A party of police, consisting of Senior Sergeant Smyth, Senior Constable Baxter, Constables Connor, and Maguire, and a blackfellow named Jimmy Reed, were camped on Sunday night at Dougal’s Swamp, near Keighran’s station. They had just got tea, and were lying in the tent yarning, as is usually done by persons camped out. They had no sentry on guard – that duty being delayed until they “turned in” for the night. Suddenly their discourse was cut short by a volley being fired into the tent amongst them.
THIS miscreant, emboldened by the impunity with which he has for months past robbed travellers and levied blackmail from the squatters in the Albury district, occasionally diversifying his exploits by burning down a woolshed or destroying a settler’s account books, has added two murders to his crimes. On the 19th ult., he encountered Sergeant Carroll, of Wagga Wagga, about twenty miles from Albury, and several shots were exchanged without effect. During the afternoon of the same day he visited the Roundhill station, belonging to Messrs. Henty, and, after dismounting, put his horse into the stable. There were a number of men about the huts, whom the ruffian, with a revolver in each hand, ordered to go into the carpenter’s shop, and after asking Mr. Watson, the superintendent, if the men got enough rations, ordered him to go and bring four bottles of grog, which were drank; after carousing for hours, Morgan was about taking his departure, when Mr. Watson incautiously made some remark about stolen stirrup irons.
When and where is it to end? is the remark made by everybody. Are we never to hear the end of Morgan? Apparently not, until in a drunken fit, or by the accidental discharge of his own revolver, the world is rid of the now doubly-dyed miscreant.
Young Morgan “turned out” early in life, and while yet a lad, stole a horse belonging to the police magistrate of Campbelltown. The constables went in pursuit of him, but he succeeded in evading their search. It is said that when they were trotting their horses after him he kept at the same pace as they did, and when they galloped he used to put spurs to his horse and outstrip them in speed, he at last managed to double on them, and, returning to the neighbourhood of Campbelltown, succeeded in stealing two more horses, with which he made his way into the interior where be disposed of them.
Thomas Oliver Thomas, storekeeper, residing at Wangaratta, stated that on 7th May, 1869 he was on the Buckland road travelling on horseback to Hooper’s Crossing. He was riding one horse and leading another, and when within about seven yards of him observed that the prisoner had him covered with a double-barrelled gun. Prisoner called out to witness to stop. Witness was on the point of going when prisoner called out “If you go, I’ll fire.” He (witness) then came towards prisoner, who told him not to come too near, and said that his gun could kill at 300 yards. Prisoner then asked witness what money he had. Told him first that he had none. Told him afterwards that he had a couple of notes. Prisoner said to hand them to him, which witness did. Prisoner then asked him what had become of the other fellow who was with him (witness). Told prisoner that he did not know. Witness then asked prisoner to give him one of the pounds back, as he had taken all his money. Prisoner said he would not, as he had just stuck up the coach and got nothing. He further told witness to consider himself lucky that he did not take his hat and coat from him.
The Benalla Police Court was crowded yesterday to see the young bushranger Kelly, and to hear the result of the charges laid against him. The prisoner has greatly improved under the better and regular diet he has had since his incarceration, and has become quite “flash.” We are told that his language is hideous, and if he recover his liberty at Kyneton, and again join Power—as no doubt he soon would—we are inclined to think he would be far more dangerous than heretofore. Continue reading Spotlight: Young Kelly on remand (13 May 1870)
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.
A new folk song about one of the most infamous bushrangers by Queensland artist Rodd Sherwin and musician Jeremy Williams. Continue reading Mad Dog Morgan by Rodd Sherwin
His last exploit in New South Wales was sticking up the Kyamba mail, after which he proceeded by way of Tumberumba, in the Billabong district, to the Murray, crossing that river at Yoe or Thugulong, about 20 or 30 miles from Albury. He was next seen at Mr. J. Wilson’s station, Wallangatta, from which he stole a racing mare and another horse dur[ing] the night, being able to get clear off with his spoil, as Mr. Wilson was from home and the superintendent away to the back country with weaners, taking all the shepherds and dogs with him. There was thus nothing to give the alarm; and Morgan was allowed plenty of leisure to effect his depredations. Continue reading Spotlight: Morgan the Bushranger – Latest Particulars (19 April 1865)
Dark, brooding, melancholy, and alone,
Beast-like, the ruffian plundered, prowled and slew,
Without a rival or compeer to own
His fellowship ; all shuddered in his view.
Like to a tiger whose fierce maw once drew
The life-blood from some shrieking unaware,
And ever after’s thirsty to renew
The baleful draught ; still watching from his lair,
Where fetid bones, half-gnawed, pollute and plague the air.
Thus seemed the human monster ; he had swilled
His godless hands full oft in human gore :
It was a pastime— horrid, grim, but filled
His fiendish longing restlessness for more.
It joyed the tiger’s instinct in his core ;
Or devil’s impulse that delighted in
Such deeds as man bad never done before ;
That sighed to top the summit of all sin
Which man hath scaled, where devildom can but begin. Continue reading Spotlight: Morgan, the Bushranger (Poem; 15 April 1865)