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 Bushrangers John and Thomas Clarke (22 June 1867)

Illustrated Adelaide Post (SA : 1867 – 1874), Saturday 22 June 1867, page 14

THE BUSHRANGERS JOHN AND THOMAS CLARKE.

SOME particulars of the apprehension of the Clarkes were published in our last, but the following additional circumstances connected with their capture have since been contributed by a Sydney journal:— “After the surrender Tom Clarke was very communicative, and spoke of the many hair-breadth escapes he had had with particular gusto, and this man’s mind and feelings are so deadened that he looked upon the awful position he was then in as a piece of by-play. His brother, on the contrary, was extremely morose, and it was with some difficulty that he would allow Dr. Pattison to dress his wound, which was a very bad one, the shot having taken a piece of his shirt into the orifice. The doctor had to probe the wound, at which he called out lustily. The ball passed right through the top of the left arm. Sir Watkin, the black tracker, was shot by Tom Clarke from the window of the hut, the ball striking him above the wrist of the left arm, splintering the bone very much, taking a zig-zag direction, and lodged in the elbow. After Tom Clarke was handcuffed, Sir Watkin went up to him, and said — ‘Tommy, you shot me cowardly.’ ‘ No,’ said Clarke, ‘I merely shot you in defence; you wanted to take my life.’ ‘Well,’ said Sir Watkin, ‘I forgive you;— shake hands.’ Tommy raised his manacled hands, which Sir Watkin heartily clenched and shook cordially. Sir Watkin is now under the medical care of Dr. Pattison, in the Braidwood hospital. On the evening when the two Clarkes made for Guinea’s hut, in which resided Thomas Berry, junior, and his wife, they shortly after their arrival laid down to sleep. About day-light, on the following morning, Tommy awoke first, calling Johnny, saying, ‘Johnny, I’ve had a dream that Byrnes (a senior sergeant stationed at Ballalaba) had trapped us.’ Johnny exclaimed, ‘all nonsense.’ ‘Well,’ said Tommy, ‘this day will tell something.’ This was related by Tommy Clarke while Dr. Pattison was dressing the wound of Johnny. After Sir Watkin’s and Johnny’s wounds had been attended to, Tommy pulled up his trousers to show a wound he had received in the affray—a flesh wound in the back, caused by a slug from Sir Watkin’s gun. While he was stripping to show his wound, Tommy pointed out two bullet-wound marks he had received in his legs, one on his left shin and the other on his right. He said the one on his right leg bad been very bad, so much so that he could scarcely at one time raise it to get into his saddle. This fact tallies with what had been stated that he had been wounded and walked very lame. Guinea’s hut, as it is called, where this affray took piece, is about two miles distant from the spot where Carroll and his party were barbarously murdered — a circumstance which is now fresh in the recollection of every person. In the hut the police found a quantity of ammunition, and a breech-loading rifle, supposed to belong to Carroll. It seems from circumstances that the dream that Tommy had, being fresh in his mind, must have somewhat cowed him, for had he made a bolt out of the hut, by removing a slab or otherwise, there might have been a possibility of escape; for when the constable left for Ballalaba for reinforcements, there were only three police and the wounded tracker to guard.” The prisoners were tried on the 28th ult. for shooting at a police constable named Walsh, and found guilty. They were sentenced to death, and the 25th inst. was appointed for their execution. Both heard their condemnation unmoved.

Posted on by AJFPhelan56 2

Spotlight: Robbery Under Arms (17 June 1863)

New South Wales Police Gazette and Weekly Record of Crime (Sydney : 1860 – 1930), Wednesday 17 June 1863 (No.24), page 178

I.

Robbery under Arms.

At 11 p.m. on the 7th instant, the stores of the undermentioned persons at Possum Flat, near Young, were forcibly entered by three armed men, supposed to be Johnny Gilbert, Johnny O’Mealley, and another, and property as under stolen therefrom :— From Joseph McConnell, about £14 sterling, and a double barrel gun; from William Hooley, 4 ozs. 10 dwts. of gold; from Mrs. McCarthy, two gold rings, one engraved “E.F. & M.F., 3 July, 1803”; from William’O’Brien, a cash box, containing £37; from David Henry, a quantity of silver coin, amount not known, some printed calico, tobacco, and a revolver.

At 8 p.m. on the 2nd instant, the house of George Gatewood, Norwood, near Goulburn, was forcibly entered by four armed men (not described), with blackened faces covered with crape, and the following property stolen therefrom, viz., £12 sterling, a watch (not described), gun, canister of “powder, box of caps, three pairs blankets, and several articles of clothing. The robbers afterwards proceeded to the house of William Gatewood, son of the above, and forcibly stole therefrom a quantity of wearing apparel and trinkets.

Posted on by AJFPhelan56 0

Spotlight: Conviction of the Bushrangers, Thomas & John Clarke (1 June 1867)

Bell’s Life in Sydney and Sporting Chronicle (NSW : 1860 – 1870), Saturday 1 June 1867, page 5

Conviction of the Bushrangers, Thomas & John Clarke.

SENTENCE OF DEATH!

CENTRAL CRIMINAL. COURT, TUESDAY, MAY 28.

(Before His Honor tho Chief Justice.)

WOUNDING WITH INTENT TO MURDER.

Thomas Clarke and John Clarke were indicted for that they did, on the 27th Apr last, near Jinden, in the colony of New South Wales, wound one William Walsh, with intent to murder the said William Walsh.

The prisoners pleaded not guilty, and were defended by Messrs. Dalley and Blake, instructed by Mr Joseph Leary. Mr Isaacs, Solicitor-General, prosecuted on behalf of the Crown.

The history of the capture of the outlaw Thomas Clarke and his brother John, when the prisoners fired upon and wounded Walsh is familiar to our readers. We therefore deem it only necessary to give the opening of the case by the Solicitor-General, the summing up of the Judge, the verdict and the sentence.

The Solicitor-General, in opening the case said the jury had a duty of a most difficult nature to perform. They were called upon to try the prisoners at the bar on a capital charge and it devolved upon them to weigh the evidence carefully as it applied to one or both prisoners Thomas Clarke was outlawed by an Act of the Legislature for several felonies. It therefore became the duty of the police to pursue him and secure his apprehension. In the discharge of this duty, it is alleged by the Crown that a constable was shot at and wounded by Thomas Clarke. With regard to the prisoner John Clarke, it was alleged that he also, in company with his brother, fired upon the police sent to arrest them, and that by Thomas Clarke constable William Walsh was wounded. He was not anxious to anticipate any portion of the evidence; but he believed it would be such as to bring the charge, from the lips of three or four witnesses, conclusively home to the prisoners. The principal facts were these: On the evening of the 20th April last, a party of police, under the command of senior-constable Wright, consisting of constables Walsh, Lenehan, J. Wright, Egan, and an aboriginal tracker named Sir Watkin Wynne, arrived close to a hut neat Jinden. They saw, at about 1 o’clock in the morning of 27th April, in a paddock in front of the hut, two horses, which they led towards a haystack. At about 6 o’clock the same morning they saw the two prisoners, Thomas and John Clarke, coming out of the hut towards the horses. The party under sub-inspector Wright attacked the prisoners, who retreated to the hut, and fired upon their pursuers. Constable Walsh and the aboriginal tracker Sir Watkin had approached nearer to the hut than the others. Thomas Clarke, who knew constable Walsh, deliberately fired at him, and wounded him in the thigh. After both had seen Walsh, whom the prisoners knew, it would be proved that John Clarke fired, and wounded Sir Watkin. This shot was fired by John Clarke, through a square hole at the end of the hut. It would also be proved that when the prisoners surrendered to Walsh that there was no one in the hut when the firing took place but Thomas and John Clarke. The nature of the wound indicted upon constable Walsh, the subject under immediate inquiry, would be described to them, and other circumstances that would point to the guilt of the prisoners. The crime, in law, was one which would deprive the prisoners of life. It was, therefore, a case of life or death with which the jury had to deal. The jury had thus a solemn responsibility cast upon them. They had sworn to give a verdict according to the evidence. If any juror, from conscientious principles, had an objection to find a person guilty, when he knew that the effect of his verdict would deprive a fellow-creature of life, he was equally guilty of a serious crime if he continued to sit in the jury-box, and refused to give his verdict according to the evidence because the extreme penalty of the law was involved. He felt sure, however, that the jury would discharge their duty fearlessly and conscientiously, without any feeling as to the effect of their verdict. The evidence of the witnesses would be given in a straightforward manner; and if they detailed the circumstances to which he had alluded, they had only one duty to discharge, solemn as it was to return a verdict of guilty. It was fortunate for the prisoners that they were in a country where the laws allowed them a fair and open trial. They were fortunate also in having secured two gentlemen of great learning, of great ability, and great eloquence to defend them; and they were tried before a magistrate, impartial, of great wisdom and experience in criminal practice. No doubt the two learned counsel, Mr Dalley and Mr Blake, would separately address the jury. After which they would have the lucid summary of the evidence by the Chief Justice. It would then rest with them to pronounce their verdict. If that verdict should be guilty, then the further duty of disposing of the prisoners devolved upon another power with which the jury had nothing to do. If the evidence was clear, they must not flinch from pronouncing their verdict. If there was any fair and reasonable doubt, they would be bound to give the prisoners the benefit of it. He would now call the witnesses to establish the charge.

[The witnesses for the Crown were then called and examined, after which, Mr Blake addressed the jury for Thomas Clarke, and Mr Dalley for John Clarke.]

His HONOR then summed up. He said that considering the great importance of this trial, he must express his regret at the great length to which the trial had extended; because it was impossible but that the attention of the jury must have been fatigued. Many extraneous matters had been introduced, but the facts lay in an extremely narrow compass. The prisoners stood charged with wounding a constable, in discharge of his duty, with intent to kill him. The first question was, did the prisoner Thomas Clarke fire the shot, and wound Walsh? Secondly, what was his intention in firing the shot? Walsh’s evidence, supported by that of more than one other witness, proved that the shot proceeded from the revolver of Clarke. Whether the shot fired from that pistol reached the body of the constable directly, or whether it touched the ground first, was a matter, of no moment.

The simple questions were, first, was the wound inflicted by the prisoner at all? If not, it would be absurd to suppose that it was inflicted by persons standing behind Walsh. Whether the prisoners turned round and shot him or not, no one behind Walsh inflicted the wound; since the wound was inflicted in the man’s front.

He (the Chief Justice) would not follow the learned counsel into any question as to the propriety of the punishment of death. He would suppose that the jury would discharge their [maths?] and find simply a matter of fact and of inferences arising from fact according to their conscientious views, and not for one moment be induced to swerve from the truth by any consideration of what the result of their verdict would be. Neither did he think it necessary to make any remarks on the Felons’ Apprehension Act. He understood Mr Dalley to say that the necessity for that Act was a disgrace to our civilisation. ln that he (the Chief Justice) agreed with him. The existence of the outrages which gave birth to that law was discreditable to us. The law had been recommended from this bench years before it was passed, and was simply a re-enactment of laws as old as the time of Alfred the Great, and adopted by Sovereigns the most enlightened that England ever had known. It was adopted here in consequence of a series of outrages that unless checked would paralyse industry, and render all property and life insecure. It was a system of outrage not directed against large property or for the re-dress of grievances; but against all classes of the community, rich and poor, high and low. Where have those robbers been known to pass by the hoards of the poor man, or of the widow or the orphan when it suited their purposes to rob them? They had been the common robbers of all classes; and they had been murderers of the worst kind. The slightest resistance had been met by attempts to take life. The law was directed only against persons having arms in their hands and likely to use arms in taking life. And not until a criminal had committed a crime punishable with death was he outlawed. Notice was given in every quarter of the country, and then only could the outlaw be shot down. That is the law as it stands in our statute book. (But for the purpose of this trial it was of no importance whether this man was an outlaw or not. It would be quite sufficient if the jury found that the constables were acting with a common design to take Clarke, believing that he was outlawed, or that he had committed a felony. A constable has power to arrest any man whom he suspects to be guilty of felony; and if he cannot otherwise take him, he has power to shoot him down. The law has always been so. The constables are ministers of justice. And are they to expose their own lives to thieves and murderers without the protection of the law? Will any Judge uphold it as law that a constable is to wait until he is shot at, if he sees that revolvers are worn by the men he is seeking to arrest? Do they meet as soldiers in single combat, in honourable warfare? Although he made every allowance for gallant feeling in a man who having shot at another, and finding himself shot, asked and granted forgiveness, he (the Chief Justice) could not but feel it to be a humiliation that this constable (Walsh) on the impulse of the moment did not remember that these men were charged with felony and murder; that he descended, as a minister of justice to shake hands with a man whom he believed to be a robber and a murderer, was a degradation to his character. He (the Chief Justice) had no notion of such tampering with crime. To treat such men cruelly would be barbarous and un-English; but the constable might have said when the man held out his hand, “No, sir, you have shot me, and I have shot at you. I forgive the personal injury; but you are my prisoner. We are not on the same platform. My hand meets not that of a man whom I believe to be a felon.” He (the Chief Justico) sat there to see principles of honour and honesty carried out, and to teach men right notions, and how to act up to them, and not to let the land of his adoption, the land of his children be disgraced by such deeds as these. But these remarks had nothing to do with the trial. A man must be supposed innocent of all crimes laid to his charge until found guilty. It is nothing to a constable whether the man he seeks to arrest is guilty or not. If he is charged with felony, it is his duty to surrender, and it is the duty of the constable to arrest him. The question was did the prisoner Thomas Clarke shoot. If they had any reasonable doubt that he did so, they must acquit both prisoners. They were not nicely to weigh the probabilities of opposing evidence. The next question was this — Was Walsh, when he was shot, in the execution of his duty as a constable endeavouring to arrest the Clarkes for felony, and one of them because he believed him to be an outlaw? The evidence was that a party had been formed to arrest two persons, whom they believed to be guilty of several robberies, and of more than one murder. Then if so, were the Clarkes, or was Thomas Clarke conscious of that fact? On this subject his Honor read a short extract from Archbold to the effect that when an officer of justice is killed in the discharge of his duty, in quelling an affray or arresting a person charged with felony — if the slayer know: the officer’s business, the slaying is murder. The question was, did Thomas Clarke, when he fired at Walsh, know that he was a constable; According to the evidence Clarke, when within twenty yards of Walsh, turned round and fired at him. Walsh said he was known personally to both prisoners. It was said that when Walsh came back with his new party, Thomas Clarke said to him “If I had known you were here, I would have surrendered long ago.” But he also said “I called for you several times.” How could he call on the man unless he knew him? The next question was, did Walsh do more than was reasonably necessary to protect himself and to apprehend the prisoners? A constable is not bound to wait until he is shot at. He has a right to use his own firearms. (His Honor then read part of the evidence of Walsh, as to at Thomas Clarke, and that Thomas Clarke turned round, took aim at him (Walsh) and fired.) A person who aims at a vital part, whether the person shot at dies or not, is responsible for his intention. Something was said about discrepancies. The jury would judge how far they were material. If they met with two or three persons who saw an event, they would agree in their account of the event, but differ as to circumstances. The more witnesses, the more variations there would be. One man may have been so excited that he forgot the nature of the ground over which he passed. (His Honor then read the evidence of William Wright as to his calling on the prisoners to stand and surrender.) The question remained whether, from all circumstances, the prisoners were likely to have known that they were officers of justice. Then came this great question, did or did not the prisoner Thomas Clarke, at the moment he fired intend to take life, for nothing he did afterwards could make him guilty of this charge. Mistakes might be made as to a man’s intention. But looking at the matter as men of common sense, did they believe in their hearts that this man did intend to take life? As to his having no bad feeling, because he did not take life afterwards when he was safe in the house, it might be that he felt that it was better to abstain when there were at least two to one against him. He might have thought that to take life would be useless. When he shot he may have thought that to take the life of two or three would diminish the numbers of their enemies, whereas by merely wounding they would not accomplish this, for a wounded man might still fire on them. By law a man is presumed to intend what circumstances show to be the natural and inevitable consequence of this act. What was the probable consequence of the man’s turning round and firing a revolver at a pursuer within twenty yards of him? This was a maxim of law from the earliest times; and it was not merely a rule of reason and propriety. When a man does an act, is it not natural that that which that particular act is likely to effect the man intended to effect? A man fires a pistol at another’s head. Does it not seem that he intended to take his life? That was the whole of the case as respected the prisoner Thomas Clarke. Now came the question as to John Clarke. He did not fire the shot. The rule is if two or more persons are engaged in an unlawful act, every one is responsible for the act of the others. If men go out for a lawful purpose, and one does something quite apart from the common purpose, there is no reason to invite the others. But if men go out for a common purpose of robbing, and one commits a murder in so doing, all are responsible as murderers. That is a rule that pervades the whole of the criminal law. And it is founded on common sense. It tends to deter men from banding together for unlawful purposes. There is a difficulty in this case. What illegal design were John and Thomas Clarke concerned in at the time the shot was fired? If they had been inside the house, doing all they could to kill or wound the constables, they would both have been engaged in felony. Then whatever one did the other was responsible for. That is the general principle. It is founded on good sense. But at the time when Thomas Clarke fired, John was committing no crime. He was endeavouring to run away. There was no crime in that.

The constables were entitled to shoot him for it. But it was no crime to try to escape. If he turned round and endeavoured to shoot the constable then he was guilty of murder. The difficulty is this: At the time the shot was fired they were both running away. The common design did not seem at that time to be illegal.

John must have known that the constables were endeavouring to arrest his brother. Whether he thought the constables sought to arrest both, or only his brother, was he acting in concert with his brother in resisting Walsh? They were both running away. Thomas turned and fired; John fired a second afterwards. Was his meaning, at that time, to kill or wound the apprehending constable? or was it merely to prevent his own or his brother’s apprehension? If the jury found that John was endeavouring to prevent the arrest, and intended to help his brother to the uttermost, not intending to kill but to wound, so as to prevent the apprehension, he would be equally responsible with his brother, because then there was a common design to help each other against the constables at all hazards. If the common design of wounding any one of the constables were proved, then, though John might not have intended to have killed Walsh at the moment, he is responsible for the capital felony. This is a point of law entirely new, and matter of reasoning from general principles alone. With these remarks he left the case in the hands of the jury.

His Honor concluded his address at ten minutes past 10.

The jury returned into court at 11 o’clock with a verdict of guilty against both prisoners.

The prisoners, in reply to the Clerk of Arraigns, had nothing to say why sentence of death should not be passed upon them.

The CHIEF JUSTICE, amidst the breathless silence of a very crowded court, then proceeded to pass sentence in a most impressive manner, as follows :— Thomas Clarke and John Clarke, if, in the opinion of most of those who hear me, or if it should be thought by a large portion of the community, that you are now about to receive a just retribution for your crimes, it is proper for me to say that no such feelings influence this Court. Such a principle does not belong to our law. You are not to receive punishment as a retribution, but because the taking of your lives is believed to be necessary for the peace and good order, for the safety as well as the welfare of the community: because of the example and warning that a capital execution may hold out to others, by acting as a terror and a restraint from the committal of similar crimes of which you stand convicted. This is the principle, the true principle, of all human punishment. I told the jury they were to conclude that you were innocent of those various crimes in respect of which efforts were made to apprehend you, and by which you were apprehended, and the jury took for granted that you were innocent. But now that I have to pass sentence upon you, I am not restricted by any such feeling. It is proper, however, in what I may say, that I should not hurt your feelings, nor add anything to your degradation, but for the good of the community show what really is the extent of the crime either committed or reasonably supposed to have been committed by you, and upon which the Executive will be asked whether mercy can be extended to you. Thomas Clarke, I hold in my hand a list of offences of which you stand charged within the last two years, and the amount of the whole, exclusive of murders of which you are supposed to be guilty, there are nine robberies of mails and thirty-six robberies of individuals; and among the individuals whom you have robbed there are all classes — Chinamen, labourers, publicans, storekeepers, draymen, and settlers. With respect to you, John Clarke, I find that the offences charged against you within the last year, most of which were committed in company with your brother, amount to twenty-six robberies. Consider your position. This is the result of a long career of bushranging. You have had many abettors — you both must have had many abettors in the district from which you come; and I have no doubt there are others, blind as they are, who have sympathised with your crimes generally. I shall not waste words in respect of such crimes imputed to you. The community is disgraced by the committal of such crimes. I would ask others — and this I recommend you to reflect upon before you die — what is the result, what the value of this course of wickedness, violence, and outrage which you have been pursuing for so long? In all the cases which have come before me it has been a question — Where is the money they have gained? What is the benefit of it? You have not now a shilling in the world after all your robberies. You have not, therefore profited by your career of crime. I have not heard of anyone being a gainer by such a lawless course except one (Gardiner) who is now serving thirty-two years’ penal servitude. A criminal career must end sooner or later. How many lives are taken, how much misery inflicted — and all this for no earthly good accruing to one of you. All is to end ignominiously! You, young men, might have pursued a very different career. You might have been the fathers of respectable families, happy — for happiness is to be found in the circle of home, made home, by honest industry. Instead of that you are to die a dishonoured death, in your young days, on the gallows. There is another consideration. You must have expected that, after you had taken to firearms and robbery the result must have been death. It is shocking to think of — infamous that you, should continue such a career. Those who pursue this course must not only reflect that there is a public shame hanging over them, but that they gain nothing by their robberies. You must have been constantly in terror — always in a state of alarm lest the police tracked you out. And the hard life you must lead. I am not willing to embitter your feelings; but what I am now saying may not be heard by this crowded Court, but I have a hope that other ears may hear me and be prevented from entering on a career similar to yours. I say men like you must be in constant fear of the police entering your dwellings when you have one, and hence you wander about like wild beasts, and undergo an amount of fatigue and privation more severe than that imposed on any labourer, and which, if directed to its proper channel, would bring you peace of mind, would more than furnish you with the comforts of this life. Take this into consideration, and you will admit that the balance must be against you. Tell me, where is the man you have ever heard of, who, by a course of bushranging, has gained a shilling’s worth of property he can call his own. If liberated tomorrow where are their gains? I will read you a list of bushrangers who have appeared during the last four years and a half, all of whom have been either shot dead, or hanged, or imprisoned for life — a list almost of demons. There was Peisley, he was executed. Davis, sentenced to death, but commuted to fifteen years. Gardiner, sentenced to thirty two years. Gilbert, shot dead. Ben Hall, shot dead. Bow and Fordyce, sentenced to death, commuted to imprisonment for life. Manns, executed. Vane, ten years. O’Mealley, shot dead. Burke, shot dead. Gordon, Ben Hall’s mate, sentenced to fifteen years. Dunleavy, the same. Dunn, executed. Lowry, shot dead. Foley, sentenced to fifteen years. Morgan, shot dead. Yourself, Thomas Clarke, and you John Clarke, about to be sentenced to be hanged. Fletcher, shot dead, Pat Connell, a mate and relation of yours Thomas Clarke, shot dead. Tom Connell, another relation, sentenced to death, but commuted to penal servitude for life; and Bill Scott, a mate of yours, believed to have been murdered. How many widows, how many orphans, how much property is lost by the career of these men? I have a list here which shows that since June, 1864, seven persons, mostly police, were killed, and sixteen policemen wounded — all within three years. Much as I have had to do with criminals, I do not know that there is anything in the world so abhorrent as the sympathy which has been expressed for this class of highway robbers — the scum of the earth, the lowest of the low — they have been held up as heroes worthy of example. But better days are coming. It was the convict element that was still working, that caused the sympathy I am alluding to. Yes, a brighter day is coming. You will not live to see it, for your days are numbered. A better and a healthier feeling is rising and pervading all classes. There will be no longer this vile sympathy which has hitherto so much disgraced us. It is shocking when I think of it. It pains me. It humiliates me when I reflect upon it. But two or three years ago one, a young man, the head and front of bushranging amongst us, was in the dock where you now stand, and was acquitted wrongfully — I say wrongfully acquitted. And there was rejoicing in this court, such an exhibition as would disgrace the vilest country on earth; but I am happy to say such days are gone. If there are any in this court now who participated in that unseemly exhibition, they live now to see their shame. I am grieved that two young men like you are to receive the last sentence of the law — that you are to pass away from a country which, by honest industry, you might have assisted to raise in the estimation of the world, but from which you pass after disgracing it.

His HONOR then, with much solemnity, pronounced the awful sentence of death upon the prisoners, who were then received by the gaolers to the condemned cells.

The prisoners remained apparently unconcerned at their fate. An elderly woman, said to be Mrs Clarke, stood near the dock, and her feelings can be better imagined than described to see her two sons conducted to their last habitation in this world.

The Court which had been orderly throughout the day, adjourned at 11:30 p.m.

Posted on by AJFPhelan56 2

Spotlight: Johnny Gilbert at Burrowa (27 May 1863)

Empire (Sydney, NSW : 1850 – 1875), Wednesday 27 May 1863, page 3

JOHNNY GILBERT AT BURROWA.

(From the Yass Courier‘s Marengo correspondent.)

MAY 19.—This morning, about ten o’clock, our little town, our rather village, was thrown into a state of excitement by a horseman galloping into it and reining up his panting steed at the police station. He handed a letter to the officer in command (Swan), the perusal of which caused all to be bustle; for instant boot and saddle was the order, and in a very short time horses were equipped, men armed and mounted, and they and the messenger all rode briskly away in the direction of Burrowa. Upon making the necessary inquiries, and proceeding to the scene of operations, I ascertained that a sticking-up case had occurred, which for coolness and effrontery eclipses all the late affairs of that class. It is well known that Mr. Allen Hancock, of Burrowa, has had for some time in training for the races a horse called “Jacky Morgan,” a provincial celebrity, and a great favourite in the betting circle. About seven o’clock this morning, as jockey in trainer Harry Wilson, was giving the horse his customary diurnal exercise near the Burrowa police barracks, a ponchoed horseman rode up to him, whom Wilson immediately recognised to be no other than the notorious Johnny Gilbert, whom Wilson has known for years. Gilbert instantly told the jockey to dismount, as he wanted the racer, but Wilson refused to do so, when Gilbert drew a revolver, and placing it close to Harry’s skull said, “Off at once, or take the consequences;” Wilson replied, “For God’s sake, Johnny, don’t ruin a poor fellow,” but all to no purpose, for Gilbert took the horse, and along with it a new jockey’s saddle and bridle, Wilson’s private property, which he had purchased only the day before. After Gilbert had cantered away, the unfortunate and almost broken-hearted jock, who by the way was to have raced the horse that very day, made all haste to his employer with the dismal intelligence. I am informed that Mr. Hancock lost no time in vain regrets, but instantly ordered one of his best horses to be saddled, and he in the interim loaded a double-barrelled gun, kissed his wife and family, and rode off, declaring most solemnly that he would never return alive without the stolen horse, and from what I know of his temperament, I’m pretty certain, if he drops across Gilbert, that he’ll keep his word.

Undoubtedly the “bush telegraph” must have been again at work, otherwise how would Gilbert have known the exact time and spot to have seized this racer, and that within rifle shot of the town, and within a stone’s throw of the police barrack itself. The daring sangfroid shown in this affair fully proves the great extent of harborage given to this scoundrel and his myrmidons, for him to dare almost to enter the town of Burrowa itself, where, as at Marengo, two out every three knew him by sight. I almost forgot to mention that this morning, about two hours after the previous robbery, the said Gilbert rode up to two drays, about three miles from Marengo (which were on the turn off road, near the Calabash) and told one of the carriers to stop and lower down a gin case, break it open, and hand him three or four bottles; the carrier hesitated, when Gilbert laughed derisively, threw open his poncho, and showed his belt bristling with revolvers, and also pointing significantly into the bush, thereby intimating that he bad plenty of assistance near at hand, which no doubt, he had, for it is my fixed impression that Gilbert is now at the head of the Wedden and Abercrombie band, and that Gardiner is leading another detachment in the Jingerra Ranges, whose tracks sergeant Brennan was on the other day. At all events, they are now possessed of some splendid horseflesh, three stolen racers, viz., Mr. Skillicorn’s, of Bathurst, Mr. Roberts’, of Currawang, and Mr. A. Hancock’s, of Burrowa.

I regret to state that the murderer, John Kellie, is still at large. Really what with our daily petty larcenies, weekly highway robberies, and bi-annual murders, we constitute a community which, however consistent, is unquestionably the reverse of Utopian.

Posted on by AJFPhelan56 0

Spotlight: Local & General Intelligence, Tumut and Adelong (11 May 1865)

Tumut and Adelong Times (NSW : 1864 – 1867; 1899 – 1950), Thursday 11 May 1865, page 2

Local & General Intelligence

The Araluen Escort Robbery. — Daniel Ryan, of Murrumburrah, lately arrested at that place, by Mr. Bray’s volunteer party, on a charge of being concerned with Ben Hall’s gang, in the attack on the Araluen escort, and who was remanded to Braidwood for identification, has being identified as being with the party on the Araluen mountain, and also when they stuck up Boyd’s store, at Tarago. — Goulburn Argus.

Expensive Gents. — The Yass Courier calculates that, during four years, it has cost the colony £200,000 to hunt Hall, Gilbert, and Dunn, in which all the efforts of the police have been ineffectual.

Captain Thunderbolt and his Gang. — The Tamworth Examiner says : — After various petty robberies this gang were surprised by the police whilst in possession of Mr. Walford’s inn at Millie. The police had been tracking them for four days, and reached Mr. Walford’s 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 to the house, 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 firing distance a short way from the house. Tunderbolt 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 seemed not to be 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 Dalton shouted to constable Norris to take charge of him, while 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 horse’s neck, and the ball luckily passed over him. Constable Norris came up at this moment, and again fired at the ruffian, the ball taking effect, having entered the jaw and escaped at the back of the neck. During the whole of the time constable Lynch was keeping the other three bushrangers at bay, and succeeded in doing so, notwithstanding that Ward, who was mounted on a fine chesnut horse, several times rode between the police and the youth, 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 nearly 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. The encounter lasted altogether 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. The head of the gang, who goes under the name of ‘Thunderbolt,’ is named Ward, and has been engaged in several 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 Thomson, a youth about sixteen years of age, and is described as a very dangerous vagabond. He had frequently expressed a wish to join the bushrangers. The fourth man is known by the name of ‘Bull’ or ‘Bully.’ Thomson and Ward are well acquainted with the part of the country on which they have been recently committing their depredations, and the former with his companions will doubtless make for his old haunts on the head of some of the creeks running into the Barwin, near Walgott. [Thomson has since died.]

Attempt on Wendlan’s Life. — Almost as might have been expected, the life of Wendlan, who shot Morgan, has become endangered through the spirit of revenge on the part of some of the scoundrel’s accomplices. A fellow named Thomas Maslen has been brought before the Bench at Wahgunyah, charged with threatening to avenge Morgan’s death by shooting Wendlan. He was found with arms, powder, balls, caps, and a bottle of strychnine. On Wednesday, Sergeant Hayes stated to the Bench that Maslen could be identified as an accomplice of Morgan, and the prisoner was remanded for a week. — Albury Banner.

A Good Chase and Capture. — The police in this colony have been so unfortunate in their attempts to capture the more notorious bushrangers, that the notion has become general that they are unequal to their duties. But such conclusion is very erroneous, as may be easily seen by reference to the list of captures recently made. The latest successful chase we hear of occurred at Uralla in the North. A man with blackened face robbed a shepherd’s hut, taking from him his only half-crown and everything else of value, and not for three days could information be conveyed to the police. There, however, two troopers started, and after riding 350 miles in five days, succeeded in surprising the robber with his mate in camp, and both of them were lodged safely in limbo. — Pastoral Times.

Morgan’s Legacies. — The Pastoral Times hears that Mr. Commissioner Lockhart is engaged in the district around Albury in trying to clear the country of the wretched villains who aided and abetted the recently slain murderer. Little mercy should be shown to those who, residing on Crown Lands illegally, gave shelter and food to Morgan while he went forth to rob and kill. It is to be hoped that the other Commissioners of Crown Lands in the Wellington districts, and the country where Messrs. Hall, Gilbert, and Co. carry on their avocations, will see that the powers invested in them are used to rid their districts of the aiders and abettors in these crimes.

Posted on by AJFPhelan56 2

Spotlight: Will Monckton meets Captain Thunderbolt

The following is extracted from Three Years With Thunderbolt by Will Monckton and Ambrose Pratt. It portrays Monckton’s first meeting with Thunderbolt after fleeing his abusive stepfather, and his attempt to join him in bushranging. The book (originally published as a serial in The Argus, Melbourne,) purports to be a memoir, though it is likely that more than a few liberties were taken by Pratt for dramatic effect. It reads as a novel from Monckton’s perspective and offers very important insights into the life of a bushranger as well as Captain Thunderbolt himself. – AP

Source: Three Years With Thunderbolt; Ambrose Pratt (ed.) 1905. Via: Project Gutenberg

Will Monckton [illustrated by Aidan Phelan]

I paused in the very heart of the forest, panting and almost spent. I was still fighting for breath when of a sudden at no great distance from where I strode unsteadily along a male voice burst forth in song. The notes were sweet and mellow, yet thrillingly distinct.

I stopped abruptly, spellbound, at first with astonishment, and then with a quick ensuing rapture. In one second I had forgotten my stepfather and my terror—everything in the world, indeed, except the wild, sweet music of the unseen singer’s voice, which poured forth in an unbroken stream of harmony, growing, nevertheless, momentarily more pathetic and melancholy. It seemed to me that the singer’s own heart was wistfully vibrating in tune with the touching little story that his song unfolded.

“Oh, don’t you remember sweet Alice, Ben Bolt?
Sweet Alice with hair so brown,
Who wept with delight when you gave her a smile,
And trembled with fear at your frown!”

The tears started to my eyes as the verse approached its end:—

“In the old churchyard in the valley, Ben Bolt,
In a corner obscure and alone,
They have fitted a slab of granite so grey,
And sweet Alice lies under the stone!”

To the last deep, vibrant note a heavy silence succeeded, during which I could hear my own heartthrobs, but nothing else. I was profoundly moved, and for a long while I did not even wish to stir from my position. Curiosity at length, however, mastered me, and, eager to discover who the singer might be, I stole through the forest with the noiseless caution of an aboriginal. In fifty paces I came upon the edge of a little glade, whence, peering from behind the trunk of a gnarled old red-gum, I beheld, within a dozen feet of me, a man bare-headed, who lay among the grasses, upon the broad of his back, gazing steadily up into the sky’s cloudless blue. Quite near him was a saddle, a silver-bitted bridle, and a swag. A magnificent chestnut horse, evidently a thoroughbred, stood nosing at his hobbles at a little distance off. At a glance I recognised the horse. It was “Combo,” Thunderbolt’s famous steed.

Was, then, the man lying so still before me Thunderbolt himself? The question flashed into my mind, and involuntarily I sighed, whereupon whatever doubts I had entertained were rapidly resolved.

With a speed that dazzled me, the man sprang from his recumbent attitude to his knees. One hand plucked a revolver from his belt, and, before I could move or speak I was looking over the muzzle of a cocked six-shooter into a pair of keenly watchful dark-brown eyes.

“Hands up!” he commanded curtly.

I obeyed him instantly, and yet, boy as I was, I experienced no fear. Some instinct told me that the man who could sing as I had heard that man sing a moment since would not harm one so friendless and miserable as I.

“Are you Thunderbolt?” I asked.

“I am Thunderbolt!” he replied. “Who are you?”

“I am Will Monckton,” I answered quietly. “I have been looking for you, sir!”

Thunderbolt got slowly to his feet and leisurely surveyed me, without, however, ceasing to keep me covered with his pistol. I returned his regard respectfully and yet curiously, for I was more than anxious to discover what manner of man he might be from whom I had been driven to seek help and protection.

He was about five feet nine or ten inches in height, strongly and yet gracefully built. He wore a full dark beard, but his head was a little bald, which made me think him older than he was. He seemed to me very good-looking. His nose was straight and shapely. He had a kind, yet grave expression, and I thought his mouth resembled my mother’s, and I was glad; also his eyes, although they were larger and darker than hers.

My poor mother! I know now that Thunderbolt’s expression resembled hers merely by reason of its sadness. But I was too young then to understand that melancholy marks even traces on its victims, although their fates be as widely separated as the Poles.

Captain Thunderbolt [illustrated by Aidan Phelan]

“I have heard of you,” said Thunderbolt presently. “I saw you this morning with Charley, didn’t I?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did he tell you where to find me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You are alone, of course?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What do you want with me?” he demanded.

“I have run away from home, sir. If my stepfather catches me he will half kill me. Even if he didn’t I would not go back to him. He is a brute, and I hate him.”

“Well?”

“Let me stay with you, sir—will you, please?”

Thunderbolt quietly uncocked his pistol and returned it to his belt. He looked me up and down for another full minute, and then, without saying a word, he sat down upon the ground. Leaning backwards, he put his hands behind his head and rested thus against his saddle, staring up at me.

“Please let me stay with you, sir,” I entreated.

“Do you want to be an outlaw?” he demanded.

“Anything!” I cried. “Anything rather than let my stepfather catch me.”

Such was my reply to his question, and I was sincere in what I said. But in very truth, at that moment I had never even dreamed of becoming a bushranger.

“Rob coaches?” asked Thunderbolt.

I nodded, feeling myself grow pale.

“Fight the police?”

I felt completely frightened at that prospect, but the die was cast, and I nodded again.

“Risk hanging, Will Monckton? You’d be hanged if you were caught, boy.”

“So would you,” I cried. “But they have been after you for years.”

“Bah! they’ll never take me—alive,” he retorted fiercely. “But with you it would be another matter. I have had two boys already. The first—poor young Thompson—was shot last April twelve months near Bathurst in a fight with the police. The other—Mason—was taken a month ago, and he is now in gaol. You had better go home, Will.”

“I will never go home. I’ll die first,” I said desperately.

He shook his head. “I’ve heard a good deal about the way your stepfather has treated you,” he said quietly. “But tell me your story, Will, and we shall see.”

Nothing loth, I poured out the full history of my wrongs, and did my best to prove to him how desperate I felt, and how utterly impossible it was that I should go home.

He listened to me very gravely without once interrupting, but when I had finished and was silent, he sat up, and pointed a finger at my breast. “Your stepfather is a cruel ruffian,” he said quietly, “but listen to me, Will Monckton——” he paused.

“Yes, sir,” I said anxiously.

“You are in the right of it now, lad,” replied the bushranger. “But you’ve no excuse to become a criminal. A few beatings more or less, what do they matter to a hard young rip like you? Why you’ll soon grow too big to beat—big enough to beat your stepfather, in fact. Take my advice, Will, and go back home. Remember, you have a mother to think of. How would she feel if you turned bushranger?”

I was silent, for mention of my mother had brought a lump to my throat.

“Let me tell you my own story,” went on Thunderbolt, after a little pause. “When I was a boy, not much older than you, Will, I got mixed up with some bad companions—cattle-thieves they were, though I didn’t know it then. One day I was with them in the bush, and the police came on us, and arrested us all. We were tried for stealing cattle, and though I tell you before God, Will, that I was innocent, I was convicted with the others, and sentenced to a long term of imprisonment on Cockatoo Island. I think I felt then pretty much as you do now—just as if the whole world was against me, and I against the world. Well, boy, I swore to be revenged on the world that had treated me so badly; and I have. You have heard, no doubt, how I broke out of gaol, and swam from Cockatoo Island to the mainland, and how I made good my escape. Well, that was years ago, and I’ve been a criminal ever since. For the last four years I have been outlawed—every man’s hand against me, I alone against them all. I’m not denying I have had a pretty fair time—and the life is full of pleasure and excitement to a man of spirit. But I tell you this, Will Monckton—if I had my time to come over again, I would serve out my sentence on Cockatoo Island, and try afterwards to lead an honest life. I would, so help me, God!”

He spoke with such solemn earnestness that I was deeply impressed. But at the same time I felt such a sympathy for him, and admired him so much, I did not wish to leave him at all. Beyond and above that, I was of a very stubborn disposition, and I had always had a great pride in sticking to my word.

“I have left home, and for ever,” I muttered.

Thunderbolt gravely shook his head. “Be guided by my advice, boy, and go back!” he said.

“I have left home for ever,” I repeated doggedly.

The outlaw shrugged his shoulders and got to his feet. Paying me no further heed, he took up his bridle and strolled over to where his beautiful horse was feeding. Two minutes later Combo was saddled, and Thunderbolt had climbed to his back.

“You are not going to leave me?” I cried out in alarm.

“I am going to my camp,” replied Thunderbolt. “It is about a mile and a half down the creek.”

“Let me go with you.”

“No, not now. Think over what I have told you, Will, for a few hours, and then, if you are still in the same mind, come to my camp. I like your looks, boy, and I’d be glad to have you for a partner, for I’m cursed lonely sometimes. But, for your own sake, and for the last time, I advise you not to look me up again. Go home, boy! Good-bye.”

He touched Combo with his heels, and the horse bounded away at half a gallop through the trees.

I shouted out to him to wait, to stop for one moment, but the outlaw did not even turn his head. I watched until the trees had shut him from my view, and then, my brain whirling with excited thoughts, I threw myself down in the grass where Thunderbolt had been lying, and buried my head in my arms.

Posted on by AJFPhelan56 0

Spotlight: Westwood writes to his parents (29 April 1847)

Britannia and Trades’ Advocate (Hobart Town, Tas. : 1846 – 1851), Thursday 29 April 1847, page 4

NORFOLK ISLAND.

Recent arrivals from the Ocean Hell have put us in possession of most astounding information on many points connected with that depôt of crime, injustice, and misery. It appears that, much credit was given to its present Civil Commandant for the manner in which he, it was said, had put down the spirit of insubordination, whereas the following facts will prove that to circumstances alone may be attributed the change. Mr. Price arrived when one great source of discontent had expired. The Indian corn meal had all been used, and within a day after his arrival, wheaten flour was necessarily again issued. An extra company of soldiers had arrived from Sydney, thus placing the power of the military beyond all dispute. The great body, of the mutineers were in close and safe confinement, and the sentences passed upon many of them, relieved the mass from the fatal consequences of their example. The resident police magistrate was removed, and human blood no longer flowed in streams from the triangles. In a former number we gave the copy of a letter written by William Westwood, better known as Jackey Jackey, and at the time of its appearance an attempt was made to shew that he had died breathing a spirit of bitterness very unsuited to any man at the last hour of his existence. What the motives for doing Westwood such an injustice, it is not our present purpose to inquire; certain however it is, that such was not the fact, as the following copy of another letter will show. “Justice to free and bond” is our maxim in such matters, and we see no reason why the last dying thoughts of the malefactor should not be as fairly represented as those of him whose life has not been forfeited to the offended laws of his country.

Westwood, although an illiterate person, was a man of strong natural abilities; those enabled him to dictate every word of the following address, to a fellow prisoner, who wrote them down for him, as his (Westwood’s) thoughts flowed; but the signature, and what may be considered the postscript, were written by himself. At an early opportunity we will return to the present state of affairs at Norfolk Island; in the meantime, we have quite enough before us to show, that Mr. Gilbert Robertson, Lieut. Butler, R.N., and others, have been victimized in a manner which will assuredly bring with it, its ultimate reward.

The Lord gave, and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.

Norfolk Island, South Pacific Ocean, 12th October, 1846.

My dear Father and Mother, — Heaven knows I have neglected you, to whom I owe so many kindnesses, and have in my youth acted contrary to your wishes, and parental instructions; thus it follows, that it is now my lot to address you whom I love dearly, under such distressing and to you as well as myself, such painful circumstances. You have, I am sure, had many unhuppy moments respecting me; but I now must endeavour to prepare you for a shock, which I am afraid will be almost more than you can or will be able to endure. But, my dear parents, brothers, and sisters, mourn not for me, I who long before you can possibly receive his will have been ushered into the awful presence of his Maker, and will have appeared before that great Tribunal of Justice, where all must render an account for their actions, where all hearts are open, and where all secrets are known: — therefore I say, my dear relations, mourn not for me, but let my unfortunate lot be a lesson to the living, let the younger branches of our family, and the offspring of them, learn to honour their fathers, and mothers in their youth; for neglecting those precepts, these holy and heavenly laws, has brought me to the situation I now am placed in; but it is, it must be the work of that great God who made heaven and earth, and all that therein is, and who knows all things; for it is now, and only now, that I see my error; it is now only I can see and know the multitude of God’s mercies towards me, it is now I am brought to a right sense of my duty towards Him, and it is now I can repeat, as applicable to my own case, these beautiful words of the Psalmist—

The wonders he for me has wrought shall fill my mouth with songs of praise and others to his worship brought, To hopes of like deliverance raise. 40th Psalm, 3rd verse.

No sooner I my wound disclosed; The guilt that tortur’d me within, But thy forgiveness interposed, And mercy’s healing balm poured in. 32nd Psalm, 5th verse.

I can now, my dear and beloved parents, withhold the truth of my fate no longer from you; for an outbreak took place at this ill-fated settlement on the 1st day of July last, when some lives were lost, for which I have been tried and condemned to die, — which sentence will be carried into effect before the setting of tomorrow’s sun. Bear this with humble fortitude, for I at first made up my mind not to write at all, but then I thought you might perchance see the account in the public press, and I know it would be a great satisfaction to you, even under such trying and truly heart-rending circumstances, to hear, and that from myself, that I died as a Christian, embracing the same faith as I was taught when a child, putting my whole trust and confidence in Christ Jesus, who shed his blood in ignominy for me and all repenting sinners; through his blood alone I can and must be saved: he heard the prayers of the dying thief upon the cross, and through his faith forgave his sins even at the eleventh hour. During this time or trial and affliction, I have been attended by the Rev. Thomas Rogers, of the Church of England, to which gentleman I owe everything; his attention to me has been unceasing; night and day has he laboured to bring me to a right sense of my duty towards an offended Maker. May that God whom he has taught me to fear and love, reward him ten thousand fold!

Dearly beloved parents, give my kind love and affection to my dear brothers and sisters; tell them, I trust and earnestly hope my disgraceful and unfortunate untimely end will be an everlasting barrier against their ever doing evil; tell them, with you to bear up against this unhappy occurrence, and endeavour to spend their lives in such a way as will ensure a peaceful death.

I again entreat you all not to mourn for me, for through Christ Jesus, and a hearty and sincere repentence; I hope to meet you all in the realms of everlasting bliss. May God bless you; may He be with you, may He guide your steps; direct your hearts, and in the end may he receive your never-dying souls into his mansion of everlasting happiness and peace, is the earnest and sincere prayers of your unfortunate and dying son.

William Westwood.

Dear pearants, I send you a piece of my hear in remberance of me, your son, Wm. Westwood. Good Bye, and God Bless you all.

Posted on by AJFPhelan56 3

Spotlight: Bushrangers in court in Bathurst (13 April 1865)

Empire (Sydney, NSW : 1850 – 1875), Thursday 13 April 1865, page 2

BATHURST CIRCUIT COURT.

MONDAY, APRIL 10, 1865.

(Before His Honor Judge Wise.)

Crown Prosecutor, E. Butler, Esq. Barristers, W. B. Dalley, J. L. Innes, and E. Lee, Esqrs. Attorneys,

Messrs. James and McIntosh.

HIGHWAY ROBBERY.

James Mount alias Gordon alias the “Old Man,” and James Dunleavy were charged with, on the 7th day of July, 1861, assaulting and robbing William Brandon, and taking from him a quantity of letters, the property of himself and another.

Mr. Dalley applied for time to plead on behalf of Dunleavy, which was granted.

Gordon, after having objected to be arraigned by any other name, pleaded guilty. His Honor reserved sentence.

Another count charged Gordon with having, on the same day, in the Half-way House, robbed Ebenezer Davis of £3, and with, on the same day, at the same place, assaulting and robbing one George Asmus, to both of which he pleaded guilty. He also pleaded guilty to having robbed, with fire-arms, on the 13th June, 1864, one Charles David Clements of a quantity of fire-arms and £2 in money ; on the 19th August, in the same year of having stolen horses, &c, the property of William Faithful Gibson ; and on the 22nd June, at Canowindra, a quantity of wearing apparel and £3 in money, from Joshua Pierce.

SHOOTING WITH INTENT.

Sam Poo was indicted with, on the 18th February, at Barney’s Reef, shooting at one Henry Hughes, to prevent his lawlful apprehension. The prisoner remained mute, and would not answer the charge.

Wilson Ramsay being sworn said that the prisoner since his arrest had not to his knowledge spoken, but he had been told that he could speak English well.

John Duff deposed he knew the prisoner. Had spoken to him in English, and he had replied to him. He can speak English as plain as witness can.

It was therefore decided that the jury should be empanelled to try whether he was mute by malice, or by the visitation of God. The jury being sworn, Mr. Butler said that the only thing they had to try was whether he was wilfully mute or only unhappily so. He thought he could prove by various witnesses that the former was the case, and that he had only become obstinate.

Tommy Hoy deposed that he had a conversation with the prisoner on the previous day in the coach, both in English and Chinese, and he understood him.

John Duff re-called, repeated his former evidence. He asked him in English where he was going to, and he said if himself and his brother did not go on he would soon make them. Asked him where he lived, and he said, pointing down a log, “there.” This was in English. Told him he would fetch somebody to shift him. He said, “You had better not.”

Senior-constable Webb deposed that the prisoner had been in his charge. He heard him ask for a drink of water whilst on the coach, and he also spoke at his examination before the Bench.

Mr. Sub-inspector Davidson had never heard him speak.

Mr. Chippendall said that after he came into gaol he would not speak at all. Was informed he had eaten the food given to him.

Edward Clark deposed he had seen the prisoner in Mudgee, but could get him to speak. Had heard others speak to him, but he would not answer. He refused to take his food for some fourteen days.

Constable Burns deposed to his having spoken in the lock-up at Sofala, and also in the coach.

The jury retired for half an hour, and brought in a verdict of dumbness by malice.

His Honor decided that this was equivalent to a plea of not guilty, and directed the trial to proceed.

Another jury was therefore empannelled.

Mr. Butler, in opening the case, said that the prisoner was charged with shooting at Henry Hughes with intent to kill him, and in a second count with shooting to resist his lawful apprehension. The prisoner was arrested on suspicion of having shot constable Ward, but the evidence was not at present sufficiently complete to go on with that case. The Chinaman had been told by the police what he was arrested for, and he then shot at them, being well armed both with a gun and pistol, and it was only when knocked on the head with the butt end of a rifle that he was arrested.

Miles Burns deposed he was a constable in the Western Police. Remembered hearing of the death of constable Ward, about the 5th or 6th of February. Went out with senior constable Webb and another to apprehend a Chinaman. Was stationed at Mudgee then. Received information on 17th March that the Chinaman was about the town and went in pursuit with three others. Saw prisoner about fifty miles from Mudgee. McMahon was with him, the other two having taken another direction. A shot was fired and they saw him retreating. Called on him to stop but he would not. Did not see him till after the shot was fired. He was about sixty yards distant. Heard the shots passing over their heads. Fired at him and missed him. Chased him through the bush and met the others. Other shots were fired. Saw Hughes’ hat after the prisoner was taken. When prisoner was taken he was on the ground, taking deliberate aim at witness, when he knocked him over the head and stunned him.

Told him five or six times to surrender, as they were police. Found on him a powder horn, a large pistol, and a fowling piece. The pistol was loaded and the gun discharged.

Senior-constable Webb deposed he was with Burns when they went in search of the prisoner. Saw Ward when he was dead. Was not present when the firing took place.

Henry Hughes, a half-caste, deposed he was lately in the employ of Mr. Blakeman, being brought up by him. Was with the police when the prisoner was taken. He fired at witness, and the shot went through the rim of his hat (produced). The hole was not in the hat when this occurred. The hat was knocked off his head at about six yards from the prisoner. The other time he was fired at he was about twenty-five yards away. Whilst taking aim the last time constable Todd shot him, and Burns knocked him on the head. There was only one hole made in the hat.

Constable Burns was re-called, and in reply to his Honor reiterated his former evidence.

His Honor, in charging the jury, said that as the prisoner had been adjudged guilty of wilfully holding his tongue, and as others had said he could speak, the only course left open was to show them the evidence and leave it to them to judge whether he was guilty upon the first or second count.

The jury, after retiring a few minutes, returned a verdict of wounding with intent to kill. The prisoner, who appeared to be very weak and emaciated, was remanded for sentence.

Posted on by AJFPhelan56 0

Spotlight: Capture of “Thunderbolt’s” Wife (10 April 1866)

Mercury (Hobart, Tas. : 1860 – 1954), Tuesday 10 April 1866, page 3

NEW SOUTH WALES.

We have Sydney papers to the 4th inst. The following are extracts :–

CAPTURE of “Thunderbolt’s” Wife. — A short time since, a police party, consisting of senior-sergeant Kerrigan, constable Scully, a black tracker, and a volunteer – Norman Baton, went through the New England and Stroud district in search of Ward, alias Thunderbolt, and on Tuesday last, at a place called Pignabarney Creek, about thirty miles from Nundle, they sighted a half-caste woman with horse, saddle, bridle, and swag, and believing her to be Ward’s wife, they asked her where Ward was; she said she was “the captain’s lady,” and Ward had been chased two days previously by the police; that she had since been in search of him with provisions and was unable to find him in the mountains. Her swag contained a suit of man’s clothes and some provisions, and on the grass lay a child about nine months old, and by its side a shear blade, fastened to a long stick, with which she used to ride up to cattle and kill them when short of provisions. She was taken to Stroud (a journey, of three days) on horseback, and was there charged with vagrancy, having no fixed place of abode nor visible means of support. On this charge she was convicted, and sentenced to six months’ imprisonment in Maitland gaol. She stated that Thunderbolt had some time ago been wounded by the police with a bullet in the leg, and that his horse, since falling on him, had hurt the same leg so much that she did not think he could long survive; and further, that they had gone to where she was taken as a sort of refuge to be out of danger of capture, whilst he rested to receive the use of his leg. On the day she last saw him she had to lift him on his horse just as the police came in sight. The camp at Pignabarney was in a wild unfrequented part of the New England district, and fully twenty-five miles from any house, hut, or homestead. Two parties of police were still in pursuit of Thunderbolt when our informant left Stroud.

Robbery of the Up and Down Mails between Campbelltown and Wollongong.— We learn from a gentleman who arrived in town yesterday, from Wollongong, and who left that place by the Monday evening mail, that on reaching London Creek, some twelve miles from Wollongong, about one o’clock on Tuesday morning, they stopped to change horses. It was then discovered that the down mail from Campbelltown, with one passenger, had been stopped there by two armed men, with masked faces, at about ten o’clock the previous night. The fellows immediately seized the coachman, whom they bound securely hand and foot to a tree; the solitary gentleman passenger was served in the same way; and as if determined not to be baulked in their design of overhauling the mail bags, the ruffians also secured the groom in charge of the horses, and his wife, the latter being strapped tightly into a chair. This done all four were gagged, some rags and pieces of cloth being rolled up tightly in hard balls, and forced into the mouths of their helpless victims. The ruffians then lay in wait for the up mail, which, as already stated, reached the customary place for changing horses close upon 1 o’clock, there being eleven passengers by her, bound to Sydney. The night being beautifully fine and clear, one of their number alighted, and walked towards a man whom he saw standing in the direction of the stables. Without looking at the party addressed, he asked in a jocular tone if they had got any grog? The fellow spoken to immediately replied, “Go up into that corner and you will find grog there.” He hesitated, however, and looking up at his newlymade acquaintance, remarked “you’re surely joking,” which observation was followed in a commanding tone by an order to “get into the corner immediately, or he would blow his head off if he disobeyed.” Having by this time found out that he was in the hands of a bushranger, and that resistance was useless, the wayfarer yielded to his fate. The fellow then proceeded to make the passengers fast, as they had done the others, whilst his mate covered them with a loaded pistol. Subsequently, however, on the suggestion of one of the passengers, the highwaymen agreed to dispense with the bailing-up and gagging part of the proceedings, on condition that they would quietly hand over what money they had upon them, which they gladly consented to. The robbers thus got about £20 from the passengers, besides which they rifled the down mail, opening every letter and scattering them about the road. The up passengers – amongst whom were several Sydney gentlemen, the Rev. W. Curnow, Wesleyan minister, being of the number – were detained rather better than an hour. Before allowing the coachman to drive on, the robbers took a couple of his horses, which they mounted and rode off. Shortly after one of the stolen animals was recovered, some distance ahead on the road to Campbelltown. The animal being rather refractory, and ill to ride, it is conjectured his new masters were glad to get rid of him, lest his pranks might draw attention to them, and possibly lead to their detection. One of the highwaymen is described as being a tall, strapping young fellow, evidently a native, the other a short, thick-set elderly man, rather round-shouldered. Besides the pistols, the men were each armed with formidable looking carving or bowie knives, which they seemed quite disposed to use if necessary. Information, we understand, was given to the police at Appin, and also at Campbelltown, and the troopers, somewhat tardily, turned out and went in pursuit, with what success we have yet to learn.

Posted on by AJFPhelan56 0

Spotlight: Mrs. Thunderbolt (11 March 1867)

Empire (Sydney, NSW : 1850 – 1875), Monday 11 March 1867, page 5

“MRS THUNDERBOLT.” – We learn that the bushranger Thunderbolt’s wife, who was lately sent to gaol for three months by the Paterson bench, for having property in her possession, which she could not account for, has within the past few days been released from the Maitland gaol, the statements of a petition sent by her to the Governor, setting forth that she had put purchased the property from Messrs. Wolfe and Garrick’s store in West Maitland, having been borne out. We are informed that the unfortunate woman stated to the Paterson bench, that she bought the property from the store named; that they remanded the case to allow her to prove her statement, but that being kept in custody she was unable to produce evidence when the case was again called on, and was therefore sent to gaol. – Ensign

Mount Alexander Mail (Vic. : 1854 – 1917), Monday 18 March 1867, page 2

NEW SOUTH WALES.

Mrs Thunderbolt.— The “wife ” of Fred. Ward, better known by the soubriquet of ” Captain Thunderbolt,” the bushranger, has been released from Maitland gaol. This woman was incarcerated by the Paterson magistracy on a charge of having goods in her possession for which she failed to offer a satisfactory account. She made a statement before the court that she had obtained the goods at a certain store in West Maitland, but was unable to prove it before the bench. Her imprisonment created some discontent, and the Government ordered her enlargement within the last few days.— Maitland Ensign.

Illawarra Mercury (Wollongong, NSW : 1856 – 1950), Tuesday 26 March 1867, page 2

MR AND MRS THUNDERBOLT – A story has been brought to Tinonee by the Gloucester mailman that Thunderbolt, the celebrated bushranger, called at Mr Thomas Brown’s inn, Gloucester, a few days ago, and left a child either there or or at Mr Lavers’s accommodation house in the same neighbourhood. It is also stated that Thunderbolt’s wife is now in the same vicinage. – Manning River News
Posted on by AJFPhelan56 0