The farcical carry on surrounding Stephen's court case has clearly been as embarrassing to Jeffcott as it was entertaining to the rest of us. He handed me a letter earlier in the week to forward to London informing them of his intention to seek a position on the bench either in Van Dieman's Land or perhaps even in the planned colony of New Zealand.
Fisher made yet another attempt to get Sammy Stephens out of trouble when he argued in court that since Sammy's murder attempt happened in a boat at sea and since South Australian law has no provision for crimes on the high seas then Jeffcott's court has no jurisdiction in the case.
(I should mention that earlier in the year I attempted to include such a provision regarding crimes on the high seas in our legal statutes but was over ruled by the rest of the Council)
Jeffcott informed me that this new argument in the case gave him need to once again take leave from the bench in order to travel back to Van Diemen's Land in order to consult with his brother judges regarding the legal points raised in Fisher's new arguments.
"Brother Judges" my arse and Betty Martin!
He is scampering back to Hobart Town to spend time with his fiancee. I don't quite know what the attraction is between Jeffcott and the lovely Miss Kermode. Perhaps she spends the time when he is absent from her sucking the juice out of oranges as kissing practice. But whatever the attraction, the fact is that whenever Jeffcott is feeling his oats he discovers some knotty legal point and is on the first ship to Hobart Town to "consult with his colleagues". By which read "visit his fancy woman". And in the mean time, while Jeffcott chases after skirts, the courts in our colony can grind to a halt.
If Jeffcott should stay here in our colony the one hope we have is that these two lovebirds marry and settle down, making a love nest of the Judge's chambers, so that we can see the majesty of the law at work.
But if he should find another place, or while he is off in Van Dieman's playing the moon eyed swain, I will find myself in need of appointing at least a temporary replacement.
The problem here is that the only man Jeffcott was able to suggest as being even remotely qualified to take the position is Henry Jickling, a man with an air of quietly distracted learning about him. He would be required to conduct cases in the Supreme Court of the colony and truth be told, I would have my doubts about his ability to conduct his maiden aunt to her seat in church. Still, beggars can't be choosers as they say and if Jickling is all we have then a'Jickling we must go.
Reports from a man named "Walker" have reached Adelaide regarding the mouth of the Murray river and the finding of a harbour in Encounter Bay.
"Walker" (it is unclear whether this is a name or a description and if a name whether it is solitary or if he subscribes to the views of decent society and has one, or even two given names) has been dignified in reports as "for some years a resident of Kangaroo Island", as though he is landed gentry. But clearly he is a member of that lawless and godless crew of whalers who infest the island. And, for a miracle, he is described in reports as sober, steady and intelligent, which seems to be stretching it a bit. "Intelligent" I might believe of a whaler if pushed, but "sober and steady"? I have strong doubts.
He claims that some twenty-five miles to the south west of the currently charted mouth of the river discovered by Sturt, there is another "noble river" connecting to a fine and commodious harbour, four fathoms deep, capable of accommodating many ships and convenient for trade and transport.
The obvious question that needs to be asked is, "If such a fine harbour exists, then why has no-one mentioned it before?" That Sturt might have missed it I can understand. Sturt would have trouble finding a fly on the end of his nose. Sturt lacks a sense of direction in the same way that my Grandmother lacks a sense of hearing. But Flinders also sailed through that way and mapped the place. Does a harbour appear on Flinders's map? No it does not. And Baudin also. Now Baudin was a Frenchman, but even a Frenchman could probably spot a harbour.
So what it amounts to is that a drunken ne'er-do-well arrives in town with a story of a vast harbour that no-one else but him has been able to find and the result is that the whole place is in an uproar! So whilst I might see a need to ask the obvious question, no-one else seems to be bothered.
Mrs Hindmarsh, of course, who has never quite recovered from not being able to set the Capital amongst the beauties of Boston Bay, is all in a frenzy of excitement and is demanding that I immediately send Light and a party to confirm Walker's story. It seems that even at this late stage, with the City survey completed and the country survey well under way, Mrs Hindmarsh is expecting everyone to up stumps and head off into the wilds once more to satisfy her pursuit of the picturesque.
All complete nonsense of course. I will lay a shilling at any odds you choose that Walker's Harbour does not exist and be damned if I am going to waste Light's time by sending him off chasing bubbles. For good or ill we are here in Adelaide and here we will stay, no matter what Mrs Hindmarsh may opine. (Or demand)
If a party happens to travel that way in the near future I might instruct them to investigate Walker's drunken ramblings, but only if it can be done at as little a loss and inconvenience to the Colony as possible.
The mad poisoner, after the outstanding steamed pudding she made that was so loved by the insects of Government House, has returned to her true form. We were served some form of suet dumpling this week, the which, she informed us, were "Kirkcaldy Cakes". Kirkcaldy, if memory serves, is in Fife. These things were so hard and dense you could bore one out and make a fife from it, so I see where the name came from.
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