11 Union Jacks snapped to the attentive wind.
Captain Arthur Phillip glassed the beach.
772 men in zebra uniforms packed the 10 decks behind him.
300 bloody red Royal Marines dotted the herd of convicts.
Arthur refitted his tired tri-corner cap.
For eight stormy months, he had carried the dross of England’s society.
Wretched men, unwanted. Men wasted by law breaking.
The Crown commanded him to forge a colony in the vicious Outback.
He decided to grow a garden of humanity instead.
“In this new country there will be no slavery, no slaves.”
1786 Britain thought he was nuts.
The perfect guy to take 10 boat-fulls of bad guys to the edge of the world.
Captain Governor Phillip was crazy enough to believe the convicts were capable of becoming a community.
And they were crazy enough to believe him.
Arthur sailed from Sydney Cove in 1792.
Every position of leadership was filled by a formerly fallen man.
The heart of New South Wales was full of farms, families and the dawning future.
If you’ve read this far, I’m pretty sure you are crazy.
Crazy enough to believe in a few law-breakers.
Crazy enough to believe in your Captain.
I like crazy.