Tag: Kelly gang

Francis Augustus Hare

Forever remembered as the Kelly Hunter, Francis Augustus Hare was an intriguing man with a biography full of excitement and misadventure. From a privileged upbringing in South Africa to good fortune on the Victorian gold fields and a thrilling career as a frontier policeman, Hare is a man often maligned for his seeming ineptitude when hunting for some of the most remarkable bushrangers that Australia has produced.

Hare was born in Wynberg in the Cape of Good Hope on 4 October, 1830. One of seventeen children of Captain Joseph Hare of the 21st Light Dragoons and his second wife Sally, Francis received a good education due to his father’s good social standing. Joseph Hare passed away in 1856 after many years as a professional wine taster and warehouse-keeper at customs, as well as the owner of a farm named Oude Wynberg where Francis farmed sheep for a time with his brothers. However, the life of a grazier was not one that held any kind of allure for Frank Hare and when news reached him of the remarkable quantities of gold that had been found in Australia, he knew where he wanted to be.

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Map of South Africa c.1880s. Wynberg is located within Cape Town in the south west. [Source]

On 10 April 1852 Hare arrived in Melbourne. After a jaunt in Sydney with a mate who had escaped from Norfolk Island, the 22 year old South African headed straight to the Goldfields in Bendigo where he staked a claim and later, on his claim on Springs Creek, he managed to dig up £800 worth of gold in one day. During his prospecting days he managed to avoid being nabbed for not having a mining licence, a serious offence in the days before the Eureka Stockade. Unfortunately, Hare’s constitution failed him and he fell deathly ill. Such problems would regularly plague him, but this illness was such that he ended up giving up mining in an effort to get to Sydney for treatment. At one point on his journey he found himself on a dray under a gum tree being watched by crows who he feared would peck out his eyes. Hare’s fear of death and carrion birds gave him the resolve to survive and recuperate. He soon got work with the gold escort, becoming a mounted lieutenant on 1 June 1854 and was assigned to escort the gold delivery from Beechworth to Buckland. The track upon which the escort travelled was notoriously difficult to traverse, the escort regularly having to swim across floodwaters and rivers and on one occasion a mule bearing 2000 ounces of gold broke away from the escort and bolted up a mountain pass and was shot to enable the escort to retrieve the gold as it would have been too treacherous to retrieve the mule as well. It was during this time that Hare had his first encounter with bushrangers.

At Dr. Mackay’s station on the Ovens River in 1855, the bushranger Meakin stuck up the station in search of £700 in cash Dr. Mackay had been paid the day before for horses. There were a number of people in the house that evening, the doctor’s wife bedridden and in precarious health, two women including the doctor’s niece and none other that Francis Augustus Hare, at that time a lieutenant stationed at Wangaratta. At 2am Hare was roused from his makeshift bed on a sofa by the two visiting women rapping on the French windows. They informed him there was a strange man on the deck with a gun and a large knife. Hare told the women to return to bed but they refused to leave his quarters until they were convinced he knew the seriousness of their observation. Five minutes after sending the women to bed the dogs began barking and Hare saw Meakin bolting across the courtyard for the fence. Hare called on him to stop to no avail and pursued him on foot. The chase was farcical, the hunter and the prey tripping up repeatedly as they headed for the garden fence, at one point Meakin becoming entangled in the vines in the garden. Hare took a shortcut to head Meakin off whereupon he tackled the bushranger into a mullock heap comprised mostly of rose bush cuttings. He grasped Meakin’s colt revolver in his right hand and with his left repeatedly pounded Meakin between the eyes. Of the event Hare would later recall:

The struggle was for life, and notwithstanding it was on the top of a heap of rubbish, principally rose cuttings, men never fought harder.

After wrestling for five or six minutes, Dr. Mackay finally arrived to discover the hullabaloo and Meakin surrendered. One can only imagine the sight of a 6’3″ tall South African dressed in nothing but trousers and a ripped shirt pinning a bushranger on top of a pile of rose clippings. Meakin was taken to the kitchen but made a run for it when Hare left the room to get dressed. Once more Hare was bounding after the criminal and brought him again to the ground, this time threatening to dash his brains out with a rock if he tried anything. Mackay bound Meakin with saddle straps and a constable was brought from Beechworth the next morning. Meakin was tried for burglary, having committed numerous similar offences. He was kept guarded by Hare at Wangaratta, the police station little more than a slab hut with earth floor. Despite having irons riveted to his legs, Meakin attempted again to escape custody. During the night he had fooled the sentry by getting right underneath his blankets and digging the earth floor of his cell and piling the dirt underneath the blanket to give the impression he was still asleep. Unfortunately for him the process took longer than he had anticipated and he was caught in the act the next morning. After he was transferred to Benalla he escaped through the roof of his cell, still in his irons, and was never seen again. It was not a complete loss for Hare, however, as Dr. Mackay gifted him a handsome gold watch as a token of his esteem for Hare’s astounding feat of daring. Hare would carry it with him until the day he died. Inscribed on the watch was:

Presented to Lieutenant Francis Hare for his gallant capture of an armed bushranger at Tarrawingee, the 23rd of June, 1855.

1855 also saw Hare attempt to bring justice to another bushranger known as “Billy the Puntman”. When the Ovens river had no bridges, the only way to cross was by punt. Billy, whose real name was John Hyde, was the puntman on the Ovens as well as a known stock thief. When a bridge was finally built, Billy was out of a job and turned to bushranging. On one occasion he robbed a mailman just outside of Greta, then known as 15 Mile Creek, but not far behind was a coach bound for Melbourne carrying Lieutenant Hare. When they found the mailman distraught on the side of the road and learned of his plight, Hare took one of the coach horses and rode off bareback after Billy the Puntman. Alas he soon lost the tracks and had to be satisfied with providing the information to the police at Benalla.

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On 28 July 1857, Hare married 37 year old Janet Wright Harper, the eldest daughter of Colonel Kenneth Snodgrass at Raymond Terrance in New South Wales. Harper had been married in 1844 to George Mitchell Harper who had died the previous year. In the years that followed, Hare moved between stations in the roughest areas such as Back Creek, Chinaman’s Flat, and White Hills, near Maryborough. This was almost like the Wild West where murder was scarily frequent (almost weekly) and the frontier lifestyle was one fraught with danger and excitement, Hare even having to attempt placate a lynch mob who tried to break a murderer out of his cell to summarily hang him resulting in a riot. In a strange sequence of events, that murderer – a man named Brooks – died that afternoon of wounds received from his victim. The coroner severed the head as a memento and during the inquest, which was held in a theatre, the disembodied head rolled downstage and landed in front of the assemblage. The head, stripped of flesh stayed in that coroner’s possession for many years until his widow gave it to Hare who kept it as a keepsake in his den. Yet, as grisly as that place was, Hare’s tenure there also had its share of absurd moments. Hare would recall fondly the cases he was privy to in those days such as that of the drunk coroner forgetting to put a heart back into a body after an autopsy and the organ being pinched by an enterprising feline, or the coroner who got the sack for misidentifying ham bones from a fire as human remains only for the real human victim to be located dead of suffocation from the fire in a tunnel underneath the burned shop a few days after the funeral. Fortunately for Hare his time in the region was relatively safe apart from once when he had a narrow escape from being shot at Back Creek by one of his own troopers. At this time Hare was routinely referred to by some officers as ‘kaffir’, a racist term used by white South Africans in reference to black people.

Hare gradually climbed the ranks of the Victoria police, soon reaching the rank of superintendent. His conduct had brought him friends within the force, none so conspicuous as Captain Frederick Charles Standish, the chief commissioner of police. It was Standish who sent Hare to north east Victoria in 1870 to help lead the hunt for the notorious Harry Power, the infamous highwayman bushranger who had been committing his depredations unhindered. Hare was not used to operating in this region in such a capacity but his ego refused to allow him to fail. While he worked closely with Superintendent Nicolson on the chase, the two would often clash due to their dramatically different approaches. Hare was a very hands-on policeman, whereas Nicolson, who had been a detective for decades, tended towards establishing a sophisticated net of spies and traitors to entrap his prey. Both superintendents were present at Power’s capture, though Hare would later suggest his own role in the event was far greater than what had been reported. Hare and Nicolson had worked closely with a magistrate named McBean to convince a man named Jack Lloyd, a sympathiser of Power’s, to assist in his capture for the £500 reward – the largest yet offered in Victoria for a bushranger at that time. Lloyd led the police to a mountain near Whitfield and after making initial contact with Power to prove his presence, abandoned the police to avoid being suspected as the informant. The journey through the bush was treacherous, torrential rain hampering the police in their quest. Nicolson and Hare were accompanied by Sergeant Montford and a tracker named Donald who was able to point out the location of Power’s camp on an outcrop overlooking the King Valley. Power was asleep in his gunyah when Nicolson pounced on him, grabbing his wrists. Hare and Montford dragged the indignant bushranger out by his feet. After Power was restrained, the police ate his rations as they hadn’t eaten for two days. The exposure took its toll on Hare’s health. Nonetheless, Hare was lauded as a hero and this led to him gaining a reputation as a force to be reckoned with.

It was business as usual until after that. Hare was a keen sportsman, taking much joy in hunting for kangaroo and fowl, often going for trips hunting ducks along the Murray river. Nine years after his famous encounter with Power he was appointed by Captain Standish as the head of the hunt for the Kelly Gang, which was to be the defining period of his life. Hare took over from Superintendent Nicolson on 2 June 1879 after public perception of Nicolson had soured after the failure to apprehend the Kelly Gang, the outlaws even managing to rob a bank in Euroa during Nicolson’s watch. Hare was equipped with an indomitable spirit and was determined to bring the bushrangers to heel.

Hare’s hands-on approach led to a dramatic change in the way the police conducted their hunt. Bush work was the main focus of the operation and Hare would take parties of men out with black trackers to search the forested haunts of the gang. Hare took to leading search parties through the Warby Ranges in pursuit of the gang, believing them to be hidden in that region rather than around the Woolshed Valley or Strathbogie Ranges. Captain Standish had headed up from Melbourne to keep an eye on proceedings and such was his obsession for Hare that he would wait at the gate of the Benalla police station fretting like a hound awaiting its owner until Hare returned safely. Hare would later express great frustration in the fact that the gang’s network of sympathisers constantly hampered his attempts to ensnare the outlaws. This combined with the police inexperience in such rugged and mountainous terrain proven to be an almost insurmountable obstacle. Hare also instituted a bold plan formulated by Superintendent Nicolson back in Melbourne to cut off support for the gang. Officers arrested anyone suspected of being a sympathiser and had them remanded indefinitely until a charge could be laid. The downside of the plan was that it required Hare to travel to Beechworth every week to apply for a further seven days remand because no evidence could be produced to formulate charges for the prisoners. The plan proved impractical with the key sympathisers, the sisters of the outlaws specifically, still supplying them with information and sustenance, and the prisoners were soon released but not before stoking sympathy among the masses. This calculated move to try and eradicate support for the outlaws seemed to reinforce a resentment of the authorities instead. It was at this time also that the police would, through their agents, start to receive frequent reports that the outlaws or their sympathisers were intending on blowing up a police train. Additionally, pressure was put on the police to investigate every reported sighting regardless of how unlikely leading to Hare allocating officers to go in pursuit of dead ends or else be forced to deal with complaints that the reports were not being taken seriously. Hare, like Nicolson before him, began to rely ever more heavily on spies and informants to get an upper hand. The most prominent of Hare’s informants was Aaron Sherritt, a young man from the Woolshed Valley who was the childhood companion of gang member Joe Byrne and a bush telegraph for the gang.

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Aaron Sherritt, dressed in the larrikin style of the Greta Mob.

Aaron would supply Hare and Detective Michael Ward with information in exchange for money, which would soon become his primary income. While Sherritt’s motivations and sympathies have been debated ad nauseum, Hare believed that Sherritt was honest in his support for the police effort, aided by the fact that Sherritt’s father had been a constable in Ireland (Sherritt’s brothers would later seek employment in the police force with their father writing a letter to Hare for his support in getting them jobs). Sherritt’s information often resulted in no successes for the police, though Hare continued to rely on him. It was Sherritt who informed Hare that the gang were planning a bank raid in New South Wales, stating he had been asked by the gang to accompany them to Goulburn. However the information proved incorrect and at the time the police were preparing to strike at Goulburn they stuck up the township of Jerilderie instead. On Sherritt’s guidance Hare established watch parties at the Byrne homestead to ensnare the outlaws on their return trip from Jerilderie. The stake-out proved a farce but Hare trusted Aaron enough that in the coming months he would establish a permanent watch party to observe the Byrne farm, fed all the while by information from Aaron that he had obtained from his fiancée, Kate Byrne, Joe’s sister. During this time Aaron and Hare became very close, Aaron letting Hare in on the trade secrets from his time with the Greta Mob when he would help Ned and Joe steal and sell horses. Hare had given him the nickname ‘Tommy’ to make his involvement with the police less conspicuous and had developed a keen admiration for Sherritt’s hardiness. Hare’s search parties were bolstered in March 1879 by the arrival of Sub-Inspector Stanhope O’Connor and his Queensland black trackers. Hare was so astounded by the abilities of one tracker in particular, named Moses, that he arranged for him to be transferred into the service of the Victoria Police, much to O’Connor’s chagrin.

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Hare poses with his favourite tracker Moses.

Aaron’s insistence on keeping a police watch party (known as the ‘cave party’) watching the Byrne homestead would prove to be the larrikin’s undoing. Aaron would visit Kate Byrne and while he was there her mother would express a concern that there were police about the place. Aaron’s efforts to allay her fears were completely dashed when Mrs. Byrne found the police camp and Aaron along with the police stationed there after noticing a sardine tin glinting in the sun. Her recognition of Hare’s star informant made Aaron go deathly pale and break out in a cold sweat. When Hare asked what the matter was, Sherritt’s reply was nothing if not prophetic:

“Now I am a dead man.”

Mrs. Byrne subsequently broke off his engagement to Kate Byrne and in retaliation he stole a horse he had gifted to his fiancée and gave it to Maggie Skillion, Ned Kelly’s sister. At the time this arose Hare was greatly frustrated with the lack of progress and his health had begun to fail him, further exacerbated by badly injuring his back after jumping his horse over a fence, so he was removed from the hunt in July 1879 to recuperate, Nicolson being reinstated. Nicolson had pulled strings to get Aaron off the charge of horse stealing but the damage was done and eyes were now firmly on Sherritt from all quarters.

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Upon Hare’s return to the campaign on 1 June 1880 he insisted that the trackers be sent back to Queensland, stating that their presence was too intimidating for the gang to be inclined to present themselves. Meanwhile, Hare had arranged for police to be stationed at key areas where they could keep an eye on the activity of the families of the outlaws. In addition, measures were put into place to protect Sherritt. A party of police were to remain with him at all times in the hut on his new selection at the Devil’s Elbow. Alas, word quickly shot through the bush telegraph and reached the gang that Aaron was working with the police and had constables living with him and his new wife Belle. Dan Kelly and Joe Byrne would begin a campaign of testing to see if Aaron was still loyal to the gang but in the end Sherritt’s fate was sealed.

On 26 June, 1880, Aaron Sherritt was murdered by Joe Byrne in his home. News of the murder was delayed in reaching the police until the following day. Hare was notified of the event at the hotel he was staying in and proceeded to attempt communication with Captain Standish in Melbourne. After much back and forth a special train was organised to leave Spencer Street train station. The train would collect O’Connor and the black trackers from Essendon and then Hare and his police party from Benalla before going express to Beechworth for a rendezvous with Detective Ward to pick up the trail of the Kelly Gang before it was too late. There was no inkling that the police were playing right into a trap set up by the Kelly Gang at Glenrowan who were finally making good on the threats to destroy a police train. When the train arrived at Benalla it had been badly damaged by a closed railway gate. Fortunately a second engine was ready to go as a contingency if the train from Spencer Street hadn’t arrived so the locomotives were swapped over and the damaged engine was to go ahead as a pilot. Hare proposed that the civilian volunteer Rawlins be tied to the front of the pilot engine with ropes and equipped with a lantern and rifle so he could spot danger. It was promptly pointed out that Rawlins would be killed by such action and the idea was dropped. The train, carrying Hare, 5 police officers, Rawlins, O’Connor and his black trackers, O’Connor’s wife and sister-in-law, a team of journalists, the police armoury and horses, headed out from Benalla not long after midnight on 28 June. Just outside of Glenrowan the train was stopped by Thomas Curnow, the local school teacher, who explained that the Kelly Gang had damaged the tracks. Hare climbed out of the window of his carriage to see what was up and instructed the pilot engine to guide them into the station. When they arrived in Glenrowan, Hare, accompanied by Rawlins and Senior Constable Kelly visited the Stanistreet house where a distressed Mrs. Stanistreet explained that the gang had taken her husband. By the time they returned to the station Constable Bracken had escaped from Ann Jones’ inn and informed Hare that the gang was there. Hare led a charge to Jones’ inn and in the opening exchange of fire between the police and the Kelly Gang Hare was shot in the left wrist, shattering the bones and severing an artery. He managed to fire another shot while perched on a tree stump before retreating to the train station where Thomas Carrington, a press artist, dressed the wound with a handkerchief from the ladies that had accompanied them. After a failed return to the battlefield Hare retired from the siege. No doubt Hare was disappointed in not being able to capture the Kellys himself, but he was more concerned with recovering from his injury. Recuperating in Rupertswood Mansion in Sunbury, an initial assessment was that he was to lose his hand. Fortunately for Hare he was able to recover without amputation. He later gifted the Clarkes, who had helped him recuperate in Rupertswood, Joe Byrne’s armour and Ned Kelly’s colt revolving carbine.

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Hare gives evidence at the 1881 Royal Commission.

After the execution of Ned Kelly there was still work to be done. A Kelly Reward Board was formed in late 1880 to assess claims for the £8000 reward for the gang. Of this Hare received £800. The following year a Royal Commission was held to investigate the conduct of police during the Kelly outbreak. The findings of the commission did not reflect favourably on many of the senior officers with a great many being demoted or recommended to be removed from active duty. One of those recommended to be removed from active duty immediately was Superintendent Hare, who was still suffering from the effects of his injury at Glenrowan. In his later years Hare worked as a police magistrate while living at Janet Terrace in Hotham street, St Kilda. In 1892 Hare’s health rapidly deteriorated. Diabetes saw him bedridden once more and he underwent surgery at T.N. Fitzgerald’s private hospital before being transferred to Rupertswood Mansion where he collapsed, slipped into a coma and died the following day, 10 July. He was survived by his wife Janet, but left no heirs of his own. Janet would pass away herself in 1896, collapsing after a shopping trip in East Melbourne. Hare’s body was interred at the Melbourne General Cemetery.

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Selected Sources:

Hare, Francis Augustus. The Last of the Bushrangers: an Account of the Capture of the Kelly Gang. 3d. ed. London: Hurst and Blackett ltd., 1894. [Link]

“OBITUARY.” The Australasian (Melbourne, Vic. : 1864 – 1946) 16 July 1892: 43.

http://oa.anu.edu.au/obituary/hare-francis-augustus-frank-13570

“DEATH OF MR. HARE, P.M.” The Bendigo Independent. 12 July 1892: 3.

Posted on by AJFPhelan56 4

Joe Byrne: An Opinion

For this week’s feature we invited Georgina Rose Stones to pen her thoughts on Joe Byrne, lieutenant of the Kelly Gang. Georgina is a journalism student who has studied the Kelly story in detail and has been active in the bushranging history community for some time. Her knowledge of Joe Byrne’s story is in depth and she provides a very interesting perspective on an often overlooked member of the bushranging fraternity. So now I turn over to Georgina for your reading pleasure. Enjoy! ~ AP

…

Try as I might, I am unable to recall exactly what it was that first enticed me into the depths of the Kelly story and outbreak. I can vividly recall reading Peter Carey’s True History of The Kelly Gang for silent reading as a mere twelve year old, but what made me pick up the novel to begin with escapes me. Whatever it was, however, I will forever remain truly grateful. For many individuals, it is Ned Kelly who incites the most sympathy and interest in regards to the gang as a whole. There is no harm in that, given especially, as it is Ned who has been given the most exposure through the years. For me, however, this place has always been reserved for Ned’s “lieutenant”, Joe Byrne.

When I was first asked the question “what compels you to Joe?” I had a handful of answers flash through my mind, but now, as I sit here at my desk, I’m finding it harder to pinpoint the exactness of why, when compared with Ned, Steve and Dan, I drift towards Joe. Two aspects, I believe which have drawn me to Joe, are in regards to his schooling and personality. It is these two characteristics which I find most compelling about Joe’s persona, as when one thinks of a ‘bushranger’ or ‘outlaw’, being “a bit of a poet” or “soberly dressed” are not words which often spring to mind. Furthermore, by all accounts Joe was well read, and, like Ned, frequented James Ingram’s bookshop in Beechworth with his lifelong friend, Aaron Sherritt. Coupled with Joe’s literary interests, he was “for a bushman rather clever with his pen.” This is another aspect I have always found engaging about Joe, as like me, he loved to write, specifically in the guise of ‘bush ballads’. These ballads dealt with the exploits and overall boldness of the gang, with my favourite verse being “long may they reign – the Kelly’s, Byrne and Hart.” Further to these ballads, it is noted that while at Jerilderie, “plotting for the following day’s robbery”, Joe wrote down a riddle to amuse himself, “Why are the Kellys the greatest matchmakers in the country? Because they brought loads of ladies Younghusbands, Euroa, Victoria.” Combined with this detail, I have always been fascinated by the letters Joe sent to both Aaron and Jack Sherritt, in conjunction with, the mock reward posters and caricatures of Detective Ward. Finally, the existence of Joe’s journal has always been of great interest to me, and is something, which I believe, further highlights Joe’s clever and complex mind. The pieces of Joe’s personality are area’s with which I am also drawn. Most individuals who came into his presence, found Joe to be “quiet” and “unassuming”. At Jerilderie, an unknown individual recounted that “his manner is quiet and he appears to the casual observer an inoffensive man.” Moreover, Constable McIntyre would recount that he found Joe to be “a nervous man, thoroughly under the control of Ned Kelly.” I have always found this assessment of Joe to be interesting, as there does seem to be some alteration in his disposition when he was out of Ned’s presence. This is a factor about Joe with which I have always been compelled by and one that I find quite moving, as it demonstrates, I believe, the two ideals Joe was constantly torn between. The first, concerning him as an outlaw, and secondly, as both lover and poet. The first source I have, which represents the way Joe’s manner could change, comes from a Mr Turner, from Mt Battery Station, who met the gang while they resided at Bullock Creek. While under Joe’s watchful guard, Mr Tuner recollects a detail about Joe I have always loved, “from a billy hanging over the fire, Byrne produced some hot water, and standing with his rifle near him shaved himself most carefully, after which he gave his hair a vigorous brushing, all the time carrying on a disjointed conversation with me.” He concluded by adding, “his tone was affable and quiet” and goes on to declare, “I could not understand the different conduct in the absence of his comrades.” Another lovely detail, which I feel shows the ‘other side of Joe’, comes from Mrs Fitzgerald at Faithfuls Creek. She described that Joe “chatted with her on general topics” and, in my favourite detail, “played for her entertainment on a concertina” and seemed much more outgoing with her than with the male prisoners. Finally, I do not think it feasible to discuss what compels me to Joe, without at least mentioning his fondness for barmaids. There are two barmaids in particular who are known to have turned Joe’s head, Mary the Larrikin from the Woolpack Inn, and his last earthly lover, Maggie, from the Vine Hotel. Regarding Mary the Larrikin, I have always loved the detail of Joe riding back to the Woolpack Inn to see Mary, after meeting her the previous night while the gang were on route to Jerilderie. On their first encounter, Joe was so charmed by her presence, Ned had to warn him to “ease off and quietly told Mary not to serve Joe anymore whiskey.” On the following evening, Joe rode back to the Woolpack Inn to spend some more time with Mary, and it was noted, “had to be helped on his horse when he left at midnight.” Nevertheless, it has been Joe’s connection to Maggie that has captivated me the most and it has always saddened me that we do not know more about her. However, it is known that Joe visited her frequently, the last time being the “Wednesday or Thursday night” before the Kelly Gang’s destruction.

As I type, my eyes drift upwards to my intricately framed photo of Joe, positioned on the wall above my desk. Standing before me I see a young man dressed soberly in ‘town clothes’, his slightly flared trouser hems revealing larrikin heels, highlighting his rebellious bush spirit, which I will forever admire. Joe was a man with many complexities to his character; he was outlaw and scholar, opium user and balladeer, lover of whiskey and barmaids. A young man who often frequented the Burke Museum and whom was also in good relations with many of the Beechworth Chinese community, who called him “Ah Joe.” He was a man who declared he would “die at Ned’s side”, yet at Glenrowan, when Ned expressed the hopefulness of the situation, Joe had heatedly proclaimed, “Well it’s your fault, I always said this bloody armour would bring us to grief.” Furthermore, I see a fearless young man who in just three short years would meet his end, shot by a policeman’s bullet which tore into his thigh, severing the femoral artery. Resulting in Joe bleeding to death, and who just moments before had defiantly toasted “many a long and happy day still in the bush, boys!” In conclusion, while I do not wish to dwell on the final photo taken of Joe, finding it equally heartbreaking and repulsive, I feel I should at least mention it. The gentle calmness of Joe’s countenance does not depict a young man, who only four days previous, had shot and killed his lifelong friend and who had declared, “you will not blow now what you do with us anymore.” And, it is this that has always struck me, how quickly the outlaw guise was discarded for the “mild mannered” Joe.

This is what compels me to Joe Byrne.

Sources:

Ian Jones, A Short Life

Ian Jones, The Fatal Friendship

J.J. Kenneally, The Complete Inner History of the Kelly Gang

Keith McMenomy, Ned Kelly The Authentic Illustrated History

Posted on by anoutlawsjournal 7

Looking for Ned: Life versus Legend

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Many people have a very clear image in their head of Ned Kelly: tall, muscular, bushy beard and pompadour hairstyle. This image is Ned Kelly a day before his execution, almost six months after he was nearly shot to pieces at Glenrowan. So, if this is Ned at the end of his life how close is it to how he was in the prime of life? The truth is, even within his lifetime the idea of Ned and how he appeared was not always in line with the reality and the perception of a person can be very heavily influenced by the image we have of them. Ned’s legend has only grown since those days and the ideas of him have become so entrenched and polarising it’s time we began to try and figure out who Ned Kelly the person was. So how do we find the “real” Ned Kelly?

They say a picture says a thousand words so for this exploration we will be looking at the known images of Ned and analysing them. The earliest image of Ned is a portrait taken when he was on remand in Kyneton charged with aiding Harry Power. This image shows a gaunt looking fifteen year old in ill-fitting clothes (probably handed down from his deceased father) with a gentle wave in his hair, parted on the left demonstrating prie in his appearance. He is tight lipped and stares determinedly past the photographer almost like a challenge to some unnamed opponent. He may have been the most notorious fifteen year old of the day but nobody could have known the height of infamy this strong-bodied and hot-headed youth would reach. It was at this time that Ned was subject to an immense amount of ostracism on multiple fronts. The general public looked at him with suspicion and scorn for his criminality, many of his family and friends also looked at him with scorn because they believed he had turned Harry Power in (it was actually his Uncle Jack Lloyd who was instrumental in Harry’s capture but that’s a story for another day). So here was Ned, a teenager dealing with his own adolescence, needing to provide for his family and being treated like a black snake by all and sundry with the notable excetion of Sergeant Babington and Superintendent Nicolson who he would later write to asking for financial aide to help tide the family over. If ever there was a recipe for an angry and troubled youth this was it and Ned’s behaviour following his release from Kyneton would portray exactly this. The McCormick incident he details in his Jerilderie letter and the brawl with Senior Constable Hall demonstrate Ned to be short tempered and confrontational, traits that would land him in serious trouble.

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Black snake: Ned Kelly at fifteen

The next image is Ned’s prison mugshot taken as he was finishing his sentence in Pentridge Prison.  By the time this image was taken Ned was a hardened eighteen year old and he sports a short layer of stubble that accentuates his strong jawline. Again with pursed lips and narrowed brows this is Ned Kelly finally reaching manhood among the worst of the worst the Victorian penal system had to offer. Gone is the determined gaze of the wild fifteen year old, replaced with a hardened complicity forced into him by hard labour and enforced isolation. Incidentally there is an incredibly strong probability that during his stint here Ned crossed paths with his old teacher Harry Power and the notorious Captain Moonlite himself, Andrew Scott, who was something of a go-to guy in Pentridge for contraband (which Ned did not partake in). Ned had spent the past two plus years learning various skills including bricklaying that were to soon do him well on the outside. His time at Point Gellibrand on the Sacramento would have been his first and only time seeing any body of water greater than a river. Ned kept his head down in prison and earned himself an early remission around the time this photograph was taken. Life in Pentridge was a horror show that many fully grown men struggled to survive, let alone a seventeen year old country boy, and Ned was determined never to go back. Legend states that Ned once remarked that the next time they got him into a prison they’d have to hang him.

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Ned Kelly during his stint in Pentridge

When Ned Kelly was released from prison he went straight – for a while. There are multiple images claiming to be Ned during this time but the only one that has been authenticated is an image that was not known to authorities of the time depicting Ned in his underwear, boxing shorts and slippers in a boxing pose which, according to the handwritten annotations on the foot of the image, was taken to commemorate his boxing match with Wild Wright. Ned looks every inch the confident young man, his features much softer in expression than the previous two images but still strong. This is the Ned of legend – tough, skilled with his hands and handsome. If only his notorious temper and personal brand of justice hadn’t toppled this path to success we may have never seen the ensuing outbreak of lawlessness that thrilled, entertained and terrified the nation for three years and cemented his place in our history.

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Ned Kelly as a nineteen year old boxing champion

That this image was apparently unknown to authorities in the time of Ned’s outlawry explains why it was never used to try and demonstrate his appearance. Instead, when the Kelly gang bailed up the police camp at Stringybark Creek and killed three of the troopers the police were still relying on his prison mugshot. Thereafter the police created a myriad of doctored images to try and convey Ned’s potential appearance to assist in his capture. The results range from passable to ludicrous.

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This image puts Ned Kelly’s head on the shoulders of James Nesbitt, a fellow Pentridge inmate and partner of Captain Moonlite, with an added beard and longer hair to update his look creating a surprisingly accurate image of the outlaw
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This rather uninspired mock up merely adds a hand drawn beard and moustache to Ned’s mugshot and darkens his eyes

Not all of the mock ups were photographic. Illustrated papers of the day took the route of rather unconvincingly adding facial hair to the known photographs of Ned in etchings to make him more closely resemble the descriptions of him, usually with the image of the bushranger as a fifteen year old as the primary source. The effect was rather akin to a child wearing a false beard to look older.

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This bearded fifteen year old Ned looks perplexed at the clumsy attempt to depict his likeness
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A drawing based on the above etching graced the cover of G. Wilson Hall’s account of the Kelly gang
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Despite the assertion that this is Ned sketched as he was leaving Benalla, it is quite clearly another portrait based on the fifteen year old Ned mirrored and with added beard, messy hair and stink-eye that lends Ned a strange and intimidating appearance
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This etching, based on Ned’s mugshot, was used in a feature about the police killings at Stringybark Creek and makes him look rather more portly than it should, which has the unique quality of lending him a more thuggish countenance

With these inaccurate depictions of Ned it’s hardly surprising that he went unrecognised for so long. In fact the lack of definitive likenesses fed into the popular media of the day with cartoonists having the flexibility to simply portray a stereotypical bearded bushranger to act as a proxy for Ned. These cartoons effectively set Ned up as the arch criminal and created a visual shorthand for unmitigated criminality that could be effectively employed against controversial political figures of the day.

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This Thomas Carrington cartoon shows Ned Kelly dancing around the banner of Communism with Victorian premier Graham Berry and a little lady representing The Age newspaper (Source: Melbourne Punch (Vic. : 1855 – 1900) 13 February 1879: 5.)
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This Carrington cartoon gives Ned a far different appearance more in line with how most people commonly imagined the rugged bushranger to be in order to highlight the dodgy behaviour of the Victorian government. (Source: Melbourne Punch (Vic. : 1855 – 1900) 27 February 1879: 5.)

When we look at the known images of Ned it tells us an awful lot about how the events of his life shaped him as well as showing where many of the ideas about Ned came from. There is one very controversial image that is supposedly Ned that has recently seen the light of day and has been nicknamed “Lumberjack Ned”. This image is of great interest to Kelly historians as this may be the only image to depict Ned and Dan Kelly together and more importantly it was a photograph owned by Ellen Kelly herself if the provenance proves to be true.

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This low fidelity copy of the “Lumberjack Ned” photograph was published by The Australian (Source)

The image can be viewed at the Ned Kelly Vault in Beechworth inside a specially made box as the Kelly descendants that gave permission for the image to be exhibited had strict conditions for its display including that the image not be published in its full resolution. Many who have seen the image are split on the likelihood that the larger of these two men is in fact the most infamous outlaw in Australian history. More research needs to be undertaken and no doubt as time passes the opportunity to see this image in all its glory and make a more thorough and public analysis will eventuate. Until then we must be satisfied with the existing verified imagery. Should it prove to be legitimate it would be the most incredible image yet of Ned highlighting his imposing physique with rippling muscles in his arms, a neatly groomed beard and soft smile even showing teeth. This is a much more relatable Ned, a tradesman and pioneer who could have led a very different life under other circumstances.

Since Ned’s execution he has become a part of Australian folklore and his likeness, especially in his armour, has become an icon representing rebellion and toughness in a uniquely Australian way. This idea of Ned is closely associated with the idea of the Eureka rebels who were willing to lay down their lives in the pursuit of liberty and equality, thus Ned in his armour is often paired with the Eureka flag better known as the Southern Cross. In recent years Ned has been referred to as the “original hipster” for his unique beard and hairstyle. The idea of Ned as a rugged outdoorsman and “alpha male” accentuates the idea of Ned Kelly that appeals to the public consciousness and creates an almost aspirational figure for some who wish to possess such qualities. While this notion has taken root in Australian culture, it has very little to do with the historical Ned Kelly as we’ve seen.

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A fabulous tattoo design by artist Paula Stirland using all-too-familiar iconography (Source)

Oral traditions and art helped to create a mythological Ned Kelly, which many will fight to protect while others fight to tear it down for, just as Captain Cook has become for many Australians a symbol of British colonialism and genocide while to others he represents ingenuity, determination and enlightenment, Ned Kelly is a symbol for people to focus their loves, hates, confidence and timidity on to. But what happens to the idea of this man so loved and reviled by so many when we look back on that image of the defiant, ill-kept and impoverished fifteen year old with only ten years ahead of him in his then-uncertain future? Or when we look at the photograph of the embittered eighteen year old whose rebelliousness, carelessness and anger has led him to the worst prison in Victoria? Does this entrench our ideas or elaborate on them? Will we ever reach a satisfactory and mutually acceptable understanding of the man Ned Kelly was or are we doomed to forever argue over preconceived ideas of Australia’s most notorious outlaw based on misremembered stories and popular culture? The real Ned Kelly is out there, you just need to look beyond the beard and helmet.

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Despite what much imagery indicates, Ned Kelly never rode a motorcycle. Incidentally, this is a piece by John Harding who is actually a fantastic artist and you can see more of his work here
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Picture Perfect: Bushrangers and Photography

Humans in the 21st century are obsessed with photography. For the vast majority of us we carry a camera in our pocket wherever we go thanks to smart phone technology. It’s incomprehensible to many of us that there was a time when photography didn’t exist or that even though it did, it was extremely rare. Perhaps the strangest thing of all is that over time many photographs have vanished due to poor preservation, unforeseen disaster, or the images being discarded by relatives with no knowledge of the people in the images. Bushranging history is a perfect example of how much history has either been lost or not even recorded in the first place.

Could this be the only surviving image of Frederick Wordsworth Ward, aka Captain Thunderbolt, taken while he was alive?

There are a great many mysteries in the pictorial history of bushranging. Sometimes it seems that an image merely needs to be of a man with a beard for people to start claiming that it’s Ned Kelly. We’ve had notable cases of photographs claiming to depict Ned Kelly or members of his gang that have been debunked or dismissed, but none so infamous as “Gentleman Ned”.

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“Gentleman Ned”

When this portrait hit auction in 2001 people went nuts. A version of it was known to exist, having been published in newspapers and subsequently in Keith McMenomy’s Authentic Illustrated History of Ned Kelly, albeit in a poorer quality format with darkened hair and beard. Experts were brought in who placed the date to the mid-1870s when Ned was a free man making an honest living, Ian Jones even made the suggestion that the belt matched the converted saddle bag strap that was buckled around his body armour at Glenrowan (which is on display in the Ned Kelly Vault in Beechworth). Everyone was so convinced it sold for $19,000. Then further tests were done comparing a 3D digital model of Ned’s death mask with all known portraits of Ned and surprise, surprise, this was the odd one out. Many speculated about the identity of the man and no clear answers came up. To date nobody has solved the mystery of “Gentleman Ned”. 

 Then in 2016 another photo found its way to an auction house with a bizarre backstory to go with it. This image allegedly depicts three of the gang looking tough because the image was meant to be sent to the police to intimidate them. Already it’s sounding a lot like that joke about Chuck Norris sending the IRS a photo of himself crouched and ready to attack instead of his tax return. Furthermore, this photo was taken just after the Euroa bank robbery and Joe Byrne had to sign all the names because he was the only literate one. Oh, and the image is stamped with details of a photographic studio in Launceston because it was sent there for copies to be made. Nothing suss. 

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The Launceston “Kelly Gang” portrait

This photograph looks less like an intimidating gang of bushrangers and more like an album cover for a seventies Country and Western band. The detail of the faces is almost non-existent, making confirmation pretty much impossible. But, let’s imagine for a moment that the provenance checks out. Do these men look like the Kelly gang? Certainly there’s a passing resemblance to Dan, Ned and Joe Byrne (though the figure that resembles Joe is labelled as Steve Hart in different hand writing). Dan may have had a big moustache, which would explain all the etchings that portray him with one. Moreover the man in this image could very well be in his late teens, there’s no way to tell. The clothes are a sticking point. It was made a point in descriptions  that the gang were well dressed and in the other portraits we have of Joe he’s definitely well dressed, the same not being the case for the Kelly brothers. In the only verified Dan Kelly portraits he’s wearing oversized hand-me-downs with a rope for a belt. In the only verified portrait of Ned outside prison he’s dressed in his undies and boxing shorts.  

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Not Thunderbolt: This photograph was misattributed as being a portrait of Fred Ward during his lifetime.

A prime example of how a misattribution can run rampant is in a photograph purported to have been of Captain Thunderbolt’s wife Mary Ann Bugg. It is important to note that Mary Ann was frequently referred to as a “gin”, meaning Aboriginal woman, owing to her half-indigenous heritage. 

This image has been published and republished without attribution claiming to be Mary Ann Bugg. The cowboy hat was always conspicuous and the clearly Anglo-European features.

Then Google image search threw up this image. 

It’s almost identical. Evidently it was taken in the same sitting as the first image. So what’s so remarkable about this other than the higher quality of the image? This one has a very specific attribution that conclusively disproves that the former image is Mary Ann Bugg. As it turns out, this is a photograph from around 1903, taken in New York of sharp-shooter and Wild West legend Annie Oakley, sourced for Wiki Commons from Heritage Auction Gallery. It is definitely going to be a disappointment to the many people who have been picturing this beautiful, flamboyantly dressed woman as a romantic female outlaw. There have even been artworks based on this image depicting The Captain’s Lady. 

For further clarification here is another image of Annie Oakley:

And here is a photograph known to depict Mary Ann Bugg:

It doesn’t take Benedict Cumberbatch in a great coat to figure this one out, yet the romantic idea of Mary Ann Bugg means people will be drawn to an image incorrectly attributed to her as long as it fits the ideal, just like the alleged Kelly gang photo. 

When we look back over the history of bushranging we can see that the vast majority of bushrangers have not been recorded visually. Jack Donohoe wasn’t depicted visually until his corpse was taken to Sydney. We have photos of relatives of Teddy the Jewboy but nothing at all of him personally. Even when photography took off in the 1860s and we got multiple portraits of people like Ben Hall in addition to etchings in the newspapers most of the Gardiner-Gilbert-Hall gang’s appearances can only be guessed at with no specific images of Peisley, O’Meally or Burke among others and the one photo depicting Johnny Gilbert may not even be him. A portrait of John Vane from around that time was replicated as an etching but the actual photograph appears to be missing. Without a visual record of these people it’s no wonder that they are often thought of so romantically. Donohoe seems far more gallant if you ignore the fact that he was a short, scrawny, straw-haired Irishman with freckles and a snub nose. 

So in the end, just remember that the ability to capture images the way we do now is a privilege that previous generations could only dream of, and it might be worth looking into some old photo albums – you never know who might show up. 

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Stringybark Creek: Remembering the Fallen

October 26, 2017 marks the 139th anniversary of the police killings at Stringybark Creek, widely regarded as the worst single incident of police killing in Victorian history. Three police officers were killed in the line of duty hunting for Ned and Dan Kelly in dense forest and to this day there remains much controversy surrounding the event. Alas it is impossible to know exactly what happened, but by using testimony from Ned Kelly and Constable McIntyre as well as forensic evidence reported on at the time and analysed since, it becomes easier to piece together a narrative that makes sense. What follows is a condensed narrative of what occurred, not an authoritative account.

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Prelude

After an incident at the Kelly house on 11 Mile Creek on April 15, 1878, involving police officer Constable Alexander Fitzpatrick, Ned Kelly and his youngest brother Dan were wanted for attempted murder. Their mother, brother in law and a family friend had been arrested, tried and imprisoned for their part in the assault while the brothers had fled to the bush. Ned Kelly had allegedly sent correspondence to the authorities stating that he and Dan would give themselves up in exchange for their mother’s release. This offer, if it was received, was rejected out of hand. The Kellys were in no position to bargain.

Meanwhile, in Mansfield Senior Constable Michael Kennedy was engaged in the hunt for the pair, regularly riding through the district and canvassing locals, assisted by Constable Thomas McIntyre. It was on one of these rides that Wild Wright seemingly warned McIntyre that Ned Kelly was not to be trifled with.

[Wright] told me on one occasion that I mentioned the matter to him that he would not betray Ned Kelly for all the money in Australia. He also several times said to me “Ned Kelly is mad.” I pressed him to explain what he meant but he only emphatically reiterated his statement.

It was during this time that the Kelly brothers were living in a hut on Bullock Creek in the Wombat Ranges looking for gold and distilling bootleg whisky in an effort to raise money for a solicitor for their mother. They were joined here by Steve Hart and Joe Byrne for a time, presumably they had been assisting Dan with his digging. The Kellys must have clung to the vain hope that by laying low that the dust would settle, the opposite proved true.

The Hunt

In October Kennedy, now a sergeant,  was informed by Superintendent Sadleir that he was required to take charge of one of two search parties that would try to snare the Kellys in a pincer movement. Kennedy had been selected for his renowned prowess with bush work as much as his leadership qualities. Unfortunately he had no experience with Ned or Dan Kelly at all. Kennedy requested that he be accompanied by McIntyre and his good friend Mounted Constable Michael Scanlan. Sadleir agreed but stipulated they would also be accompanied by Mounted Constable Thomas Lonigan from Violet Town as he could identify Ned Kelly from experience. Kennedy was unimpressed but had no choice. He promptly prepared for the mission by getting information on the forest the gang were supposed to be hiding in from as many people as possible.

When Lonigan received news that he had to join the party in Mansfield he did not welcome it. The incident with Fitzpatrick in April as well as an earlier incident he was involved with in Benalla had asserted just how dangerous Ned Kelly was. Ned Kelly had been arrested for being publicly intoxicated and fled from custody in the Benalla police station, hurtling down the road and around the corner before seeking refuge in the boot maker’s shop. A fight between Ned and the local Constables broke out and in an attempt to control Ned, Lonigan had used an old trick he probably learned during his time in the artillery called “blackballing” wherein he roughly grabbed Ned’s scrotum and held tight, resulting in the trousers ripping at the crotch. Lonigan’s grip on Ned’s testicles was not enough to subdue him but it was clearly enough to cause some damage to Ned’s ego if not his most private parts and gave Ned fuel for yet another in a long line of grudges against policemen. No doubt this was playing heavily on Lonigan’s mind as he set off to Mansfield, leaving behind his adoring wife and four children. It is telling that he returned after a few minutes to say goodbye again, something the normally stoic Irishman would not do.

The police came together in Mansfield and collected supplies as well as practiced bush skills that the majority of the party were unacquainted with. On the morning of the party beginning their mission Kennedy asked McIntyre to fetch the Spencer repeating rifle they had acquired. McIntyre was quite concerned that the rifle was far more overpowered than the task warranted, but Kennedy simply pointed to a copy of Ned Kelly’s mugshot they had been provided and stated “I do not like the look of this man.” As Kennedy and McIntyre packed their bags in the police station, Michael Scanlan was taking breakfast in a nearby establishment with his faithful dog by his side. As he dabbed his voluminous moustache with a napkin he asked a friend to look after the canine in his absence, going on to state “If I don’t come back, you can have my dog.” The party convened outside the police station, Lonigan arriving late for undisclosed reasons, then began on their fateful journey. It was October 25, 1878.

Wombat Ranges

Kennedy had assembled much information from locals about the area they were travelling through including waterways and crossings. However, Kennedy played his cards close to his chest despite frequent inquisition from McIntyre.

Some way into the journey McIntyre spotted a tiger snake on the track. With his revolver he blasted the reptile’s head off and gloated to his comrade “First blood Lonigan!” – a comment that it would not be hard to imagine going down like a lead balloon. McIntyre noted that Kennedy seemed agitated as they travelled through the forest. Could it be that his knowledge of the bush allowed him to sense that they were being followed?

Indeed, Ned had been patrolling the forest as a matter of course and had come across the police horses’ hoofprints in the soil. Perhaps thinking of information that had been given to him via the bush telegraph about three police parties on their way to take out he and his brother, even equipped with special straps designed to facilitate carrying corpses on a pack horse, Ned resolved to track the troopers. His intimate knowledge of the terrain and scrub enabled him to follow the police close enough to see what they were up to without being spotted.

When the police reached a clearing near an old hut by the banks of Stringybark Creek, Kennedy grabbed the Spencer repeater and stalked wordlessly off into the bush where they had just been while Lonigan and Scanlan set up the tents. McIntyre was befuddled but did what he could to give the others a hand. Kennedy was gone for some time and was quite perturbed upon returning when McIntyre gave him the third degree about wandering off alone. Kennedy thrust the Spencer into McIntyre’s hands and told him to go and find some kangaroos to shoot.

With the camp set up the police established a fire and began to eat. The bread was unfortunately too sour and the men were unanimous in their distaste. McIntyre offered to hunt some fowl and kangaroos in the morning to supplement their supplies. They all slept that night fairly soundly, exhausted from their trek. Little did the men in their tents realise that they were within a mile of their targets.

26 October

The next morning Kennedy elected to take Scanlan on a scout nearby but stated not to panic if they weren’t back before dark. Scanlan equipped himself with the Spencer repeater and the two friends left in a jovial mood with a packed lunch and quite probably Scanlan, a devil for drink when given the opportunity, had a flask concealed about his person to keep their spirits up figuratively and literally. Lonigan busied himself by reading The Vagabond Papers wherein Harry Power was interviewed in Pentridge, in part stating ominously that he believed that due to his temper Ned Kelly would have committed murder if he hadn’t stopped him. No doubt this did nothing to alleviate Lonigan’s fear and he was noticeably skittish throughout the day. McIntyre proceeded on a hunting mission as promised the previous night. McIntyre clearly considered something of a black-powder-wielding William Tell after the incident with the tiger snake. Heading close to the creek, McIntyre used a double barrelled shotgun to kill a selection of parrots and attempted to nab a couple of flighty kangaroos. His inexperience in bush work was never more evident than at this point for the sound of the shots travelled far quickly thanks to the awesome acoustics at Stringybark Creek. It would appear this allowed the Kelly brothers, Joe Byrne and Steve Hart to pinpoint the location of the police camp with ease.

After McIntyre had returned to camp Lonigan was even edgier than before. He made comment to McIntyre that he could hear movement in the undergrowth but McIntyre dismissed it as animals. In fact the Kelly Gang (as they would later be known) had found the camp and were laying low in the scrub to scope the site out, using the scrub for cover. McIntyre decided that billy tea was the solution to calm Lonigan’s nerves and he hoped the smoke from the fire would help guide Kennedy and Scanlan back. Lonigan strapped on his pistol belt and tended the horses then moved back across the camp. The two officers stood at the intersection of two logs by the fire. At this moment the desperadoes presented themselves.

Emerging from the tall grass and ferns surrounding the camp, Ned strode forward with his brother and companions and bellowed “Bail up!” while leveling a shabby modified carbine at the troopers. McIntyre put his hands out and Lonigan, behind McIntyre, jogged backwards, clutching at his revolver with his eyes on the new arrivals.  As Dan, Joe and Steve covered McIntyre, Ned turned to his right and fired. In a flash Ned Kelly’s carbine discharged. McIntyre flinched but did not dare take his eyes off the bushrangers. Out of the warped muzzle sped what seems to have been a lead ball quartered into tiny pieces of deadly shrapnel. The largest piece of shrapnel pierced the outside of Lonigan’s left thigh, as the rest sliced into his left forearm, right temple and right eye. Lonigan reeled and staggered, tumbling to the ground gasping “Oh Christ! I’m shot!” as hot, jagged shrapnel and bone fragments bored its way into his brain. The immeasurable agony caused Lonigan to breathe with hideous, laboured breaths as he rose and plunged into the dirt until finally his body flopped belly up and all movement ceased.  Within a moment Mounted Constable Thomas Lonigan was dead, aged thirty two years leaving behind a widow as well as a son and three daughters. Ned strode over and inspected the corpse muttering “What made the fellow run?” as if unaware that seeing a man approaching with a gun could instill enough fear to cause flight.  Dan said in disbelief “He was a plucky fellow, did you see how he went at his revolver?” McIntyre was overwhelmed but would later state that he did not believe the bushrangers had descended upon the camp with the intention to take life, however Ned’s actions had forced a situation that would result in death as an inevitability.

The gang proceeded to raid the tents and Joe Byrne sat and smoked a pipe with McIntyre. Ned seemed incredibly agitated, pacing around and rambling. Joe drank the billy tea with McIntyre, making sure that the constable drank first in case it was poisoned. The gang made short work of McIntyre’s fresh bread, which gave him a slightly perverse sense of happiness to have his culinary skills appreciated. Ned spoke at length with McIntyre who asked many questions about his motives and made a point to mention that his life was insured as he had no beneficiaries in Victoria in the event of his death. Ned instructed McIntyre to force Kennedy and Scanlan to surrender so that no further blood should be shed. McIntyre agreed and Ned refused Dan’s suggestion to cuff McIntyre believing that the policeman’s word was enough to entice his colleagues to surrender. This would prove to be flawed logic at best.

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The scouts return

Late in the afternoon as storm clouds rolled in, the gang had raided the tents and were taking advantage of the new weapons and ammunition they had acquired, Ned taking a particular liking to the double-barrelled shotgun. Suddenly McIntyre could hear voices approaching the camp. Kennedy and Scanlan were returning from a fruitless scout but were in good spirits. Before their horses reached the clearing the Kelly Gang hid themselves, Ned dropping down behind the log McIntyre was seated on the others using the tents as cover and training their guns on McIntyre. As the riders appeared McIntyre tried to remain calm and walked to them and stated “You’d better surrender, the Kellys have got us surrounded.” Kennedy was skeptical as he glanced around the camp for signs of anything amiss. Placing his hand on his holster he began “Well, in that case…” but never got to finish the thought.

Ned Kelly rose from cover and demanded the police throw down their arms. Kennedy drew his revolver and dismounted. Scanlan tried to unsling the Spencer repeater from his upper body but only managed to get it part way. The police opened fire, Kennedy firing his pistol over the rump of his horse, Scanlan firing from the hip. The gang, now fully equipped, fired back. A shot to Scanlan’s right side knocked him off his horse, the bullet shattering his rib and decimating his lung before lodging in his sternum. He hit the ground hard and struggled to get up, shakily getting on all fours as a flurry of bullets hit him in the right hip and shoulder. Kennedy’s horse broke away in the chaos and McIntyre grabbed it as it bolted in terror, leaping onto its back. Speeding away from the camp, he could not see the drama unfolding. In that moment the jolly 34 year-old County Kerry native collapsed into the dust, dying from internal haemorrhaging. Scanlan died as a bachelor with no next of kin in Australia.

As McIntyre fled the scene in an attempt to get help Dan Kelly could be heard shouting “Shoot that fellow!” and in a torrent of hot lead the horse was shot, causing McIntyre to be flung off the creature’s back. McIntyre regained control over the wounded beast and pressed on. Branches struck McIntyre mercilessly as the horses galloped through the forest until a particularly hefty branch caught McIntyre by surprise and hurled him out of the saddle. Covered in gashes and bruises and bleeding from just about every outlet on his head from the reckless flight he proceeded on foot. Ned Kelly would later joke that McIntyre was cowardly for his escape. As darkness descended upon the Wombat Ranges and storm clouds unfurled, McIntyre sought temporary refuge in a wombat hole where he wrote furiously in his notebook and would stay for part of the night aching from his injuries.

Meanwhile at the police camp, Ned was chasing Kennedy on foot in the same direction McIntyre had fled. Armed with the shotgun, Ned tried to take Kennedy down, but the sergeant was full of fight. Ducking behind trees for cover, Kennedy fired at Ned with his Webley, one shot passing through his opponent’s beard, another passing through his sleeve close to his ribs. A blast from Ned hit Kennedy in the right arm, and blood began pouring down his sleeve. Kennedy’s fingers lost strength and he could no longer hold his revolver. It fell with a quiet thud in the scrub. The pain from the shot was almost paralysing as he staggered on short of breath. He could hear Ned’s footsteps growing closer. Was he still running? Was he bothering to take cover? Kennedy turned to see where his pursuer was and a blast from Ned Kelly struck Kennedy under the arm. Kennedy hit the ground hard. As Ned approached he found the Webley, the grip slick with blood. Wordlessly he realised what he had done. He would later recount that moment in the Jerilderie letter:

I fired again with the gun as he slewed around to surrender, I did not know he had dropped his revolver. The bullet passed through the right side of his chest and he could not live or I would have let him go. Had they been my own brothers I could not help shooting them or else let them shoot me, which they would have done had their bullets been directed as they intended them.

Back at the camp the others inspected the body of Scanlan, Joe taking the ring from Scanlan’s lifeless hand. Was this symbolic? Was this a trophy? Or was it just a matter of stealing jewellery he liked the look of? Dan and Steve seemed not to have had any real interest in raiding corpses. Their accounts of the day were never to be recorded.

What occurred between Ned and the dying sergeant is subject of much speculation. It would be reasonable to imagine with the little life he had left Kennedy spoke to Ned of his family and his fears about what might happen to them. It seems that, at least in some accounts, Kennedy had enough time and strength to write a letter to his wife and entrust Ned with taking the letter to his wife with his watch. Perhaps such a moment may have provided Ned with enough time to resolve and prepare to finish him off. Ned placed the muzzle of his weapon to Kennedy’s chest and fired. Satisfied that Kennedy was out of his misery he trudged the half mile back to the camp and fetched one of the police cloaks, which he took back and draped over the corpse.

As night enveloped the forest, McIntyre tried to navigate through the wilds using the stars and a compass. In crossing a stream his boots had become waterlogged and he was forced to remove them for the remainder of the journey. The next day he was delirious from exhaustion and injury to the point of hallucination and sought refuge in a hut for a time before continuing on to Mansfield.

At the police camp the gang finished raiding the tents and corpses and set fire to all they could not carry before leaving. Clearly Ned Kelly considered the outcome to have been justified by the apparently murderous intentions of the police. Convinced right to his dying day that the police had not meant to apprehend the brothers but to put them down like rabid wolves he would remonstrate:

It would not be wilful murder if they packed our remains in, shattered into a mass of animated gore, to Mansfield. They would have got great praise and credit as well as promotion, but I’m reckoned a horrid brute because I had not been cowardly enough to lie down for them under such trying circumstances and insults to my people. Certainly their wives and children are to be pitied, but they must remember those men came into the bush with the intention of scattering pieces of me and my brother all over the bush and yet they know and acknowledge I have been wronged and my mother and four or five men lagged innocent.

McIntyre would return with a party led by Sub-Inspector Pewtress to reclaim the corpses of Lonigan and Scanlan. Kennedy’s heavily decomposed remains would not be found until five days after the massacre. The widows of Lonigan and Kennedy would be given a pension but it was hardly compensation for losing their husbands and the fathers of their children. The three men are buried in Mansfield cemetery, a quiet spot comfortably away from the main thoroughfares of the town. In 1880 a monument was unveiled to the memory of the policemen. In the unveiling of the monument Captain Standish, chief commissioner of police, remarked:

…in the Police department there was not a better or truer, or more trust-worthy and energetic member of the force than Sergeant Kennedy ; and it was with sincere sorrow that he received the announcement of his sad and untimely fate. It was well known that in his encounter with the outlaws he behaved most gallantly, and fought to the bitter end against overpowering odds. Constables Scanlan and Lonigan were also good and deserving men ; and the brutal and revolting manner in which they were shot down naturally sent a thrill of terror through the whole community. It was therefore the more surprising that the perpetrators of the fearful crime had met with so much strange sympathy and material assistance from many persons of that district. It must of course be satisfactory to fellow colonists to know that the legislature had made substantial provision for the widows and orphans of these brave fellows who lost their lives in the discharge of their duty. He sincerely hoped that the mellowing hand of time would soothe the great affliction which had befallen Mrs. Kennedy and Mrs. Lonigan. (Hear, hear.) He could not omit gratefully to acknowledge the warm-hearted sympathy of the New South Wales police in subscribing so liberally to the memorial inaugurated that day. It was a proof, if need be, of the cordial feeling which, he trusted, would always exist between the police of the two colonies. Once more he desired to convey to the residents of the Mansfield district his earnest appreciation of their generosity and sympathy.
(Source: Illustrated Australian News 8 May 1880)
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Spotlight: Wangaratta contingent of police at capture of Kelly Gang, 28 June 1880.

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Sergeant Arthur Loftus Maule Steele (kneeling at centre) with the Wangaratta police who helped destroy the Kelly Gang at Glenrowan: Constables Causey, Montford, Healey, Walsh, Moore, Dixon and Dwyer. Slung over Steele’s left shoulder is possibly the saddle bag Ned Kelly was wearing when captured. This bag, used to hold Ned’s guns and bullets, is on display at the Victoria Police museum. Steele also holds the double-barrelled shotgun he used during the siege and Ned’s last stand.

When Ned had been brought down and his helmet removed, Steele grabbed his beard and put his pistol to Ned’s head saying “I swore I’d be at your death and now I am!” before Constable Hugh Bracken intervened. Steele’s conduct at Glenrowan was questionable at best, driven by his personal vendetta to see Ned Kelly punished for the killing of Sergeant Michael Kennedy.
Picture credit: Barnes, William Edward 1841-1916, photographer.
Victorian Patents Office Copyright Collection (VPOCC), State Library of Victoria

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