The Far Horizon by Gretta Curran Browne Page A

Applications for Land grants would be handled on Mondays – although, as he made it clear in an announcement in the Gazette – he was agreeable to hear and discuss very serious or urgent matters at any time, on any day.
    To Lachlan, his new position as supreme ruler of New South Wales was nothing more than a job he had been given to do to the best of his ability – a job he was eager to get on with.
    And as the children of the colony seemed wholly neglected in their education, he decided that a school free to pupils would be opened immediately at Kissing Point. All parents would be expected to give it their support by the regular attendance of their children.
    ‘And if they don’t?’ George asked, pen in hand, waiting.
    Lachlan paused. ‘I hadn’t thought of that.’ He shrugged impatiently. ‘Oh well, if the settlers are not interested in educating their children, then their children are condemned to be fools … I ask you, George, what sensible parent would not want to have their child educated?’
    George sat in reflection for a moment. ‘I think we must emphasise that the children’s schooling will be free .’
    ‘Yes – emphasise that it will free – what parent could refuse that? So, George … what’s next on the list?’
    George glanced over at the clock. ‘Bed, I hope. It’s after midnight.’
    ‘Is it?’ Lachlan looked at the clock, amazed. ‘Is it my imagination, or does time actually move quicker here?’
    George smiled. ‘I would not be surprised if it did.’
    *
    Before retiring to his room, George decided to take a stroll in the gardens of Government House – not that there was much of a garden – no flowers at all, just dry grass paled by the sun and the salt air from the sea, and some anaemic-looking trees with thin grey boles and skimpy foliage.
    ‘Well, the settlement is only twenty years old,’ Lachlan said the following day when George mentioned the lack of colour in the garden. ‘A wilderness, George, which had to be cut back by the strength of many men before this house could even be built, let alone make a space for a garden. Still, it’s a big garden in size, and the flowers can come later.’
    ‘Come from where?’
    Lachlan thought about it. ‘From India, I suppose, it’s much nearer than Britain … Yes, get your pen, George, and send a letter to the British Governor in Bengal to send as many seedlings as he can on the next ship that docks in Bengal harbour on route to this colony. Tell him to also include as many potted flowering plants as he can spare. India is saturated with flowers, like most of the East.’
    As soon as George started writing, Lachlan gave him another instruction. ‘Write the same letter to the British Consul in Cape Town, they have a good botanical variety there too. Then make sure it goes on the next ship that docks in Sydney heading north-west.’
    George paused and looked at him, a small cryptic smile on his lips. ‘And so we wonder why people assume I am your servant .’
    ‘What … oh, to blazes with what anyone thinks or says. You are part of my family, George, you know that, and they know that – they just don’t know how or why. And how could I do all this without you? Even a lot of my officers are not as well educated as you are.’
    ‘John Campbell is your new personal secretary, why employ him and then not use him?’
    ‘I do use him, George, and he’s a fine and amiable man. Tough, worldly, and he’s been a great help to me so far in many ways … but dammit, George, why should I wait an age for him to write a letter or a dispatch when you can do it for me in a few minutes? All I want is to get on with the bloody job!’
    ‘Yes, my father.’ George sighed, and continued writing. ‘But I think you should know …’ he dipped his quill in the inkpot … ‘that the editor of the Gazette has been complaining to me and John Campbell and everyone else that you are killing his printing machine with all your orders and