick together, the black woman proving of the greatest value to them in their hunting expeditions through the scrub, while the boat helped them to supply themselves with plenty of fish and sealfish.  

While hunting at Antechamber Bay Bates and his mates saw a schooner passing through Backstairs Passage. This proved to be the vessel which had brought the ill-fated Captain Barker, who was returning with convicts from Western Australia, to explore the Murray mouth, and   had landed him at Yankalilla with a small party. They took the four runaways on board, and proceeded to the Murray in hopes of obtaining some news of Captain Barker, who had not been seen by his companions since he swam across the river. Here Bates formed a daring plan for obtaining some information on this subject. In the darkness of the night he and his mates surprised a camp of natives. Bates acted the part of the orthodox ghost, dressed in a white sheet, and his costume and dismal groans so frightened the black fellows that as soon as awake they fled in all directions. A young girl of about 16 bolted straight into Warley's arms, and he at once secured and gagged her. From her they learnt that Captain Barker had been speared by the natives and his body hidden in the scrub. 

On the departure of the schooner for Sydney Bates and his comrades returned to Hog Bay, receiving from Dr. Davis, who took command after the captain's death, a small boat in exchange for their services. The black girl was claimed by Warley as his property,and lived with him at Hog Bay, assisting him to hunt. 

While on an excursion to Thistle Island, sealing, Bates found the 20-ton cutter Mary, which had been sent round from Sydney to pick up Sturt if he succeeded in making his way down the Murray-mouth to the sea. It is scarcely necessary to say that the daring explorer had to make his way back to New South Wales up the river, as he could not reach the mouth, and the captain of the cutter was not even aware of its locality. Some change had now taken place in the personnel of the party, Warley having sailed with a whaling captain, and having handed over his native girl to Bates, while two of the crew of the Mary had joined the Kangaroo Islanders. Thomas and Jack (the two men from the Mary) were anxious to obtain wives from among the natives, and the party of five, leaving the two women hunting and fishing on the island, crossed over to the mainland to under take this chasse aux femmes. They landed at Cape Jervis, and walked across country to Lake Alexandrina, having no small difficulty in eluding the natives, who were very numerous. Their method of capturing the women was simple. Waiting until the morning was well advanced, and the men were out hunting, they stole up undercover until close to the camp, when at a signal they rushed forward and secured their prizes before they had time to escape. 

They made four trips with this object at different times, securing one or two women each time, who, when captured, had their hands tied behind their backs, and were made to walk with their captors in double quick time back to the boat. They were set at liberty on reaching Hog Bay, where they in most cases proved useful and willing slaves. One girl, whom Bates named "Puss," from her propensity to scratch the face of her owner when in a rage, lived for years afterwards at Hog Bay. 

As the trips for women increased in number so also grew the danger, the last one they made nearly costing Bates his life. When they landed at Cape Jervis the natives were watching them, and when the whites were three miles inland an attack was made, Bates receiving a spear in the foot, but escaping with a slight wound. 

With so many "servants" to wait upon them the white dwellers on Kangaroo Island grew luxurious and lazy, and would remain at their ease in camp for weeks, while their dusky companions hunted and brought them food. The romantic story of one of the captives swimming Backstairs Passage and rejoining her tribe is declared by Bates to be only partly true. She was a recent capture, and had been given the name of "Bet." On reaching   the island she fled from the camp with another girl, who had been caught in the same raid. They were absent a fortnight before they were found, almost starving, some 10 miles along the beach. On the first opportunity the unfortunate girl rushed into the sea with the intention of swimming across to Cape Jervis, but was either drowned or eaten by sharks. 

The islanders did some trade in wallaby and kangaroo skins with Captain Hart, of Launceston, receiving 30s. per 100 for them. As orders on the owner of the vessel were of no use to them they took their payment in goods sold at fabulous prices—tobacco at 10s. per lb., shirts of the commonest description 10s. each, and rum at £3 10s. per gallon. 

About this time (1830) Bates very foolishly hazarded himself amongst the blacks of Cape Jervis. He had persuaded an old native of that tribe to come over to Hog Bay with his son. The lad died, and Bates accepted the bereaved parent's invitation to go back with him to his tribe. The men would hunt for him, give him wives, and make him a chief among them. Against the wishes and warnings of his comrades Bates went and was received at a grand corroboree, where he was presumably made a member of the tribe by being thrown on his back, and having all the males jump on his body in succession. At first the natives treated him as one of themselves, although they never let him out of their sight, and appeared suspicious of him ; but when the dogs he had brought over were knocked up by hunting, he was left to shift for himself. He fell ill, and the three natives who remained with him—the old man Condoy, a young girl named Sal, and a boy nicknamed Friday—begrudged him almost any provisions. When he had given up hope and lain down to die in a cave near the shore, he was discovered by his mates, who had crossed over to the mainland to find out what had become of the missing man. As a punishment for their neglect of Bates the three natives mentioned above were carried away into captivity on the island. 

When out hunting the Cape Jervis natives showed a mysterious dread of the Onkaparinga River, alleging as a reason that it was inhabited by some terrible animal which would exterminate the tribe if they came within range of his sense of smell. Their camps always had a watch set at night for fear of sudden attacks from the inland tribes. Many were marked with smallpox, and Bates was greatly surprised to see that these were inoculated on the arm. 

The Port Lincoln natives, to whom the islanders sometimes devoted their attentions, were exceedingly unsociable and fierce, even the women of that tribe whom they stole having fiery and determined tempers. 

In the meantime the settlers (if such they may be called) had built a substantial dwelling at Antechamber Bay, which they made their depot, and here they lived for the most part until the coming of the first immigrants in 1836. One evening in September of that year, Nat Thomas made his appearance in their camp, which was then pitched at Hog Bay River, and excitedly told his mate that a large ship crowded with people had anchored off Kingscote in Nepean Bay. This was the John Pirie, having on board the first instalment of the South Australian Company's immigrants. The next day at dawn Bates with his mate, three native women, and several dogs started off to welcome the newcomers, but were received with shouts of alarm and a general stampede of men, women, and children up the cliff from the beach. The two islanders— clothed in opossum skin shirts, and with coats, trousers, and boots made of the skin of the red kangaroo—were mistaken for savage inhabitants of the new country. 

After some time a gentleman came forward and introduced himself as Mr. Samuel Giles, the manager of the company, who regaled them with a good dinner in his tent, and then asked them for particulars as to the climate, soil, &c., of Kangaroo Island. Their reply, that the whole of the island was covered with a dense scrub, was a great disillusionment for Mr. Giles, who, relying on the statements of Captain Sutherland, came expecting a land flowing with milk and honey, and rich in gold and other minerals. 

The settlers started building huts along the Kingscote beach, but Bates has but a very poor opinion of the industry of the men selected by the company. According to him the employes were so lazy that Mr. Stephens had to stop their rations to induce them to work. Hereupon the men mutinied, and were only brought to reason when Mr. Stephens produced his pistols, and ordered them out of his tent. Two of the ringleaders were afterwards imprisoned in Adelaide. 

Bates did some hut building for the company, and also accompanied Colonel Light in his survey of the coast in the brig Rapid. Later on he worked at loading ships on the Port Adelaide wharves, and had a turn at the Bendigo diggings without much success. On his return to Kangaroo Island, a place which always seems to have had a great attraction for him, he tried farming and sealing, and now in his 87th year lives in a poorly thatched hut with his wife, aged 76. 

Bates gives the following explanation of local names given since the expeditions of Flinders and Baudin :—American (properly Pelican) River, is called after an American ship (the General Gates) which anchored there, and built a flat-bottomed barge still to be seen embedded in the mud. Stunsailboom River was so named from the fact of a stunsailboom being washed ashore at its mouth. Flour Cask Bay received its name for a similiar reason, while Hog Bay was so called by the runaways from Hobart for some unknown reason.

South Australia's oldest pioneer in the person of George Bates who, after as remarkable a career as falls to the lot of few men, died in the Destitute Asylum on Sunday last, at the age of 95 years. Although it is sad to think that this sturdy old pioneer should end his days in a charitable institution, it is satisfactory to know that the old man was surrounded by the comforts of civilization during the last few months of his eventful life. Even in the fragmentary outline of his adventurous career, narrated in the daily journals, there is abundant material for the most sensational writer of modern fiction to work up. The last wish, that his remains should be interred on Kangaroo Island, so that the fragrance of the wattle blossom could be wafted over his grave, shows that there was some poetical sentiments in the hardy old man after all, and owing to the kindness of a few friends .the wish has been respected.

• (South Australian Advertiser, 27 December 1886; also in the Chronicle of 1 January 1887)

• (South Australian Advertiser, 16 October 1894)

• (South Australian Chronicle, 10 March 1888)

•  (Adelaide Observer, 2 February 1895,expanded in his obituary on 14 September 1895)

• South Australian Register. In the issue for 8 December 1886 he wrote that ‘In 1827 I was living with the natives from Cape Jervis to Adelaide’

•  15 January 1890 he repeated that he had been ‘living with the natives for some months on Cape Jervis’ and added that he had been told by very old Aborigines that ‘he was the only white man who had lived with them’.

• (South Australian Advertiser, 27 December 1886) that ‘about this time (1830) [he] very foolishly hazarded himself amongst the blacks of Cape Jervis’

• n (South Australian Chronicle, 10 March 1888) he ‘lived there [Cape Jervis] with the natives for three months, but they killed my dogs, and when they found I couldn’t hunt and get more tucker, they all cleared out and left me to starve’.