Strategies for Industrial Maintenance, Operations, and Engineering

Charles Koch references the British convict ships in his chapter on incentives. To demonstrate the power of incentives, he points out that when Britain began exporting its convicts to Australia, most of them didn’t make it. The government paid ship captains by the number of heads leaving, so captains jammed as many as they could on board.

To reduce deaths, the government instead paid by the number of people who actually made it to Australia. Once properly incentivized to preserve their charges, the fatality rate plummeted.

There is a saying is attributed to Stalin: one death is a tragedy, but a million deaths is a statistic. In the same sense, the fate of the convict ship prisoners is a mere statistic.

However, I recently ran into an old song called “Back Home in Derry.” I don’t know who sang the version I have, but it’s a fascinating story of one man who survived the journey.

The lyrics follow.

In 1803 we sailed out to sea
Out from the sweet town of Derry
For Australia bound if we didn’t all drown
The marks of our fetters we carried
From the rusty iron chains we climbed through the wanes
The good women we left in sorrow
As the main sails unfurled our curses we hurled
At the English and thoughts of tomorrow

At the mouth of the foil we fell ill to the soil
As down below decks we were lying
O’Doherty’s scream shook him out from a dream
Of a vision of old Robert dying
As the sun burned cruel they dished out the gruel
Dan O’Connor was down with the fever
Sixty rebels today bound for Botany Bay
How many would reach there this evening?

[Refrain]
Whoa….oh, I wish I was back home in Derry
Whoa….oh, I wish I was back home in Derry

I cursed them to hell, as our bow fought the swell
Our ship danced like moths in the firelight
Wild horses rode high as the devil passed by
Taking souls to Hades by twilight
Five weeks out to sea we were now 43
We buried our comrades each morning
And in our own slime, we were lost in time
Endless night without dawning

[Refrain]

Van Diemen’s land is a hell for a man
To end out his whole life in slavery
Where the climate is raw and the gun makes the law
Neither wind nor rain care for bravery
Twenty years have gone by and I’ve emptied my bond
My comrades’ ghosts walk beside me
Well, a rebel I came and I’m still the same
On a cold winters night you will find me

[Refrain]

Related posts:

1. The Back of the Napkin by Dan Roam