On Monday 30 November 1835, a murder occurred near Campbell Town, but it took several months, some corrupt falsehoods, and a good deal of luck, to capture the perpetrator. But, described as a ‘diabolical wretch’, the killer died too! His name was Henry Hunt, a convict, and the initial victim was William Serjeantson, a prominent citizen.
The Launceston Advertiser reported his death:
It is our painful duty… to record the death of a respected colonist, Captain Sergeantson [sic], late of the 40th Regiment, (and son in-law to R. Willis, Esq.,) who has fallen by the hand of a murderer. The unfortunate gentleman it would appear left his farm on Monday evening between five and six o’clock, intending to proceed to the residence of Mr. Willis, a distance of about eight miles. Not having arrived there during the night of Monday, nor on Tuesday morning, some alarm was naturally felt, and a search was commenced in the bush, which ended in a very short time by the discovery of the unfortunate gentleman quite speechless and in a dying state, at a short distance from home. He was immediately removed, but died before he could reach the house. His death was occasioned by gun-shot wounds in the body; but no further details have reached us. … His body has been removed to Hanlith, to await a Coroner’s Inquest.
Apparently, Serjeantson regularly travelled that road to supervise work on a partially finished house which he had named Hanlith to recall his family’s seat in Yorkshire – where they had occupied Hanlith Hall for 550 years. Nevertheless, an inquest concluded that William died about seven o’clock from a gunshot to the ‘right side of his abdomen’. That is, the inquest did not mention a supposed beating referred to by the True Colonist in their version of the story:
Dreadful Murder. — Information reached town yesterday, by express, that our much respected colonist, Captain Sergeantson… had been barbarously murdered, near Campbell Town. The horrid deed, it appears, had been committed on Monday evening… The body was found in the bush a little distance from the road from which it had been dragged. The head had been beaten and bruised with some stick or club, and a gunshot had entered the breast about the lower regions. The consequent effusion of blood must have been very great and would have been sufficient of itself to occasion death… the Police Magistrate of the District, had despatched parties in all directions in quest of the persons suspected of so foul a deed, and such was the surprise and horror of the neighbourhood, that a large reward was immediately proposed by the inhabitants, to be given in addition to whatever might be offered by Government, for the discovery of the murderers.
Proving that the crime was not a robbery, but a ‘deed done by an assassin’, Serjeantson’s watch was found in his pocket. Another detail emerged when his horse was located. It had a curious ‘groove’ in the saddle, which was explained as probably made by the spur on William’s boot when the shot made him fall from his horse. It later became known that William had probably ridden straight at his armed assailant, having vowed never to surrender!
This bravery — or foolhardiness — probably stemmed from Sergeantson’s military career, which, unfortunately, is better known than his date of birth. Nonetheless, he was born in Yorkshire, where, in 1813, he joined the British Army in the 28th (North Gloucestershire) Regiment of Foot, as an Ensign, ‘without purchase, effective from 26 August’. Career advancement in the British Army in that era was not based on merit or experience, but on patronage, purchase or sale of ranking positions. For this appointment Serjeantson’s name appears as ‘Gent’; doubtless because his ancient family could afford it.
Serjeantson was involved in at least two significant battles. He was present in battle at Quatre Bras on 15-16 June 1815 which confronted Napoleon’s army. Although seen as a British ‘victory’, Napoleon actually achieved his aim of cutting Wellington’s forces off from joining the Prussian troops. But two days later the opposing troops met again at the more famous Battle of Waterloo on 18 June, at which the 28th Foot was included with the victorious 8th brigade.
On 19 July 1815, a month after Waterloo, a Lieutenant William Clarke ‘died of his wounds’, and so, as a result of this tragedy, Serjeantson was promoted into the vacant rank. Also, as did countless soldiers after the Napoleonic War ended, William went onto half pay, and in May 1823 he formally purchased the rank of Lieutenant in the 40th Regiment. In July 1830, by which time he was in Tasmania, the British War Office announced that Serjeantson was promoted to Captain of the 40th Regiment. Again this was made by purchase, upon the retirement of the previous Captain [Serjeantson’s vacant Lieutenant-ship was purchased by someone else].
After the 40th Regiment spent some time in India, it relocated to Australia, then to Tasmania in 1824. Thus, the local press mentioned that in July 1825 Lieutenant Serjeantson had been appointed as Superintendent of Road Parties, which were convict work gangs. Becoming ensconced in Tasmania, Serjeantson married Marianne Willis, the eldest daughter of Richard Willis in September 1826.
A few days after the fatal crime, the Tasmanian newspaper cleared Serjeantson’s servants — thankfully for them — and also mentioned the reward subscription:
The murder of this respected gentleman is still enveloped in the darkest mystery. It is, we believe, ascertained that none of his servants were concerned in the horrid deed.
The inhabitants of the immediate neighbourhood have come forward with the utmost zeal, and testified their respect for this lamented gentleman, and have already subscribed near four hundred pounds, as a fund for the discovery and prosecution of the assassins…
We can only now express our anxious hope, that the perpetrators of this hateful offence may be brought to condign punishment.
The government offered a separate £100 reward, plus a pardon for any convict that assisted in the capture of the killer, or killers. However, Alfred Stephen, the Attorney-General, made a rash remark that convicts harshly sentenced by magistrates might be invoking revenge. Serjeantson had only recently been appointed as a Magistrate, but had issued a fair number of lashes.
Even so, Stephen’s statement was not well received:
We have just heard some further particulars of the murder of Capt. Sergeantson, which show that the dead was done by an assassin and not for the purpose of robbing him. The unfortunate gentleman’s watch was found in his pocket — nothing, in fact, was taken from his person. This atrocious act is evidently the first fruits of the mad-like speech uttered by the Attorney General, about shooting obnoxious persons in authority. Capt. Sergeantson had become exceedingly obnoxious to some people as a magistrate. He is the first victim — Heaven knows how many more may be sacrificed to the mad counsel of Mr. Stephen.”
Serjeantson’s social standing was certainly attested to by the value of the reward pledges which reached £800 – worth approx. $100,000 today!
Courier, 8 January 1836, p.3.
However, the size of the two rewards, and the possible pardon on offer, attracted unscrupulous individuals. The first was a corrupt convict constable named William Drinkwater. A 24 year old ploughman by trade, he had been transported for life in 1832 for horse stealing, and arrived in Tasmania on the Gloster. During the voyage William’s conduct was noted as ‘very good’ and ‘orderly’, which was perhaps why a ploughman was made a constable!
Even with few entries on his conduct record, Drinwater’s states that he ‘plotted false evidence’, and conspired with another convict constable – Daniel Reardon – to blame Serjeantson’s murder on a free man, named John ‘Lanky’ Taylor. Drinkwater wanted Reardon to obtain gunshot to match that which killed Serjeantson and plant it in Taylor’s hut to achieve ‘the destruction of an innocent man’. Alas, the hut was padlocked!
Even so, it appeared that Constable Reardon had a conscience, for, as historian John West wrote, he had already ‘betrayed the project’. Reardon explained that, after talking with his master, he did actually purchase the fake shot. But justified double-crossing Drinkwater, saying that ‘I made no promise’ to back his plan. Accordingly, Drinkwater was sentenced to two years imprisonment, with severe discipline recommended. Therefore, he was sent to the Bridgewater gang, ‘wheel barrow duty the whole period’. After which Drinkwater was sent to Port Arthur, until a conditional pardon arrived for him in July 1845.
Meanwhile at 20 years old Reardon, originally a labourer, had been transported for life in 1830 for stealing a coat. Before the murder he had experienced a week’s punishment on the treadwheel, and three months hard labour. He was also described as a ‘flash character;’ yet he too was employed as a constable. After the murder an annotation on his conduct record reads: ‘in this man’s favor (sic) for his praiseworthy conduct in giving information of the wicked designs of Wm. Drinkwater.’
However, Reardon did not gain much from this endorsement. In April 1836 he accepted a bribe and was dismissed from the police and sent to Port Arthur for three years. Then, in June he committed manslaughter, albeit, only gaining another year’s imprisonment at hard labour for it. Even so, he was one again made a constable in 1839, only to be sent to the treadwheel that July for three weeks for ‘misconduct’. Then, on 5 August 1839 he was caught in a ‘disorderly house’ [a pub] and was finally ‘dismissed the police’, and due to spend two months at hard labour.
But, this sentence was ‘overridden’ on 9th August because Reardon apprehended a murderer, which earned him a ticket of leave ‘with the promise of a Conditional Pardon on the Queen’s Birthday’. The ticket was issued in March 1840, and the pardon followed in May 1840 — and to Reardon’s benefit it was ‘extended to the Australian colonies in July 1845.
However, another false attempt at obtaining the large rewards came from a serving convict, ironically named Luck. Hinting at Alfred Stephen’s remarks, Luck, who was currently imprisoned at Port Arthur,
confessed to the murder, with two associates, of the late Capt. Sergeantson. The unfortunate gentleman, it appears, had sat upon the bench when Luck was convicted of some offence, which subjected him to punishment, and the dreadful crime of murder was committed, as the man himself states, out of revenge.—The account is scarcely believed.
The real murderer was Henry Hunt. Born in Uckfield, Sussex, Hunt, also a ploughman, was 21 years old when he was tried in Kent in December 1829 for stealing rabbits. For this he was given seven years transportation, which was a relatively light sentence, because it was actually his fourth offence, each resulting in short stints in British prisons for ‘vagrancy’.
Hunt arrived in Hobart on 7 November 1830, and was soon assigned to Dr Gorringe. It then took almost three years before the first entry appeared on his conduct record, when he was charged, in April 1833, for disobedience and insolence. He punishment was 25 lashes, and ‘returned to master’. However, perhaps this was a mistake because resentment could follow punishment with the same master [or mistress]. In fact, Hunt was soon charged by Gorringe with ‘neglect of duty’, and two months of hard labour resulted.
Perhaps yet more discontent mounted because Hunt was ‘returned to his master’ again. Even so, Dr Gorringe had Hunt charged in May 1834 with ‘idleness, insolence and falsely presenting sick’. This earned him 14 days on the tread wheel, and in years to come it was reported that Hunt planned revenge on Gorringe.
After his time on the treadwheel, Hunt was assigned to Surveyor John Helder Wedge, and on 15 July 1835 Wedge had Hunt charged with ‘stealing a fowling piece worth 60 shillings’. A fowling piece was a rifle for shooting game, for which Hunt was tried and sentenced to 3 years on the Launceston chain gang. However, within a month Hunt was guilty of ‘destroying a government blanket’, and gained 25 lashes. Although, for ‘neglect of duty’, on 29 August, he was only reprimanded.
This was Hunt’s last reprieve. Two more charges of ‘neglect of duty’ on the chain gang saw him receive 25 lashes on each occasion. But these two flogging were probably Hunt’s limit because, he absconded, after which he was describes as becoming a ‘thorough bushranger’, and a £300 reward was posted against him.
James Bonwick’s, The Bushrangers: Illustrating the Early Days of Van Diemen’s Land, briefly mentions the ‘Harry’ Hunt episode. He notes, that Hunt was considered the ‘whitest man on the [Gorringe] farm’, which matches his conduct record’s physical description as ‘complexion — pale’. Also, at the time of his escape from the chain gang, Hunt is described as ‘a thin awkward looking man, walks with his toes very wide apart, has a large ugly mouth, light coloured eyes, pale sallow complexion’. Regarding his mouth, it was actually officially recorded as ‘M W’, which meant only medium wide.
Hunt, this ‘thorough bushranger’, was finally captured on the 18th June 1836. James Kerr, a free man was digging potatoes, when his dog alerted him to something strange. Following the dog, Kerr was confronted by Hunt who threatened to ‘blow my brains out.’
He was made to kneel down, but in a struggle a gun went off and caught Hunt under the ear. Alerted by the gunshot, Kerr’s wife, Isabella, a convict, came to help, for which she was described as a ‘courageous woman… in extreme danger’.
Newspaper reports add that she came upon the two men covered in mud from the potato patch, and asked which one was her husband. He answered and so she asked if she should shoot, and so James told her to cock the gun and shoot, but, in her hurry, she lost the priming. Confused, she asked James if she should hit Hunt with the gun, which she did across his shoulders, the rifle butt breaking off with the force of the blow.
Hunt by this time had managed to reach another pistol, which he aimed at James’s head, who told Isabella to hit Hunt with the barrel of the gun. She did, inflicting a deep head wound with the ‘lock which adhered to the barrel.’ In total, Hunt is reported to have received four blows from Isabella and called out, ‘hit me no more I am a done man.’ Hunt was indeed a ‘done man’, he died three weeks later in Launceston Hospital.
Before his demise, Hunt confessed:
I came out in the ship Persian, transported for 7 years, and I have had a sentence of 14 years additional since in this colony. … I absconded from Launceston chain gang in August [1835]… I was going up to St. Paul’s Plains, when I met Captain Serjeantson, but did not know who he was; I stopped till he came near; I spoke first to him, and told him to stand, intending to rob him, and told him to get off his horse; I presented my piece at him; he asked for what; I said to rob him, or lose his life; he said no more but rode up and tried to ride over me I stood still with my piece presented at him, until he came as near to me as the fire place in this room is to me (about 4 yards) and I fired at him in the body; the horse turned round, frightened at the gun, and went off into the bush a long way, with Captain Serjeantson on his back; out of my sight; I did not search much after him.
The Courier concluded that ‘it was remarked that this miserable being would often stop whilst portions of his confession were read over to him, and in a low tone of voice assent to their truth, and utter- ‘that is right’- ‘that is true’- ‘that is correct’. He detailed more of his bushranging, and concluded by mentioning that:
I also went near Gorringe’s, at the Green Ponds [now Kempton]. I had lived with Dr. Gorringe for two years, and lost my finger in cutting pegs with an axe, in consequence of the axe slipping.
But missing a finger was the least of Hunt’s troubles. The shot ‘under the ear’ and the blows to the head, must have been more serious than this bland description. Because while in gaol a pair of doctors performed an operation known as ‘trepanning’ on Hunt to relieve pressure on his brain. But this did not save him:
Annotation on Henry Hunt’s Conduct record [Libraries Tasmania]. Incorrect date.
Over two days in July 1836 an inquest was held into Hunt’s death. It resolved that he had received ‘certain wounds and fractions inflicted upon his head’, but ‘in lingering did live’ until 5th July. Also that he had been ‘justifiably slain’ by Isabella Kerr because she had been ‘defending her husband from a murderous attack’. Her conduct was ‘not only fully justified, but deserves the highest commendation’.
Regarding the government’s £100 reward money, the Kerrs were reported to have been ‘kept out… on a technicality’, because Hunt was not legally convicted! Although, for her part Isabella, fared better, because as a convict, she received a valuable compensation. Her conduct record was endorsed – `Gone to Sydney with her husband James Curr (sic) by permission of the Lieut. Govn., Free Pardon No.164, 24 June 1836′. However, before leaving Tasmania the couple gained only £404 of the publicly subscribed reward money because only half of the pledged contributions were forthcoming. Doubtless justified by clinging to the government’s ‘technicality’.
For the record, Marianne Serjeantson left Tasmania with her children. In March 1839 they sailed away on the Henry together with her father ‘Richard Willis, Mrs [Anne] and Miss Willis’. In fact, the family connection went further; in June 1840 Marianne married Rev. Arthur Willis, Head Master, at Ludlow School, Southsea, UK.
Terry Newman was the Parliamentary Librarian, publishing works including Becoming Tasmania; renaming Van Diemen’s Land. Since retirement he continues researching convicts and colonial citizens of Tasmania. Recent items include a story in the 2018-19 Van Diemen History Prize and three on the Female Convicts Research Centre website.
