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Let’s rewind the clock to 1803. Picture 49 brave (or maybe just plain crazy) souls – soldiers, sailors, settlers, and, of course, convicts, setting up shop 7km up the Derwent River at a place called Risdon Cove. They were trying to start a new life in a wild, uncharted corner of the world. Spoiler alert: it didn’t go well. The soil was garbage, fresh water was a nightmare to find, and frankly, they were struggling.
Cue David Collins sailing in like the cavalry six months later with several hundred fresh faces aboard his ships. He took one look at the mess at Risdon Cove and said, “Yeah, no thanks,” and decided to plant his flag where Hobart stands today. Naturally, the stragglers from Risdon packed up and joined him.
Now, here’s where things get personal.
Onboard the first fleet to Hobart were my 4x great-grandfathers: William Gangell, a no-nonsense Royal Marine, and James Davey, a convict who probably wasn’t invited to many dinner parties at the time. They had just come over from a failed settlement at Port Phillip Bay. If you’re sensing a theme of let’s try again somewhere else, you’re spot on.
And then, fate decided to spice things up.
Among the settlers on the trip to Port Phillip Bay were John Caryer Skelhorn and his wife Ann, fresh off a marriage at St Bride’s in London and parents to a little girl, Mary. Sadly, John didn’t even make it to dry land. He died waiting offshore and was buried at sea.
After John’s death, William Gangell was tasked with looking after Ann and her daughter. Somewhere along the line, duty turned into something deeper. William and Ann were married at Sullivan Cove on March 18, 1804, in what is now recorded as the first official marriage in Tasmania. Pretty wild to think my family tree is actually part of Tasmania’s official paperwork, right? The big boss, Lieutenant Governor David Collins, even attended the wedding.
They set up house right where St David’s Cathedral now stands (talk about prime real estate). William climbed the ranks to Sergeant, and the couple had five kids. Life seemed golden.
But life on the frontier wasn’t exactly a fairy tale. Farming boomed in Van Diemen’s Land, and William got a fat 210-acre land grant at Clarence Plains. Prosperity knocked… until tragedy did. In 1816, Ann died at just 39 years old, leaving five young kids behind.
Grief, survival, and… questionable choices followed.
In 1819, William remarried Mary Lee (sometimes Leigh), a 20-something convict fresh off the boat. Let’s just say it wasn’t a smooth ride. Mary gave birth to a baby boy not long after marrying William, but doing the math? He probably wasn’t the father. Colonial paperwork is sketchy, so we can’t say for sure. But the timelines don’t quite add up. Their marriage? Rocky at best. Mary ran away twice and got three months in prison each time. You have to wonder? Was it love, necessity, survival… or just a hot mess of all three?
Still, they kept at it. Mary ended up raising 12 kids. Her 7 with William and the 5 from his first marriage. If that’s not hardcore, I don’t know what is. Mary didn’t even get her ticket of leave (basically, freedom papers) until 1843. That’s 25 years after she arrived. Imagine being legally stuck that long.
As for the ending to this rollercoaster of a love story — stay tuned. The next chapter about Mary Lee is coming soon, and trust me, it’s got even more drama.
Picture: William Gangell’s marriage recording.
Was life in early Tasmania really about building a new society… or was it more about surviving one brutal mistake after another and calling it “progress”?