Category: New South Wales Bushrangers

Articles pertaining to bushrangers that predominantly operated in New South Wales, and what is now the Australian Capital Territory.

Spotlight: The Burning of Mr. Morriss’s Store at Binda (24/02/1865)

Sydney Morning Herald (NSW : 1842 – 1954), Friday 24 February 1865, page 5



THE BURNING OF MR. MORRISS’S STORE AT BINDA.

——◆——

AIDING AND ABETTING BEN HALL’S GANG TO COMMIT ARSON.

(From the Goulburn Herald, February 22)

AT the Police Court, on Thursday, the 16th, and, by adjournment, on Monday, the 20th instant, before the Police Magistrate, Christina McKinnon, Ellen Monks, and Margaret Monks were charged with aiding and abetting in the commission of arson, on the 26th December last.

Mr. J. T. Gannon appeared for the prosecution, and asked that the Police Magistrate would request the reporters not to publish the evidence until it was concluded. Mr. Allman said he had no doubt the reporters would comply with the request. After a few prefatory remarks, Mr. Gannon called:

James Andrew Pye, detective constable, who deposed: I know the three prisoners, and apprehended them by virtue of three warrants; I arrested Margaret Monks at Vardy’s, on the Cooksvale Creek; I cautioned her, and she made no reply; I arrested the other two at Laggan; Ellen Monks said “all right,” and the other girl made no reply; I arrested them all on Monday; they said nothing to me in connection with the case; I was not present when Morriss’s place was burnt down, but I know where the place is situated; I know Hall’s public-house at Binda, and where Morriss’s store was; I have measured the distance from Hall’s to Morriss’s; it is 143 yards; that is by track; it is much nearer in a direct line; I picked up some melted glass and wire, all welded together in the room amongst the ashes at Morriss’s; Ellen Monks had a ring on when I arrested her; it has not been claimed by any one.

Edward Morriss stated: I have at present no occupation; I was a storekeeper at Binda on the 26th December last; the store was built of slabs and had a bark roof; there were store goods in it; I knew the three prisoners well before this, for the last eight or nine years; I was formerly in the police stationed at Binda, in the neighbourhood of which place the prisoners reside; one of the prisoners was servant to me for nearly a year, Ellen Monks; there was a ball at Binda at Hall’s public-house on the 26th December; I was taken there; I had not been to the house for some weeks before; about eight o’clock on the evening of the 26th I was walking in my paddock after tea and observed five people riding down the hill towards my place; three did not come to the place; I saw that two were females; the three who were mates branched off towards my fence, and I lost sight of them for a time; two females rode up towards the house; they were riding two bay horses; I observed them go into my house, and I still remained walking about the paddock; my wife was alone in the house; I was some twenty or thirty yards off; I went in and found Ellen Monks and Christian McKinnon; they were purchasing crinolines from my wife; we were laughing about crinolines when a tap came to the door; I went to it and six revolvers were pointed at me by three young men; there was a light in the house; each of the men said “bail up”; the girls heard what was said; I said “all right,” and the three came in; Hall at once said, after putting his revolver on one side, “how do you do, Miss McKinnon; how do you do, Miss Monks; “I said to Hall “I suppose you are Ben Hall?” and he replied, “I am that gentleman;” I knew Gilbert before; they asked me how much money I had in the house, and Hall then went and searched the house; they took nothing away except money, and I cannot tell whether that was taken then or subsequently; they said I and my wife must go with them to the ball; I remonstrated, and Hall said it should be at his expense; Hall said, “let your wife put on a clean dress;” Hall told me to lock up the place, and I did so; we then went down to the ball; the bushrangers marched the four of us— the two girls, my wife, and me — to the next door, Hadfield’s; Joseph Hadfield is his name; Hall asked me who lived there, and I informed him; he then told me to bring him out, and I did so; the whole five of us were then marched to Hall’s public-house; when we got there we found a housefull; the bushrangers drove us into the house, and bailed up every one; I then saw Hall searching a good deal about the house; he then said “gentlemen and ladies, I won’t hurt anyone here — fiddler, proceed;” the doors were all locked and the keys in the bushrangers’ pockets; all went right for some hours; the third prisoner, Margaret Monks, was in the room; Hall told me that he would not have brought me if he had not heard it was dangerous to leave me outside; about two o’clock in the morning I proposed to one or two to rush the bushrangers, as I observed they were drinking; about three o’clock, in consequence of my proposal, Hall and Gilbert came towards me, and said, “stand you ——, I’ll shoot you;” during the evening the girls were very intimate with the bushrangers, two of the girls, McKinnon and Ellen Monks; I saw Hall with his arm round Christina McKinnon, and pulling her clothes about; I saw Gilbert doing the same with Ellen Monks; they were kissing each other; at Hadfield’s door I heard Hall say, speaking of Ellen Monks and Christina McKinnon, “I have had the pleasure of escorting these young ladies to the ball;” when the bushrangers threatened to shoot me I got out of the window, and, although they fired several shots, I escaped; I tried to get the bushrangers’ horses, but could not manage it; I then went and lay down in the scrub about half-way between the public-house and my store; presently I saw the three bushrangers advancing towards my house, accompanied by the three prisoners; this was about five minutes after my escape; the three bushrangers were sitting on their horses; they were eight or nine yards from where I was lying when they passed; the girls were walking close to the bushrangers; I heard Hall say — and the girls could hear it — “I’ll make the ——’s place pay for it; I’ll burn his house to the ground;” one of the girls, Christina McKinnon, made answer, “Do it, Ben, it serves the —— right;” Ellen Monks, at the same time said, “do it, Ben, it serves him right;” the other girl, Margaret Monks, said, at the same time, “save poor Mrs. Morriss’s clothes;” Gilbert answered her and said, “The —— has got lots of money in the bank, let him buy her more;” the whole six then went to my house and broke into it; meantime I gradually shifted closer to the house, through the scrub; I was not more than a dozen yards away then; there were two very heavy logs there; I showed the place to constable Pye; by the time I got to the logs the bushrangers had broken open the house, and five had got into the house, Dunn remaining on his horse outside; the girls had nothing in their hands when they went up to the house with the bushrangers; almost immediately I saw one or two candles lighted in the house; the windows and door were open, and I could occasionally distinguish the girls and bushrangers; I heard laughing and breaking open of boxes, &c.; the girls were skylarking; I saw the three girls coming out of the house just as the place was blazing up; two of the girls had very large bundles; I could smell the kerosene burning at this time; the two girls with bundles were Christina McKinnon and Ellen Monks; they first came out with their saddles, which they had left there, having turned their horses out in my paddock, and they then went back and brought out the bundles; Peggy Monks came to young Dunn, who was sitting on horseback, and stopped with him; the other two bushrangers came out almost immediately after the girls; in consequence of the great light, I began to get away lest I should be seen; the two girls with the bundles went along the fence a short distance and they then went through it and into the scrub; Hall and Gilbert followed them; they remained up in the scrub, away out of my sight, for a quarter of an hour, and then all four came back together to Dunn; they had no bundles with them then; as Hall jumped on his horse he said “that’ll teach the —— not to interfere with us;” the remark was addressed to the other two bushrangers and to the girls; no reply was made; all three bushrangers rode away towards the public-house; two of the girls then lifted up their saddles and their skirts which had been left near the fence, and went the same road; my place was burnt down; I came into Goulburn to report it; when I came into Goulburn I mentioned the girl’s names; I applied to Mr. Oakes, a magistrate, for a warrant, and he told me he hadn’t time.

The three prisoners said, in reply to the Bench, that they had no questions to ask witness.

Joseph Hadfield deposed: I am a labouring man, and live at the Crookwell; I was poundkeeper at Binda in December last; I recollect the bushrangers being there on the 26th, and Morriss’s store being burned down; I lived about a dozen yards from Morriss’s; I recollect seeing Ellen Monks and McKinnon at Morriss’s store when the bushrangers took me there; the bushrangers took us all to Hall’s together; towards morning Ben Hall said something about burning down Morriss’s house; they then left; the prisoners afterwards left, saying they would go for their saddles; no one was allowed to go, the bushrangers saying they would shoot any one who left; I did not take notice of the third prisoner; I spoke to Ellen Monks at Morriss’s about the bushrangers; I asked her if those were her sweethearts; she said “yes,” or “yes to be sure;” I did not see by whom Morriss’s house was burned; I met prisoners coming down from there as I was going up; on Saturday following I found a pair of women’s elastic-side boots forty or fifty yards from where Morriss’s house stood, and close to the fence; I gave them to Mrs. Morriss; no one was present when I handed them to her, nor when I found them.

To the Bench: I was taken to Morriss’s house about nine o’clock, and there first saw the prisoners; I had been in Morriss’s about five minutes, when we all started off for the public-house; Mrs. Morriss was dressing herself, and we waited for her; previous to going to Hall the publican’s, Hall the bushranger did not say in my hearing that he had had the pleasure of escorting the young ladies; the bushrangers said publicly at Hall’s that they were going to burn Morriss’s house.

To Mr. Gannon: It was about half an hour from the time the girls left till I met them coming back; Morriss’ house is about a hundred yards from Hall’s; the girls were carrying something; I cannot say what.

To Mr. Walsh: I cannot swear that either of the girls except Ellen Monks had any bundle when I met them coming back from Morriss’; I cannot say whether it might have been a riding-habit; we were about six or seven hours detained at Morriss’; I saw Ellen Monks dancing; I did not drink nor dance, nor did Morriss; I did not feel at all alarmed; I am an old soldier, and have been in the police with Morriss.

Mary Morriss deposed: I am wife of Edward Morriss, of Binda; I have known prionsers about a couple of years; Ellen Monks once lived with me; my husband’s place was burned down on the morning of the 27th December; on the evening of the 26th I saw McKinnon and Ellen Monks at my place; they came about eight o’clock; they called for some crinolines; in about five minutes three men came in; I afterwards found out that they were Ben Hall, Gilbert, and Dunn; Hall went to where we kept the money, in a quart pot; we were then ordered to the public-house; Dunn went and called Hadfield out of his house, and we all went to the public-house; I cannot recollect whether Hadfield was taken to our house; while I was at the public-house I saw all three prisoners; I saw the bushrangers skylarking with McKinnon and Ellen Monks; Ben Hall was kissing Christina McKinnon, and Gilbert Ellen Monks; I heard Ben Hall say that he would burn down the —— dog’s house, that he was the only dog in Binda who would take them; this was said before everybody, and in the presence of the prisoners; this was said to Morriss; the bushrangers went outside, and I heard shots fired; I begged of Hall not to burn our place down; he said it was all very fine, that he would burn the place down, and that he would blow out my brains, or those of any one else that went outside, except the two girls; Hall and Dunn went outside; I asked Gilbert to spare my clothes; he said he would; the three prisoners left two or three minutes after the bushrangers; I saw the girls talking to the bushrangers; I did not see which way they went; I saw a bit of a twinkling light at my place, and afterwards saw it burning; I left the public-house, and met the girls coming down; I said, “Ellen, did they put out my clothes?” she said, “Yes ;” the girls and the bushrangers left my place together; Hadfield gave me a pair of boots; it was not many days after the fire; they were part of my husband’s goods.

To the Bench: My husband was not in the store when the bushrangers came up first; there was no tap at the door; they walked in; when the girls were coming from my place they had their saddles in their hands; I did not see that they had anything else.

To Mr. Walsh: When the bushrangers ordered us down to the publican’s I changed my skirt; I did not hear the bushrangers say that they thought it a great honour to escort so many young ladies to the ball; I saw no one but the bushrangers kiss anyone; I danced with Dunn; Dunn asked me to dance with him; I refused; he said I must; after I saw prisoners carrying the saddles I never saw them again until they were in the lock-up.

Margaret Monks was then discharged, and the other two prisoners were committed to take their trial at the assizes.

Mr. Walsh applied for bail. Looking at the evidence, it was by no means certain that there would be a conviction. The only evidence bearing on the particular charge was that of the alleged conversation while going from the public-house to Morriss’; and this was after the bushrangers had avowed their intention to burn down the place, so that it could not be said that the prisoners had incited them to the commission of the offence.

The Bench reserved its decision on this question till Wednesday.

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Spotlight: Morgan (18/02/1865)

Adelaide Express (SA : 1863 – 1866), Saturday 18 February 1865, page 3

NEW SOUTH WALES.

Morgan:— It would appear by the following extract from the Ovens and Murray Advertiser of Saturday, that Morgan has been carrying on his operations recently very near the Victorian frontier:—

“John, Arthur, and W. Whitehead, the eldest a very young man, and the latter boys, crossed the Murray from the Gooramadda Station on Saturday last, in search of some cattle that had gone over into New South Wales. When about 20 miles from home, close to the Gumballah (?) Paddock, they saw a man near the slip-rail, on the other side of the fence. They were riding away from him when he called on them to stand and come back to the slip-rail, covering them at the same time with a carbine. On returning to him, he ordered the eldest to let down the slip-rail, keeping him covered all the time. The young man of course complied, and he immediately asked them for their money. John, who acted as spokesman for the party generally, said, ‘I suppose you are Mr. Morgan?’ He said, ‘Yes,’ and was handed a purse. He then desired to know how much it contained, and was told a £1-note, 1s. 6d. in silver, and a bridge ticket. He also asked the boys, but they, answered they had no money — one of them adding, rather coolly, that he wished he had. He then took the young man’s watch, but on being told that it was a present from a cousin now in England, he appeared to hesitate about it, finally handing it back, with the remark that there were plenty of ‘watches’ for him in all directions, but he would like one of the horses. John Whitehead said the pony was also a present, on which Morgan said, ‘You appear to have a great number of kind relations. He kept them prisoners until near sundown, about an hour and a-half, chatting familiarly with them, and no doubt pumping them for information. Among other things he said, ‘I heard you crossed the river, and have been watching you, thinking your high pads were holsters, and that you were Victorian police, whose acquaintance I want to make.’ They told him they were going in a certain direction to look for the cattle in the morning; to which he answered that perhaps they would not be alive. Before parting, however, he directed them to a certain person to whom he desired his name to be mentioned, and they would get the cattle. He then returned them the watch, the whole of the money, made them put up the sliprails, and said:— ‘My lads, you had better not say you met me here just yet.’ They said, ‘May we not say, in a few days, when we return home, that we have seen you?’ He gave them permission to do so, and they separated again on opposite sides of the fence. We heartily desire Morgan to have his wish in seeing some of the Victorian police. Morgan was mounted on a chesnut horse, which came to his call.”

The Murray Gazette says of this ruffian:—

“The latest news concerning the ruffian Morgan is that, after stealing a valuable horse, he was believed to be making his way in the direction of Kiandra, over the Tumberumba ranges — the police and trackers in pursuit.” Whether or not there is any truth in the statement, it seems clear that the Albury police have been altogether unsuccessful in coming upon any traces of this bloodthirsty miscreant. Perhaps the allegation contained in the following paragraph from the Pastoral Times will explain the reason of their failure —

“We are loth to give currency to unpleasant rumours respecting the police, but when the truth of a report is vouched for by a gentleman in whose faith we place reliance, we have no option in the matter. We hear, then, that a small party of police, who were lately after Morgan, and had tracked him to his still burning camp fire, ceased to follow the game having expended their powder in the pleasanter occupation of duck shooting, and, we suppose, did not care to risk an encounter without ammunition.”

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Spotlight: Inquest on Constable Nelson (04/02/1865)

Sydney Mail (NSW : 1860 – 1871), Saturday 4 February 1865, page 6

[From the Herald’s Correspondent.]

INQUEST ON CONSTABLE NELSON

On Friday last Dr. Waugh, coroner, held an inquest at Mr. Kimberley’s Inn, Collector, on the body of Samuel Nelson, who was shot by the bushrangers on the previous evening. The following witnesses were examined:—

Mr. Edwards, who gave similar evidence to that given at the magisterial investigation, and which has been already published.

Maurie Mellan deposed: I am a labouring man, looking for work; yesterday afternoon I was stuck-up by bushrangers and detained till near dark; I remained at the spot all night and this morning, coming towards Collector, when within about a hundred and thirty yards of this house I found two single barrelled fowling-pieces which had apparently been thrown carelessly down beside a tree; I gave them to the police; I believe the bushrangers were Gilbert, Hall, and Dunn.

Constable Bourke deposed that one of those guns was loaded with two balls, the other was not loaded.

Frederick Nelson, aged about eighteen, eldest son of deceased, deposed: I am farming about Collector, and resided with my father, the deceased; my father was named Samuel Nelson, and was lock-up keeper here; he was aged about thirty-eight years, and had been in the police force here about seven years and a half, and had previously been in the police force at Moreton Bay; I had tea with my father yesterday evening, and afterwards went over to Mr. Waddell’s and remained there about half an hour and on leaving I saw my father in constable Bourke’s yard; he left and walked towards home; I did not speak to him as he was a good way off; I had heard that the bushrangers were at Kimberley’s, and went towards there to see if it was true; on my way I met Mr. Edwards, who told me it was true; while I was going towards Kimberley’s my father was also doing so, but from a different direction, and got near the house before I did; when my father got near a fence close by the house, a bushranger sprang from behind the fence and called to my father to stand, and fired immediately afterwards, on which my father staggered into the road and called out “Oh!” the bushranger fired again, and my father fell; I was inside the fence at this time, and about ten yards from my father; the bushranger called on me to stand, but I ran away, on which the bushranger fired at me, but did not hit me; it was light enough for me to see, but not to recognise the man who shot my father; I spread the alarm through the township of what was going on, and after a while my brother came and said that the bushrangers had gone, on which I went up to Kimberley’s and found my father’s body had been taken inside the house; he was quite dead; while this took place my brother was compelled to hold the bushrangers’ horses outside Kimberley’s house, having before this been compelled to march there, a distance of three miles; when my father fell I heard his carbine fall from his hands on to the ground.

Dr. Hanford deposed: I have made a post-mortem examination of the body of the deceased; on examining the body externally, I found a bullet wound midway between the nose and the ear on the left side of the face ; also a wound, two inches long and two and a half inches broad, on the left side of the chest, and twenty shot marks round the wound ; the wound took an oblique direction downwards; the stomach was protruding through the opening; on examining the cavity of the chest, I found the heart lacerated to the extent of one and a half inch at the anterior and lower half towards the left side; the remaining viscera were healthy; on examining the abdomen, I found several shots in the liver, and a portion of a wire cartridge with several shots in it, which I produce; the shots correspond with those I have just taken from a wire cartridge given to me now; the stomach was perforated, but the other viscera were healthy; the fifth, sixth, seventh, and eighth ribs on the left side were fracture; the brain and membranes were uninjured; the ball most probably, passed into the deep muscles of the neck, as I could not trace its course; death resulted from the wound I have described and no other cause.

Elizabeth Nelson, widow of the deceased, deposed: Yesterday evening I got word that the bushrangers were at Kimberley’s; deceased was out but was speedily found, ran home, put on his belt, took his loaded carbine with the bayonet on it, and left the house saying, “now, I am just going to do my best;” I did not again see him alive.

Thomas Kimberley gave evidence to that already published, and added: The bushrangers brought down from upstairs and took away two single-barrelled fowling-pieces, both loaded with cartridge; the guns now produced are the same; the bushrangers took from me property to the value of about £26, consisting of boots and men’s and boys’ clothing, and a six-barrelled revolver; directly after they went away some of the people who had been brought here or stuck-up by them, went to deceased and found him quite dead; I have examined the place where deceased was found, and ascertained that it is about twenty yards from where the bushranger stood when he fired.

Thomas Mensey, a bootmaker, deposed to having been stuck up by three bushrangers and kept in custody till nearly dark; afterwards returned to Mr. Kimberley’s, when he met the same parties within a hundred and fifty yards of the house; believed them to be Ben Hall, Gilbert, and Dunn; at Kimberley’s was told the bushrangers had just left.

Eliza Mensey, servant at Kimberley’s, deposed: I was here yesterday when the house was stuck-up by bushranger; I went upstairs with one of the bushrangers with the keys to open the drawers; he remained there a few minutes and conversed with me; he told me his name was Hall, and that the man outside on guard was Dunn; I was standing on the step outside the front door when the shot was fired; the man who fired the shot was the man Hall called Dunn.

The jury returned a verdict that deceased was wilfully murdered by John Dunn, and that Benjamin Hall and John Gilbert were aiding and abetting. The jury added a rider strongly recommending the family of the deceased to the favourable consideration of the Government.

Goulburn, January 28th.

—————–

We have been kindly favoured with the following extracts of a letter from Mr. District Judge Meymott to his brother, Dr. Meymott. It bears date, Gunning, January 28th, and the writer says :—

I am thankful to be able to tell you that I have arrived safely at this place, about halfway between Goulburn and Yass. But though my journey from Goulburn has been safe, it has not been without adventure.

I left Goulburn about eleven forenoon, on Thursday, the 26th, escorted by two mounted troopers, one in advance, and the other immediately behind my carriage. I came by way of Collector, partly to visit Mr. Murray and partly in hopes of avoiding the bushrangers who were known or believed to be between this place and Goulburn. However instead of avoiding them, I fell in with them. After having journeyed about eighteen miles, we had to descend rather a long hill winding through thickly wooded country. At the bottom of the hill was open country, and a lagoon called Rose’s Lagoon on the left; on the right, rising hills highly timbered near the base, but increasing in thickness of bush towards the top, where it became dense forest.

When near the lagoon, the trooper in advance gallopped on towards the hill on the right, making signs to the man behind to follow, which he very soon did, and away they went at high speed up this hill. I drove gently on down towards the lake, and, on nearing it, I saw eight or ten people under a tree near the water, about fifty yards off the road, and two drays and a cart, and several horses. I drove up to them and found they had been there, some two or three of them, since six in the morning (it was then past two), having been stuck-up by Ben Hall, Gilbert, and Dunn; the number of persons stuck-up increasing as the day wore on. The spokesman told me that the ruffians had only a short time before lit a fire and ordered him to make tea for them, and they were about to have a meal (other prisoners being found in the cart) when Dunn, who was on the look-out, spied my advance guard through the trees about half a mile off, and called out “Here’s a —— trap!” Gilbert said, “If there’s only one let’s face him.” Directly afterwards, my carriage and the other trooper coming in sight, Ben Hall said, “No, there’s more of them, let us be off.” So saying, they leaped on their horses and galloped away as hard as they could up the hill I have described, and it was on my advance guard seeing them in the distance, that he put spurs to his horse and made towards that hill. A few moments after I had joined the bailed-up party, my troopers returned, having lost sight of the bushrangers in the thickness of the bush. When the police heard who the men were, for they did not and could not know before (especially as they were fully a mile ahead when the trooper first saw them), they were desirous of going in pursuit.

Mr. Voss, a magistrate, came up at that time, and, after a little consultation, it was thought best for us to come on to Collector. So we parted from the captives, who were very glad to be released, and came on to Collector. Mr. Voss, with what force he could collect, intending to go in pursuit of the bushrangers, and myself proceeding onward to Mr. Murray’s, about a mile and a half farther, which I reached in safety shortly after four o’clock.

But the exciting events of the day were not yet over, the worst part remains to be told. About eight o’clock in the evening, Mr. Edwards (Mrs. Murray’s brother), came in with the news that the highwaymen had been in to Collector, and had robbed one or two stores, and that while Hall and Gilbert were in a public-house and store kept by Mr. Kindesley, or some such name, (Dunn watching outside,) a policeman was seen to approach, and Dunn shot him dead on the spot. The gang then made off from the place, and, according to rumour, fell in with Mr. Voss and his party. Some shots were exchanged, and the thieves escaped, minus one horse, saddle, and bridle, which are now in custody of the police at Collector. Mr. Edwards also said he had heard that before leaving Collector, the robbers had been heard to state that they meant to visit Mr. Murray’s.

This news, of course, created some excitement, but I am pleased to say, no weak, foolish fear among the household. All the available men and arms were, as speedily as possible, collected, the entrances secured, and watch was kept by turns all night.

About ten yesterday, the police came to Mr. Murray’s, to escort me onwards; but as the bushrangers were still hovering about in the neighbourhood, I thought it best not to take away two out of the three policemen in the place, and that it was much better for them to stay where they were, in case their services might be needed. So we kept watch, and were all day under arms at Mr. Murray’s, and the police kept a good look-out about the town; but all remained quiet.

This morning I heard of one report, that the gang had come on this way with the determination of attacking me for interfering with them the day before; but another report seemed to be more likely to be correct, viz. that they intended to waylay me and see me safe on the road for some miles with the police, and then to go back and finish robbing the town.

I left Mr. Murray’s about 10.30 a.m. with the two troopers and a civilian who was coming this way, and arrived here in safety. We met two villainous looking fellows on the road, whom the senior constable (Bourke) questioned, but could elicit nothing from them. They were doubtless Ben Hall’s scouts, and I think it very possible these fellows would soon have told Hall that I had passed on and that the gang would return to finish their work at Collector. If they do, they will meet with a warm reception, for special constables have been sworn in, and everybody round is prepared to give them battle.

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Spotlight: Ben Hall’s Gang at Binda (04/01/1865)

Bendigo Advertiser (Vic. : 1855 – 1918), Wednesday 4 January 1865, page 3

BEN HALL’S GANG AT BINDA.

About eight o’clock on Monday evening, Ben Hall, Gilbert and Dunn came to the Flagstaff Store at Binda, forty miles from Goulburn, and told the proprietor, Mr Morriss, and his wife to accompany them to the Flag Hotel, at which the landlord, Mr John Hall, was that evening giving a ball to his neighbors in celebration of Boxing Day. Mr and Mrs Morriss declined, but the bushrangers insisted on their doing so, and told Mrs Morriss to change her dress. It may be mentioned that Mr Morriss had formerly been in the police force, and had gained the reputation of being a most active and successful officer; and it is supposed that on this account the bushrangers were afraid of his organising means for their capture if they allowed him to remain at home. Mrs Morriss was obliged to change her dress accordingly; and while this was going on the bushrangers were searching about the plac and either then or on their subsequent return to the premises it is supposed they secured about L100 in money which was on the premises. They then proceeded with Mr and Mrs Morriss to the inn, and bailed up the inmates, numbering about a hundred — nearly the whole population of Binda. Their object, however, did not appear to be so much robbery as that, of having a spree; and they insisted on the festivities being proceeded with, and joined in the dancing and other amusements apparently with the greatest zest. At first, and at intervals, they searched about the place for money. They frequently treated the company, and drank gin themselves, but not to excess.

Time wore on, and between two and three in the morning Mr Morriss proposed to one of the company to attempt to rush on the bushrangers, himself agreeing to attack Hall as the biggest man of the three. To this he assented. It was then necessary to get others to join in the plan; and one or two were accordingly spoken to, who also agreed. Whether these were traitors or not it seems hard to determine; but just as the plan was to have been put into execution Gilbert was observed to speak to Ben Hall and both to look at Morriss, and immediately afterwards Gilbert advanced towards him presenting two revolvers. Of course there was no longer a chance of taking them unawares; and Mr Morriss lost not a moment in jumping out of the window, and making for where the bushrangers had their horses. As he fled the bushrangers fired at him. He, however, actually succeeded in getting possession for a moment of their horses; but by this time they had got out of the inn and came furiously after him, firing several shots as they did so. Mr Morriss was therefore compelled to make off, and fortunately succeeded in getting clear of his assailants.

The bushrangers now returned to the inn, where they declared that they would burn down Morriss’s house. They then left to put their threat into execution. Mrs Morriss, in her desperation, actually clung to them, and besought them in the most moving terms not to do so, but in vain They said that Morriss was a dog; and that they would yet come across him and have his life. They went to the store, and, after again searching about, set fire to the building, watching the progress of the flames for a time, and then taking their departure.

The whole building and the stock it contained, together with a number of promissory notes, and the books of account have been destroyed, and all that remains of the store is now a heap of ruins.

Mr Morriss having kept out of the way until he had seen the bushrangers leave, now returned; and, having got a horse, left his wife lying on the ground in front of where their house had but a short time before stood, and came into Goulburn to report the occurrence On his way in, near Dixon’s meadow, about twelve miles only from town, he saw the bushrangers camped, and cleaning their arms.

When Mr Morriss reached the police barracks the superintendent was absent, and two hours after the news had come to hand troopers were seen riding about the town in search of that officer. Whether in the meantime any parties had been despatched in search of the bushrangers or not we have no means of knowing; but it was generally remarked that the foot police could very well have found the superintendent and have apprised him of what had occurred, while the whole available mounted police should have gone in pursuit. It has been noticed on previous occasions that two hours have elapsed between the times of information reaching town and the police taking action, and on the present occasion the same period elapsed before the superintendent was found. There is no doubt that the barracks and head-quarters of the force have no business to be at the Old Township, nearly two miles from the centre of the city. The press has called attention to this before, and it only remains for us to say that if this state of things is to continue we might as well be without the mounted force altogether.

It may be mentioned that Binda is a police-station, having a lock-up keeper and two mounted constables; but on this occasion they were all in Goulburn, having escorted in there prisoners.

Mr Morriss had been some two or three years settled in Binda and was beginning to get comfortably off in the world, estimating himself to be worth L1000. He is now utterly penniless, the clothes he stands in being his sole worldly possessions On the books of account that were destroyed there were about 500 worth of debts.

Mr Morriss last evening applied to be admitted into the police force, and to be sent in pursuit of the bushrangers; but the superintendent said he had not power to appoint him, but could accept him as a volunteer. He was advised to agree to this. It is certain that nothing could be better than to send him at once in charge of a party in pursuit of those who have reduced him from a condition of comfort to one of destitution. — Goulburn Herald 28th Dec.

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Spotlight: The Late Bushranger, John O’Meally (05/12/1863)

Sydney Morning Herald (NSW : 1842 – 1954), Saturday 5 December 1863, page 6

THE LATE BUSHRANGER, JOHN O’MEALLY.

———◆———

Mr. Campbell, who shot this desperate man, has received the following letter from the Colonial Secretary. At first he hesitated to receive the promised reward, although property of more value than £1000 was destroyed by the bushrangers; but after consulting his friends Mr. Campbell has very properly consented to accept it.

[COPY]

Colonial Secretary’s Office,

Sydney 23rd November, 1863



Sir, — It has been reported to me that John O’Meally, for whose apprehension a reward of one thousand pounds has been recently offered by the Government, was shot dead by you on the night of Thursday, the 19th instant, during an attack made upon your residence by a band of armed bushrangers.

I have therefore the honour to inform you that on the identification of the body by the proper authorities, you will be entitled to the amount in question, which will be paid forth with, in such manner as you may direct.

In making this communication, I am happy at the same time to be the further means of conveying to you the very high appreciation entertained by the Government of the spirit and profound courage exhibited by both yourself and Mrs. Campbell on the occasion above referred to.

I have the honour to remain, Sir,

Your most obedient servant,

(Signed) WILLIAM FORSTER.

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Spotlight: Captain Thunderbolt and His Gang (06/05/1865)

Newcastle Chronicle and Hunter River District News (NSW : 1859 – 1866), Saturday 6 May 1865, page 3

BUSHRANGING.

CAPTAIN THUNDERBOLT AND HIS GANG.

(From the Tamworth Examiner.)



In our last issue we gave the particulars of the robbery of the Warialda mail near Manilla by this newly-fledged gang of bushrangers, and we now furnish an account of their proceedings since that time, supplied us by our correspondent at Barraba, Narrabri, and Wee Waa.

It would seem that on the night of the day that the Warialla mail was stuck-up, Thunderbolt, alias Ward, and his companions went to a paddock on the station of the Messrs. Lloyd, at Manilla, where there were a number of horses, and took two of the best. Proceeding onwards towards Barraba, we hear that two more horses were taken belonging to the Messrs. Sinclair, they at the same time leaving there the horse they had taken from the postman when they stuck-up the Warialda mail, and one they stole from Lloyds’ station. On the morning of the following day (the 20th instant), they went to Mr. Cheesborough’s station, about twelve miles from Barraba, and stuck-up the inmates. Mr. Cheesborough was from home, but one of the women gave the gang a sound rating for their daring to come there. After making some anxious inquiries about Mr. Cheesborough, they took a horse, a gun, a revolver, and some rations, and then left, going in the direction of Mr Lethbridge’s station.

From the 20th till the 24th we heard nothing of them, but on the morning of that day it appears that they got to Mr. Munro’s inn, at Boggy Creek, when they bailed up all the inmates, and took property and cash from the house amounting in all to between £70 and £80. A portion of the property stolen consisted of rations and clothing, of which they took a good supply. They did not molest anyone, although Mr. Munro bravely challenged to ‘tackle’ each of them separately. They declined his invitation, and, after enjoying themselves for a little time, and drinking a quantity of spirits, shot a valuable dog, and left in the directon of Mr. Walford’s public-house, at Millie. On the road to this place they met Mr. Baldwin, stuck him up in the usual fashion and proceeded on their road to Walford’s place. They reached the inn between twelve and one o’clock the same day. It would seem that Mr. Walford had heard of the bushrangers being in the neighbourhood, and that he might expect them very shortly, and accordingly everything valuable and portly was concealed. On reaching the inn they bailed up those who were about the place, and obtained a small amount of cash, but nothing else worth mentioning. Here they remained for about an hour, where we will leave them in order to give an account of the movements of the police.

It would appear that on the police receiving intimation of the presence of the bushrangers at Manilla, intelligence was sent to all the police stations, and constables Dalton and Linch, of the Tamworth police, were dispatched to Barraba, via Manilla. On reaching the former place, constable Norris, of Barraba, joined them, and hearing the affair at Cheesborough’s, they started at once to that place, which they reached on the morning of the 21st instant, just a day after the bushrangers had left. They then took up the tracks and went on to Mr. Lethbridge’s station, where they obtained the services of a black tracker, and continued the search. After tracking them from that time till the 24th, they reached Millie (Mr. Walford’s public-house) about an hour after the bushrangers had arrived there.

The situation of this house is on an open plain, without a tree for miles in any direction. The bushrangers, four in number, were at the house at the time, one being outside on guard, and on the latter seeing four men galloping across the plain, a whistle was given to those inside, and all four came out to see who it might be. On learning that it was the police, they all mounted their horses, one of them holding up his revolver as a challenge to the police to come on, at the same time retreating from the house to the open plain at the rear. They had all drawn their revolvers, but the police, nothing daunted, gave chase, and came within pistol range a short distance from the house. Thunderbolt fired the first shot, to which the police replied — at the same time endeavours were made to cut off the young lad from the rest of the gang, who semed not so well mounted as the others. Firing was continued on both sides with great vigour, when a well-directed ball from the revolver of constable Dalton took effect on the young lad, entered the back and came out near the stomach. He fell from his horse, and constable Dalton shouted to constable Norris to take charge of him whilst he went after the others. On leaving with that intention, he fortunately turned round, and saw the young vagabond, while on the ground, presenting his revolver at him. He threw himself on his horses neck, and the ball passed over him. Constable Norris came up at the moment, and again fired at the ruffian, the ball taking effect, having entered the jaw and escaped at the neck. During the whole time, constable Lynch was keeping the others at bay, and succeeded in doing so, notwithstanding that Ward, who was mounted on a fine chesnut horse, several times rode between the youth and the police, constantly discharging his revolver at the same time, in order to give his mate time to escape. He was, however, unsuccessful. About forty shots were fired by the police, and their ammunition was all expended. After securing the youth, they proceeded a short distance after the others, but their horses were completely knocked up, having ridden them fully five hundred miles.

The fight is described by eye witnesses as an exceedingly plucky affair, and highly creditable to the police engaged. We hope their conduct will not be overlooked by those in authority. The encounter lasted about an hour, and the balls from the several revolvers flew about in all directions, one passing through the whiskers of one of the police, but not injuring him.

The youth who was shot was at once taken to the inn, and a doctor sent for to Moree, but he is in a very weak state, and it is doubtful if he will recover.

We hear that several volunteers, in conjunction with the Wee Waa police, have started after the other three bushrangers.

The head of the gang, who goes under the soubriquet of ‘Thunderbolt,’ is named Ward, and has been engaged in numerous robberies. He was at one time employed in breaking in horses at the Tareela station. The second is supposed to be a man named McIntosh, and is said to be a brother of McIntosh, who was mixed up with Picton in a cattle-stealing case some years ago. The bushranger who is shot is named John Thompson, a youth of about sixteen years of age, and is described as a very dangerous vagabond. He was at one time in the service of Mr. Cousins, of Terriaro, near Narrabri, and was subsequently employed on the Terrehihi station by Mr. Bowman’s superintendent. Before leaving there, about three months ago, he threatened to shoot the superintendent (Mr. Sullivan), and left the station, taking a horse. He had frequently expressed a wish to join the bushrangers. The fourth man was known by the name of ‘Bull’ or ‘Bully.’ Thompson and Ward are well acquainted with the part of the country in which they have been recently committing their depredations, and the latter with his companions will doubtless make for his old haunts at the head of some of the creeks running into the Barwon, near Walget.

At a late hour last night, we learned that the wounded lad, Thomson, was left at Millie, in charge of constables Norris and Lynch, and that constable Dalton had, with four others, supposed to be volunteers, started from Millie in pursuit of the other three men.

Since Mr. Cropper’s place was stuck up, Hall’s gang had been hovering about the stations between Forbes and Condobolin. From Mulgutherie they took a racer, known as Goldfinder, formerly belonging to the late Sir Frederick Pottinger. They afterwards called at Borambil, Mr. Suttor’s station, where they left a horse which they had taken from there.

Croy’s public house, on Old Pipeclay, Mudgee, was stuck up by a number of diggers. About £30 cash was taken, and a quantity of stock drank and destroyed. The Police Magistrate, Mr. W. R. Blackman, and Mr. T. Cudoll, J. P . accompanied by Alderman Hugson, and Messrs. G. Flood, A. Hill, and Delany, who were sworn as constables with the regular police force, proceeded to the spot and arrested three of the ringleaders. Messrs. Charlton, Broaderick, Winter, Farrar, Christian, and others were soon on the spot to render assistance as volunteers, a good proof that in case of our being visited by bushrangers we are in a position to show them a bold front.

The Ovens Constitution adds the following bit of information to the biography of Morgan:— ‘It is stated that Morgan’s father is an old man, now selling cakes with a barrow near the Hay market, in Sydney; and that his mother was a gipsy woman at Campbelltown.’

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Spotlight: Miscellaneous Bushranging News (21/01/1864)

Portland Guardian and Normanby General Advertiser (Vic. : 1842 – 1843; 1854 – 1876), Thursday 21 January 1864, page 1

NEW SOUTH WALES.

CAPTURE OF A BUSHRANGER. – Intelligence, says the Sydney M. H. of the 5th inst., was received from Maitland last evening that Sergeant Shannon, with a trooper, had, after several days’ pursuit, succeeded in capturing the bushranger who has been perpetrating the recent outrages on the Northern road, including the robbery of the Tamworth mail. We are informed that this bushranger is identified as the prisoner Mackie who escaped from the train near Liverpool, while en route from Goulburn to Sydney. It is expected that he.will be brought to Maitland to-night.

CAPTURE OF MACKIE. – We have much pleasure to record the capture of this notorious villain, through the energy of senior Sergeant Thorpe and some other members of the police force. It appears that having learnt that Mackie was in this district, senior Sergeant Thorpe, with senior Constable Gordon, and Constables McMorrow, Leonard, and Warren, proceeded last Sunday evening to the residence of a free selector, living at Batty’s Creek, near Falbrook, where they arrived about half-past one o’clock on Monday morning. They immediately surrounded the house, and searched it, but could not discover the object of their search. The police, however, remained about the place, and at daybreak Constable Leonard discovered what appeared to him to be Mackie lying asleep, concealed under some bushes of a cockatoo fence which had been used as a temporary fence around a corn paddock. Four of the police immediately surrounded the spot, and Mackie having in the meantime awoke and got up, attempted to escape. He was however secured, and upon being searched a large quantity of cheques and notes stolen at the late mail robbery were found upon him. Near him were found a double-barrelled gun, and also two single-barrelled pistols, capped and loaded, which he attempted to grasp before being seized. He afterwards said that he was sorry for not having made a show, for that certainly he would have shot some of the Constables if he had done so. After being secured with a double pair of handcuffs, he was strapped to the saddle, and after having been conveyed about three or four miles, he made a sudden jerk, jumped off the horse, and attempted to climb over a fence alongside the road. He was, however, again secured, and handcuffed to senior-sergeant Thorpe, who arrived safely with his prisoner in the Singleton lock-up about eleven o’clock this (Monday) morning. Mackie admitted that he robbed the mail the other day, and also stated that they might think themselves very lucky of having captured him, as it was his intention to have stuck up the bank at Singleton on a Court day, when the Constables were absent at the Court. Sergeant Thorpe informs us that Mackie is certainly one of the most determined villains that he has ever come across, and states that it was very lucky the way he was captured, otherwise probably the lives of some of the Constables would have been sacrificed. — Singleton correspondent of the Maitland Mercury.

SUPPOSED CAPTURE OF “CAPTAIN THUNDERBOLT.” – The Maitland Mercury 7th inst says :– On Sunday evening senior-constable O’Sullivan apprehended a man on a charge of highway robbery or bushranging. The fellow captured is supposed to be the highwayman who gave himself the somewhat terrible name of “Captain Thunderbolt,” when committing some petty thefts in the neighbourhood of Maitland. He was apprehended about fourteen miles beyond Dungog, on the road to Gloucester. Mr. Superintendent Lydiard deserves praise for the tact he has manifested in the disposal of the men under his command, by which they have succeeded in ridding the district of the few scoundrels who endeavoured to settle themselves in it after the fashion of the bushrangers in the south and west.

GILBERT AND HIS GANG. – The Marengo correspondent of the Yass Courier, writing on the 28th ultimo says:– Rumours are current that the Gilbert brigade are meditating an attack on a station not a hundred miles from here, as the respected proprietor of the said extensive station has, in the opinion of the robber chief, been guilty of the most heinous of crimes, viz., that of harbouring and entertaining the police. However, before making this attack, let them take a retrospective glance at the fate of O’Meally and Burke, as the owner of the threatened station is well known to be a man of determined courage and a crack shot. When the mail of the 6th instant was stopped and plundered by Gilbert and Hall, two of the servants belonging to the station I refer to were among those previously bailed up, and Gilbert sent a verbal message or warning by them to their master.

THE COOMA MAIL ROBBERY. – The Golden Age gives further particulars of this robbery, by which it appears that the perpetrator is a man named Bermingham, a printer by trade, who lately has been engaged shearing in the neiglhbourhood. On Tuesday, a man was sighted by sergeant Donohue, chased, and captured; and although he is not the perpetrator of this particular felony, it appears that there are charges equally serious against him. He is the man who was fired at by the police in the streets of Queanbeyan as mentioned in our last. The following particulars are from the paper above referred to :– Mr. Superintendent Markham on Monday dispatched sergeant Donohue and another trooper on search, mounting the former on his (Mr. Markham’s) favourite horse. On Tuesday sergeant Donohue, accompanied by one of the Micalago police, both in disguise, in the course of a search for the mail robbers, came upon two men in the bush tailing a small herd of cattle. One of them was seated on a file chesnut horse, to all appearance answering the description of the horse ridden by Bermingham at the time of the mail robbery. Sergeant Donohue immediately singled this fellow out, and an exciting chase ensued. For several miles the pursued led the pursuer at a full gallop over the most broken and dangerous country lying to the east of the Cooma road, and towards the Jingeras, evidently with a view to baffle his pursuer and exhaust his horse. But the sergeant’s horse was as good as the horse of him who led the chase; and sergeant Donohue, after some miles’ riding, had the satisfaction of finding himself gaining on his foe. Being now within pistol-shot he commenced firing at every opportunity presenting, and after sending seven shots after his man he had the pleasure of seeing his horse fall under him exhausted. On coming up to his prisoner, sergeant Donohue demanded his name, which he said was William Dunne of the Rob Roy. Unwilling yet to surrender, Dunne continued to offer resistance, and was not subdued until a blow on the head from a loaded whip was administered by the sergeant, who then threw Dunne his handcuffs and made him put them on himself. Being in a strange country, and not having observed the direction he had travelled, the sergeant was at a loss to retrace his steps with his prisoner; seeing which Dunne became unwilling to afford him any information on the subject, and it was only by threatening to strap him to his horse and drag him where he pleased, that he was induced to act as guide; and thus after a while they reached the high road near the Rob Roy, where Dunnes’ relations reside. Here the sergeant made the prisoner lie down in the road, in sight of his father’s house, and kept sentry over him with his loaded revolvers, forbidding any one to approach the spot. Ultimately the other police, three in number, who had been scouring the bush in different directions. came up, and the prisoner was then securely escorted to Queanbeyan. There are several charges against the prisoner of horse and cattle stealing; and in addition to these he will be charged with being an accomplice of Bermingham in the robbery of the Cooma mail. The chestnut horse he was riding is said to be the one ridden by Bermingham when the mail was stuck up by him and there are other evidences of Dunne’s being a participator in that robbery. Dunne is said to be one of the best riders in these districts; and his first remark on being overtaken by the sergeant was to the effect that he was the first man who had ever overtaken him in pursuit. He also admitted that the shots fired after him all went close by him, and one even passed through his hair, yet he would not surrender till compelled. Doubtless the success of this capture is mainly owing to the fleet and enduring horse ridden by sergeant Donohue, who assured us that with one of the ordinary horses of the service he could never have kept sight of his prisoner. The merit of the arrest, however, belongs entirely to sergeant Donohue; and his success shows plainly that if we are to have bushranging suppressed it must be by the services of men qualified as he is, and by no others. Sergeant Donohue has long been accustomed to rough bush riding, having been for some time superintendent of cattle stations. Light in weight, of an active and determined character, and a thorough horseman, he is just the man for his work. -– Last night the police returned to town, having recovered the whole of the bags, which they found off the road near the scene of the robbery. The bags had all been ransacked, and every letter opened – their contents lying scattered around. There was no money left, of course, but several cheques were recovered amongst the letters and papers gathered up by the police.

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BUSHRANGING AND OUR POLICE SYSTEM (Part Twelve)

Empire (Sydney, NSW : 1850 – 1875), Thursday 12 December 1867, page 2

BUSHRANGING AND OUR POLICE SYSTEM.

BY A NATIVE TROOPER.

PART XII

PROSPECTING FOR TRACKS.  

After going some seven or eight miles in the scrub at the base of the mountain and being scratched and torn to pieces we resolved to get out again, as it was near night and not a blade of grass to be seen to feed the horses. We came out and ran round some eight or nine miles further where we camped at about 8 o’clock near some good grass and water. Next day we tried another place, and came out on the marked tree line with plenty of grass all through, and a shade too much water, for at night we had to place stones and sticks to sleep on — a bed I can recommend for making people weak. We kept on scouring till we came to a shod track. This we followed hopefully till it led towards a station where the ground was covered with all sorts and sizes of horse-shoe tracks. Ac cording to our information from the S. C. at Narrabri there must be a great many bushrangers out in this direction. At last we selected one track, and followed it many miles, hoping it would lead to the particular haunt of Ward (Thunderbolt). His track did not go to the stations but shied off as if out of sight. I felt persuaded this track was that of Mr. Ward coming down from Gallathera Plains to see his wife, who was stopping at a sheep station with a half-caste shepherdess. But I did not then exactly know the spot, although I had traced her out in that direction. We lost the track at last on a short grassy flat — the worst possible place for tracking.

Having run out of rations we made across to Barraba to see our other two Braidwood police, and to see if we could not form a plan to work in conjunction with each other. We arrived at Barraba half starved.

There was a police station there but no feed for horses. We stopped there two days to spell the horses. We formed a plan; the tracker was to go with one trooper, and the other was going with me. We were to meet again in three days at one of Mr. Lloyd’s sheep stations— some forty miles off.

A NOVEL SPECTACLE.

The second day we came to a sheep station hut, and out came a great big half-caste gin, as surly as you please, who told us plump we were after Thunderbolt, but were fortunately off the scent. She poked all sorts of fun at us which we took in good humour, and went away in a different direction to our meeting place. But we had not got a mile away before we heard a row behind us. It was a clear ground, and on looking back, lo and behold there were two big gins coming racing mad after us on stock horses, standing up in the stirrups, their petticoats flapping in the wind. They both sat astride over the saddle.

They pulled us up. The big one came close and said she would introduce us to her cousin Mary, who had just come home, having been away to see her father, and now she wanted a husband. This cousin Mary did not come nearer than two hundred yards, so we were unable, having no opera glass, to look at her charms. We saw she kept eyeing us, with her horse reined up on the spur ready for a charge. This was done to see if we knew her.

THUNDERBOLT’S WIFE.

I became suspicious and surmised we were near the presence of Mrs. Captain Thunderbolt. As soon as she reined up we became suspicious, the more so when she eyed us over with such curiosity; but we said nothing as we wished to make her believe we were gulled. So I told the big gin that I wanted a wife, and would be glad of an introduction. After a good deal of persuasion the lady came up when my mate introduced me to her as Mr. MacGatterie, and I introduced my mate as Mr. Squatter Dixon. I saw the lady eyeing me very closely all the time they stopped with us. I saw she had a suspicion that I knew her, and we had a job to get away from them. They would insist on our going back with them and have breakfast, but urgent business called us away. They watched us for miles, and it was not till we got in a thick scrub that we turned towards our place of meeting. We knew the direction and came to it all right. Our mates were not there, so we left word we would be at a certain place next night. We got some rations and went back to watch the gins; but we discovered they had watched us all the time. They came on us two miles from the hut. They told us where we camped, and where we got our dinner, and that we had come back to watch them. We saw we were check-mated, but did not let on. We had only then to consider how we could profit by our discovery, so we determined to stop in the hut that night, and pump them all we could. I found out it was the Captain’s lady, and a little more to, so we went to meet our mates but they did not come. To give the gins the slip we went across the mountains to Narrabri, seventy miles, and came out splendidly on a good road and in the midst of plenty of grass. I came across a friend of mine so we gave the horses a day’s spree. This friend put me up to a trick or two, and kindly offered to go out and show me one of Ward’s camping places. But I could not get a horse for my friend. He told me there were two of his horses at Ward’s camp, but I could not get a horse for him to go with us after them, and it was necessary that he should show us the road. So I got a direction, went out, but could not find the place. As I had to appear at the assizes in Sydney with reference to some of the Braidwood cases I told my friend and a few of his acquaintances to keep an eye on matters, and that I would be back before long. We had a scour through the mountains and became so familiar with them that we arrived at Barraba by a new route. In fact we could go through the mountains anywhere. We found our two mates at Barraba, where they had been delayed by the fancy colt — the quiet horse — which had thrown his rider unawares. One of the chaps want into Tamworth to see about getting some feed for our horses and a fresh horse for himself, but it was no go.

As I had to leave for Sydney soon I took the rest of the men, meaning to try once more and work my way into Tamworth. We came back to the gins’ hut and there I met a friend who told me Thunderbolt had gone down to Murrurundi, to stick the mail up; and the gin had gone to a certain place to meet him coming back. So I told the other chaps he had gone down but they would not believe me. I, therefore, started at once for Tamworth, taking the tracker with me — determined to get a fresh horse and to push on, as it was on my road to Sydney. Before I got in I met two police coming along the road who told me the mail was stuck up. This made me push on to the office where I asked for another horse —but there was none, of course — and they told me positively it was not Ward who had stuck up the mail but two boys. Putting two and two together I knew this to be false and told them so; but they were sure of it. I know, as far as circumstantial evidence can go, that it was Ward and not two boys — two boys, how absurd!c who stuck up that mail, for I was told on my way down all about it. And I also found out that if I could get back soon, I should be able to capture him. I had learnt a great deal about him, more than the stationary police could dream of. So certain was I that, although my resignation was in and the notice expired, I decided upon withdrawing it if I could go back to the north as soon as the Braidwood cases had been disposed of in Sydney. I applied, bona fide, to the Inspector-General of Police. My application was refused. If the Inspector-General was made aware of my application, he may have sent for me and asked my reason for wishing specially to withdraw my resignation to go to the North. I would have told him; but my mind is satisfied that the Inspector-General knew little of it except as a matter of form, and, as a matter of form, if at all, so placed before him. I intend in these papers to make no remarks as to the machinery of the head office. This is not the place. Let the centralised system be fairly tested and judged upon its merits. The time may come, and that soon, when it may be regretted that there were not established in conjunction with it, supplementary bodies in every district of the colony, of volunteer native troopers.

THE FEELINGS OF THE NORTHERN PEOPLE.

Now, the people up there are disgusted with the police, as they go from one station to another, without adopting any rational system to try and catch Thunderbolt. Here is Thunderbolt, a native of Windsor, I believe — I saw his mother in November — who has been out about four years, and sticks up the mail whenever he is hard up. He never, that I know, sticks up people in the bush. Why is he not captured? Have the people in the north not good reason to complain? Does it not seem as if the police were merely putting in their time? The country wonders, but I don’t wonder why he is not taken. I was six or seven weeks in the ranges, from one end to the other, and during that period never met or saw a policeman.

SHOOTING A WILD BULL FOR PRACTICE.

On one occasion I chased a wild bull and fired at him repeatedly to train our horses to it. We chased this bull for two miles, constantly firing, until we killed him. It occurred to me that this was about the best practice men should be drilled to who are sent after the bushrangers; for it teaches them to ride, to fire while galloping, and to exercise caution. For a wild bull, with a couple of bullets in a fleshy part will test a rider on the side of a mountain to keep beside him. One drill of that sort would be of more service to a man than twelve months drill in Sydney, and for the horse to. Well, if two or three of us could travel about, firing our arms off occasionally, and camping about without attracting the notice of the police, how long could a man whose object was occasional plunder, remain in those ranges without being taken? As things are now Thunderbolt can remain there five years longer, perfectly secure, with police stations all round him, and he may become the father of a numerous family. I know the men who were with me will try hard to take him, but what can they do? Their horses were done up when I left, and they were ordered to remain at home till they got fresh again. They wanted ammunition, but could not get it. They had only six rounds when I left, the most of this being damaged by camping out in the wet. The Gunnedah police were put on Ward in his camp, when I left, and my old tracker who was up there was left behind for some reason or other — it would be hard to tell. So they sneaked on the camp and blazed away at Ward and his mate, but they both got away on foot. The boy took one road and Ward the other — so ended the encounter.

THUNDERBOLT ELUDES THEM.

Well, my old mates, being out scouring, saw a man in the bush and called upon him, but he sloped, it being very scrubby. They only got one run down and one shot, when they lost him. Ward made down to the gins’ hut, or close to it, and the lady was talking to him, both on horseback, when up rode two of the Tamworth police and fired at him from a distance, it being open forest land. They had a splendid chance, but he again got away. As soon as my old mates missed him they met a friend, and were told that the boy, Mason, was making for a certain place. Their horses being used up they could not follow but sent a note to one of the police at Narrabri. This policeman went to the house, and the boy surrendered. Now if all the police helped one another like that how much better it would be; but they were natives, and good men, working together, but humbugged for want of proper officers over them — at least some officer who could tell a saddle horse from a draught horse before he paid £15 or £20 for him.

BUYING POLICE HORSES.

But some of the superintendents in buying horses, purchase mere scrubbers from a rich man to secure his favour. They give him a good price but the animal is a mere scrubber, unfit for the work. If a poor man came with a good stock horse fit for any bush work, they turn up their nose and don’t want him. Then word is sent to Sydney that they cannot get horses. In this way the men have to ride animals little better than donkeys, dearly purchased, and when they want to do anything, they cannot.

THE CONCLUSION.

Well, I was on X.’s case in Sydney. The first thing I did on arriving was, as previously stated, to write out an application to withdraw my resignation, stating, that I had good hopes of being able to catch Thunderbolt and would like to start back as soon as the Braidwood cases were over. X’s case and —’s were one, and should have been tried together, but sergeant V. had the case against Mick Connell, and to get him into it he wanted — to give certain evidence under a promise that my charge against her should not be prosecuted. There was a charge also, of stolen rings against this lady. Well, she did swear a few words but not before Mr. Butler, who prosecuted for the Crown, left the Court to indict her for perjury. X’s case then came on, and the charge against him was for aiding and abetting Tom Connell to escape — that is what we charged him with, and all the evidence we had against him. After long trial the jury returned a verdict of guilty on the second count — “aiding and abetting, &c.” That verdict, to my notion, was a true one, and according to the evidence, and the true case against him. But his Honor, as I understood, said they must find him guilty or innocent of the full charge, “accessory to the fact after robbery &c;” that   there was no second count. The jury seemed staggered for a minute or two when they returned a verdict of not guilty. Then his Honor seemed astonished, but acquitted him. He was then charged with sticking up Chinamen on two occasions, but there being only one Chinese prosecutor there the case fell to the ground.

The cases being over the lady was not tried, to the great glory of sergeant V., so I reported myself at the Police-office, and was told my application had not been sent in, but would be in the morning. Next morning I was told as my resignation was due there was nothing to prevent my being discharged — so I was discharged. Of course I thought it strange I should not have been allowed to go and try to take Thunderbolt when I had such a chance. However, I was half crippled then in my left wrist and they deemed it expedient to get rid of me. Such is the way of the world. Now, I had done as much active service for two years as any trooper in the force, and here was my reward. If crippled they might have aided me a little. If I had been a new arrival I might have got a brief pension. But I don’t want it. This country is my home, and in it I am able and can earn an honest living by the sweat of my brow. May every trooper who leaves the service be able to do the same is the wish of their old companion.

(CONCLUDED.)

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BUSHRANGING AND OUR POLICE SYSTEM (Part Eleven)

Empire (Sydney, NSW : 1850 – 1875), Monday 9 December 1867, page 2

BUSHRANGING AND OUR POLICE SYSTEM.

BY A NATIVE TROOPER.

XI.

As Bruce’s case did not come on for trial at the May assizes, being remanded till August, I was sent back to Braidwood, where I had no sooner arrived than I was transferred back to Sydney, to stay at the depot till my three months’ notice to leave the force had expired.

A LITTLE MORE ABOUT THE DEPOT.

Before giving a brief account of my journey northwards after Thunderbolt I should like to say a little more about the depot at Sydney. The principal part of a trooper’s duty there is to put his time in, and make as much show to the public as possible. At almost every turn you take you meet a sergeant and they all have some order. You are taught to ride perhaps by some man that could not ride a chase for fifty yards in the bush without risk to life or limb. He is paid to teach bushmen to ride, if any happen to be there, which is but seldom, for they generally become disgusted and leave. You are stuck on a military saddle with long stirrups, and your toes nearly touch the ground. You have no power over your horse. If he gives two or three bucks you go over his head. You ride round and round, jotting away. The saddle is by no means fit for country service. The flaps are very prominent, with a small knee pad more for ornament than use, and the trooper is expected to sit in it like a forked stick over a fence. The knee pad is useless. You can only just touch the knee pad if your horse bucks. Your only chance when he begins to buck is to stick your feet well over the animal’s neck and then you might be able to get your knee to the pads. So allowing the first buck to bring your knees to the pads you are then out of the seat of the saddle. The next buck will bring you on the horse’s neck, or on the pummel of the saddle, and consequently the next buck brings you on his head.

These are the sort of saddles bought for the police to use after desperate bush riders.

Pick out one of the best bush riders and place him in one of these saddles, and send him to catch a mounted robber in some mountainous country, or other rough place; if he were on a good horse and succeeded in sticking on till he got from the top of a tier to the bottom he would have done no good but would have run a risk of crippling himself for life. Now, troopers are employed chiefly to arrest country robbers and bushrangers; at least this has been their work for a long time past. And what has been the sort of men they have been sent after but desperate and clever horsemen. Do these men use straight-flapped saddles without pads to ride in ? No. They use the stock-man’s saddle with a short flap and good knee pad, and, generally, the natives of the country are admitted to be excellent riders, in hundreds of instances as good as any in the world. Why then should these men, when taken in to capture bushrangers, be sent to the depot where it is merely pretended to teach them to ride. What good does this do? Why should one hundred men at one time or other be kept at the depot?

It’s a nice life to see the new hands tumbling in in all directions, but who pays? These new hands do not like a native who happens to join the force for the good of his country because he cannot help laughing at their awkwardness. But why should a country pay thousands of pounds on this tomfoolery when the men are totally unfit for the bush services required of them? And why should so much be expended on saddles and other things which are only fit for cavalry on a level country? What good, so far, has all this expensive cavalry drill done for the country? Has it tended to facilitate the capture of bushrangers, or the suppression of crime? I say the reverse is the fact, from the impunity with which bushrobbers can keep so long uncaptured. The employing of hundreds of men who knew nothing of the bush or country, and sergeants who know as little to drill them, is a very useless expense. It is not all prejudice with me, when I ask why are not respectable natives taken on as bush troopers? No expense is required to teach them to ride. One dozen natives in the police at Braidwood would have prevented the bushranging gang from carrying all before them for more than a week or two. I declare solemnly if I had been supplied with one good bushman as mate when I first went to Braidwood, and been allowed my own way, from my knowledge of bush manners, the country, and the people, I could have taken Tommy Clarke and Tom Connell twenty times over, before they had committed any crimes of note. This is no vain boasting.

A PLEA FOR THE NATIVES.

The fact is the natives are not required in the force. They are considered as only fit to make bushrangers, and many a promising young man has been driven to the bush by police persecutions. Do you suppose that all the young people who have taken to the bush have done so for the sake of robbing and plundering? They are usually disliked by the police and are taken on suspicion for some supposed case, acquitted, and retaken, and they are pointed at until they take the bush in disgust under the mistaken notion of recovering their self-respect. Not many are driven to this, but it is well known that two or three of the most formidable bushrangers took the bush from their self-respect being wounded by some police interference. But it is also a well known fact that many bush natives live by nothing else but rowdyism, and by horse and cattle stealing. There are black sheep in every flock, and I do not exempt my native countrymen, more especially those in the back parts of the country, where they run almost wild. But take what I call the civilised and christianised natives, and they will be found among the most loyal in the colony and the most patriotic. I could muster one hundred natives in a week that would fight to the death in a good cause, and these men would be glad to join the police from which they I are improperly excluded. But enough on this head.

THE TROOPER’S BOOTS.

You may like to know a little about the trooper’s boots. Every year there is a new issue to each man. He gets one or two pairs of pants and two pairs of boots — one pair they call Wellingtons, made of bad harness leather blackened over, with a toe nearly three inches wide and so stiff that it is next to impossible to walk in them; the other pair are Napoleons, or riding boots, often made of the belly parts of the hides. One year he may get a good issue but he will get four bad ones after it. I have been told that thirty shillings a pair are paid for these boots, but I am not sure that such is the case. If so it is much too high a charge, and it is a great oversight in the authorities to countenance such proceedings.

MY NORTHERN TRIP. — A BUCKJUMPER.

In briefly explaining these matters I have run away from my northern trip.

When I arrived in Sydney on transfer, I applied to go after Thunderbolt. My application was accepted, and I was forthwith despatched, on the promise that I should have permission to follow out my own system. I was to have two mates — one a tracker, and a first-rate man, a half-caste, and a very clever fellow in many respects. He was with our party at Ballalaba. The other chap was a young man belonging to the Braidwood district who joined the force just before the Clarkes were arrested, and as good a rider and as steady a man as could be found — just the man for the situation. These two started to Tamworth before I did, but as they missed the coach I pulled them up on the road, so we all arrived in Tamworth together, Tamworth being the head-quarters of the district.

We were to be supplied with horses, and whatever we required for the bush; but when we got there, there was no horses for us except two, and they were young things. One had only been purchased about a week previously, and had not been ridden by the police. As the sequel will show there was a good reason for this. After I had been there a few days this horse was told off to me, and the other one to the tracker. As I had brought up a new saddle with me, expecting to have a good horse, I had to get it stuffed before using it; one evening I put my saddle on him to see what he was made of. I was going out with another man to the police paddock, to bring in the horses to be fed for the night and take some out. As I took my horse out of the stable it was plain to me that he was all there for a trick or two; and I felt convinced that if he commenced to buck he would throw me out of the saddle I had. I made this remark to the men who were there, but they assured me a child could ride him, so I mounted. I was convinced then he would buck, from my experience in riding all sorts of horses since I was a child. I told the sergeant it would be better for me to ride him in another saddle, as I could get no seat in my own, being stuffed it would not sit on the horse’s back, and was a very bad saddle in every way for this horse. The sergeant and the men laughed, and said if I could not ride that horse I could ride none in the place, as the animal never gave a buck in his life. So away I went very well till the horses we were driving went off the road, and I started to turn them back. Away I went like the renowned John Gilpin anywhere the horse took me — he had no more mouth than a colt just yarded. I stopped him at last, and got on very well till on the road home again, when he bailed me up between a fence and a mud hole. Here he commenced pig-jumping, round and round, and the saddle turned half off, and I came off, but in a soft place, being about knee deep in mud. So I mounted again, and as I got into the saddle the trooper with me gave him a clip or two with his whip. Off I went again down the street, full gallop, with the horse’s head right up in the air. I tried to pull him in but it was no use. I was standing in the stirrups sawing away at his mouth when he propped short, and at it he went, but the first buck shifted me. I could not sit in the saddle. I kept on for four or five good bucks, more by maintaining a centre of gravity than anything else, till one of the stirrup leathers slipped off. I came over his head, and in falling out cut my left hand, and thus coming on the ground with all my weight on one hand on a hard metalled road my wrist was broken, my fingers touching my arm. This arm was helpless, I felt little pain, and only discovered it to be useless when attempting to rise by it. I got a saddler to twist it the right way, but he was not skilled. He straightened it, however, and ten minutes afterwards I saw a doctor, but my arm was so much swollen that he could only then put splints on and chance it being set right. I do not think it was properly set as I feel occasional gritting still.

UNFAIR PLAY.

After I was laid up the men let it out about the horse being a buckjumper, and that they all knew it — even the sergeant who told me it was a quiet horse; because the sergeant summoned the last owner of the animal and had him fined £2 in the court-house for allowing the horse to buck up and down the street and run over some children.

Now this was cowardly, and treacherous — to play a stranger such a trick, just because I had come over there to try and take Thunderbolt. If I had been in a good saddle the horse might have bucked away, but they played to get me what is termed a “burster,” and they succeeded in what they might look upon as a justifiable deception. One would have thought they would rather have helped a stranger among them to do his duty. But Thunderbolt is still at large.

Peter, the tracker, had another “quiet” horse, but having a good saddle he put the “top rail” on, and was thrown head fore-most. We were then in a nice fix, my mate with his head bound up and I with a broken hand and wrist; but during this time two more men came over, and one of them got my buckjumper. He put a blanket and a cloak on his saddle, another military one, determined not to be thrown, but he was thrown before the week was out.

PURSUIT UNDER DIFFICULTIES.

These two men went out to Barraba, and I and the tracker were to go to Narrabri. They would not allow the third man to come with me. I tried to get a pack horse to carry our rations so as not to show ourselves to the station people, as a great many of the stockkeepers would screen Ward (Thunderbolt) from us; but it was no go, we were not to have much chance of apprehending this bushranger. I only brought one revolver from Sydney, being told I should be supplied at Tamworth with all I required; so I had to put up with one revolver and a small Tranter’s revolving rifle. Being unable even to get ammunition I had to send for some to Mr. Ryland at the Sydney Depot. As soon as I could move my arm I started, first to Narrabri, and on my way I fell in with a squatter on the Mucki who assisted me a great deal. He rowed us over the river, there being no bridges, and the rivers and creeks being flooded, besides the roads being very muddy.

When we came to Cox’s Creek we had to swim our horses over and go over ourselves in a canoe, very pleasant travelling for a man with a broken arm.

AT NARRABRI.

We arrived at Narrabri at last where we gave the horses two days’ spell as the roads would soon knock them up. At Tamworth I was told I could get a pack horse at Narrabri, but I could get nothing, I had received some very good information to work on, but to work it properly we should have a pack horse to carry rations; for to be seen on the stations in the Killarney mountains would be to draw all the friends of Thunderbolt to watch us, a thing which I wished to avoid. My intentions were to scour all the ranges, running across from Narrabri to Bingera, north and south; and from Barraba on the east to the west end of Killarney mountains, a distance of seventy miles either way, a very rocky and scrubby country, and Thunderbolt’s haunt when on that side of the country, which was very often.

This is the locality where Thunderbolt lies to after sticking up the mail, as has been proved, but why it is not scoured and the offender hunted out of it, or captured, is very hard to say.

THUNDERBOLT’S HAUNTS.

From the Narrabri side of the mountain there is only one place to get in the ranges, so I asked the senior-constable at Narrabri which was the least scrubby part to enter, as I meant going my own road quietly. The direction he gave me — pointing to a spur of the mountain — was the very worst part of the whole ranges. I might have expected this after the way I had been served; so with a small railway wrapper, a small damper, and a piece of beef we started, though the ground was covered with water. We could carry no blankets, partly because we could not get them. I managed to get the tracker one quietly and got into a row for it. The horses would have all they could do for they were without corn except such as was as black as your hat — half rotten. The corn had got wet, as the person in charge was too much occupied in curling his moustache, and cleaning his brush to attend to it. But though the corn on the station was spoilt, the Government is rich and cannot be bothered with these trifles.

Before starting from Narrabri, I asked if the storekeepers rode shod horses or not. He said no, and that if I saw a shod track I was to be sure it was a bushranger’s, as no one ever used shod horses out there. I asked him in which direction Barraba lay. I had a pretty good idea, having passed that place myself some years previously when going to Queensland with horses. This was seventy miles below Narrabri; but the direction the officer in charge gave me would have brought me out twenty or thirty miles wide of that place. He was either trying to run me astray or else he knew no better himself, although stationed there for some time; but it was excusable seeing he had not been very long in the country and could not be expected to know much of bush matters.

TO BE CONTINUED.

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BUSHRANGING AND OUR POLICE SYSTEM (Part Ten)

Empire (Sydney, NSW : 1850 – 1875), Thursday 28 November 1867, page 6

BUSHRANGING AND OUR POLICE SYSTEM.

BY A NATIVE TROOPER.

PART X.

I was very glad the capture of the Clarkes was all over. Here were two men who could not be arrested for months, although the district was fairly swarming with police and detectives, one party running away from the other, and both sometimes running away from the bushrangers. If it had not been for myself and another in running the young chaps in Jingera to inform on them, I believe there would have been a worse gang out this day than any that we have yet seen, and that more blood would have been shed than could be dreamt of. It seemed to me as if the police authorities wanted them out, to keep up excitement. Clarke at first did not care for shooting the police, but one crime brings on another, and he had got to that pitch that he would have shot any one who came in his road. I am confident he would have had some more mates, and it would have taken years to put them down, unless the “system” had been departed from by the formation of special bush parties. Bushrangers must be fought according to their own tactics, and a bush party must expect to undergo many privations and many hardships before they can expect to succeed. If the police had continued to work the same system as before Carroll’s party, Wright’s, and other scouting parties were formed, the Clarkes would never have been taken. I consider that system bad, so far as the suppression of bushranging is concerned. I consider it a robbery to the country as the force stands now, and worse than if fifty bushrangers were out, because they rob for a living and only rob a few individuals in one locality, whereas the police system robs the state wholesale. It takes one half of the revenue to keep up a body of men that are quite out of their place. The force is established on the same footing as the Irish constabulary. The chief part of the force consists of men from the Irish or London constabulary. Most of them taken on are men just landed in the colony, mainly from the Irish police, never having touched a horse perhaps, let alone know how to manage one; and they have no idea of the bush, nor the ways of the people in this country. But they are taken on and sent to the police depot, Sydney, where they are kept three or four months at great expense to the country in teaching them to ride. I only speak about the mounted men, and personally I say nothing against any of them, horse or foot; I know many of them to be excellent men, as men in any way you take them, but they are placed in false positions when sent after bushrangers in a bush country of which they have no knowledge. As strangers, and acquainted with police duty, they do very well in towns and villages; in fact they are better for this kind of duty than the natives of the colony by far. But when it comes to country work, catching bushrangers in the mountains, it is a different thing. There may be found an exception now and then.

Well, to return to the drill. They are learnt to ride in a sort of a way, in about three months, under pay all the while; and they are learnt the use of the sword, quite a useless article, after the fashion of dragoons. The sword is quite useless at the present time for any practical police work. It serves merely to occupy the time of the men in cleaning and keeping them from idleness. Then they are learnt the rifle drill the only useful part in it, but though they are showed how to use it they are never practised in firing enough to hit the target at 200 yards. In fact there is very few of them that ever fired a shot till they were sent up in the bush to shoot robbers, and then when they come on him they blaze away anyhow, sometimes to the sky, thinking the noise will frighten if not kill. This has been well stated in those words of poetry on the late Sir Frederick Pottinger and his eight men when firing at Frank Gardiner in close quarters. This is such a bit of truthful verse, that I will repeat it.

“His warriors then, like valiant men,

With carbines blazed away,

While the whistling lead on its mission sped

But whither none could say.

For the snow white steed at gentle speed

Bore Gardiner from their view;

While Sir Frederick Pot, and all his lot,

Tried to pierce the robber through!”

Now, I don’t suppose those men ever fired a shot before, and so it is now with most of the men. They may be better now some of them by this time, but two, three, or four year ago, they were awful. Well, the first four months they are paid for nothing. But it is not only these men who have just joined. There’s the senior-sergeant with his large cheque to drill them, and he has some one to attend and wait upon him, as he attends on those above him and so on, to say nothing about the expenses for horse-flesh, fodder, saddles, shoeing, &c., to keep it up. It surprises me that the depot has not been looked to, for there are police employed as grooms to senior-sergeants. I was brought up in the bush and can ride almost any horse that could be found, but when I joined I was kept six weeks in Sydney learning to ride on a military saddle and use a rifle, but I never fired a shot out of it till I was sent to Jingera after Clarke when he broke out of gaol; but I knew how to use it, having served some time after Ben Hall’s gang as a special constable at Goulburn. It was after this they sent me to Sydney to be taken on the force. I had no idea they were going to teach me to ride but they did, and kept me there bumping about with long stirrups and fooleries till I could hardly ride at all. My theory for bush work is this :— There is not a district in any part of the colony but there are scores of young men, the sons of respectable storekeepers, graziers, and other settlers. They are men of intelligence, natives of the colony, whose time is occupied in stock riding, or other pursuits, but who are merely so occupied for want of something else to do. As an illustration, suppose one of those men was appointed the chief trooper in the district where he had been bred and born, with power to select his own half-dozen men. Can anyone suppose that a bushranger would exist in that district for a month?

Now I was drilled and equipped in the regular way and was sent out to catch Clarke. I never had any one with me at first, though I bailed him up behind a tree on one occasion, but I had to give him up on account of my revolver at first missing. I had a tracker with me but he would not come near after the first shot. He left me to the mercy of the two of them; but though I did not take them I took all sorts of care they did not take me. When my revolvers missed I was close to Clarke, and the moment my last cap missed fire he rushed at me like a tiger and called on me to surrender. I could do nothing. I dared not attempt to take him as he had a revolver in each hand and I saw the caps on the nipples plain enough. When he found I would not stand for him he made a rush to get his horse, but I knew he would have me then, so I galloped between him and ran the horses away, and while my eye was off him for a minute he disappeared — whither I could not tell; but I will own the truth — I got very frightened then, as I expected to be knocked off from behind every tree. I had only one fresh cap on, so I pushed home with his horses. If I had had a mate with me that day there would have been an end of the Clarkes. I could always find them if allowed my own way, but my superiors would have their way, and it was only once in the first twelve months we came on them in the official way, and then we made a mess of it.

So you can see from the beginning of this tale, after I had estimated the capacities of my immediate superiors, I tried hard to deviate from the system and have my own way with one mate; but they would never let me. Sometimes I got out with the tracker but at first he was useless when it came to close quarters.

Well, it kept getting worse and worse up there. More men kept coming out and getting in one another’s way. Some smart fine-looking men, new arrivals in the colony came up in charge of a party, but they knew not what to do, where to go, or how to act. It was all chance work. Some-times they would run up against the boys, but they could always get away. One, now and then, would be taken, more by chance than anything else. There was no generalship except what was bad. Now, if two men were together who knew how to work, and were to go out their own way, two on one side of Jingera, and two on the other, taking it quiet, they would all have been taken at the commencement ; but no, that would not do. Many and many a time I could have played the boys into my hands, and with only one mate could have taken the lot of them, but that did not suit some. The fact is, I showed my cards before I was ready to play them, and so spoilt a chance for myself, for I never dreamt but it was intended to catch the bushrangers with as little delay as possible.

But I have run away from the point of expense I was bearing on. Well, too many men is one fault in the police, not only for expense, but they baffle one another when in the bush. If some smart young natives were taken in the force and found with good horses — men who could ride well — good bushmen, and men who could be depended on, as there are hundreds in every district who can be — then bushranging would cease. There is a fine lot of natives who are brought up respectably, and would go through fire and water to achieve anything they took in hand; for it must show itself to the reason of every man that a native — I don’t mean aboriginals — or a man who has been some time in the country, and had some experience in bush matters, will know how to go to work better than men just arrived in the country. The knowing of roads, the nature of the country, the haunts, and the people is very necessary. A clever bushman never wants you to show him the road. If he wants to make to a particular house suspected, he goes to it at once according to his own bush tactics. If a stranger he would beat about the bush, or he would call at some public-house or station and learn in the course of conversation that so-and-so’s hut is over at the Black Range, or some other place, on a certain creek or river. He will then ride away in some other direction and slew round and come out at this suspected place before any one knows anything about it and wait the time to strike a blow, and then strike the nail fair on the head. Then its done without any fuss or trouble. On the other hand put some of them policemen from Sydney on this duty and it takes them some time to find out who is the likeliest to harbour robbers or the person wanted. A bushman would tell in one night in a country house which way the wind blew. But your Sydney man newly arrived from Dublin or London must enquire the road, and if he finds it out he goes about his work in such a way that the people soon discover something’s up, and their bushranging friends soon hear that the police are coming, long before the police have found out which way to go. Then some of the friends keep an eye on the police to see when they start. All at once the imported policemen gets some one to show them the road — but while they are on the road to the house we will go inside and see what is doing. There is Tom Clarke — on supposition — courting the daughter and cutting a dash. The boy of the house, or some one, is up on the nearest ridge looking out. The signal is passed and some one runs inside saying, “Tommy, here’s the traps!” “All right,” says Tommy. “You watch them away, I’ll be at the little camp waiting for you.” So, just before the “traps” come in sight Tom comes out and mounts his nag and rides away. Up comes the imported police — a fine body of smart-made men — they are now full of importance, armed to the teeth, they search the house, turn it upside down — no one there — they grind their teeth, and then get some dinner and return to their station, watched all the while. And perhaps a startling telegraph is sent to Sydney full of nonsense. The “traps” then swear vengeance on Peter or Jack for running them on the wrong scent, by false information. By-and-bye Tommy hears, all from the “traps” swearing vengeance on the person by name — that Peter sent the traps out. Peter has to fly for his life, or Tommy will give him a touch up, and Tommy has friends who will give him a touch up too. Peter, or Jack, or Sam, after being thus suspected and, in danger say I’d like to crack a wood on Tommy and get him “nabbed” but them — new-chum traps let out everything you say. It gets to Braidwood and then over the country. I’ll never tell them anything again.”

But the bushman, if let alone, goes quietly out of the house, and soon sees the little game if any is going on, and comes down on them “on the quiet,” and so ends the affair; while on the other hand the play only begins, and begins with Tommy having a full knowledge of the sort of men pursuing him, and becomes gradually familiar with the stupid way in which they are commanded. A man must be stupid who persists in any line of tactics which invariably fail. Fifty men only, of the right sort, would stop all bushranging in this country, and save the expense of the hundreds of men in the force, and horses, who are now doing nothing. Some of them are right enough for large towns and for serving summonses, and general duty, on certain beats.

There is Thunderbolt in the northern districts, and he will reign until special scouring parties are formed, or until some good luck befalls the regular police. I have applied to go after him but was refused, because my system was not approved of; but the pursuit of Thunderbolt, as I have been after him once, may be the subject of future papers.

In the foregoing papers many things have been imperfectly sketched, and some mistakes have crept in, which I could have corrected if I had been able to remain in Sydney and revise; but my general object will be attained if what is written be the means of drawing the attention of those now in power to the present system of police which appears to my mind very unsuited for the bush work of Australia.

As this concludes nearly all I intended to say respecting the Southern district, the next letter or two will have reference to a little duty after Thunderbolt in the Northern districts.

TO BE CONTINUED.

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