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Van Diemen's Land was an island of stark contrasts: a harsh penal colony, an English idyll for its gentry, and an island so rich in natural resources it was a profiteer's paradise.
Its capital, Hobart Town, had its contrasts too: the wealthy elite in their sandstone mansions, the exploited poor in the notorious Wapping slum, and the criminals who haunted the dockside taverns. Hobart Town was no place for the meek.
Tiger Men is the story of Silas Stanford, a wealthy Englishman; Mick O'Callaghan, an Irishman on the run; and Jefferson Powell, an idealistic American political prisoner. It is also the story of the strong, proud women who loved them, and of the children they bore who rose to power in the cutthroat world of international trade.
From the pen of master storyteller Judy Nunn comes a sweeping saga of three families who lived through Tasmania's golden era and the birth of Federation and then watched with pride as their sons marched off to fight for King and Country.
Hawtrey’s homely wife, who was cordial enough, but seemed incapable of smiling. Reginald had encountered her on his previous visit and had found her a most dour woman. And with such a successful business, surely the Powells could have a servant or two? Did they care nothing for appearances? He introduced Nigel to Martha Hawtrey, although it appeared the two knew each other on a vague social level, having apparently met at several charity fundraising functions. Which means that I’ve probably met
he was the culprit. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ Even as he pretended innocence he wondered how on earth they could possibly have found out. Thomas could see the puzzlement in the man’s eyes. ‘Oh, we know a great deal about you, Stanford, believe me,’ he said. ‘And I’m here to warn you, if you do one more thing that in any way damages any member of the Powell family or his business, you’ll regret it.’ Thomas was in fact not speaking on behalf of the family at all. The family
one. ‘How do you do, lads?’ he said, the boys chorusing ‘How do you do, sir?’ back. Reginald’s smile was just a little fixed now. The boys are Powells, he thought, and they’re boarders. They would surely be members of the Huon Powells, but from which family, he wondered. ‘You’re brothers, I presume,’ he said, looking from Gordie to David. ‘No, sir,’ Gordie answered, ‘we’re cousins.’ ‘I see. And I take it you’re from the Huon . . .’ he hesitated briefly, ‘. . . Gordon, was it?’ He was damned if
expected, just respectful applause as the men passed by. Thousands were paying tribute to their fellow countrymen, who would shortly be off to fight for the motherland. And the troops themselves couldn’t wait for the day. They were ready to do battle now and craving adventure. A ball was to be held at the Hobart Town Hall the following weekend, organised by the Hobart Ladies’ Auxiliary Committee, a group of wealthy men’s wives raising funds for the war effort. With the backing of Hobart’s most
had an ally in Eunice Cartwright. ‘I shall sign him into your care myself, Mr Stanford,’ she said. Caitie insisted upon sitting in the back for the trip home so that Rupert could have the front passenger seat beside his brother. But as it turned out Rupert took little notice of his brother. He spent the entire time with his head out the open window, his hair blowing wildly, hooting a laugh at every sight that caught his fancy. It was cold with the window open, but the others didn’t have the