In 1811, Major George Gordon was in charge of the fledgling colony at the mouth of Tamar River. When summer came at the end of the year, Major Gordon suffered from sunstroke so badly, it is said, that he went a little bit out of his mind. At about the same time, a curious character named Jonothan Burke McHugo sailed down the river and stepped into Launceston.
Calling himself a Maharajah and declaring himself of noble descent, McHugo stated that he had been ordered to Launceston by the British Government of India to investigate the numerous grievances of the colony. Major Gordon felt he had little choice but to hand over the reins of the colony to this visitor of great esteem.
For a week, McHugo was the boss. The military gave their allegiance entirely to him. He gave out tea, rice, sugar and spirits, lending them at long credit, and set up a court of enquiry to hear the concerns of the settlers. At the conclusion of his inquiry, he declared that Major Gordon ought to be hanged.
So poor George Gordon (still suffering from sunstroke, I suppose) was set to be strung up, and no doubt he would have been, if not for the timely return of a young lieutenant named Lyttleton, who was surprised to find that while on his short holiday, Launceston had regressed to a state of anarchy. He quickly exercised his authority to put a pause on the execution, and then did some investigations of him own regarding the identity of the Maharajah, General Count Jonothan Burke McHugo.
Who, it turned out, to be of no noble standing at all, but instead the son of an Irish tobacco seller.
McHugo was sent back to his ship, and told to bugger off. Not much is known about the rest of his life. Major Gordon was returned to his health, but not to his post; he fired as a punishment for his gullibility. Lyttleton, on the other hand, got a promotion.
Another ship, and another enigmatic visitor: Roald Amundsen arrives on the Fram.