“The Thorns and the Briers”
(A True Story of the Kelly Gang)
This manuscript was written by Joseph William Ashmead in 1922. The
following copy was re-written by Glenden Gordon and supplied to me
(Gary Dean) in the early 1980’s, by family descendants Clinton &
Buddy Corker.
The numbers on the left of the page in blue are the original page
numbers. This copy was made using a lead pencil and as the writing
faded it was written over in ink. Unfortunately pages 37-41 were
unreadable at that time, and as a consequence are impossible to
decipher without enormous magnification. The format of this copy
changes several times as Glenden starts to underline spelling mistakes
or suggest changes in these brackets [ ].
The original exercise book containing Joseph’s hand written copy still
exists and is being copied at the time of writing these notes. It is hoped
that a copy of this will become available in the near future. This book
was the only item saved by Clinton and Buddy’s mother, when their
house at Myrrhee was consumed in the 1951 bushfires.
Following this copy is a second edited version which makes easier
reading.
“The Thorns & the Briars”
THE TRUE STORY OF THE
KELLY GANG
By Joseph William Ashmead
1859-1930
“The Thorns and the Briers”
(A True Story of the Kelly Gang)
Preface
1.
2.
My object in writing this story is to record facts
in connection with a desperate band of Lawbreakers.
Although clothed in fiction. The statements with
regard to the family and the doings of the Gang
are quite true and are made from personal
knowledge. I claim to be an Australian Backwoodsman of over fifty-six years standing. Ned and
Dan Kelly were the playmates of my early
childhood. They were kind, goodnatured boys. There
is much in environment. If they had been under
a firm hand to keep them out of bad company,
and wise counsel to give them good advice they
would have grown up to be good citizens. I might
have trod the path of folly and came to the same
unhappy end, but for the fact that I was the
child of Puritan Parents who taught me in the way
of wisdom and led me in right paths, always
impressing upon me the fact that honesty was the
best policy and that sin was a transgression against
the laws of God and Man. By this teaching a boy
was able to keep the right path[s] while his playmates
became murderers and died a death of shame. One
of the chief causes of lawlessness in the back
country in the early days was the absence of the
Church and Christian Religion which not only
inspires to good living but brings about a fear
of evil deeds. The Church does much to solace
the country. I hold no brief for any particular
Church. They are all alike good, and preach
the same gospel and can be compared to a
number of courses through which the pure
chirstel water passes to join a Mighty River
2.
3.
and united pass into a boundless sea. I knew
the unhappy men well and lived near their
home for many years, was present at the scene
of the Capture in Glenrowan, and have not
said what I have to justify their crimes but
to explain the cause of their down-fall. It would
be much better if their evil deeds were allowed
to die with them. So much has been written
that is untrue and unfair and it is most
unwise that picture shows, should be allowed
to go about the country showing views of the
suposed exploits of the Kelly Gang. They have
a degrading effect on the rising generation.
How often we hear of boy bushrangers who
by reading bad literature or seeing far
fetched pictures have been inspired to
immulate the deeds of the Kelly Gang.
Another reason why the matter should be
buried is the relations. They are placed on the
rack, their hearts are barrowed and their
feelings outraged for something they were not
responsible for and which they regret more
than anyone else. It appears to me very
wrong that people that have shown such
unbounded love and loyalty to King and
Country should be so misrepresented and so
cruelly treated. With regard to those three
brave men Sergeant Kennedy and Troopers
Lounigan and Scanlon who were murdered
at Stringebark Creek. They are worthy to be
remembered. They gave their lives on the Altar
of duty and we have strong sympathy for
their descendents. It is human to err but
devine to forgive. Then let us forget the
black past and forgive as we hope to be
forgiven.
3.
4.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
Little Nell
Australia
Towns
The Pioneers
Glenrowan
The Eleven Mile Creek
Bad Company
The Thunder Clouds Burst
Murder at Stringebark Creek In the
Wombat Ranges
Outlawed
The Euroa Bank Robbery
Unsuccessful Pursuit
The Garildia Bank Robbery
The Mistery deepens
The murder at the Woolshed
The Breaking up of the Gang
The Last of Ned Kelly
A Mother’s Sorrows
A Kind Son
Life is But a Dream
The Call to Duty
On the Battlefields of Europe
Mischief Makers and Lieing Tongues
Consuming Fires.
4.
1.
Chapter 1
Little Nell
It is summer in Ireland in the year 1839. It has
been a glorious July day, and all nature seems to
rejoice in the warmth and joy of Life. There are
black thorn edges interwoven with roses and
flowering creepers. The grass in the medows with
rich green waves in the wind. And in many places
the much beloved shamrock is growing in all its
sweetness. In the distance is to be heard the sound
of men working in the harvest fields gathering in
the golden grain. The time will soon come for the
toilers to rest from their labour for the sun is fast
sinking in the west and the evening shadows are
lengthening and the fishing boats are busy in the
little
harbour, some are returning and others are
preparing to go out for the night. A crowd of
fifteen or twenty healthy happy children are
playing. Their young hearts are carefree and they
make the evening ring with their shaughts
and peals of merry laughter. We hear their
little jokes in strong Irish axcent. One small girl
about nine years of age is standing apart from
them. She is not interested in their play. There is
a faraway look in her eyes. Her thoughts have
taken her to a Land across the sea. The wind is
blowing through her long black hair that is
hanging down her back or falling in tresses
over her pretty face. I say Nell. Shaughted one
of the boys. Why but ye would come and play
instead of standing there like a silly donkey.
She turned on him almost fearcly and said.
You stupid gasoon will ye never learn sence.
Pointing across the sea she said. Don’t you
see that ship. A full riged four mast sailing
boat was ploughing through the deep with all
her sails spread. The water parted before her
5.
2.
bows in white foam. The bright rays of the
setting sun flashed on the ship and made the
Sails look like great sheets of silver. Soldiers in
uneform walked the deacks carrying guns. The
big black cannon proclaimed her to be a convict
ship bound for the South. At the sight of this
ship the children were quiet and Little Nell
spok again. Ye can laugh but ye don’t know
who is on that boat. It may be that some
of your own are there, for they are taking
away a powerful lot just now. And it is
yourself that would like to be going said one
of the boys. I would. Said Nell. And I will
somday but not as a prisoner on a convict
ship but on a Free ship that only carries
Free people. This speech brought roars of
laughter and someone said. Beggara how big
she talks. And Nell fleed in disgust. Some said
their was a wild strain in her. She loved to
be free and hated restraint. She was sent
to school but was often missing from her
class when she would roam over the
boggs of in the woods after birds nests or
wild berries. She would tear her clothes
hideing in some hedge when she saw someone
she feared would inform on her playing
the truant. But, when in school there was one
subject that claimed her attention. That was
when the Old School Master told them stories
about Australia. Of the great country where
the Lawbreakers of the Old Land were sent. Of
the number of people that were sent to Botany
Bay. Of the sufferings and cruelty that was
imposed on the Convicts in Van Deman’s Land.
And they were Transported for Life in many
cases for only small Offences.
Some for poching. others for small thiefts
3.
6.
others for using the black to freely. These
people not being naturely bad proved by their
good conduct and obdience to disaplin
that they were worthy of their Liberty and
received a free pardon. By hard work and
honest industry they became independant. And
news of this kind filtered back to the old
land that Australia was a good country for
free men. And it was not long before the
better class of the working classes of England
Scotland and Ireland turned their attention
to Australia. And to little Nells great joy
she found herself on board the Good Ship
England bound for Australia where her
parents had determint to take their family to
improve their position. Nell was now ten years
of age In those old sailling days it took about
six months to reach Australia. And she soon
became a fiavriet with all on board she
would talk to the saillors And sing them
little Irish songs. Life on a sailling boat needs
all the passtime that can be got out of
it. But we will not dwell on the events
of the trip. Only to say they reached the
end of their journey safe and sound. We
look at this child of over eighty years
ago and think how misteraus are the
ways of fate. Who would have drempt of the
tradegy that was to come into her life.
Chapter 2.
Australia
At the time of which I write Australia
was little known in the world, and only
explored to a small extent. A portan
of New South Wales had been settled for
a number of years. But as far as Victoria
7.
4.
was concerned there had been very little done.
Only by squaters who had taken up large
tracks of country and were raising great
number of sheep and cattle the Western District
was one of the first places to atract settlers.
And Portland is one of the oldest towns in
the state. The North Eastern district of Victoria
was first enabited by Squaters who
came over land from Sydney and established
cattle stations on the Upper Murry and about
the same time Wangaratta now one of the most
prosprous country towns sprung into existance.
At the time when the ship enigland reached
these shores, even Melbourne was only a very
small place; It seems almost impossible to think
that the fine city with its up to date buildings its
broad streets its up to date Tram and Railway
sistum was no more than a scattered Village
Eighty years ago. But such was the case when
the subject of our story first saw it. The family
stayed about Melbourne for some little while
and eventuly settled at Donnebrook where they
carried on farming in a small way until the
gold rush broak out. Then the men went to the
diggins. In fact everyone that could carry a
pick and shuvel went. People were mad with
exictment. Stations and farms were deserted And
the Stock lefte to take care of themselves or
to stray away into the bush and become wild.
I would go on to write about the adventures
of those who dug and delved for gold and in
many cases never found it. For many pages. But
donot intend to do so. But only to follow the
adventurs of Nells Father and brothers. They
followed the digers first to one rush then
to another large quantatys of gold was unearthed and
places that had been wild bush became big towns.
8.
But in many cases those who worked the hardest
secured the least. Mining has always been a gamble.
Those who were luckey wanted to get more. And in
grasping after it lost what they had got. The men
who went into business did better than those who dug
for gold; because they took no resks. Graduly in most
cases the claims became worked out. And people had
to fall back on the land for a living. And it is
through new going into the bush to look for Gold that
some of the finest land in the world has been descovered.
And today Australia can bost of being able to grow
the finest wheat in the world: with new towns springing
up all over the state: a new industry came to the
front. There being no Railways it required a large
Number of teams to cart the stores to the towns that
had sprung into existance through the mining industry.
And most of the diggers who had not become
independent. But had been able to save enough
money to buy a team and wagon became
carriers and made a good income by carting
stores up country and loading back in Melbourne
with wheat and other produce, And in time they
settled on the land and became prosprus farmers.
So graduly the Fertile land of Victoria became settled.
5.
Chapter 3.
Towns
Years have passed since the little girl in Ireland stood
watching the convict ship. She is no longer a child.
but a fine dashing young woman. Full of life and spirit
during the time her Father and brothers were away
it fell to her lot to help her Mother manage the
little farm and no girl could have done it better
than she did. She was fond of the cows but her
greatest joy was to ride on horseback. She was
well known in the district. There were not many
men about most of them being away at the diferent
6.
9.
gold rushes. But all who knew her treated her
with respect. No one would dare to do other wise.
There is a time in the life of most girls when they
meet their fate. And she was no exception. A young
man came into her life: He came over from Tasmania.
he stood six feet in his stockings was broad shouldered
strong and active. In fact in every way a fine tipe of
an Athalate. One thing that made him remarkable
was his thick shock of firey red hair and bushey
wiskers. they called him red ned. Some say the family
did not aprove of the match. They did not beleave
he was a native of Tasmania and they had their
doubts as to how he got there. whether this is true
or not It had no weight with the girl and they
became devoted lovers. Ned went into the droving
business; Although we are told he was a bit fond of
whisky And at times got a drop too much.
On the whole he was steday and saved enough
to make a home somewhere in the districk of
Killmore. They were married and lived in that
part for a number of years and became th
parents of seven children three boys and four
girls all went on peaceful and they saved
enough money to aquire a small property of
their own in the North East. Where her people
had already gon: I shall now speak of the
Lady as Mrs Kelly the mother of those young men
who shocked the world by a most dreadful
crime and held the country in fear by their
daring exploits during their bushranging career. I
feel disposed to write this story in an impartial
way, not that I have any sympathy for crime. on
the contary I think it is imposable to maintain
Law and order if the extreme penalty of the Law
is not inforced. And think it is only just and
right that he who sheeds the blood of man By man
shall his blood be shed: But we should be
10.
careful to see that we donot judge unjustly and
so make the inaccent suffer with the guilty. That we
do not rob people of what is due to them for deeds
of Self sacrefice and herosam in the intrest of
their own flesh and blood. We would not be human
if our hearts did not go out to our children
when they were in disgrace. Let us see the good
points as well as the bad in our fellow men:
And there has been much in the life of Mrs Kelly
that is good. In the year 1865 her housband died
his death was caused through drinking a spirit
that was served to him in Messtake for brandy. Left
a widow with seven Children and in a strange
district. She was lodging in a house at Greta on
the bank of the 15 mile creek. In the night there
was a Cry of Fire. And she escaped with her
children in their Night Clothes all she had in the
world was gone even the few pounds she had
save for a rainey day was burnt in the fire.
The neighbours made a colection bought her
some clothes and set her up in a little house
in Wangaratta where she worked hard going
out washing in the day and dressmaking at
night. And by honest industry saved enough
to take the boys on to the farm when they
were big enough to work it.
7.
Chapter 4.
The Pioneers.
In the early days there was only a stock
rout for the greater part of the distance between
the Murry and Melbourne. Teamsters made
their way as best they could. Foarding bridgeless
rivers and ploding on through bad roads
and bush tracks: Passing through Benalla they
came to six miles of leval country. and pass through
Winton. on the seven mile Creek. A chain of
water holes. That are dry for the greater part of
11.
the summer. Winding through the hills they
come to the Eleven Mile Creek. Which at that time
contained deep holes and a never failing supply of
water. Going up the creek they cross the ranges
at what is now called Kellys gap; If we
turn to the right and go to the top of the hill.
We see one of the finest views in the State looking
East we see a broad fertile vally here and there
are doted five homesteads hundreds of acres of
wheat and oats wave in the wind.
and thousands of sheep and cattle are seen
grazing on the rich pastur. here we see the
water of the fifteen mile creek as it sparkels in
the sunlight through the trees in the background
are to be seen the Buffalo Mountians part of
the chain of the great dividing ranges. And further
away you see snow caped and towering above
them Mount Bogong the second highest point in
Australia. And down the side of which the mighty
avalanche sweeps carrying ruin and destruction
where ever it flows. How wonderful are the
works of Gods creation. Our eyes turn again
to the Valley and looking upon the prosperous
district of Greta we think of the hardyhood of the
early pioneers of men and women from England
Scotland and Ireland. Who crossed the roaring
seas in rickety Old Sailing Ships who fought thier
way into the bush. Who braved daingers endured
hardships to carvout homes subdue forests and
make the desert blossom like the rose. They were
the best boldest and most thrifty of the people of
the old world. And to them the men and women
of today are indebted for their fine homes and
their broad acres. But they have still more to
be thankful for a noble example of honesty and
uprightness of all that shows the true man It may
be said that they did not forget the things that
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8.
are Eternal. In Greta there are three Churches
built to the honour and Glory of God. The Church
of England the Roman Catholic and the Methodist.
Which has a resedent minister. There is also the place
to which we are all hastening Gods acre. There
the pioneers of the district sleep the last long
sleep. One by one they have been gathered home.
and now they are all gone. And the few who
are left that were children when their parents
came here. Are old men and women and
their hair is as white as the snow on the top of
mount Bogong. But we must go back to the
days of sixty years ago and over. When the
heavy waggons lumbred down the old
Gap to camp at the Fifteen Mile Creek At what is
now known as West Greta. From there those who were
loaded for Beechworth or Bright went across
country through Oxley. And these who had
loading for Wangaratta Rutherglen Chiltern or
Eldorado went to the left and reached
Wangaratta after travaling about fifteen miles.
Chapter 5
Glenrowan.
There being somany placses of growing importance
The Government of Victoria made a survay of what is
called the Sydney road. It was cleared right through
bridges built and some of the worst parts of the road
formed. This was the end of the trafic through
Kellys Gap. The waggonners now followed the main
road. Or as near to it as they could. But there
was a place dreaded by both waggenars and
Coach drivers. It was called the Crabholes. And
in reasent years it has been held in equal
dread by motorests who knew it as the Glupot
But has now been made a good road. by the
Government Roads Board. One of the events of the
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9.
early days was to see the gold escort go through
surrounded by a beavy of mounted police with
their rifles and smart trappings. I remember when
a small boy - seeing the Escort badly stuck in
the crabholes. But bat roads was not the
worst that they had to contend with. The North
East was badly infested with bushrangers. And
if there had not been a strong force. The Gold
would have soon gone. And the Lives of the
men who were in charge of it. At that time
there was only two buildings Glenrowan an
Hotel and store. Both owned and run by Mr
Wm Liddle. he did busness with the carriers and
the few settlers who were within range of his place
of business At a short distance about a mile from
the hotel was a range called Morgan Lookout. It
was so named through the presencen of a notorious
and blood thirsty bushranger called Morgan
being in the neighbourhood of Glenrowan. For
sometime he held. the outback parts of New
South Wales in a State of Fear on account of
his dreadful deed of robbray outrage and
murder. A squater from the Upper King River
was across the border and one morning with a
friend he came on Morgans Camp. The Outlaw
had gone to catch his horse and was without
rifle or revolver. When he drew near the camp.
The squatter called upon him to surrender but
he placed his hand over his heart. The man
thinking he was going to draw a revolver fired.
But the only damage done was to blow off the
top of his finger. and he escaped in the
scrub. But he had maked his man and
came to Victoria to kill him. A deed he very
nearly accomplished. He stuck up the station.
and had he been content to shoot him.
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10.
could have done so. But he was to have a
worse death. The monster tied him to a post.
And set two haystack on fire to slowly roast
him to death in the presance of his servents.
Startled by the fire a mob of horses
started to gallop and the outlaw thinking
the police were upon him decamped. It
was then easy for one of the men to rush
in cut the bonds and relias the doomed
man. Morgan next appeared on the Sydney
road about three miles on the Wangaratta
side of Glenrowan. Where he robed a
number of waggoners. Just at dusk he
stoped a waggoner I afterward knew well. The
late Mr Wm Dowll. And demanded his money. He
said My boss is coming along the road with the
money. And he went off up the road. Dowell
seeing the foolish thing he had done gave the rains
to a man he had with him and run off into
the bush with a hundred and fifty pounds.
Shortly after which the highway man came back in
a towering rago. And said he had been told a
lie and would not stand that from any
man. He would shoot the horses and burn the
waggon. The man pladed with him saying Dowell
was only a driver. And the outlaw road away
grumbling that a deasent bushrainger could not
get his rights through the lieing tongues of dishonest
people. And the man drove to the hotel with
forty pounds of his own money hidden in the tilt of
the wagon. Dowell made his way in the darkness
to the hotel and was not trubled by the outlaw
again. The next day Morgan appeared at the
Tamanick Station then owned by the Late Mr Ben
Warby. But beyond giving them a fright and
having a good meal he did not interfear with
them; He was on his way to the Pechelba Station
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11.
about twenty miles away. Where he was to meet his
Waterloo. This Station was owned by the late Mr
Rutherford. It was situated near the Ironbark
Rainges and about twenty miles from the Murry
River. The nearst nieghbour was a Squater
about ten miles away on the Ovens. Morgan
bailed up the Station Asembled all the
station hands together with the servents. and Mr &
Mrs Rutherford in a large room. He made them
bring him refments And he indulged
in a quantity of strong drink. One of the
things that had helped to bring him to be the
monster that he was. In an half drunken
state he was determined to make merry. And
ordered his prisners to dance to music supplied by
Mrs Rutherford While he beet time on the piano
with his revolver. Growing tired of this he told
them all to be silent while he pretended
to sleep with a revolver in each hand. They were
in a state of Terror and were almost afraid
to move for fear he would accuse some of them with
atempting to escape and so make an excuse to
sattisfy his thirst for human blood. He had been
known to shoot people for sport. And commit the
most dredful outrages on defenceless women. No
Mans Life was safe when he was about. And all women
within his reach were in dainger of his feindsh lust. But
if they had only known deliverance was on the way. Hours
before a brave girl had creept out of the room And was
running for her life through the bush. She started at
every sound fearing a fate worse than death. But
fear gave her strength. And she reached the station
ten miles away. In a state of great exitment
she told her story. And then fell in a faint. A
messenge galloped to Wangaratta. And before daylight
the homstad was surrounded by police and volunteers
who had offered their servises to assist in the capture
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12.
of the greatest monster that ever infested the Australian
bush, Morgan wornout with his debauchry sleept soundly.
The Terefied people could hear his hevay breathing
and shuddered to think what might be their fate
when he woak. There was a streak of light in
the East the sun roas and the dreadful night
was over. The ruffian moved. Then growaled I must
go. Come Rutherford. Show me your horses and I
will take the best on the Station. They came out of
the house. And were walking to the stables. There
was the sharp crack of a rifle and Morgan
fell to rise nomore. The police were upon him.
Somone said They have got you at last. And he
replyed Yes. And if the had give me a chance
I would have had some of them. So ended an
evil and misspent life. His body was taken to
Wangaratta and buried by the police in the
Wangaratta cemetery where the grave. is still plainly
to be seen. He was shot by a man named
Quinlan An employee of an ajoining Station.
A reward of seven hundred and fifty pounds
was given him. The brave girl was also rewarded
But the money was of little use to poor Quinlan. The
Tragady so prayed on his mind that he lost his
reason and ended his days in an Asylam
for the Insane
Chapter 6
The Eleven Mile Creek
We have spoken of this place before but it was in
the days when it was a stopping place for Waggoners
All that is left to show that they have been there Are
the old tracks through the bush. And the deep ruts
showing signes of many a bog; The first time I saw this
place was on the 8th March 1866 My Father had taken
up Land not far from the Winton swamp. We had just
arrived from a place near Melbourne. It was a dry
season what we now call a drought: The Swamp was
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13.
dry and we had to drive our cattle to the Creek.
Many others had to do the same. And how the poor
thirsty bruets quickened their pace and belowed
when they smellt the water. How well I remember
the old place and in fancy I can see it now as I saw
it then in its wild bush state. On the hill was a large
sheep fold. And on the place where Mr. Lees homstad now
stand was a shepards hut. The shepard took the sheep
out on the run in the daytime and put them in the
fold at night. There was a Chinees Cook and he spent
his spare time making straw bals. Which he sold for the
modest sum of twenty one shillings each. On the other
side of the Creek where Mr Mat Kennellys homstade
now stands was the remains of the Old Stables where
Cob and Co Mail Coaches used to chainge horses But
Winton is now the chainging station and the coaches
come to the creek no more. Further south is a big hill
with very few trees on it. At that time it was
called the big bald hill. But it is now known as
Harts hill. Almost under the shadow of this hill was
the home of a soletary settler On the bank of the
creek among the wattles: A number of willow trees
had been planted around the house and had
already grown to a good size. The walls of the
house was slab and the roof stringebark with
sapling riders to keep the bark in its place. A number
of children were playing regardless of the lonelyness of the
place. Years went by and as a lad of about
thirteen years of age I took my fathers cattle to
the creek. Other settlers sent their boys with cattle If
they had no boys they sent their girls And those who
had neither came themselves. I remember a jolly
Old chap who hailed from the Emral Isles He used
to bring his milking cows from somewhere over the
hills I did not know where He would set in the
shade and tell yarns by the hour. One story I
never forgot. Do ye know how I got my wife Oh ye
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14.
don’t. Well I will tell you. I was a waggnor. And
at one of the pubs I used to camp at. There
was a powerful pirty girl. I set my cap at her
but had no luck. I had my suspicn that she had
more than a sneaking regard for that young
dandy Jack Hogan who put all he earned on his
back So I said to meself Frank old man Ye will
have to run cunning. And I did. When I got
paid for my loading at Beechworth I went to the
Bank and got it chainged into pound notes Then
I got a lot of old news papers and made a bundle
as big as a bushel and carefuly covered it with
the pound notes Whin I got back to the pub. I took
it to her and said here Mary take care of this
bit of money for me. And we will think about
getin married. But she said Oh Frank dear
someone might steal it We had better got married at
once And beggara we did. And that is how
I beet Flash Jack Hogan. About this time
another joined the company on the creek A boy
about my own age. He was riding a smart
black poney and proudly told us it was a
galloper. And could clear any fence in the
north East. The boy was elert and active with
percing black eyes that took in every thing at a glance
he woar straped trousers a red shirt and straw
hat tilted forward Secured by a strap under his
nose. The back of his head was broad and covered
with close croped hair as black and shiney as a
crow his jaw was hevay his lips thin. And when
closed tightly there seemed to be something cruel in
them. But when they relaxed into a smile he appeared
to be a jovel good nature fellow His name was
Dan Kelly and he was a great lover of horses.
I was the only one of the other boys who had a horse –
A bay poney. She had belonged to a clergyman and
was an honest goer. Dan run his eye over my
19.
15.
horse and preposed that we should have a
racse. A chalinge I gladly acepted When he
found he could not shake me off he developed
a great respect for me. And declared there was
not a Kangaroo in the haule country that could
get away from us. So we went Kangaroo hunting
not once but many times I left my cows to
look after themselves, or bribed some of the other boys
to look after them for me. With the promies of some
sinus out of a Kangaroos tail to make whip crackers
We sometimes saw Ned Kelly. but he was a few years
older than we were. and regarded himself as too
big for my company. Time went by Dan Kelly and
the creek went out of my life But I am looking
at it in 1922 how changed everything is. The
place is all devided into paddocks. by good
fencses. where there was only one family in the
early days. there are now upwards of twenty families. And
they have become well to do. by producing wheat and
oats butter wool lambs and beef. Here rich frut
grows to perfection Who in this part has not heard
of Harleys Orchard with it famous appls and oranges
A lot of money has been made by cutting timber
into Railway Sleepers and Bridge timber If we look
around we will find there is a State School The
children no longer run wild in the bush But are
educated and prepared to go out and fight the battle
of life. If we go into the school we will see there is
an Honour Board with the names of men from the
district who have fought and bled for the Empire On
the wall is an enemy machine gun captured from the
Germans On Sundays the building is used for a Church
and good men preach the Gospel of Christ. Telling their
hearers that God so loved the world that he gave his
only begotten son. that who so ever beleaveth in him
shall have Eternal life The place was chainged very
much for the better. The fact that men band
20.
themselves together for the common good of humanity
is the best proof that can be given of the
advancment of any place. No matter what it has
been.
16.
Chapter 7
Bad Company
How many times it has been said. Evil connecation
curapts good manners, and it is a true
saying; Show me a mans compnay and I will tell
you the kind of man he is. since our first
parents fell. and brought on the human
race the wrath of God: The earth has been full
of sin and wickedness. and the world was condemed
to bring fourth thorns and briers. How they grow
The richer the ground the more they thrive: the
plank is more easley trained in the way nature
inclines it to grow. So Ned Kelly became an
easay prey to an unscruplas scoundral and
brought upon his family ruin disgrace and the illwill of
the public. This man William Power by name was a
convicted criminal and a daring ruffian He chose the
North East for his expoits of highway robery under arms.
he was cunning and carried out many a deep layed
plan. he would disapear for a time, and the
police would be hunting for him without being
able to find a clue as to his whereabouts; Then people
would be shocked by a daring coach robery in a
locality where it was least expected he would be It
might be the Bright the Beechworth the Yackandudah
coach or a coach on the way to some township on
the Upper Murry He was never known to take human
life but doubtless he would have donso had he not
suceeded in frightening his victans into quick submison,
he was rough and course, nasing a lot of profane
oaths. The women were insulted and bulleyed by
him. But only in one case has he been said to go
as far as actual voilance. Holding his revolver
21.
17.
18.
to a woman’s head he ordered her to strip off all
her clothes in the presence of all the other passengers.
The poor woman in tears and trembling with fear
protested. The highwayman relented. And said that
after all he would be to mean of him to compel
her to do it. An amusing story was told by the
late Mr Robert McBrin J.P. At the time owner of
the Tatong Station Riding through the bush one
day he meet a man on horseback. And
mistaking him for one of the station hands he
said good day Bill Said Mr McBrin. I found myself
looking into the barral of a revolver. And a gruf
voice said confound your impendance. I will teach
you how to speak to a gentleman Fancy your
calling me Bill. hand over your watch and
chain and your money. I am Mr Power. It has been
said by other writers that the watch and chain was
returned. But I never heard so from Mr McBrin who
was a personal friend of mine. At any rate I am
quit shure it was not returned in the way
stated. Neither did the person who was held responable for returning it had anything to do with it;
that there were a number of dishonest people in leigue
with the robber was quit apparent. While others
refrained from giving information for fear of violence
it became noised abroad that young Kelly had joined
hands with Power he had been seen in his company. But
the worst that could be said was that he was
suspected of aiding and abating him in his deed of
crime by letting him know the movmants of the police or
bringing him provisions and at most holding the horses
while Power commited the robberys. But there was no
proof that he did any of these things. Powers place
of hiding was on the Upper King River. His camp had
been found diferent times But the bird had always
flown; The only way to reach his hiding place was through
a narrow gourg past a farm hous The farmer had some
22.
peacocks and while it was passable to decive the dogs.
The peacock always gave a loud cry. This alarmed the
Bushrainger. And the police would find nothing but a
deserted camp a smoldring fire and a few empty fish
tins. But one wet night four policemen guided by a
black tracker creept past without alarming the bird:
They found Power asleep. Covering him with their
revolvers made him a prisner He stood his trial was
convicted of highway robery under arms. And
sentanced to fifteen years hard labour in pentrige jail.
The term of his natural life. But he lived to serve his
sentance and regain liberty: A benevlent lady made
him her gardner and he lived in comfard. And loved
to tell of his exploits untill he died a very old man.
But he had sown the seeds of sin in a young heart that
were to ripen into deeds of crime far worse than he
had commited: How these thorn and brais grow He
had talked to Ned Kelly about a easey living. And had
laughed at the idiea of honest work. Kelly was soone
on the downward road and found himself in the hands
of the police charged with cattle stealing Stood his
trial at Beechworth found guilty and sentance to
eighteen months hard labour in pentrige jail. This was
before the North Eastern Railway line was
compleated. And the line was only opened as far as
Longwood. My Father went there on busness and took
me with him. I saw the coach arrive surrounded by a
strong escort of police saw Kelly taken off the coach
19. saw him placed in a railway carrage. Oh the thorns
and Briers I saw this fair youth manacled to an old
man by the degraded look on his face it was plain his
life had been spent in sin. The Thorns and the Briers
had filled his heart there was no room for honesty. No
room for virtue in his besoted soul And now he has a
puple in the boy handcuffed at his side. He will not
fail to drag deeper into the meir and clay of sin: If our
prison sistam could be so
23.
arranged that young offenders could be kept apart
from hardened crimanels it would give them a chance
to reform. And there would be less excuse for them
going wrong after they had served their first sentance
When Ned Kelly came out of prison he came back to
the creek. And made an atempt to earn an honest
living by horsebreaking I remember that he broak in a
horse for my Father. At that time a great part of the
country was still open. And young horses were
alowed to roam about in the bush. I shall never forget
the wild gallop we had after those horses They had
not been yarded for many months and were determend
that they were not going to be We chased them over
hills and through swamps I could not help thinking
what a dashing fearless fellow Ned Kelly was And a
companion he had with him who was known as
Bricky was if possable more reclass: At length the
horses were yarded. And Ned was soone on the back
on the one he was to breakin. He took it away and
returned it in due course But he had been in jail and a
great many people avoided him. and he was seen less
and less on the creek. His bad company had leed him
to be not only dishonest but discontented and his
brooding led him into a carear of crime that ended in
his death on the Gallos.
20.
Chapter 8
The Thunder Clouds Brim
In September of the year 1877 On the Creek All
nature was at its best the birds were singing on the
trees. The little busy bees were huming As they flew
from flower to flower or sucked the honey from the
blossom of the great Ironbark Trees The creek along
its winding course is lined with wattles. All in a blaze
of golden glory under the shade of a big box tree a
Young man is seated on a horse. he is tall and dark
there is
24.
something striking about his face. You would not call
it hansom. There was somthing about his eyes that
was hard to understand. And every few minits he took
up the valley as if expecting someone. Now let us
look at the horse. It is a lovely dappld bay, It tosses it
head and paws the ground with its front feet. It is well
shod and well groomed by its aperance we would say
it is a Troopers horse we look closely and see by the
brands that it is. The horse lifts up its head and gives a
loud neigh. We hear the sound of horses hoofs and we
see a horsman coming down the creek But when the
rider draws near we see it is not a man. but a woman
riding a stride. This is a uncomman sight for in those
days riding astride was regarded as an ofence against
deasency. But this is only a girl in her teens. But a girl
of bewiching beauty her featurs are well rounded her
eyes are large and dark and her long black wavey hair
and the flush of health in her face makes her look a
perfect picture By the way they meet we see they are
not straingers Their horses are drawn up close
together The man places his hand on her horses wither
and wispers in her ear the old old story of love, and
the girl drew back with a long harsh laugh. And then
her eyes filled with tears and she said no that is
imposable. Shurly you have thought of my brothers
Ned has already been in jail and people say dreadful
things about him, You have so maintain the Law. and
it would be bad for us both. But his answer was Kate
my love I would give up anything go throug anything
for you. If you had only known I have warded off
suspicon against your brothers many times and she
said Oh don’t speak about them it hurts me. But his
tongue was lused. and he poured out such a story of
love and flattery that it was no wonder she was carried
away by him: She broke of a peace of wattle and with
the golden spray play fuly pretended to beet him off.
25.
When he pleaded for just one kiss and it did not end
with one but many kisses. He had won her heart. but
she was taking no risks. And when he preposed that
they should get off their horses and sit on the nice soft
grass she tuched her horse and was gone like a flash.
This was only one of many meetings during the next
few months. He grew bolder sometimes calling at her
mothers house. There were reports of cattle stealing in
the district. Dan Kelly was suspected and a warant
had been ishued for his arrest. But he was suposed to
have escaped to another part of the state. In 1878
constable Fitzpatrick road up to Mrs Kellys house:
and to his suprise the first person he saw was Dan
Kelly. Here was a chance to arrest him he had not got
22. the warant with him but he would chance taking him
without it prehaps it might mean premotion to him
and what ever feeling there might be would soon blow
over: so he put him under arrest Dan said very well I
will go with you. but I supose you will let me have
my dinner first Glad of the chance to show kindness
he gave his consent during the diner there was a brall;
The policman was knocked unconchous. when he
recovered his prisner had escaped and his helmet was
smashed by a blow. He returned to Benalla with a
bullit hole in the sleave of his coat. He swoar that
while Dan Kelly was having his diner Ned Kelly
appeared at the door and fired several shots at him. At
point blank rainge. And Skillon a son in law of Mrs
Kellys and a man named Williams covered the
constable with revolvers while the Kellys escaped.
And Mrs Kelly hit him on the head with the fire
shovel. Mrs Kelly and the two men werearrested and
stood their Trial. Mrs Kellys sworn statement was that
while Dan was having his dinner her daughter came
into the room and the constable threw his arms around
her and kissed her this so enraged the mother that
26.
she picked up the fire shovel and knocked him sencless. If
there was a bullit hole in his coat he must have fired it
himself Dan was the only man present: Both Skillan and
Williams swor they were nowhere near the place and know
nothing about the affair; on the face of this all three were
found Guilty Mrs Kelly was sentanced to three years
imprisonment, and the men to five years hard labour each.
It dos not seem like British Justice to impose such a
23. sevear sentance On the uncarobated evedence of one
witness taking it for granted that the evedence for the
defence was weak. And that it was not beleaved by
the jury. The punishment was unduly sevear. How
natural it is for people to look for the worst rather than
the best that can be found in their fellow-men. If we
commit a breach of the Law we have to suffer. And
the worst of it we are not the only ones who are held
responcable we have forfeted the honor of the name
of the family to which we belong: It was the case with
the unhappy Kelly Family. The state of the country at
that time lent itself to deeds of dishonesty princaply
cattle stealing. Many thousand of acres were still
open. and the greater part of it hilly bush country
Farmers at Winton and other places turne their dry
cattle and young stock into the bush. Alowing them to
roam about at will. Some of them were not seen for
months It was quit eacey for cattle thieves to drive
them off. And sell them in somother part of the state.
This was often don. Ned Kelly was a convicted thief:
But there were many others just as bad. And some of
them sheltered behind him. The old saying give a dog
a bad name and he will keep it, and in most cases
make it worse. The family were not naturely bad. A
statement I think I will be able to prove in this story
Indeed I will go further and say there was a lot of
good in them. There were two things that led them
astray: The lawless State of the country and the lack
of parential restraint. The severe sentance passed on
Mrs Kelly prevented her from exerciseing what
27.
little influence she might have had on her Sons. The
thunder clouds had burst. And it ment tens of thousands of
pounds to the country. And the loss of many lives.
Chapter 9
Murder at the Stringiebark Creek
in the Wombat Ranges.
24.
The Kelly brothers had started their carear of crime
They had ben weighed in the balance and were
determend to set at defiance Law and order For
sometime their whereabouts could not be found then it
became known that they were hiding in the
Strinngiebark rainges in the Tumbelup district It was
wispered that two others had joined the gang. This
proved to be too true; Their names were Steve Hart
from South Wangaratta and Joe Burns from the
Woolshed near Beechworth. They proved a most
formidable combination. And were determined to stop
at nothing They had large numbers of relations Some
respectable law abiding people who deeply deplored
the disgrace the gang had brought upon them While
others openly aided and abated them if not in their
crimes. In assesting them to escape the avenging hand
of justice. It has always been evedent that men who
defy the law bare the sympathy of a large number.
They are the people that are against the Government
and they were never more in Evidence than during the
reigien of the Kelly Gang. A party of four policemen
were sent to the Stringebark Rainges to capture the
escaped Ned. But they little knew the desprat nature
of the under taking they had in hand and that the dead
bodies of three of them would be brought out of the
hills on pack horses. The party was led by Sergant
Kennady a brave and efficient officer from Mansfield.
The names of the other men were Mackntyre, Scantan
and Lonergan. They were drawn from diffrent small
Towns. In the case of Lonergan. there was an
evedence of presentement – how things are hard to
understand. they may or may not
25
28.
be from the Spirit world; How many cases have we
heard of during the dread ful world wide war. Where
men who have brave dangers and have lead wonderful
ascapes in many a bold charge have ad last gonowt
with a strange forboding that they would never return.
And in most cases it has come true. It was so in
Lonergans case. He had kissed his wife and children
bidding them a loving farewell mounted his horse and
read away somdistance when he turned around came
back dismounted and took them one by one in a long
affectinate embrace he pressed them to his heart. This
was the last time they were do be in the arms and
caress the lips of a good housband and kind father All
went well with them. And they reached the Rainges
without adventur But it was thought their movements
were watched and word given that the police were
coming On their arrival at Stringiebark Creek they
found unmistakeable signes that there had been
someone there not long before. But the men they
wanted were nowhere to be seen They piched their
tent and made themselves comfortable for the night.
In the morning the sun was bright & clear. The bush
was alive with the songs of the bush. They heard
chatter of the parrots the screech of the gan gans and
in the distance the cry of a dingo But the wilde hills
seemed to contain no human life After breakfast they
made a search around the camp but discovered
nothing. After looking to their weapons; Kennedy and
Scanlon went down the creek on horse back to look
for tracks. And Lonergan and Mackintyre stayed at
the camp to cook the dinner, he was so engaged when
he heard someone call out bail up. He saw that four
men: had him covered with rifles; Being a brave man
he was not going to fall into their hands without
29.
trying to make a fight of it. But no sooner did he place
his hand on his revolver that he fell dead with a rifle
bullet through the brain. Mackintyre came out of the
tent. and seeing the fate of his comrade he held up his
hands and was made prisoner. They searched him and
made him stand back while one of the disprados stood
guard over him Why did you shoot Lonergan said he.
Because he would have shot us said they. Then they
grew elert. In the distance could be heard the sound of
the tramp of horses feet. and man’s voiceses. The two
other troopers were drawing near. Ned Kelly said to
Mackintyre if you play the game we will not hurt you.
But if you get up to any tricks you will die. Go and
meet your mates. and get them to surrender to avoid
bloodshed. He did so. But they were men of courage
and scorned such a thing. Scanlon wass carrying a
rifle slung over his shoulder secured by a strap. No
sooner did he put his hand on it than a shot made the
forest ring and he fell dead with a bullet through his
throat Sergant Kennedy still undaunted sprung from
his horse intending to use it for a cover while he
fought the murders of his comrades. No sooner did he
dismount than Mackintyre sprung on the horse from
the other side and galloped away followed by a
shower of bullets some of which wounded the horse
still he pressed on Leaving poor Kennedy to his fate.
At last the horse fell dead. Then he run as far as his
legs would carry him. So terefied was he that he crept
27. into a large wombat hole where he remained for the
day: We can emagin the extream horror of his
position and the desprat thoughts that would pass
through his mind There was no hope for Kennedy
they would kill him Then they would track the horse.
and would be shure to find his hiding place. And will
30
for they know dead man will tell no tales. A mob of
Kangaroos scamped through the bush and he starts
with a cry upon his lips. they are here Oh that his end
may be swift and painless. But no all is silant again.
He is cramped from the position he has been in the
movement has hurt him and he is unable to restrain a
groan. greet drops of cold perspration fall from his
face. hours seem like years. At last it is dark. he
comes from his hiding place. His limbs are numbed
and refuse to move little by little his strength return to
him and he is able to start on his long journey. The
Church Bells are ringing in Mansfield. the people are
on their way to the diferent paces of worship They are
suprised at the apearnce of a man with his cloths toarn
and tattered draging himself wearily along the street;
never had he heard such sweet music as the bells were
to him that day. and little did the people dream of the
grim tradegy he was about to reveal. The district was
shocked at the dreadful murder. And a strong force
was soon organised to go in persuit of the murderers It
was dark when they reached Stringiebark Creek. The
Kellys were gone. The police tent was still there and
the bodies of Lonergan and Scanlan were soon found.
Kennedys body was found som distance from the
others He evidently had made a running fight and was
overtaken and killed. His face was disfigured. Some
were of the opinion that the gang torchered him to
28. compell him to give them information they wanted: I
am more inclined to think the damage was done by
wild dogs or dingos that infested the rainges. The
bodies of the murdered troopers were taken to
Mansfield where they were buried: A monument was
erected in the town in memory of the police who were
murdered by the Kelly gang at Stringiebark Creek.
31.
Chapter 10
Outlawed
An inquest was held on the bodies at Mansfield
where Mackintyre gave his stareling evedence Some
say he was a coward to desert his Sergant But it is
evedant that his position was desprat and had he
remained there would have been very little chance of
his life being spared. It is a good thing that he
escaped. Or the whole business might have remained
a mistry for all time. At the inqest a verdic of wilful
murder was brought in against Ned Kelly Dan Kelly
Joe Burns and Steav Hart. The Victorian Government
29
declared them to be Outlaws and placed a reward of one
thousand pounds each on their heads dead or alive. The
public were shocked at the dreadful outrage they had
comitted. And it was thought that the avenging hand of
justice would soon be upon them But in this they were
doomed to disapointment; There is in every country a large
number of dishonest people who have no respect for the
law. They hate as well as dread the uneform of the police.
Another class are the relatives of criminals they are not
dishonest themselves and have no sympathy with deeds of
Volance. Yet the ties of nature are so strong that they are
unable to resist the temptation to keep silance or even to
refrain from assisting them to escape if it was in their
power to do so. Bushranging was always very expencive
So many had to be bribed by what was called bush money
and they employed Spies to let them know when dainger
was near. Such unprincipled Scoundrals are unfortuatly far
too numrous. They neither care for the Law or the Law
breaker All they want is monetry gain for themselves. The
trail was followed by the police from Stringiebark Creek
further into the Ranges. But was soon lost in the Rough
Country Days lengthened into weeks and weeks into
months Still they seemed no nearer discovering the
wherabouts of the outlaws; the police force was
strengthened and their pay was dubbled Hundreds of men
were employed scowring the North East in the parts where
it was thought they might be but all without success Mrs
Kelly was liberated from jail and allowed to go home. In
the hope that
32.
the sons would visit their Mother But they kept away.
Two of the daughters Kate And Grace were both
Expert horse women. They had enereted some of the
wild spirit of the bush And loved to gallop over the
rainges. Many an Oldman Kangaroo has looked back
with fear in his eyes. When Kate was in hot pursut on
her dashing bay. The police thought that these
excurtions into the hills might lead to a clue And they
were sheddowed. But all to no avail. They were never
seen to meet anyone; Then They pulled down the
Mothers house. And did not leave a stick or a stone
standing. Mrs Kelly had another house built on the
other side of the Creek. There were reports that the
Outlaws had been seen in somplace. The police would
rush off only to meet with disapointment or to hear
that they were in somother place a hundred miles
30. away. And so It went on month after month At length some
enterprizing person envented a story that they had escaped
from Australia on a boat that sailed from Sydney. bound
for America Ned disguised as a Clergyman And two of the
other Outlaws as women. There were some who were
foolish enough to beleave it But the police were unshaken
in their belief that the gang were still in the district. Where
they were will never be known; But it was evedent that
they were in Close tuch with a number of sympathisers;
They have been credited by some writers with sticking up
stores and robing people on the roads. I think I am safe in
saying they never did anything of the kind They only
played for big Game. And Ned Kelly could almost be
regarded as a sort of a Robbin Hood robing the rich and
giving to the poor. It is a very great pitty that his talents
were used in the wrong direction. His Bank Roberys were
Couningly pland. And carriedout like Clockwork.
Chapter 11.
The Euroa Bank Robery
They had been in hiding for many months and it was
evedent they were short of funds. And their Unknown
agents would be growings restless And wanting to know if
harbering them
33.
was worth the risk. If they were to get nothing for it So they
made their plans to rob the Euroa Bank. They cut the
Telegraph wires on both sides of the Town and stuckup a
cattle station about four miles on the Benalla Side of Euroa
they made prisners of all the people on the station one man
A scotch man refused to go into the room Ned Kelly put the
revolver in his mouth and …he said Man I smell pooder the
now. I will do what ever you want me to do Making their
prisners secuar they took two of the buggies from the Station
they drove into Euroa a little before three oclock. At the
most busy time of the day. So well did they lay their plans
that they were able to comit the robery Close the Bank and
take the manegar and his wife and children together with the
Clerks and drive them all off in the presence of a Street full
of people. On their way to the Station on the main road the
meet a funril and pulling to the side stoped removed their
hats and beared head sat in a state of reverance untill it has
passed Siveral of the Bankers friends were in the proseson
noded to him. Thinking he was out for a pleasure trip with
some friends. Never dreaming that the party were being
carried off by a band of Outlaws Together with Eight
thousand pound from the Bank. When they arrived at the
station the gaurd reported all well. the prisoners had been
orderly and well behaved; Another man had been added to
the number a hawker of drapery He was brought out to show
the good he had in his wagon; They bought four suits of
cloths And paid him for them with some of the gold they
had taken from the Bank. Then they demanded refreshmets.
And after having a harty meal. were preparing to take their
departur. Dan Kelly siaed while you are packing up. I will
go and have a bit of fun with one of the women. But Ned
answred him very crossly. You will do nothing of the kind
while I am the leader of this gang. No woman shall be
molested And I insist on every member of my party treating
all women with respect. The horses were sadded the money
straped on them The Outlaws road away. With the thret than
anyone who
34.
32. gave information would be shot
Chapter 12.
Unsccessful pursuit.
For simetime the people who had passed through such a
startling experance sat looking at eachother almost afraid to
speak or even move. The Gang had ridden away into the
night. But who could say that they had not returned, and
they might even now be laying in wait to shoot anyone that
would make bold to try to get away to spread the news of
their desprat doings. At last a move was made and there was
no signe of the robers being about; The Banker and his party
were driven into Euroa. The News soon spread of the daring
exploit of the Kelly gang; an attempt was made to wire the
news to Melbourne and Benalla But the farsight of the Gang
prevented that being acomplished. Indeed they were bold
enough to be seen cutting the wires when a train was
passing; The train crew thought they were experts repairing
the line: No Message could be sent untill some men went to
Longwood on a Railway Trolley The news was Telegraphed
to Melbourne. A Special train was despached with a strong
force of mounted Police and black trackers They arrived at
Euroa early the next morning But the outlaws had got a long
start. The Trail was easy to find. It led in the direction of the
Starthbogie Rainges. They came on severl camps But the
wanted men were never sighted. Then the tracks went into
the Rainges. Still they followed them over hills up creeks
through mountian passes and along bridle tracks. The
traveling was becoming hard for both men and horses. And
they were in great danger of being shot down from some
Ambush No one knows the risk they had taken. Only those
who have been in these placses. There are Caves so
inexcessible. that one man could defy a whole company.
Still they pressed on mile after mile. At length they came to
a peace of Tableland Here there had been a reasent camp the
fire was still smorlding. but there was no signe of anyone
being in locality. What was the
35.
Straingest thing of all was, there was a jumble of fresh
tracks made leading in ever so many diferent directions.
They tryed first one track and then another But all without
success. They would go through the scrub and disappear on
the rocks. It was impossable to follow them. And the police
had to confess that they were beeten. And tired wornout and
disheartened they returned to Euroa. No neare to solving the
mistry than Ever. The outlaws had disapeared as compleatly
as if the earth had opened and swallowed them up. Therey
after therey was advanced. Only to be rejected as imposable
It is quit evedent they could not have done what they did
without a large number of acompicses. Or what is known as
sleeping partners. It is most likly that there were a number of
others in the plot and it was part of the program that they
should meet them on the tableland; or be there waiting for
them when they came there they would deved up the cash.
And go away in diferent directions. It was evedent the gang
did not go to the part where the police expected to find
them. It is a well known fact that he had relatives in many
parts of the state and a number of friends unknown to the
police. These friends would gladly shelter them because
34. they knew they would be well paid. These young desprados
knew the country from the Murry to the sea. they had been
over it many times And had trained their horses to mountian
climbing And would ride over hills and through trackless
rainges. Where no other horse man would dare to follow. It
has been said – But I do not know on what athority that
when they succeeded in throwing their pursuers off their
track. They went streght across the rainges into Gippsland
where in many parts they could go about unsuspected. They
were credited with going into Bairnsdale to buy provisions
on more than one ocasion. And it is quit likly they did. The
Police were
36.
looking for four men when often there was only one. There
was a wild story told that they were hiding in the Buchan
caves. I don’t give it much credit at that time they were
unknown. To anyone who has seen them of resent years. With
the electric light shining on their sparkling cristals they would
appear to be an ideal place to hide in. when they were in their
wild state It was a well known fact that they visited Orbost
And it was suposed that they had relations there. This is a
story that I think there is no foundation for. In any case they
did not stay anywhere long They were fleeing from the
Avenger of blood And were at enmity with the world. They
had broken the Laws of God and of mand. And thoughts of
their evil deeds were ever with them. In the dark they would
start at the slightest sound. They would see the bodies of their
victoms laying Stif and Stark. Or the pleeding eyes of sergant
Kennedy when he beged them to spare his life for the sake of
35. his wife and children. They flattered themselves with the
thought that they had only taken human life when it was to
save their own. What right had people to stand in the way of
their evil deeds. If they did they were prepared to take more
life. How hardened men can become: What right had they to
take other peoples property: What right had they to make
widows and fatherless children; the blood of three honest men
was crying out for vengance. The Mills grind slowly. but they
grind excedingly small. So they could not shak off the
thoughts of the dreadful fate that was to overtake them They
dreaded the police. But they could outwit them But they could
not get away from their own thoughts And there were always
with them like some horid nightmare; what could they do
where could they go. They would think out places for their
escape. Then they would. scare them as weak and Cowardly.
They would not try to get away. But would plan fresh roberys
they would show their cuning their daring and skill from time
to time they get news of the police They read in the papers
where the police were hot on their track. They were either
going to overwhelm them or starve them out. They laughed
when they knew this was going to be done hundreds of miles
37.
from where they realy were. The man in the street was saying
we have heard the last of the Kellys: They have got out of the
country. And by this time are the other side of the world.
Money is the great power. With that they can go anywhere:
But they had no intention of Leaving the country even if they
could they had made a studyof what they were going to do.
They had arrainged another Bank robery that was to be a
36. greater success than Euroa
{The following pages are unreadable as the pencil writing has
faded too much.}
38.
37.
38.
39.
39
40.
40
41.
41
42.
42.
For all the success the searchers meet with the Gang might
have been in Greenland. While the mistery had deepened.
They were laying their plans for a still more daring outrage.
they were prepared to undertake anything. So far everything
had gone well with them they had been Able to baff et their
purseurs. and woebetide the man who dared to stand in the
way of their plans. They were drunk with succes. And thought
no skill could conqeat with their cunning; They are like the
Elusive Pimpernel; We seek him here. we seek him there
Those Frenchies seeks him every where. Is he in heaven, is he
in hell, that damned elusive Pimpernel They hat though out a
sceam by which they were to be proof against rifle bullet. One
morning when a number of the farmers in Greta went out to
plough. They found that the mouldboard had been stolen.
Brown Smith and Jones meet in Wangaratta. They had all
come for the some purpas. To order new mouldboard They are
soon joined by five or six more angrey farmers who had come
in for the same purpas. It was most anoying that their
ploughing should be delayed. And they were loud in the
condemnation of the silly practical joke of some brain less
hoolegans: Most likely their boards were laying at the bottom
of some dam in the district. And would not be found untill the
next drought came. And not a few of the angrymen said damn
Suspsequant events proved it was not a joke But a deep layed
plan. The gang had secured the servicess of a blacksmith to
make the stolen mouldbards into suits of armour The man was
a farmer who had Been working in the district: Noone would
suspect him he was a good man. And never failed to attend
Church. And the Methodist Church at that He always staid for
the prayer meetings and was deeplygrived at the dishonesty of
the mean theaf who stoal the Farmers mouldboards. The
blacksmith disapeared shortly after the boards were taken.
And was never seen again. It was thought he had been well
paid and betook himself to fields green and pastures new
There was much talk as to where and how the armour was
made. It is quit evedent the work was done in the Bush. There
is the place in the Rainges. Only known to a few. Who called
it the devils bason. It was only accessable
43.
from one point. And that was so overgrown with scrub and
undergrowth as to make the entrance hard to find. It was
thought that this is the safe retreat where the smith worked
with hamer and tongs. The measurment of the man must
have been taken Every suit fitted perfictly The armor was
Clevarly made protecting the whole of the body. The front
and back plates were joined at the side with ringes and
fastened with a clasp on the oppesit side. So that the owner
could be quickly removed. There was a sort of Apern to
protect the Upper parts of the legs. And shoulder plates for
the shoulders. The helmet was made of three peaces of
Mouldboard. The two front plates were revated to the back
plate and a slit left for the eyes. When woarn the weight of
the helmet rested on the shoulders of the body plates; Ned
Kellys Armor weighed between eighty and ninty pounds;
The others were not so heavy At the time of the capture of
Ned Kelly at Glenrowan I had the novel exirance of tryin on
the armor. And I saw destintly the stain of sap from a green
tree. This proved is had been made in the bush. And turned
into shap on logs. Cut for the purpas.
44.
Chapter 15
The Murder at the Woolshed.
It has often been said that there is honor among theaves, and
it is true in many cases they will suffer rather than betray
their friends. Very few will be tempted by money but those
who are, bring upon themselves the hatred and revenge of
those they have betrayed.
The Gang have been hiding in perfict safety and could
have remaned there untill the want of funds compelled them
to make another raid. But One of their friend had proved
false and they knew it. so determind that he must die.They
would use his death as a decoy fore their much hated
puccuers (pursuers) and be revenged on the
44.
45
police. For years there had been a compact between Kelly
and Burns. They were both wild sons of the hills. Burn’s
mother lived in the Woolshed district and living not far
from her was his cousin. A young man named Aron
Sheratt who had been in close tuch with the movments of
the gang. He was an aquaintance of the Kelly Family for
years. Some have gone as far as to say there was a love
affair between him and Kate. I donot think there is much
grounds for the statement. If he was a rejected lover he
soon consoled himself with another. He had been married
for some time. He was suspected of being one of a party
who meet the gang in the hills after they robed the Euroa
Bank and assisted in carrieing off the spoil. He was
arristed and put in jail but there was no proof of his quilt.
The Kelly scare became so great that efforts to capture the
gang were dublled. Not only police, but scoars of
detecteves were employed. They were on Railways train,
working in placerss of Busness, carrying their swags on
the roads. Some disguised as Tramp beged their bread in
order to gain information that was not to be got. The
police went into the Rainges, made camps. As it were,
played at Bushraingeing. Sheritt was still in the pay of the
outlaws, but was also in the pay of the police. He was
doing well, his victoms did not suspect him. Soon the
police would be hot on the trail. He had visions of wealth
and comfort. When the gang were all dead, he would go
away where he was not known and live on the reward. He
used his
45.
house as a secret meeting place for the police in the night.
Often they were hiding there in the day. There was a
police camp in the Rainges near Beechworth. It was well
hidden by rocks and scrub. They were waiting for Sherett
to bring them news. But their presence was known to
someone else. An Old woman was laying in the rocks
overlooking the camp. Day and night she had been there.
Aran Sherett had got news of the gang and came to the
camp to tell the police; She saw him and it sealed his
doom. Dan Kelly and Burns went to his house one dark
night. Kelly knocked at the door and called Aron, In an
assumed voice. Sherett opened the door, but no sooner did
he show himself than Burns shot him, and he fell dead at
his wife’s feet. They made a big heap of wood at the end
of the house and set it on fire, but the wood was damp, the
fire went out and the house was saved. Ned Kelly and
Steve Hart were already in the Glenrowan district and the
other two outlaws galloped off to join them. The public
were shocked at the cold blooded murder of a police agent,
and prompt measurs were taken to bring the murdirs to
book. Ned Kelly forsaw this.
Chapter 16
The Breaking up of the Gang.
Something has been said about Glenrowan in the early part
of my story, but that was in the Sixtys. It is now 1880.
Years have passed. They have brought many chainges.
The Waggoners nolonger wipe and slash and swar to get
their heavy waggons through the crabholes. The crack of
the mail coach man’s whip is forgotten. All these things
are out of date and have been replaced by the Railway.
Many new settlers have come to the
46.
district. Prospraus homes have sprung up in Glenrowan,
Tamanick and North Winton, and even the dreaded
crabholes have been divided up into farms. William Liddle
and many others have passed away. The hotel and store
are still standing. But have long since been closed and
used as private houses. There is a state school on the other
side of the Sydney Road. This place was not suitable for a
Railway Station. It has been built about a mile nearer
Wangaratta. A small township has grown around it. There
are two hotels, a store and a few private houses. On the
north side, the hotel is keept by Mrs. Jones and south of
the line the hotel was keept by Paddy McDonal. The
Railway station was failrly large one. A large quantaty of
wheat, oats and other farm produce is delivred there. The
Post office was at the Railway station. Now let us look at
the year 1922. It is still small. There is only one hotel. It is
a large one and is well conducted. After the Kelly capture
a licance could neve be got for Mrs Jounes house. It has
been rebuilt twice, and is now run as a wine shop There
are two stores a Baker’s and a Butcher’s shop, a
47. Blacksmiths Shop and a Post Office. There is a Shire
Stone Crushing Plant that gives employmen to a number
of men and for that reason there are more private houses.
There is also a Wood Mill. The School was removed into
the township over thir[t]y year ago. The old Store was
pulled down, and the bricks used to build a Police station
near the Railway Station. There are three Churches –
Church of England, Roman
47.
Catholic and Methodist. With all this evedence of man’s
repentance, it can be said it has changed for the better. The
old people are gone and there are only a few alive who
took part in the Kelly Capture. At the time people were
talking about the dredful murder, and arraingment were
being made to despach a special train load of police to
Wangaratta, Ned Kelly was in Glenrowan working out his
plans to entrap them.
They made their headquarters at Joneses hotel. It was an
easy matter to round up the few people who lived in the
township. Having done this, they told the Station master
he would have to go with them and make a breach in the
line. He said he knew nothing about that kind of work and
would be quit unable to do it. They then called upon the
line repairers. One staid on guard and the others forced the
men to go at the point of the revolver, get the tools out of
the shed, put them on a trolley and take them to a place
about a quarter of a mile from the station. There they stood
over them and made them takup two lengths of rails. The
place was chosen for the villainas purpos. There was a
curve in the Line, a high embankment, a culvert and a
deep ravin into which the train would have fallen. The
police took the precaution of running a pilot engine in
front of the train. But, even this would not have saved
them. The curve was so sharp that they would not have
seen the pilot go over. The gang were going to be there
and shoot at who were not killed in the wricked train. If
their plans had carried, it would have been the most
dreadful outrage in the histry of crime.
Their work done and the trap set, they
48.
returned to the hotel to sleep in turns while one watched.
The prisoners could get no rest being all packed in one
room. Sunday morning was spent in rounding up more
prisoners.
At the time of the Kelly scare, there was a policeman
stationed at Glenrowan but he lived in the old store. They
went there and took him by surprise, handcuffed him and
sent him off to the hotel. His wife was in bed with a baby a
few days old. Ned Kelly said it would not be safe to
remove her. He turned back the wraps and looking at the
child said, “You are a fine little chap. I might be worth a
thousand pounds to you somday”. Then he went to the
school and told the teacher to put his horse in the buggy
and take his wife and child to the hotel. Mr. Curnow was a
cripple. He had a short leg. He could walk but was very
lame. He was a man of quick thought and great courage
and when he found how things were he determened if
possable to get the gang to beleave that he was with them,
which he succeeded in doing.
The afternoon and evening was spent in dancing to the
music of an accordian. Curnow talked a lot with Ned
Kelly. Arguing with him over his plans and flattering him
and encouraging him to drink freely, and so far gaind his
point, that Kelly told him to go home, but said, “Mind you
don’t dream too loud. As you do, you will be a dead man.”
When Curnow reached home, he took the horse out of
the buggy and put the saddle and bridle on him. His wife
said, “What are you going to do?”
“Ride to Benalla,” he answered.
“If you do,” said she, “they will come and shoot me and
the child.”
49.
“If I don’t go,” said he, “hundreds of lives will be lost.
My duty is plain, and I must do it.” At that moment, he
heard a train in the far distance. There was not a minut to
luse. He run into the house, got a peace of candle and a
peace of red cloth and rushed to the railway line (a
distance of about 150 yards) and reached there just in time
to light his candle and stop the pilot engine. The train drew
up and he told them that the line was toarn up on the other
side of the Station and the Kelly Gang were in Joneses
hotel.
After giving this information, he refused to board the
train, prefering to go back and defend his wife & child,
and if needs be, die for them. They gave him a revolver
and he went back. If he had not stoped the train, it would
have ment death to all on board. Curnew preformd a deed
for Australia and for humanity that few have ever
equalled. Mr Curnow after wards said when he was on his
way, he thought his last moments had came.He heard
something coming to meet him. It must be one of the gang,
but it was a goat and he was so panic stricken that he nealy
shot the poor beast.
Up at the hotel, they heard the train coming, and the
faces of the impresoned people were transfixed with
horror as they thought of the crash that was to come in a
few minuits, Of the orgie of blood. But the train stoped.
Ned Kelly. Sprung up, with a curs upon his lips. “We have
been betrayed. It is Curnow or Mrs. Bracken. I will go and
shoot the lot”. But, he did not have time. The train was
coming full steam ahead and stoped at the station. The
gang knew that the cat was out of the bag but they would
put up a fight.
50.
50.
The braks had not stoped grinding when twenty-five
shots were fired from the hotel varanda. Most of them hit
the train but beyond breaking a few windows, no damage
was done. Then begun a battle that lasted alnight.
The tactics adopted by the police is a blacks spot on the
police histry of Australia. There was a washed out drain
between the hotel and the station. In this drain, a number
of the police took shelter. They had been ordered to keep
up a constant fire on the hotel. There were forty inacent
people imprisoned, consisting of men, women and
children. Their position was desprat. They were all layind
flat on the floors. Some with people laying across their
legs, other with somone on their arms.
The outlaws were standing up trying to shoot the police
from the windows but they had their armour on. Time after
time they beged to let them go out, but the answer they got
was, “you are safer here. Stay with us.”
Joe Burns was standing in the bar, drinking a glas of
brandy and as he roas it to his lips, he said, “Here’s to
many happy years in the bush.” He fell dead with a bullet
in the groin.
About this time, Mr Stanstreet creept out. A scoar of
rifles were leaveled at him, but he threw up his hands
calling out, “Station Master!”
About this time the trouper got out of the building and
they informed the police officers that there were still
thirty-eight servilians in the hotel. Still the firing went on
until the wall were like a sive. At last Dan Kelly said,
“You can go out if you like.” They made a rush but were
met by a hot rifle fire. Mrs. Rearden was carrieing a baby.
A bullet passed through it hood but never hurt the child.
51.
51.
John Jones, a young lad, the son of the lan lady was shot
and died the next day. His sister was wound and died three
months after. Micel Rearden was shot in the chest and is
still carrieing the bullet within an inch of his heart. The
Government have been paying him a pound a week for
forty-two years. A sum of two thousand, one hundred and
eighty-four pounds.
I knew a man named Marten Cherry, a repairer on the
railway line. He was an Irishman of the good old School.
A merry old soul, his Irish wit and humor mad him good
company and he was always welcome where ever he went.
Somone told him the Kellys were at Joneses hotel. He
said, “I don’t beleave it. I will go and see.” He went, but it
cost him his life. Laying on the floor in a back room, he
was suffering greatly. His limbs were cramped and numed
from laying on the hard boards. A man named Larkins was
lying beside him. Hearing the crowd go out of the hotel
and noteing that there was a lull in the fireing, he preposed
that they should go out. Cherry said, “No we are safer
here, but my poor old bones are soar and I would be more
comfortable on somthing softer.” He got on the bed. No
sooner had he done so, however, the fireing started again,
and a bullet passed through his body. Larkins tried to
stanch the wound with a silk pocket ankershif but a bullet
knocked off a bit of his ear and he was compled
(compelled) to leave Cherry to his fate.
Escaping from the building he made know the disprat
condition of poor Cherry. But it made no difernce. The
guns still thundered. They had sent to Melbourne for a
cannon to blow the hotel down. But it only got as far as
Seymour when
52.
word was sent it would not be required.
The night was far spent and there was signs of the
aprching day. Sergant Steele, a Railway guard and a
gentleman from the Western district were behind some
trees about a hundred yards from the hotel, where the
police station now stands; they saw a man coming from
the direction of the Sydney Road.
He was wearing an overcoat and had somthing on his
head like a nail can. Thinking he was a madman, they
called out, “Go back you fool, you will get shot.” The
answer he gave was a volley of revolver bullets. He struck
his brest with his hand and said, “Com on you curs. I am
bullet proof.” They accepted the chaleng and began to fire
at him, but with no effect. Everytime they struck him, he
rung like a bell. Somone said, “It is no use, we are fireing
at the devil.’
[But] Sergeant Steele formed the opinion that the man
was wearing armour. He put two duck shot cartreges in his
gun and aimed at his legs. He started to run and fell: When
they reached him he was hamering on the helmet with his
revolver. They thought he was trying to shoot himself, but
he afterwards told them it was a signal for his mates to
come to his assistance.
When they took him to the Railway station they found
the captive was Ned Kelly, the leader of that despirat gang
who had struck terror into the Australian police for three
years. He was quit[e] calm and when they administered
first aid he said, “Why don’t you fellows use bullets, not
duck shot?”
The day was now well advanced. People had
53.
come from all parts from the surrounding district. Specil
trains have been run, bringing large number[s] from
Wangaratta, Benalla and Melbourne. The crowd is
increasing as hour by hour goes by.
53.
The hotel still holds out, but they only fire a few shots.
Now the resestance has died out [much]. All is stillness.
No sound comes from the illfated house. It was known that
Burns was killed many hours ago, and the leader is in the
hands of the police at the Railway station. There is only
Dan Killy and Steve Hart left. Why do not the officers
order the men to search the building? Shurley they are not
cowards? I think the reward was influancing them, and
they did not want any of the men to distinguish
themselves. A Trouper dressed himself in Ned Kelly’s
Armour and prepared to go singlehanded, but was told to
Obay Orders.
Kelly’s Sisters in an agoney of tears pleaded to be
alowed to go and see their brother but promison was
refused, and when they attempted to go on their own
responcability, were brought back at the point of the rifle.
There was a priest present. His name was Father Gibney.
I am told he is now a Bishop in West Australia. He was a
brave man and offered to go to the hotel and if they were
still alive, induce them to surrender. But his servecses
were curtly refused. It appeard that the lion was dead, and
they were afraid to go near it.
At last, the most insane order ever given, came.
54.
“Fire the house!” What a cruel thing to do. Had they no
regard for the life of that inaccent man who lay bleeding in
a back room? Apart from this, what madness! No-one
knows what papers might have been found, or what
crimenals brought to Justice only for the fire.
This was not like the action of a well organised police
force. We would have only expected such a thing to be
done by a band of rabble.
A Trooper crept up to the building with a large bundle of
straw, put a match to it, and the deed was done. Soon the
red flames were shooting high in the direction of the bright
blue sky. The crowd stood spellbound at such a want-n act
of destruction. Then a cry of horror went up. “Marten
Cherry is in the house.” Oh, that dreadful fire! Even now
he would be dieing by inches. Nothing could save him
now, but the cry reached a Noble heart. Father Gibney,
regardless of dainger, rushed through fire and smoke. He
stumbled over a body and carried it out.
A cheer died on the lips of the watchers and ended in a
cry of despair. It was the body of Joe Burns. The priest
still undaunted, handed ove his grim burden. He rushed
back into the fire. People stood as if they were in a dream.
Everyone held their breath. The house would fall. The roof
was caving in. Noone could escape. The brave Priest
would be burnt to death. But no, there something coming
out of the fire. It is Father Gibney with Marten Cherry in
his arms.
Their faces are burnt and blackened. Silence
55.
falls on the throng. They gather around. The priest, still
holding Cherry in his arms, repeted a prayer. There is a
gasp and a Sigh and Marten Cherry is dead. Gone where
the wicked cease from trubling and the weary are at rest.
When the fire burnt down, the bodies of the Outlaws
were found laying on the ruins of a bedsted. They had
taken the Armor off and it was laying beside them. [And]
it is most likely they shot themselves to avoid capture. Of
course they were burnt beyond recognison, but they is not
a shadow of a doubt as to their identaty. They were dan
55. Kelly and steve Hart. There have been lots of wilde stories
told about their escape. Some unprincpled fellows at the
South African war past themselves off as the escaped
highwaymen and said the bodies found were those of two
swagmen. Even as late as the last great war, the same story
was told. There are always people who have such a love of
notoraty that they will tell any lies.
I once heard a man in a hotel in Melbourne enlarging on
the deeds of the Kelly Gang. I could not help telling him
he knew very little of what he was talking about. He said,
“I should think I ought to know, when I am their brother
Jim”. I was shure then and told him I knew Jim Kelly. He
was a man, and if he was there, he would wipe the floor
with him. The hero made himself scarce.
The morning after the fire, the place presented a sight of
utter desalation. The ruins were still smouding.
[smouldering] There were eight horses laying dead. One of
the first things done by the police
56.
was to shoot every horse near the place in order to prevent
any one from escaping on them. Crowds of people were
raking and scratching in the aibers [embers] searching for
soveniers. In the center of a smouldring heap lay the
deared remains of Dan Mortemars Grayhound dog. The
faithful brut had followed his master into the hotel and had
shared the same fate as the men who had brought about the
destruction of the place.
There was a rumble of wheels. A heavy waggonet came
down the Sydney road and passed through the township.
In it were two coffins. The chared bodies were handed
over to the relatives and taken to Mrs Kelly’s and from
there to the Greta Cemetry where a rose bush marks the
spot. The body of Joe Burns was wraped in a blanket and
buried by the police in the Benalla Cemetry at midnight.
Chapter 17
The Last of Ned Kelly.
The bushrangers had a long run and no deasent person
could have any sympathy for them after the cold blooder
murder of the three policemen in the Wombat Raingers.
Everyone feared what the end would be. No-one thought
they could be guilty of such a diabolical plot as that of
wrecking the train, and all honest people looked upon the
crime with intense loathing. The crime may be some
excuse for the police, but to say the least, their head as
well as their nerve. [And] The saddest thing of all is that it
cost the lives of three inoccent people. Who would think
that the descendents of such men would be amongst
57.
the men who stormed Poziers, or stood like a wall of steel
before Amiens and hurled the Germans back again and
again untill they had to retire bleeding, broken and beeten.
I am not condemming all of them. A whole company
may be lost by the funking of a few of their number, or
they may fail through the mistakes of their officers. They
must obey orders.
I have no doubt, that there were many men at Glenrowan
who would have been brave enough to win the V.C. if
oppertunity had come their way. Mrs Jones was in a
dreadful way. She blamed the police for all her trouble. It
was pittyful to see her when the news of her sons death
was brought to her. She looked at the ruins of her home,
wrong her hands and sobed as though her heart would
break. It was true the government would compinsate her
for the loss of her property but nothing could give her back
her child. In her raving She denounced the police, calling
them everything that was bad. [And] Noone held her
responcable for what she said because she was distracted
with greif.
57.
Ned Kelly was taken to Melbourne and placed in the
gaol hospital. His wound only being caused by duckshot,
he soon recovered. Sometimes he talked freely but had no
sense of shame or remors for what he had done. His
grevince was against the police. He feelt he had been
treated unjustly an accused of things he was not guilty of.
The one regret he expressed was the shooting of Sergeant
58.
Kennedy. He said the sergeant was a brave man and
fought fairly. He was laying badly wounded and beged
them to spare his life for the sake of his wife and little
children. He was in great pain and they could do nothing
for him. To leave him would have been worce than to
shoot him, so they chose the later. [But] They had to do it
when the wounded man was not looking. When asked if
they torchered him, he indignantly denied it and said if the
body had been tampered with, it had not been done by
them.
On Sunday evening at Glenrowan when his tongue was
lused [loosed] by drink, he talked freely and told about a
goodmany of their experancses, declaring that they would
be able to defy the law as long as they liked. From words
droped, they thought if they succeeded in wrecking the
train, everyone would rush to Glenrowan. Benalla would
be left without police protection and they could ride down
and rob the three Banks. He did not say they were going to
do it but exressed the apinion that it could be done. He
said they were sick and tired of being hunted from place to
place and did not care much how things went.
However, it was a blessing that the gang was broken up,
and the Bushrainging of the back country of Australia at
an end for all time.
58.
Ned Kelly was brought from Melbourne by special train
several times to appear before the court at Beechworth. It
has been said when the train drew near the Raingers, he
would look out and say to himself, “I wonder will I ever
ride over those
59.
hills again?” At times he would sing songs, and be in
wonderfuly good spirits and was defiant to the last.
It was a very great pitty that one with such a powerful
brain should have turned his enargy to such a brutel
purpas. He baffeled the best skill that could be brought
against him both in this state and New South Wales and
by the way he carried out his plans, proved himself to be
a genious of no mean order. Had he placed his powers in
the right direction, he could have been a power for good
instead of Evil. It proves the truth of the old proverb,
“Evil Communication Corrupts Good Manners.”
It was his association with Power the Bushranger that
first lead him to tread the path of folley. If he had lived
at the time of the Great War, instead of dieing the death
of a fellen on the gallos, his memory covered with
disgrace, he may have fell on the battle fields of the
Empire, covered with glory. Or, won the V.C. and
returned to Australia loved and admired by a great[e]ful
Public.
Subsequent events in the family will prove what I am
stating to be true. I am not saying this to in anyway
make excuses and [I] have no sympathy[y] with those
who break the Law. The Thorns and the Briers had
overgrown his heart and made him a beast of pray.
Ned Kelly stood his trial in Melbourne before Judge
Berry. He was found guilty and sentenced to death.
When asked by His Honour if
60.
he had anything to say why sentance of death should not
be passed upon him, all he said was, “You will be with
me before very long.” It was strange he should say this.
The Judge died within three months after Kelly was
hanged.
While waiting for his Execution he seemed quit[e]
cheerful. It has been said that when he was asked what
he would have for his last meal, he said, “Roast Lamb,
green peas and a bottle of Claret.” A man under sentence
of death is given anything he likes to ask for. It is
fulfilling the words of the good old book: “Give strong
drink to him who is ready to perish.” He is said to have
smoked his pipe before walking with a firm step onto the
scafal. [scaffold] When asked if he had anything to say,
he said, “Oh Well. Such is Life.” The bolt was drawn.
The drop fell. Death was instantaneous. So died the last
of the Kelly Gang.
On the night after the execution, there was a large side
show tent pitched on a vacant al[l]otment somewhere in
Melbourne. On a box stood a mags[?] man, shouting at
the top of his voice: “Come this way! Come this way
and see the Mother and Sisters of Ned Kelly who was
hanged this morning. They are now on the inside. Pass
right in for the small sum of one shilling.”
In the tent sat an elderly woman and two girls. The
public came in hundreds. So strong was their morbed
[morbid] cureasaty [curiousity] that it fairly rained
shillings. They made so much money that they
61.
repeated the show in other places, even going into New
South Wales. At Paramatta they showed Ned Kelly’s
famous gray mare, and it turned out that they had bought
the horse from a farmer a few miles out of the town.
People are very foolish to be taken in in this way. A
mother and sisters would not resort to such a mean way
of making money, even if they were starving.
Chapter 18.
A Mother’s Sorrows.
Time was passing. Three years had passed since the
gang had been broken up. We have all heard the story of
King Richard the 1st, the mighty man of war. So great
was his strength that he wealded [wielded] a battleaxe of
enormas weight, and he was so dreaded by his enemies
that his fame lived for hundreds of years. If a horse
shied, the rider would say, “Dost thou think King
Richard is in that bush.” [And] For years, some foolish
mothers would say to their children, “If you do not be
good, Ned Kelly will get you.”
Prejudice is hard to kill. The world is cruel, selfish and
unkind. We are in dainge [danger] of making those
suffer who least deserve to be condemned. A thrashing
machien [machine] was working at a farm on the creek.
All was hurry and rush. Men toiled in the heat. The
sheaves were pitched from the stack to the handcutters
and passed on to the feeder. The straw rolled up the
elevators. Chaffey and Cavey were hard at work. A
number of men are busy filling, sewing and stacking
bags of wheat. At a little
62.
distance under the shade of a big gum tree, there are five
or six farmers daughters waiting with the lunch. We hear
their merry laughter and jokes about the boys. A rider is
seen to be coming down the road. It proves to be a
woman. She is mounted on a fine upstanding bay horse,
and sits gracefully on side saddle. She is wearing a black
riding abbot [habit] and a white blouse and black hat sits
erect. [and] It can at once be seen that she is an
accomplished horse woman rather past [passed] middle
age, but still very good looking. Her face is plesant
[pleasant] but her brow is furrowed with sorrow.
She aproched [approached] the owner of the thrashing
[threshing] machine and said, “My name is Mrs Kelly. I
have three wheat stacks. Will you come and thrash
them?” When he said he would be pleased to do so, she
was loud in her thanks and she said she had been almost
afraid to come and ask him. But, said he, “Your money
is as good as anybodies. You are honest and will pay for
the work.”
She said, “Oh yes. You can be sure of your money.
You do not seem to understand what the trouble [truble]
is. I am the mother of outlaws who died for their crimes.
People look down on us and avoid us.”
Being a fair minded man he said, “I think that is a cruel
for them to do. Your sons were guilty of a most dreadful
crime. They have been made to pay the extream penalty
of the Law.
63.
They are dead and the matter should be allowed to rest;
you should not be made to suffer on their account.”
These few straightforward words, spoken in a kindly
spirit, sunk deeply into her breast, and she never forgot
them. How dreadfully cruel it was for this poor woman
to feel that She carried the brand of Cain. How often it
has been said: “Am I my brother’s keeper?” To a very
great extent, we are. Our actions influence others. If we
are guilty of things that are mean and selfish, our friends
are made to suffer. It is our duty to look for the best, not
the worst in our fellow men. We often only see the
Thorns and the Briers and overlook the Roses in the
better side of Life.
The Thrashing at Kelly’s was something plesant to
remember, and the conduct of the family was all that
could be desired. The woman’s heart responded to the
kindness extended to her. Sitting under a big willow tree
in the warm summer evening with Kate and Grace at her
feet, she told the story of the lawless carear of her sons
from her point of view.
While she made no excuse for them, she said it was all
brought about through the row in the house, when in the
heat of temper she struck Fitzpatrick over the head with
the fire shovel, and the fatal mistake was made when
they put her in prison. If she had been at home, she
would have been able to save
her sons from being guilty of murder and would have
freely given her life’s blood to save them from a carier
of crime.
[But] The scorn and contempt that was shown them by
some people was hard to bear. When she spoak about the
side shows that had gone about the country, her eyes
filled with tears. What dreadful things people could do
for money. They had no mercy or pitty for the feelings
of those who were overtaken by misfortune.
“Oh that dreadful night. How can I ever forget it?
While I was in an agony of grief, with my heart broken,
people were trying to sink me lower in the eyes of the
world.”
So, the evening went before they knew it. The hour of
midnight had arrived, and the listener went to his bed on
a bundle of straw under the open canapy of heaven. The
stars twinkled. There was a red glow in the sky, a sign
that another hot day was not far away. Down in the old
creek, the frogs croaked. There was the hoot of an owl.
Then came the cry of a night hawk. [But] The stranger
did not hear them. He was deep in thought. “How
strange it was that he should meet the woman in this
way!” He was thinking about the story and turning it
over in his mind. The woman that he had heard so much
about, was intensely [intencly] human, with all the love
of a Mother’s heart. She may have had her faults, but,
beyond all doubt, there was a lot of good in her.
A good name easily lost but very hard to regain.
65.
We sometimes bring upon ourselves the disrespect of
our fellows by our own folley. This can be well said
about Mrs Kelly. She was left a widow when her family
were young. A few years before the outbreak of the
gang, she married again. Her second husband was a
drover and was not often at home. There were no near
neighbours and the husband was not often seen about the
place. People called her “Mrs Kelly” and She let them
continue to do so, and she neglected to make her
marriage Public. There was a boy and two girls in the
second Family. Not Knowing the truth, people regarded
her as an immoral woman.
I am quite sure of my ground. She was married in
Benalla by a protestant Minister. I knew him well. He is
since dead. I also knew one of the witnesses who is still
alive.
The husband disappeared about the time of the
outbreak and it was reported that he was drowned while
he was attempting to ford the Upper Murry.
When the sons got into disgrace, the mother felt that it
would be cowardly to forsake the name, and the family
took the same view. John Kelly as he was known left the
country some years ago. He became a moving picture
artist. He married and Actress and they are both
employed on the movies in America.
The two youngest girls are both married. Old Mrs
Kelly is still alive and in her ninety fourth year. This is
an evidence that in some cases,
trouble will not kill. She is a wonderful old woman. At
64. the age of eighty eight, She walked three miles to visit a
sick neighbour. Her sight is wonderfully good. The same
can be said of her memory. It would be better for her if it
was not. The state of forgetfulness will come when she
goes to the grave.
Chapter 19.
A Kind Son.
I have felt somwhat backward in writing this story but
I know the facts so well, and there have been so many
statements [ments] made and so much written that is far
from the truth. The worst side has always been put to the
public. I want to show both sides. I am not referring to
the gang, but to those who are left.
Criminals are made not born and it is not to be said
that because a man’s brothers are bad, that he will be
also. Jim Kelly was a brother of Ned and Dan. The
statement has been made that if he had not been away in
another state, he would have been with them.
Now I know for a fact that he was home after his
brothers were out, for I saw him in Benalla and talked to
him. He went to New South Wales shortly afterwards. I
believe [beleave] to get away from them. He went away
into the Back Blocks and got work on a station.
In these faraway places [plases], the men neither
[neathe] feared God or man, and Sunday was spent by
the young fellows in Kangaroo hunting and any other
Sport they could get. The Kellys were all fine horsemen
and delighted in
67.
Riding buck jumpers [buckgjumpers).
There was a common a few miles from the station with
stockyards where people could yard their stock. The lads
used to go there on Sundays and yard some of the young
horses off the common. They would catch the wildest of
them and Kelly would ride them to the delight of the
onlookers.
Someone informed on them. The police set a watch
and caught him on the horse. He was arrested and
charged with horse stealing and alternately with illegally
useing. He stood his trial and was aquited [acquitted] of
horse stealing but convicted of illegally useing. When he
was brought up for sentance the Judge said, “Before
dealing with your case, I want to ask you if you are any
relation to the Kellys, the outlaws at present at large in
Victoria?” Then he made a very foolish speach. He said,
“Yes they are my brothers and I am not ashamed of it.”
“Well,” said his Honour, “I will see that you do not
join them. You are sentanced to five years hard labour in
the Paramatta jail.” For what could be regarded as a
boyish prank, the sentance was a very harsh one. [But]
Perhaps [perhaps] it was the best thing that ever
happened [to] him. All prisners who served five years
had the opportunity of learning a trade and he learnt
bootmaking. When he came out, the gang were broken
up, and he had a trade.
He went and lived with his mother on the creek and
worked at his trade. After some years, they sold the
place and he started a shop in
68.
Winton. It was on the main road and he got as much
work as he could do, but he longed for the old creek, the
hills, the horses, cattle and sheep. By hard work, he
saved enough to take up six hundred and forty acres, at
the foot of Kelly’s Gap where he made a home for
himself and his mother.
They say to know a man, you must live near him.
There is not a neighbour who would hear a bad word
said about him. [and] It is surprising the stories that are
told by people who are ignorant of the facts. A friend of
mine was travelling on a train when he heard a man
telling a story about the Kellys, and he was surprised to
hear him say, Jim Kelly still took his wild fits and would
gallop through the streets of Glenrowan cracking a
stockwhip and firing a revolver and the people would
run into their houses in dread of their lives. My friend
was indignant and denied the statement with a great
amount of warmth, telling him Kelly was a strictly sober
man and one of the best behaved men that came into the
town.
[And] He is a most kind hearted fellow. If he was
going along the road and saw a man stuck, he would take
off his coat and help him, even if he had never seen the
man before. If there was sickness or death in the
neighbourhood, he would be the first to go and say,
“What can I do for you? How can I help you.” [And]
The task imposed on him was never too hevay or
69.
too hard. He would be with them day and night, as long
as they needed his help.
He was always very fond of horses and dogs. It has
been said, he neve[r] had a bad dog. Some were better
than others. When he started work on the creek nearly
forty years ago, he made a vow that he would never get
into trouble again and I believe he has done his best to
keep to it. There are many things in his nature that are
truly noble but, the family had got a bad name, and he
had to suffer for it although it was not his fault.
His name was Kelly, and there was an intense hatred
of the name and can you wonder at him resenting it.
They were made a scapegoat of, for every one. There
were still people who were dishonest and cattle have
been Stolen and I know some have been bad enough to
do it in a way that would cast suspicion on him. Twice
he has been charged with cattle stealing and in both
cases he has been able to prove he was not guilty.
The hardest case of all was when a woman claimed
one of his horses. [She] said she lost it when it was a foal
and swore an information against him. He was brought
befor the Police Court and committed for trial. He was
able to bring neighbours to prove that he bred the horse.
67. Some of them were present when it was foaled. The
evidence was so conclusive that the Judge told him he
walked out of the court without a Stain on his character,
70.
but that was poor satisfaction. It cost him fifty pounds to
save himself for being jailed for his own horse.
I must leave him for the present to say something
about two of his sisters, Kate and Grace. They were fine
looking girls. Grace got married in the district and is still
living and is the mother of a fine family of sons who are
hard working young men and are doing well.
Kate left the State and went away to earn her own
living. Rumor had it that She was getting a large Salery
as a Barmaid to draw custom. There was no truth in the
story. She was never a Barmaid and was too highspirited
to trade on her identity and would prefer to keep silence
when the unhappy past was concerned.
Somewhere in New South Wales, She fell in love, got
married, and settled in the Riverena. For a time, all went
well as She had two girls and a boy. While the boy was
still a baby, She was taken ill and died. The news was
broken to Jim and the old lady and they determend to
adopt the children.
One of our respected State Members spent the greater
part of his boyhood on the old creek within two miles of
Kelly’s and of course knew them well. Many years ago,
he settled in the Murry district. He said he was in
Wodonga one day and he saw a man driveing a hooded
buggy and pair up the street. The man drew into the curb
and sprang out of the trap
71.
and when he looked up, he said, “Why it is my old
friend Harry.” [and] Harry said, “My old friend Jim.”
They both expressed the pleasure at meeting. It seemed
like old times over again but Jim’s face was sad and his
eyes downcast.
68.
“What brings you up here?” Jim was asked, but he was
unable to speak for sometime. Then he said: “Sad
business. Very sad business,” and shook his head and
said, “Kate is dead,” and was overcome with emotion.
Then he said, “I am going over for the children. It will
mean a six hundred miles drive for me, but I must have
them and by the help of God, while Jim Kelly has a pair
of hands to work with, Kate’s children shall never want.
I will feed and clothe them, send them to school and
bring them up as well as I can.”
[And] He was true to his word. Imagine the big, burly
fellow holding the little baby on a pillow on his knee,
driving mile after mile. He handle it as tenderly as a
woman. He gives it its food and wraps it up from the
cold. He sleeps with it, getting up every hour to attend to
its comfort. It was his sister’s child, and he would see
that it was not neglected.
The little girls were bigger and able to sit up in the
buggy themselves. Sometimes the grew weary with the
long journey, then he would talk to them, give them cake
or biscuits and promise to buy them lollies when he
came to a store – which he never failed to do. They must
be amused and have the
72.
best he could give them. They were Kate’s children. Oh
how he loved Kate’s children.
So, day after day passed. He grew more fond of them
every day. The little girls would soon be big enough to
learn to ride. He would get them a pony and they should
ride to School. They would have to be made fine
horsewomen like their mother. [And] When the boy
grew big enough he should have a pony too. Then he
looked at his little hands and feet and thought, “Ah, the
little mite. I wonder will he ever be big enough to ride a
horse?”
The days went by, and at last he was in sight of the old
Gap and soon handed the baby into his mothers arms
with the words, “We must do our best for them Mother.”
“Yes, that we will,” Said the old Lady and She got
busy right away. Soon baby’s clothes were changed. She
had given him his supper then she set to work going over
their clothes, seeing what they had got. She would have
to go into the town and buy some material so that she
could make them some dresses and some warm
underclothing, and they must have strong boots so that
they would not get their feet damp.
When Jim saw how much his mother found to do, he
wondered how he had managed with them for that three
hundred miles drive. A woman is always better with
children than a man, and a bachelor [bachelor] at that, so
the mother took charge of the children. Jim amused
himself with them and his greatest pleasure of all, was
teaching the girls to ride but they inherited their
mother’s skill and did not need much teaching.
73.
N.P
.
Soon they were able to get on their pony and go down
the paddock and bring up the cows. Jim was never done
praising them, but one of his greatest pleasures was,
when he was coming home from work in the evening,
the two little girls would run and meet him, and each one
would take his hand. Then the time came when he took
them to School for the first time. There was now
someoneelse to come and meet him. The little boy would
toddle out and hold out his little hand to come to uncle.
Then he was big enough to have his first lesson on horse
back. What a little fellow he was. His legs did not reach
halfway down the horses sides, yet he was not
frightened. He wanted to get on again.
Chapter 20.
Life is But a Dream.
How time flies and has truly it has been said, “Life is
but a span? [Space?] In the battle of Life, we are tossed
from place to place, sometimes carried on by the sea of
prosperity, but more often held back by the waves of
adversity. In the days of happy childhood, we look
forward to the time when we will be grownup. In youth,
we dream of success of love and matrimony. In Middle
Life we pride ourselves in our strength. Our time is
taken up with the stern realities of Life. In Old Age and
failing strength, when our arm has lost its power and our
step its fleetness, we look back over our past life and
alas! too often we see wasted hours and nelegted
[neglected] oppertuities [opportunities]. [And] Viewing
our many failures, we sigh for what might
74.
have been and find we have grown old before we knew
it.
How often have we heard those words: “Man that is
born of a woman, hath but a short time to live.” “He
cometh forth like a flower.” “He fleeth like a shadow
and continueth not.” The children of today are the men
and women of tomorrow. We have to do our best to lead
them in the right way.
In the last chapter, the children were going to school.
Now they are grown up. The grandmother is a very old
woman. The uncle’s hair and beard is thickly streaked
with gray. The baby is a big man and able to wear his
uncle’s riding boots. He has become an expert horseman
and loved to gallop over the hills. He had been taught to
work and was a great help to his uncle in many ways.
Above all, he had been taught to Love his country. It is
deeds not words, that has built up the Empire and made
it the most mighty nation under the sun. [And] This
young fellow was to be a man of deeds in a great cause.
The girls have grown in strength and intelligence
[intelagence]. They have blossomed into womanhood
and have a fair share of their mother’s good looks. The
uncle thinks as much of them as ever and is proud to
introduce them to his friends as Kate’s children.
Things are continuly [continually] changing and
another stage in their lives is appro[a]ching when they
would feel the first throb of love. That desire that burns
in every true woman[s] heart for a home of
75.
her own with the man she loves. Notwithstanding the
relationship to a family who carried the name that
brought back memories of a black past, a past that in the
interest of those who were not then born should be
forgot[t]en, their good looks and Kindly nature brought
them admirers. Many young men appro[a]ched them.
There are a great number of callers at the little house in
the hills. They come with excuses of dif[f]erent kinds.
One wants to enquire where he can get a good saddle
horse. Another is in want of a good sheep dog, while yet
another has lost some cattle and thought they might have
come that way, [and] had they seen anything of them.
Others had varous [various] reasons for calling but all
were looking for information.
The unsuspecting old uncle did not dream what their
real motive was, and in a goodhearted way, he would
start to answer their questions often at a much greater
length than they wished. [And] They would be casting
sheepeyes in the direction of the girls while he would be
telling which was the best breed of horses or telling them
about what a wonderful horse this old gray he had years
ago was. He could yard the wildest of cattle with him.
The old fellow knew as much as a man, but he died up in
the gully and he had buried him at the foot of a bug
wattle tree.
Youngers would be a good place to go, they always
had a lot, and their horses were a good class. He had
heard Bill Tanner had some horses for Sale. Did he
know much about horses? If he did not, Tom L[L]oyd
would go and pick one out for him.
76.
About dogs, he was a good judge of dogs and had had
some wonderful[l]y fine ones. Old Lass, the mother of
Rover, was just a marvel. She would bring the sheep
from the far end of the paddock. There was nothing She
could not do with sheep and She had never been beaten
in the sheepdog trials at the shows. “Come here Rover!”
A black dog with a white ring around his neck came and
rub[b]ed himself against his master’s leg. “Now that is a
good dog. He is very much like his mother both in looks
and ways. I know where I could get you a pup if you
would care to have one.”
To the man who was looking for cattle, he would say,
“There have been none around this way lately but I saw
about twenty yesterday on the Glenrowan Road near
Tindles. If you go there at once, you will most lik[e]ly
find they are yours.”
To the other interviewers, he gave full information.
[But] As water finds its level [lavel], preference was
Shown by the girls and the visitors [visiters] dwindled
down to two. Things were now in a fair way of working.
The Uncle had never had a love affair. There were so
many things to take up his time and thought. Had it been
otherwise, he would have known the joys of married
Life but he had devoted his life to his aged Mother and
his dead sister’s children. He dismissed all thought of
settling in life from his mind. That made him somewhat
dull regarding Love affairs but it dawned upon him that
the young men had not come to see him but his sister’s
daughters and he made up his mind not to stand in the
way of the happiness of Kate’s children.
77.
They had chosen honest, hardworking men and he
made them welcome in hishouse. The path of love run
[ran] smoothly. Weeks came and went. The young
couples would go out on hors[e]back on a Sunday
afternoon. Often they would find their way to the
Winton Lake and sit on the Lookout watching the ripple
of the water and the black Swans swim[m]ing proudly
past. Nature was at peace. Life was a happy dream
bringing them nothing but ple[a]sant [pleas(e)nt]
thoughts of the joys that were to follow. Then the sun
would sink behind Lawford’s Hill and they would
turn[e] homeward in all the vig[ar][our] of Youth.
One Sunday afternoon they had gone for a walk in the
hills. It was spring once more. The wild flowers had
come again. The wattles were in bloom. The
Sa[r]saparilla clim[bed] up the saplings and hung from
them in beautiful purper [purple] garlends [garlands].
They sat down on a log at the top of a hill and feasted
their eyes on the glorious view.
The young man began to speak. The old, old story was
trembling on his lips. A rabbit run past chased by a
hawk. She was holding a bunch of wild flowers in her
hand, and her eyes were fixed on Mount Bogong with its
white mantle of snow. A mi[a]ld eyed steer stood
watching them. The story. The story was told. Their lips
met and sealed the engagement by a kiss.
Shortly afterwards their was joy in the home. It was
the wedding breakfast of Kate’s eldest daughter. The
Priest had said the words that had admitted into a state
honorable before God and Man. The
78.
other girl soon followed in the same path and so ended
another stage of life’s dream.
Chapter 21
The Call to Duty.
Things went on in much the same way in the humble
home near the Gap. Now that the girls were gone, Jim
had the care of his aged mother.Uncle and nephew
[Nephue] were drawn more closely [closely] to each
other. War had broken out between Germany
[Germoney] and Russia. Then came the news that
Germoney had declared war against France and had
envaded Belgum. England was drawn into the fight and
soon the foundation of the world was shaken by the most
dreadful war in histry.
The Germon guns thundered and be weight of
numbers carried everything before them. At the battle of
Mons, the Allies were driven back. The germans went
on in their mad rush, leaving behind them ruin and
desolation.
Then we hear stories of murder, of the outrage of
women and the maiming of little children. The world is
in great danger from a monster that threatens to devour
it. If they are not stoped, life and property will not be
safe. Not only the women and children of Griat Briton
but also the women and children of all her overseas
dominions will be treated the same as the women and
children of France and Belgum.
The call went accross the sea and tens of thousand flock to the Royal Standard from all parts of the British
dominions. We are proud that Australia send the first
volinteer army.
79.
the world ever saw.
It was the suprem test of manhood between those who
served and the men who shirked on the ground of
Concincious [conscientious] Scrupls. They called war
legalised murder. To som extent I admit that it is, but if
the expresion may be used We are all beasts of prey. We
live on each other and have to defend our rights. This
state of things will continue untill the swords are beaten
into plough shears and the spears into pruning hooks.
I would not condemn a man because he did not go to
the war. There may have been many things to prevent
him, but the fit man without ties who refused to go for
want of courage or lack of loyalty is unworthy of the
name of an Australian. If a man is unwilling to defend
his country, he has no right to claim its protection.
The men who enlisted gave their lives for the Empire
just the same as those who went. It was not their fault
that they were rejected. They had done all they could
and should be respected.
We go to the top of a hill overlooking Greta. We see
four men in conversation. One is a tall man with a grey
beard. He is not many years short of sixty. The other
three are in the uniform of the A.I.F. They are from the
Broadmeadows Camp and are on final leave.
Let me introduce them to you. That fine straping
young fellow is Ted Foster. The baby that his uncle
carried on a pillow on his knee when he brought the
children from New South Wales. The two other men are
his
80.
76
brother_in_laws. The old man is Jim Kelly.
They have been having a serious talk. He has been
telling them som_thing about the unhappy past. The
young man’s face is set and resolute, and he said, “Uncle
I am going to win back a good name. I will dare death. I
will fight for my country and the honor of the family.”
The Old man said, “Well spoken lad. You show a true
spirit of a Kelly.” Then they stood in silance and gazed
over the fair scene – the snowcap_ed tow_ring
mountians, the fertile valleys and the fields of waving
corn. This was what they were going to fight for – the
home of their childhood and the safety of women and
little children. Could anything show the true man to a
better advantage?
Slowly they retraced their steps to the house. The
housbands were returning to camp that evening but
Foster had a few more days to spend with his people.
How many have known the pain of partings of this kind.
It seemed as if they were going to their grave. Yet in all
of it there was a humble pride that they were going to do
their duty when uncle and nephew grasped each other’s
hands for the last time, they stood for a long time
looking into each other’s faces.
[And] The young man spoke. He said, ‘I wish you
were going with me Uncle.”
“Not more than I have wished it myself,” said the
uncle. “It is only weight of years that prevents me and
ever now, now [as] old a man as I am, I would go if they
would take me.”
“Never mind,” said the boy, “I am going to make
81.
good and if the Germons get me, I will not be taken
alive.”
There was a short w_istle. The train rushed into the
Station. The flag is waved. The train starts and Foster is
gone. The old man stood on the platform and watched it
untill it looked like a little black speck and it was gone.
In Camp there were men from all parts of the State Men of every trade + every profession, farmers from the
country, stockmen from the backblocks, clerks from
banks, students, lawyers and teachers. All fired with the
same object - The honor of King and Country and the
safety of the nation. Some have roughed it, others have
lived in the lap of luxury. [But] In camp, all are on the
same footing – they have to sleep on hard beds, to
subject to hard discipline and hard training.
Although they know what they have to face, they grow
tired of camp and long to be sent to the front. They are
men of great courage and iron will. When they are
ordered to leave camp, for the transports, they are
pleased.
The Australian soldier is always ready for anything.
They are marched on to the boats. When they are all on
board, the barrier is removed and the crowd are alowed
on the pier. Many and touching are the farewells. There
are hundreds of streamers held by the men on the boats
and their friends on the shore. The waiting is very trying.
At last the gangways are taken up. The engines begin to
throb, the propellers revolve and the boat glides gentle
from the shore. The crowd is silent only for the sob of
grief-stricken relatives.
82.
Then the soldiers on board send up a mighty cheer.
People on shore take it up and when they look at the
great liners with the soldiers thronging their decks,
Australia is proud of her sons.
They go out on the mighty deep, gaurded by an escort
of men of war and plough through the sea on their way
to help the Mother_Land. Amongst that band of noble
heroes stood young Foster, Kate Kelly’s son. He was
going to wipe out the strain. Yes! he had the fighting
spirit of the family and was determined to use his powers
for the good of his country.
He had all the experance of the men who had taken
their first long voyage and not the least trying of them
was sea sickness. [But] The Australian is noted for
looking on the best side of everything, so, they made fun
of their own sufferings, and cheerfully [cheefuly]
submited to discipline.
The days went by untill the voyage became tiresome
and they were glad to disembark at Egypt and were
placed in camp at Cairo. Then came more training unde_
the burning Sun. [and] In time they came in contact with
the Turks and had their first taste of war. [But] The real
fighting was yet to come.
Then came the forced marches across the burning sands
of the desert. The heat, the dust, the dirt and flies, the
burning thirst! When [Then] the great dust storms that
overtook them, where many a man fell to rise no more.
Still, there was something more to be dreaded than the
Stories of the desert or the thunder of the
83.
enrmeys [enemies] cannon. the sins of that wicked city –
Cairo.
It was a calamity that this place should have been
made the headquarters of the troups, with its crime; its
sin and immoral_ty; its snares and its pitfalls to entrap
the unwary; its glitter and glare, its gay life where
women dressed in the hight of fashion tempted men to
destruction; its native quarters with their seathing beds
of infamey. All united to drag men down to ruin,
through the agency of women and wine. Many of
theAustralian_ were from the country and were
ignornant of the sins of big cities and became an easy
prey for the vulturs that hovered around them. Too soon,
they found themselves ruined in body and soul, to be
sent back to Australia as medicaly unfit, to die a
dishonour_d death; or live to carrie about a loathsam
desease and become a reproach to themselves and a
menace to sociaty.
While regreting that somany fell victams to the
dreadful_ scurge of humanity, we are prowd that of the
tens of thousands of men who were in Egypt, only a very
small persentage fell victams to the dreadful vice. Young
Foster was one of the best. It was not in his nature to be
immoral. Whever could be said about his family, they
could not be accused of immorality. Even the dreaded
leader of the desprat_ band of highwaymen was always
so gelant in the presance of females that he was called
by many “The Gentleman bushrainger.”
Chapter 22
On the Battlefields of the Empire.
The Troups were growing restless. They were tired of
92. (84)
Egypt, tired of the burning sands and most of all, tired of
Cairo. For some days there was a feeling in all ranks that
there was going to be something doing. [And] The order
to prepare to Embark for Gallipoli came. It was recived
with great rejoicing. They were eager for the fight.
It was the first opportunity they had of showing what
they could do and they did it well. On that 25th day of
April, they wrote the name of Australia on the scroal of
fame in letters of blood. Who has not read with pride of
the charge of the Light Brigade? Our hearts have thrilled
when we have thought of the bravery of those noble men
who obeyed orders, although they knew somone had
blundered.
Yet compared with the Gallipoli landing, it sinks into
insignificance. I need not enlarge on the dreadful scenes
of blood and slaughter of the undaunted courage of the
Australians in their attack. Artillary and machine guns
opened fire on them. They fell by thousand. Still they
came on like the waves of the sea untill they reached the
land and stormed the hights but, at what a price!
It can be said, as it was of the charge of the six
hundred. Surely someone had blundered? [But] That did
not in anyway lessen the glory of the achivement. Artists
will paint, poets will sing and authors will write of the
wonderful deeds, and the name of the Anzac will live for
all time.
From Gallipoli, we let our thoughts take us to France.
That place where the Germons had been making such
headway, and spreading such ruin
94.(85)
and destruction to such an extent that it had been called
‘bleeding’ France. The horror and suffering of the
French people can never be told.
I do not wish to give more credit than is due to the
Australians even if it would be possable. The British
Soldier has always been know_ as a brave and fair
fighter, and it is from this stock that the people of the
overseas dominians have sprung. We are the same
people, our greatness has been brought about through
our being British, but the condisons [conditions] have
been diferent.
The open free life has made the Australian more
independant. Not only can he be lead, but he can be a
leader. In cases where the Officers have all been cut
down, again and again, a private has steped out and lead
his comrades on and saved the situation.
The French soon found the fighting strength of our
boys and regarded them as the savours of France. Young
Foster was one of these men. His skill in the Australian
bush made him useful in raiding on noman’s land. He
fought in many feirce engagements and preformed acts
of great bravery and had numbers of hairbreth
[hairsbreadth] escapes.
Then would come the time for his unit to go out to
rest. Letters would come from Australia and many hearts
would be softends with sweet thoughts of home and
mother. Foster’s letters brought news from the Gap and
he thought of the time when he was carefree. When he
sat in the little school in Greta West, of the time when he
was a friendless child, of the benevlance of his uncle,
and of the tender care of his
96.(86)
81
old grandmother. His face would become more resalute
for, had he not come here to make good to redeam the
name of his people. [And] He became more determend
that whether he lived or died, he would do his duty and
again with his comrades he would move into the fight.
For a longtime, they had been hardpressed. [And] Many
of Australias noble sons had gone west but the tide was
turning and soon they hoped to inflict a crashing blow on
the hated Hun
They were to storm Poziers and were standing too for
the hop over. Some were thoughtful and serious, others
were laughing and, joking but none were afraid. Fear
was unknown to such men. The Officers staing
[staying]? with their watches.
Young Foster took a firmer grip of his rifle. Then
came the sharp word of comand, “Charge!” and all along
the line, a great human wave swept over the top,
Supported by their artillery fire. The Germans poured
into them artillery, machine gun and rifle fire. Officers
and men fell thick and fast, but still on they rush “to
Victory, to glory or the grave!”
Not all the powers of death or hell could keep these
men back. Shouting and cheering, they rushed forward
Then came the clush of arms. The fearful bayonet
thrusts. Then the enemy crumpled up, broke and fleed,
lik some venamas viper that had been beeten off, he
cralled [crawled] away into what shelter he could find.
The victorious troup settled themselves in his trenches
and turned his own guns on him. [But] Oh what dreadful
costs this victory was gained. The sadest thing in war is
to go over a field after the battle. The crys and groans of
the wounded and
97.(87)
dying are heart rending. From the starting point to the
objective is one great sieve of suffering and death. The
ground is torn up with bursting shells, there are wrecked
guns and dead horses. The aire is still full of poisones
gass incressing the sufferings of the dieing, and hanging
over the feild like a black pall of death.
Laying with the fallen is Young Foster. Doctors are
going over the field. First aid men are hard at work,
giving tempory releaf to the sufferers. Strecher bearers
are busy carrieing the wounded off the field to the
clearing station. A god chaplian is moving about
amongst the wounded. He speaks words of comfort and
encouragment to the dieing men, telling them of a living
Christ, of a Land that is fairer than day. So in the
knoledge of God Eternal love, many a brave soldier
enters into rest.
Now he kneels beside a dieing man. He is seene to
take out his pocket book and write a last message to a
mother who somwher in Australia is hoping and praying
for the son that can never return.
A fine looking young man is lying with his head on a
stone His life’s blood is fast ebbing away from a dredful
wound in the chest. His eyes are closed. The paller
[pallor] of death is in his face. Seeing that he was
breathing, the Chaplian knelt besid him and took his
hand. The man’s eyes opened and he said, “The pillow is
hard Granney. Put your hand under my head.” Tenderly
the good man complyed with his request. “That is better
now. I think I will go to sleep. How dark it is, and it is so
cold. Kiss me Granney before I go.” [And] He kissed
him.
The death dew was on his lips and the brave soldier
had gone west. The Chaplian did not know
98.(88)
who he was. He might have been rich or poor. He might
have been a city gentleman who road in his motor car.
He might have been a stockman from outbak. He might
have been born and reared in a settler’s hut, or amboule
[ambled]? in the Slums or a palacial mansion in some
great city. He was one of that great throng of morta[l]rs
who had given their lives on the alter of the Empire, A
sacrifice for right against night, and had gone to the
reward of those who are found on the path of duty. He is
worthy to be remembered for all time.
Young Foster died on the battle fields of France,
fighting shoulder to shoulder with the best. The bravest
men that ever breathed the free aire of fair Australia.
Can anyone tell me they have not made good. No they
cannot. Foster’s death is so crowned with honour and as
one of that sixty thousand men who made a sacrifice that
was only surpassed by the world’[s] Redeamer when he
died for all mankind on the cross of Calvary. His name is
surounded with an halo of Glory. He died thad, we might
live.
How many hearts are tourn and bleeding? How many
homes are filled with sorrow, and will never be the same
because of the ravages of war? [And] How many of us
there are, who would if we could, put back the clock of
time, and have things as they were? I can speak from my
heart for my son is so sleeping with Foster somewhere in
France. In a grave I never shall see. It is more than a
horrid nightmare. It is somthing that we have to face. We
cannot undo the past, but it is in our power to improve
the present.
The names of some of the men from this
99.(89)
district are in my mind and while I think of them with
regret, I am proud that Australia produced such men. I
refer to Major Clements, Captain Auston [?] Mahoney,
Lieutenant Gerald Evans, Lieutenant Cyril
Ashmead M.C., Serg[e]ant Herbert Tanner, Corporal
George Goodland and Lieutenant Cicil Lewis and
Privates Gamble, Green, Gould, Lindsay, Gardner,
Tippet, Lewis, Emsllie[?] and Smith. I feel how much
we are indebted to the Liberty we enjoy. They were a
credit to their parents, a credit to their country and to the
Empire. I class young Foster with them, for he did the
same work and made the same sacrifice on the
battlefields of the Empire. Should we not honour his
memory?
Chapter 23 Mischief Makers and Lieing Tongues.
This world is cruel and it never failes to visit on
those who have made misstakes or are in anyway
conected with the transgresser. The illwill of what
they are pleased to call ofended justice. If a dog
has a bad name, they kick him and if a man is
down, they do the best to keep him down. Some
pride themselves in their Religion, they asume a
virtue that is ill chosen.
St. Paul said, “Though I speak with the tongue
of men and of angels and have now charity, I am
but a sounding brass and a tinckling symbol.”
The Religion of the Lord Jesus Christ no matter by
what Creed it is taught, is a Gospel of Love. There
is no Love in visting the deeds of the Sinner on
the heads of the inocent.
I heard a sad story from a girl who was only
two years of age. When her brothers suffered death
for their crimes, She never knew them. [But] When
100.(90)
She grew to be a young woman, She felt there was
a barrer between her and the people She knew. [And]
Remorce for her brother’s actions made her go
away to another State to earn her living. A
feeling of loyalty to the name her mother always
went by prevented her from taking another name.
All went well with her for a while untill it was
found that she came from Victoria. Then she was told
about the wreched people in that state and asked
if she had ever met them. The women were a most
immoral lot (Lot)! This was hard to bear, but when
later her identaty was discoved she lost her place,
for who would employ the sister of Bushraingers?
She would remove for other place and get work
but the illnews would soon follow her and She would
have to move again. At last she was driven to
take the post of Barmaid. Here she heard cours jokes and
often she heard remarks about her people. One day a
drunken loafer was reviling the name of her sister anda
that sister had been in her grave for ten years, it
was more than the girl could stand.
[And] She gave the fellow a peace of her mind, but
it cost her, her place. She was thought not even
fit for a Bar. In despair, she said, “I am a
Leper. An outcast from Society.” I am glad to
Say, she keept to the straight path and is now
married to a respect able man and has made a
good wife.
The mischief makes talk but seldom speak
unless it is to injure somone. I have heard
lots of things said about the Harts at the time
of the breaking up of the gang. There were some
dredful things said about the family and it
101.(91)
was stated that one of the brothers swoar vengance over the bodies of the dead Bushraingers
and this was stated in public print and a picture shown in one of the Melbourne papers.
I am unable to beleave it. I have known the
Harts for forty years and have done busness with
them, and always found them the soul of honor. So
far as I have known, Steve Hart was the only one of
the family who ever got into truble.
There has been a black sheep in many a good family and the writers who put everything before the public
in its worst light, do not tell us that old Mr and Mrs
Hart both died with their hearts broken. Or that the
decendents of the family are highly respected residents of Wangaratta, and people in a good position.
I have so much respect for many people whoes
misfortune it was to be related to a desperet band
of Law breakers that I do not like to bring their
names into this story. [But] The names became public
property over forty years ago and I am only using
them to state the truth from personal knoledge.
With regard to lieing tongues, I feel enclined to tell
one or two little stories. They are about a well know
man in Greta. Everyone calls him Tom Lloyd. He is
a cousin of Kelly’s and when he was a young man,
he was known far and wide for his splended horsemanship. He was admited to be best buckjump
rider in the whole of Australia. In fact it was
said there was no one to surpass him in the world.
It was not possable for a horse to throw him.
He is an old man now, but is still very fond
of horses and is often seen riding into the town,
and always on a good horse. He can still ride
102.(92)
well.
A few years ago, there was a buckjump show in
Wangaratta. They were offering five pounds to any
man who could ride one of their outlaws for five
minutes. Old Tom came forward and when they
saw his white wiskers, there was roars of laughter.
[But] They grew serious when they saw that their horse
could no more throw him than it could cast its
skin and they had to part up the five pounds.
One of his sons is a very fine rider and went to
England with a rough rider show.
At the time of King George’s coronation a few
years ago, I met a man in Melbourne, a few days
after the Melbourne Cup. When he found that I
was from the North East he said, “I meet a man
yestarday from up that way. Prehaps you know
him. Old Tom Loyde they call him. He was down
for the Cup and had a pritty good win. He was
flurishing a riding whip and dident he talk about
what he could do with a horse. He would like to
see the horse that could throw him.”
I said, “I supose you shouted for him.”
“Oh yes and the old man is very fond of
the beer. He has been in to see me several times
and I always take him to the hotel. The old Chap is
so interesting.”
I said, “You have been imposed upon for two
reasons. I know the man is not Loyde. He is a
strictly temprat man and would be above loafing
for beer. He never makes a boast about his
horsemanship.”
When I saw Mr Loyde a few days later, I asked
him how he got on at the Cup. He said, “I
103.(93)
had nothing on it.” I said, “I heard you went
to the Cup.”
“No!” he said. “I have not been to Melbourne for
over four years.”
When I told him my reason for asking, he said, “Oh
that’s nothing strange”. Then he went one better and
told me how he meet Tom Loyde! He said, “I
had been over in New South Wales shearing. I was
coming back to Victoria with two mates. We had
the three horses. We were riding and two packhorses.
We arrived at an hotel a few miles the other side of
Albury at about eleven o’clock. We decided to wait for
dinner, feed our horses and sat in the varanda. After
a while I said, we will have a drink. We went into the
Bar and I called for the drinks. A big Loafer came up
and said, “I will have a long beer.” I said, “Not at
my expence.” He began to swar and wanted to
fight. The Landlord called me asid and said, “You
had better give it to him. He is a desprat character:
Tom Loyde from Greta, one of that Kelly crowd. He
would think no more of killing you than drinking a
glass of beer. I said, “I would like to have a talk
with Tom Loyde,” but was told to keep away from
the brute, he would kill me. I took the risk but
he would hear of nothing but fight. My mate said “Hi
him!” I said, “Oh no. Let it pass!” My mate then
hit him and knocked him out of the Bar. When
he went after him, Tom Loyde run for a barb
wire fence. He tried to get through it but got
stuck. My mate gave him a kick and sent him thrugh
and he run but left one leg of his pants in the fence
and we introduced the landlord to the real Tom
Loyde!
104.(94)
Chapter 24
Consuming Fires.
Fire is a good servent if keept under control and
used for domestic and comurchal purposes but when it
gets beyond control, and becomes man’s master, it is a
cruel and mercyless enemy and commits the most
dreadful ravages on life and property. A great many
of us have seen it is [in] its worst form. In the
country, what is most to be dreaded is the bushfires.
We have seen them, fought against them, been driven
back and found ourselves uterly helpless against the
oncoming wall of fire and could do nothing but
watch the flams like hungry wolves licking up every
thing that was before them. not only grass, crops and
timber, but sheep, cattle and horses, leaving behind
it nothings but blackend ruin – smouldring hay
stacks, burning grain, the ruens of fences and the
chard remains of stock.
All that we have worked for years to aquire
has gone in a few minuits. Is it to be wondered
at, that we dread the bush fires? On a schorching day in the month of Febuary we see that a
fire has started a few miles away. Great pillers
of smoke rise high in the heavens. The volum
increases and great tongues of red flame shoot
high in the aire.
It was evendently in good country. Everyone
rushes to a fire. Not only to help their neighbourrs but if possable to protect themselves. There
are men of all parts. The Bushfire Begades are
there with their fire carts and beeters. It is
impossible to stand in front of the fire. All
that can be done is to follow up the sides
and keep it from spreding.
105.(95)
Then with a roar like thunder, the fire sweeps
into the hills. The thick timber, the high scrub and
the dence undergrout adds fual to the flams.
The scene becoms apalling. The tailers labour on,
felling trees, carting water to put out fires to
prevent a fresh outbreak. Men are thirsty and
hungry. Buggies come and bring refreshment. They
eat a hurried meal and feel better. Night comes,
but still there is no rest. Their homes are in danger
and they must fight the fire. The night is made
heidus [hideous] with the shreks of terrefied animals
overwhelme by the fire they are suffering a dreadful death. Large flocks of birds fly about
screaming only to fall into the fire and be
roasted alive.
Daylight came but it brought no releaf . The
sun roas like a ball of fire. The Flams were
burning fearcer than ever they had in the night and
had reached the leavel country and were rushing on to the King River like a mighty cyclone.
Most of the farmers managed to save their
homstads but there were a few who lost all they had.
Word was brought that a homstad in a Valley in the
hills was in dainger. We went at once with the
fire carts and beeters. The place was Sheltered. A
big hill prevented the wind from faning the Flam
but it was creeping on like a big snake.
United effard [effort] turned its course and for
the time, the dainges was past. [But] As if hungry
for its work of destrucion it crossed a road and
burnt back on the other side. With a mighty roar,
it swept down on the house. Men fought like
demons but the very ground seemed to burn. Soon
106.(96)
the flames were licking the walls. Determend efford
save the house. As if to show its reveng_ the fire went
on and burnt the haystacks.
Forty men with their faces blackened and grimy
were tired and wornout. Still their task was not
at an end. Scarcly had they rested when the
fire brokout again on the west side. Now came the
greatest fight of all. Could it be stoped? It must
be stoped! If it went another mile, all would be
lost. Men worked all day long with horses and
ploughs.
They burn track_ and made fire breaks and
at last were rewarded with success. The fire was got
under and all was safe. The last of the fire was near
Kelly’s. Jim had worked like a tiger. When we went
around by his place to see if all was safe, his
mother had made some tea which was much enjoyed by the fire fighters.
Often in long past years I have thought of the
time when we stood near the little house and looked
across at the blackened hills – the last of the great
bushfire. Howmany disasters are brought about by
small things? Prehaps some foolish action that the
person who made the mistake would give worlds to
recall. The great fire was caused by a spark
from a swagman_ pipe. It meant the loss of
thousands of pounds worth of property and the
suffering and death of many poor animals.
Every calamity has a small beginning. It was
so with the Kelly gang. A little spark caused a big
fire and brought sadness to many hearts. The
big fire burnt many thorns and briers but it
burnt many flowers.
107.(97)
In this the closing chapter of my little story I want
to say that men and women are not all bad, and
often in the lives of those who are most condemned
there are noble qualtys. In any case, all are
within the reach of God’s saving grace for Christ
died that all men might live. Let us be kind and
we will be better men, better citizens and better
Christians.
I want to take you to a little house at the foot of
Kelly’s Gap. It is a humble dwelling. There is no sign
of riches or illgotten gain to be found here. Look
at the pictures on the walls. There are enlargement_ of
members of the family, but that is not all. There are
the framed enlargements of the King and Queen. These
people are loyal. Of course they are loyal. For have
they not proved it with the blood of their own kith
and kin [N.P.] Look at the old Lady. She is in her
ninety-fourth year. She is sitting in her chair by the
fire. She is cold, always cold. Her great age has made
her blood thin and she loves to sit by the fire.
Someday she will not die, but will just fall asleep.
Now look at her son. He is an old man. His
beard is snow white. How has he become old. In a
life of devotion to his aged mother. In battling with
the world to bring up his dead sister’s children. Few
have mad a greater sacrifice or played a more
noble part.
For forty years, they have been trying to live down
a bad name and there are others, many others
in the Nort_ East who are related to the family.
Upright honest men who are above repoch [reproach].
Gladly would they forget the black past.
108.(98)
Why not help them and let the dead burey their
dead?
By
Glenden Gordon.
The Thorns & The Briars - edited version
This copy of The Thorns & The Briars has been slightly edited by
Dagmar Balcarek and Gary Dean in order to make the document
easier to read.
“The Thorns & the
Briars”
THE TRUE STORY OF THE
KELLY GANG
By Joseph William Ashmead
1859-1930
The Thorns and the Briers.
(A True Story of the Kelly Gang)
Preface
My object in writing this story is to record facts in connection
with a desperate band of lawbreakers. Although clothed in fiction,
the statements with regard to the family and the doings of the gang
are quite true and are made from personal knowledge. I claim to be
an Australian Backwoods-man of over fifty-six year standing. Ned
and Dan Kelly were the playmates of my early childhood. They
were kind, good-natured boys. There is much in environment. If
they had been under a firm hand to keep them out of bad company,
and wise counsel to give them good advice, they would have
grown up to be good citizens. I might have trod the path of folly
and came to the same unhappy end, but for the fact that I was the
child of puritan parents, who taught me in the way of wisdom and
let me in right paths, always impressing upon me the fact that
honesty was the best policy and that sin was a transgression against
the laws of God and Man. By this teaching a boy was able to keep
the right paths, while his playmates became murderers and died a
death of shame.
One of the chief causes of lawlessness in the back country in
the early days was the absence of the Church and Christian religion
which not only inspires to good living but brings about a fear of
evil deeds. The Church does much to solace the country. I hold no
brief for any particular Church. They are all alike good and preach
the same gospel and can be compared to a number of courses,
through which the poor crystal water passes to join a mighty river
and united passes into a boundless sea.
I knew the unhappy men well and lived near their home for
many years, was present at the scene of the capture in Glenrowan,
and have not said that I have to justify their crimes, but to explain
the cause of their downfall. It would be much better if their evil
deeds were allowed to die with them. So much has been written
that is untrue and unfair, and it is most unwise, that picture shows
should be allowed to go around the country showing views of the
supposed exploits of the Kelly Gang. They have a degrading effect
on the rising generation. How often we hear of boy bushrangers,
who by reading bad literature or seeing far fetched pictures, have
been inspired to emulate the deeds of the Kelly Gang.
Another reason why the matter should be buried is the
relations. They are placed on the rack, their hearts are barrowed
and their feelings outraged for something they were not
responsible for, and which they regret more than anyone else. It
appears to me very wrong that people, that have shown such
unbounded love and loyalty to King and Country, should be so
misrepresented and so cruelly treated.
With regard to those three brave men, Sergeant Kennedy and
Troopers Lonigan and Scanlon, who were murdered at Stringybark
Creek, they are worthy to be remembered. They gave their lives on
the altar of duty, and we have strong sympathy for their
descendants.
It is human to err but divine to forgive. Then, let us forget the
black past, and forgive as we hope to be forgiven.
CONTENTS
1
Little Nell
2
Australia
3
Towns
4
The Pioneers
5
Glenrowan
6
The Eleven Mile Creek
7
Bad Company
8
The Thunder Clouds Burst
9
Murder at Stringybark Creek in the Wombat
Ranges
10
Outlawed
11
The Euroa Bank Robbery
12
Unsuccessful Pursuit
13
The Jerilderie Bank Robbery
14
The Mystery Deepens
15
The Murder at the Woolshed
16
The Breaking up of the Gang
17
The Last of Ned Kelly
18
A Mother’s Sorrows
19
A Kind Son
20
Life is But a Dream
21
The Call to Duty
22
Off to the Middle East
23
On the Battlefields of Europe
24
Mischief Makers and Lying Tongues
25
Consuming Fires.
Chapter 1
Little Nell.
It is summer in Ireland in the year 1839. It has been a glorious
July day, and all nature seems to rejoice in the warmth and joy of
Life. There are black thorn edges interwoven with roses and
flowering creepers. The grass in the meadows of rich green, wave
in the wind, and in many places the much beloved shamrock is
growing in all its sweetness.
In the distance is to be heard the sound of men working in the
harvest fields gathering in the golden grain. The time will soon
come for the toilers to rest from their labour, for the sun is fast
sinking in the west, the evening shadows are lengthening, and the
fishing boats are busy in the little harbour; some are returning, and
others are preparing to go out for the night.
A crowd of fifteen or twenty healthy happy children are
playing. Their young hearts are carefree, and they make the
evening ring with their shouts and peals of merry laughter. We
hear their little jokes in strong Irish accent. One small girl about
nine years of age is standing apart from them. She is not interested
in their play. There is a faraway look in her eyes. Her thoughts
have taken her to a Land across the sea. The wind is blowing
through her long black hair that is hanging down her back or
falling in tresses over her pretty face.
“I say, Nell”, shouted one of the boys, “why but ye would
come and play instead of standing there like a silly donkey”.
She turned on him almost fearlessly and said: “You stupid
gassoon, will ye never bar nascence?” Pointing across the sea, she
said: “Don’t you see that ship?”
A full rigged four-mast sailing boat was ploughing through the
deep with all her sails spread. The water parted before her bows in
white foam. The bright rays of the setting sun flashed on the ship
and made the sails look like great sheets of silver. Soldiers in
uniform walked the decks carrying guns. The big black cannon
proclaimed her to be a convict ship bound for the south.
At the sight of this ship the children were quiet, and little Nell
spoke again: “Ye can laugh, but ye don’t know who is on that boat.
It may be that some of your own are there, for they are taking away
a powerful lot just now.”
“And it is yourself that would like to be going”, said one of
the boys.
“I would”, said Nell, “and I will someday, but not as a
prisoner on a convict ship, but on a free ship that only carries free
people.”
This speech brought roars of laughter and some said:
“Beggara, how big she talks!”
Nell fled in disgust. Some said there was a wild strain in her.
She loved to be free and hated restraint. She was sent to school, but
was often missing from the class when she would roam over the
bogs, off in the woods after birds’ nests or wild berries. She would
tear her clothes hiding in some hedge, when she saw someone she
feared would inform on her playing the truant. But, when in school
there was one subject that claimed her attention. That was when
the old schoolmaster told them stories about Australia; of the great
country where the lawbreakers of the old land were sent; of the
number of people that were sent to Botany Bay; of the sufferings
and cruelty that was imposed on the convicts in Van Diemen’s
Land, who were transported for life, in many cases for only small
offences.
Some for poaching, others for small thefts, and others for
using the black too freely. These people, not being naturally bad,
proved by their good conduct and obedience to discipline that they
were worthy of their liberty, and received a free pardon. By hard
work and honest industry they became independent. News of this
kind filtered back to the old land, that Australia was a good
country for free men, and it was not long before the better part of
the working classes of England, Scotland, and Ireland turned their
attention to Australia.
To little Nell’s great joy she found herself on board the good
ship England, bound for Australia, where her parents had
determined to take their family to improve their position. Nell was
now ten years of age. In those old sailing days it took about six
months to reach Australia, and she soon became a favourite with
all on board. She would talk to the sailors and sing them little Irish
songs. Life on a sailing boat needs all the pastime that can be got
out of it; but we will not dwell on the events of the trip, only to say
they reached the end of their journey safe and sound.
We look at this child of over eighty years ago and think how
mysterious are the ways of fate. Who would have dreamt of the
tragedy that was to come into her life?
Chapter 2.
Australia
At the time of which I write, Australia was little known in the
world and only explored to a small extent. A portion of New South
Wales had been settled for a number of years, but as far as Victoria
was concerned, there had been very little done. Only by squatters,
who had taken up large tracks of country and were raising great
number of sheep and cattle, the western district was one of the first
places to attract settlers. Portland is one of the oldest towns in the
state. The north eastern district of Victoria was first inhabited by
squatters, who came overland from Sydney and established cattle
stations on the Upper Murray. About the same time Wangaratta,
now one of the most prosperous country towns sprang into
existence.
At the time when the ship England reached these shores, even
Melbourne was only a very small place; it seems almost
impossible to think that the fine city with its up to date buildings,
its broad streets, its tram- and railway system, was no more than a
scattered village eighty years ago. But such was the case when the
subject of our story first saw it.
The family stayed about Melbourne for some little while and
eventually settled at Donnybrook, where they carried on farming in
a small way until the gold rush broke out. Then the men went to
the diggings; in fact, everyone that could carry a pick and shovel
went. People were mad with excitement. Stations and farms were
deserted and the stock left to take care of themselves or to stray
away into the bush and become wild. I could go on to write about
the adventures of those who dug and delved for gold and in many
cases never found it, for many pages, but do not intend to do so –
only to follow the adventures of Nell’s father and brothers. They
followed the diggers first to one rush, then to another one, where
gold was unearthed in large quantities. And places that had been
wild bush became big towns.
But in many cases those who worked the hardest secured the
least. Mining has always been a gamble. Those who were lucky
wanted to get more, and in grasping after it lost what they had got.
The men who went into business did better than those who dug for
gold, because they took no risks. Gradually, in most cases the
claims became worked out, and people had to fall back on the land
for a living. It is through new going into the bush to look for gold,
that some of the finest land in the world has been discovered, and
today Australia can boast of being able to grow the finest wheat in
the world.
With new towns springing up all over the state, a new industry
came to the front. There being no railways, it required a large
number of teams to cart the stores to the towns that had sprung into
existence through the mining industry. Most of the diggers, who
had not become independent but had been able to save enough
money to buy a team and wagon, became carriers. They made a
good income by carting stores up country, and loading back in
Melbourne with wheat and other produce. In time they settled on
the land and became prosperous farmers.
So gradually the fertile land of Victoria became settled.
Chapter 3.
Towns
Years have passed since the little girl in Ireland stood
watching the convict ship. She is no longer a child, but a fine
dashing young woman, full of life and spirit. During the time her
father and brothers were away, it felt to her lot to help her mother
manage the little farm, and no girl could have done it better than
she did. She was fond of the cows, but her greatest joy was to ride
on horseback. She was well known in the district. There were not
many men about, most of them being away at the different gold
rushes, but all who knew her treated her with respect; no-one
would dare to do otherwise.
There is a time in the life of most girls when they meet their
fate, and she was no exception. A young man came into her life; he
came over from Tasmania. He stood six feet in his stockings, was
broad- shouldered, strong and active, in fact, in every way a fine
type of an athlete. One thing that made him remarkable was his
thick shack of fiery red hair and bushy whiskers. They called him
“Red Ned”. Some say the family did not approve of the match.
They did not believe he was a native of Tasmania, and they had
their doubts as to how he got there.
Whether this is true or not, it had no weight with the girl; they
became devoted lovers. Ned went into the droving business.
Although we are told he was a bit fond of whisky, and at times got
a drop too much, on the whole he was steady, and saved enough to
make a home somewhere in the district of Kilmore. They were
married, lived in that part for a number of years, and became the
parents of seven children, three boys and four girls. All went on
peaceful, and they saved enough money to acquire a small property
of their own in the North East, where her people had already gone.
I shall now speak of the lady as Mrs. Kelly, the mother of
these young men, who shocked the world by a most dreadful crime
and held the country in fear by their daring exploits during their
bushranging career. I feel disposed to write this story in an
impartial way, not that I have any sympathy for crime - on the
contrary! I think it is impossible to maintain law and order if the
extreme penalty of the law is not enforced. I believe it is only just
and right that he, who sheds the blood of man, by man shall his
blood be shed; but we should be careful to see that we do not judge
unjustly, and so make the innocent suffer with the guilty; that we
do not rob people of what is due to them for deeds of self-sacrifice
and heroism in the interest of their own flesh and blood. We would
not be human, if our hearts did not go out to our children when
they were in disgrace. Let us see the good points as well as the bad
in our fellow men - and there has been much in the life of Mrs.
Kelly, that is good.
In the year 1865, her husband died. His death was caused
through drinking a spirit that was served to him in mistake for
brandy. He left a widow with seven children, and in a strange
district.
She was lodging in a house at Greta on the bank of the Fifteen
Mile Creek. In the night there was a cry of fire. She escaped with
her children in their night clothes. All she had in the world was
gone, even the few pounds she had saved for a rainy day were
burnt in the fire. The neighbours made a collection, bought her
some clothes, and set her up in a little house in Wangaratta where
she worked hard, going out washing in the day and dressmaking at
night.
By honest industry she saved enough to take the boys on to the
farm, when they were big enough to work it.
Chapter 4.
The Pioneers.
In the early days there was only a stock rout for the greater
part of the distance between the Murray and Melbourne. Teamsters
made their way as best they could, fording bridgeless rivers and
plodding on through bad roads and bush tracks. Passing through
Benalla, they come to six miles of level country and pass through
Winton on the Seven Mile Creek, where a chain of water holes
spreads out, being dry for the greater part of the summer. Winding
through the hills they came to the Eleven Mile Creek, which at that
time contained deep holes and a never-failing supply of water.
Going up the creek they crossed the ranges at what is now called
Kelly’s Gap
If we turn to the right and go to the top of the hill, we see one
of the finest views in the state. Looking east, we see a broad fertile
valley, here and there dotted with five homesteads; hundreds of
acres of wheat and oats wave in the wind, and thousands of sheep
and cattle are seen grazing on the rich pastures. Here we see the
water of the Fifteen Mile Creek as it sparkles in the sunlight.
Through the trees in the background are to be seen the Buffalo
Mountains - part of the chain of the Great Dividing Ranges. And
further away you see snow-capped and towering above them
Mount Bogong, the second highest point in Australia, down the
side of which the mighty avalanche sweeps, carrying ruin and
destruction where ever it flows.
How wonderful are the works of God’s creation! Our eyes
turn again to the valley, and looking upon the prosperous district of
Greta, we think of the hardihood of the early pioneers of men and
women from England, Scotland and Ireland, who crossed the
roaring seas in rickety old sailing ships; who fought their way into
the bush; who braved dangers, endured hardships, to carve out
homes, subdue forests and make the desert blossom like the rose.
They were the best, boldest and most thrifty of the people of the
old world. To them the men and women of today are indebted for
their fine homes and their broad acres, but they have still more to
be thankful for a noble example of honesty and uprightness of all
that shows the true man.
It may be said that they did not forget the things that are
eternal. In Greta there are three churches built to the honour and
glory of God - the Church of England, the Roman Catholic, and
the Methodist, which has a resident minister. There is also the
place to which we are all hastening - God’s area, where the
pioneers of the district sleep the last long sleep. One by one they
have been gathered home. Now they are all gone, and the few who
are left, that were children when their parents came here, are old
men and women. Their hair is as white as the snow on the top of
Mount Bogong.
But we must go back to the days of sixty years ago and over,
when the heavy wagons lumbered down the old Gap to camp at the
Fifteen Mile Creek, what is now known as West Greta. From there,
those who were loaded for Beechworth or Bright went across
country through Oxley, and those who had loading for Wangaratta,
Rutherglen, Chiltern or Eldorado went to the left, and reached
Wangaratta after travelling about fifteen miles.
Chapter 5
Glenrowan.
There being so many places of growing importance, the
Government of Victoria made a survey of what is called the
Sydney Road. It was cleared right through bridges built, and some
of the worst parts of the road formed. This was the end of the
traffic through Kellys Gap. The wagoners now followed the main
road or as near to it as they could. There was a place dreaded by
both wagoners and coach drivers; it was called “the Crabholes”. In
recent years it has been held in equal dread by motorists who knew
it as “the Gluepot”, but has now been made a good road by the
Government Roads Board.
One of the events of the early days was to see the gold escort
go through, surrounded by a heavily mounted police with their
rifles and smart trappings. I remember - when a small boy - seeing
the escort badly stuck in the crabholes. However, bad roads were
not the worst that the escort had to contend with. The North East
was badly infested with bushrangers, and if there had not been a
strong force, the gold and the lives of the men who were in charge
of it would have soon gone.
At that time there were only two buildings in Glenrowan, a
hotel and a store, both owned and run by Mr. Wm. Liddle. He did
business with the carriers and the few settlers who were within
range of his place of business.
At a short distance about a mile from the hotel was a range
called Morgan Lookout. It was so named through the presence of a
notorious and blood thirsty bushranger, called Morgan, being in
the neighbourhood of Glenrowan. For some time he held the
outback parts of New South Wales in a state of fear on account of
his dreadful deed of robbery outrage and murder.
A squatter from the Upper King River was across the border,
and one morning with a friend he came on Morgan camps. The
outlaw had gone to catch his horse and was without rifle or
revolver. When he drew near the camp, the squatter called upon
him to surrender, but he placed his hand over his heart. The man,
thinking he was going to draw a revolver, fired, but the only
damage done was to blow off the top of Morgan’s finger. He
escaped in the scrubs, but he had marked his man and came to
Victoria to kill him - a deed he very nearly accomplished. He stuck
up the station, and had he been content to shoot the squatter, he
could have done so, but his victim was to have a worse death. The
monster tied him to a post, and set two haystacks on fire to slowly
roast him to death in presence of his servants. Startled by the fire, a
mob of horses started to gallop, and the outlaw, thinking the police
were upon him, decamped. It was then easy for one of the men to
rush in, cut the bonds and release the doomed man.
Morgan next appeared on the Sydney road about three miles
on the Wangaratta side of Glenrowan, where he robed a number of
wagoners. Just at dusk he stopped a wagoner I afterwards knew
well - the late Mr. Wm. Dowell - and demanded his money. Mr.
Dowell said: “My boss is coming along the road with the money”,
and he went off up the road. Dowell, seeing the foolish thing he
had done, gave the rains to the man he had with him and run off
into the bush with a hundred and fifty pounds. Shortly after the
highwayman came back in a towering rage and said he had been
told a lie and would not stand that from any man. He would shoot
the horses and burn the wagon. The man pleaded with him, saying
Dowell was only a driver, and the outlaw rode away grumbling
that a decent bushranger could not get his rights through the lying
tongues of dishonest people. The man drove to the hotel with forty
pounds of his own money hidden in the tilt of the wagon. Dowell
made his way in the darkness to the hotel and was not troubled by
the outlaw again.
The next day Morgan appeared at the Taminick Station, then
owned by the late Mr. Ben Warby, but beyond giving the people a
fright and having a good meal, he did not interfere with them. He
was on his way to the Peechelba Station, about twenty miles away
where he was to meet his Waterloo. This station was owned by the
late Mr. Rutherford. It was situated near the Ironbark Ranges,
about twenty miles from the Murray River. The nearest neighbour
was a squatter about ten miles away on the Ovens. Morgan bailed
up the station, assembled all the station hands together with the
servants and Mr. & Mrs. Rutherford in a large room. He made
them bring him refreshments, and he indulged in a quantity of
strong drink - one of the things that had helped to bring him to be
the monster that he was. In a half-drunken state he was determined
to make merry and ordered his prisoners to dance to music,
supplied by Mrs. Rutherford, while he beat time on the piano with
his revolver. Growing tired of this, he told them all to be silent,
while he pretended to sleep with a revolver in each hand. They
were in a state of terror and were almost afraid to move for fear he
would accuse some of them with attempting to escape, and so
make an excuse to satisfy his thirst for human blood. He had been
known to shoot people for sport and commit the most dreadful
outrages on defenceless women. No man’s life was safe when he
was about, and all women within his reach were in danger of his
fiendish lust.
If they had only known deliverance was on the way! Hours
before a brave girl had crept out of the room and was running for
her life through the bush. She started at every sound fearing a fate
worse than death, but fear gave her strength, and she reached the
station ten miles away. In a state of great excitement she told her
story, and then fell in a faint. A messenger galloped to Wangaratta,
and before daylight the homestead was surrounded by police and
volunteers, who had offered their services to assist in the capture
of the greatest monster that ever infested the Australian bush.
Morgan, worn out with his debauchery, slept soundly. The terrified
people could hear his heavy breathing, and shuddered to think
what might be their fate when he woke up.
There was a streak of light in the east. The sun rose; the
dreadful night was over. The ruffian moved, and then groaned: “I
must go. Come, Rutherford! Show me your horses, and I will take
the best on the station”.
They came out of the house and were walking to the stables.
There was the sharp crack of a rifle, and Morgan fell to rise no
more. The police were upon him. Someone said: “They have got
you at last!” and he replied: “Yes! And if he had given me a
chance, I would have had some of them”.
So ended an evil and misspent life. His body was taken to
Wangaratta and buried by the police in the Wangaratta cemetery
where the grave is still plainly to be seen. He was shot by a man
named Quinlan, an employee of an adjoining station. A reward of
seven hundred and fifty pounds was given him. The brave girl was
also rewarded. But the money was of little use to poor Quinlan.
The tragedy so prayed on his mind, that he lost his reason and
ended his days in an asylum for the insane.
Chapter 6.
The Eleven Mile Creek
We have spoken of this place before, but it was in the days
when it was a stopping place for wagoners All that is left to show
that they have been there are the old tracks through the bush and
the deep ruts showing signes of many a bog.
The first time I saw this place was on the 8th March, 1866. My
father had taken up land not far from the Winton swamp. We had
just arrived from a place near Melbourne. It was a dry season, what
we now call a drought. The swamp was dry, and we had to drive
our cattle to the creek. Many others had to do the same. How the
poor thirsty brutes quickened their pace and bellowed when they
smelt the water!!
How well I remember the old place! In fancy I can see it now
as I saw it then in its wild bush state. On the hill was a large sheep
fold, and on the place where Mr. Lees’ homestead now stands was
a shepherd’s hut. The shepherd took the sheep out on the sun in the
daytime, and put them in the fold at night. There was a Chinees
cook, and he spent his spare time making straw balls, which he
sold for the modest sum of twenty one shillings each. On the other
side of the Creek, where Mr. Matt Kenneally’s homestead now
stands, were the remains of the old stables, where Cobb and Co.
mail coaches used to change horses, but Winton is now the
changing station, and the coaches come to the creek no more.
Further south is a big hill with very few trees on it. At that time it
was called the Big Bald Hill, but it is now known as Hart’s Hill.
Almost under the shadow of this hill was the home of a solitary
settler on the bank of the creek among the wattles. A number of
willow trees had been planted around the house and had already
grown to a good size. The walls of the house were slab and the
roof stringy bark with sapling riders to keep the bark in its place. A
number of children were playing regardless of the loneliness of the
place.
Years went by, and as a lad of about thirteen years of age I
took my father’s cattle to the creek. Other settlers sent their boys
with cattle, too, and if they had no boys, they sent their girls. And
these who had neither came themselves.
I remember a jolly old chap who hailed from the Emerald
Isles. He used to bring his milking cows from somewhere over the
hills - I did not know where. He would sit in the shade and tell
yarns by the hour. One story I never forgot: “Do ye know how I
got my wife? Oh, ye don’t? Well, I will tell you. I was a wagoner.
At one of the pubs I used to camp at, there was a powerful pretty
girl. I set my cap at her but had no luck. I had my suspicion that
she had more than a sneaking regard for that young dandy, Jack
Hogan, who put all he earned on his back. So I said to myself
‘Frank, old man, ye will have to run cunning!’ And I did. When I
got paid for my loading at Beechworth, I went to the bank and got
it changed into pound notes. Then I got a lot of old newspapers and
made a bundle as big as a bushel, and carefully covered it with the
pound notes. When I got back to the pub, I took it to her and said
her: ‘Mary, take care of this bit of money for me. And we will
think about getting’ married’. But she said: ‘Oh, Frank dear,
someone might steal it! We had better got married at once’. And
beggara! We did. And that is how I beat flash Jack Hogan”.
About this time, another joined the company on the creek - a
boy about my own age. He was riding a smart black pony, and
proudly told us it was a galloper and could clear any fence in the
North East. The boy was alert and active, with piercing black eyes
that look in everything at a glance. He wore strapped trousers, a
red shirt, and straw hat tilted forward, secured by a strap under his
nose. The back of his head was broad and covered with close
cropped hair as black and shiny as a crow. His jaw was heavy, his
lips thin, and when closed tightly, there seemed to be something
cruel in them; but when they relaxed into a smile, he appeared to
be a jovial good nature fellow. His name was Dan Kelly, and he
was a great lover of horses. I was the only one of the other boys
who had a horse – a bay pony. She had belonged to a clergyman
and was an honest goer. Dan ran his eye over my horse and
proposed that we should have a race. - a challenge I gladly
accepted. When he found he could not shake me off, he developed
a great respect for me, and declared there was not a kangaroo in
the whole country that could get away from us. So we went
kangaroo hunting. Not once but many times I left my cows to look
after themselves, or bribed some of the other boys to look after
them for me with the promise of some skins of a kangaroo tail, to
make whip crackers. We sometimes saw Ned Kelly, but he was a
few years older than we were, and regarded himself as too big for
my company.
Time went by…., Dan Kelly and the creek went out of my
life, but I am looking at it in 1922, how changed everything is. The
place is all divided into paddocks by good fences. Where there was
only one family in the early days, there are now upwards of twenty
families, and they have become well to do by producing wheat and
oats, butter, wool, lambs and beef. Here rich fruit grows to
perfection. Who in this part has not heard of Harleys’ Orchard with
its famous apples and orange? A lot of money has been made by
cutting timber into railway sleepers and bridge timber.
If we look around, we will find there is a state school. The
children no longer run wild in the bush, but are educated, and
prepared to go out and fight the battle of life. If we go into the
school, we will see there is an honour board with the names of men
from the district who have fought and bled for the Empire. On the
wall is an enemy machine gun captured from the Germans. On
Sundays the building is used for a church, and good men preach
the Gospel of Christ, telling their hearers that God so loved the
world that he gave his only begotten son; that who so ever
believeth in him, shall have eternal life
The place was changed very much for the better. The fact that
men band themselves together for the common good of humanity
is the best proof that can be given of the advancement of any place,
no matter what it has been.
Chapter 7
Bad Company
How many times it has been said: “Evil connection corrupts
good manners”, and it is a true saying. Show me a man’s company,
and I will tell you the kind of man he is. Since our first parents fell
and brought on the human race the wrath of God, the Earth has
been full of sin and wickedness, and the world was condemned to
bring forth thorns and briars. How they grow, the richer the ground
is, the more they thrive: the plank is more easily trained in the way
nature inclines it to grow. So Ned Kelly became an easy prey to an
unscrupulous scoundrel, and brought upon his family ruin disgrace
and the ill-will of the public.
The man, Harry Power by the name, was a convicted criminal
and a daring ruffian He chose the North East for his exploits of
highway robbery under arms. He was cunning and carried out
many a deep–laid plan. He would disappear for a time, and the
police would be hunting for him without being able to find a clue
as to his whereabouts; then people would be shocked by a daring
coach robbery in a locality where it was least expected he would
be. It might be the Bright -, the Beechworth -, the Yackandandah
coach, or a coach on the way to some township on the Upper
Murray. He was never known to take human life, but doubtless he
would have done so, had he not succeeded in frightening his
victims into quick submission. He was rough and course, and he
flaunted a lot of menacing, profane oaths. The women were
insulted and bullied by him, but only in one case has he been said
to go as far as actual violence. Holding his revolver to a woman’s
head, he ordered her to strip off all her clothes in the presence of
all the other passengers. The poor woman, in tears and trembling
with fear, protested. The highwayman relented, and said that after
all, it would be mean of him to compel her to do it.
An amusing story was told by the late Mr. Robert McBean
J.P., at the time owner of the Tatong Station. Riding through the
bush one day on horseback, and mistaking Power for one of the
station hands, he said: “Good day, Bill!”
“I found myself looking into the barrel of a revolver”, said Mr.
McBean, and a gruff voice said: “Confound your impudence! I will
teach you how to speak to a gentleman." Fancy you calling me
Bill. Hand over your watch and chain and your money! I am Mr.
Power”.
It has been said by other writers that the watch and chain were
returned, but I never heard so from Mr. McBean, who was a
personal friend of mine. At any rate, I am quite sure it was not
returned in the way stated; neither did the person, who was held
responsible for returning it, had anything to do with it. That there
were a number of dishonest people in league with the robber was
quite apparent, while others refrained from giving information for
fear of violence.
It became noised abroad that young Kelly had joined hands
with Power. He had been seen in his company , but the worst that
could be said was that he was suspected of aiding and abetting him
in his deed of crime by letting him know the movements of the
police or bringing him provisions, and at most, holding the horses
while Power committed the robberies. There was no proof that he
did any of these things.
Power’s place of hiding was on the Upper King River. His
camp had been found different times, but the bird had always
flown. The only way to reach his hiding place was through a
narrow gorge past a farm house. The farmer had some peacocks,
and while it was possible to deceive the dogs, the peacock always
gave a loud cry. This alarmed the bushranger and the police would
find nothing but a deserted camp, a smouldering fire, and a few
empty fish tins.
One wet night, four policemen guided by a black tracker crept
past without alarming the bird. They found Power asleep. Covering
him with their revolvers, they made him a prisoner. He stood his
trial, was convicted of highway robbery under arms, and sentenced
to fifteen years hard labour in Pentridge Gaol for the term of his
natural life, but he lived to serve his sentence and regain liberty. A
benevolent lady made him her gardener, and he lived in comfort
and loved to tell of his exploits until he died a very old man.
However, he had sown the seeds of sin in a young heart that
were to ripen into deeds of crime far worse than he had committed.
How these thorns and briars grow! He had talked to Ned Kelly
about an easy living, and had laughed at the idea of honest work.
Kelly was soon on the downward road, and found himself in the
hands of the police charged with cattle stealing; he stood his trial at
Beechworth, was found guilty, and sentenced to eighteen months
hard labour in Pentridge Gaol.
This was before the north eastern railway was completed. The
line was only opened as far as Longwood. My father went there on
business and took me with him. I saw the coach arrive, surrounded
by a strong escort of police; I saw Kelly taken off the coach and
placed in a railway carriage. Oh, the thorns and briars! I saw this
fair youth manacled to an old man. By the degraded look on his
face it was plain his life had been spent in sin. The thorns and the
briars had filled his heart - there was no room for honesty, no room
for virtue in his besotted soul. Now he has a pupil in the boy
handcuffed at his side. He will not fail to drag deeper into the
mirth and day of sin. If our prison system could be so arranged that
young offenders could be kept apart from hardened criminals, it
would give them a chance to reform. There would be less excuse
for them going wrong after they had served their first sentence.
When Ned Kelly came out of prison, he returned back to the
creek and made an attempt to earn an honest living by horsebreaking. I remember that he broke in a horse for my father. At
that time a great part of the country was still open, and young
horses were allowed to roam about in the bush. I shall never forget
the wild gallop we had after those horses. They had not been
yarded for many months and were determined that they were not
going to be. We chased them over hills and through swamps. I
could not help thinking what a dashing fearless fellow Ned Kelly
was! A companion he had with him, who was known as Bricky,
was, if possible, reckless. At length the horses were yarded, and
Ned was soon on the back on the one he was to break –in; he took
it away and returned it in due course.
But then, he had been in jail, and a great many people avoided
him. He was seen less and less on the creek. His bad company had
made him to be not only dishonest, but discontented, and his
brooding led him into a career of crime that ended in his death on
the gallows.
Chapter 8.
The Thunder Clouds Brim.
In September of the year 1877, on the creek all nature was at
its best. The birds were singing on the trees, the little busy
hummingbirds, as they flew from flower to flower, sucked the
honey from the blossom of the great ironbark trees , The creek
along its winding course is lined with wattles all in a blaze of
golden glory.
Under the shade of a big box tree a young man is seated on a
horse. He is tall and dark. There is something striking about his
face; you would not call it handsome. There was something about
his eyes that was hard to understand. Every few minutes he took up
the valley as if expecting someone. Now let us look at the horse - it
is a lovely doubled bay. It tosses its head and paws the ground with
its front feet. It is well shod and well groomed; by its appearance
we would say it is a trooper’s horse. We look closely and see by
the brands that it is. The horse lifts up his head and gives a loud
neigh. We hear the sound of horses’ hooves, and we see a
horseman coming down the creek. When the rider draws near, we
see it is not a man, but a woman, riding astride. This is an
uncommon sight, for in those days riding astride was regarded as
an offence against decency. This is only a girl in her teens, but a
girl of bewitching beauty. Her features are well rounded, her eyes
are large and dark, and her long black wavy hair and the flush of
health in her face makes her look a perfect picture.
By the way they meet we see they are no strangers. Their
horses are drawn up close together The man places his hand on her
horse’s withers, and whispers in the girl’s ear the old ,old story of
love. The girl drew back with a long harsh laugh, but then her eyes
filled with tears and she said: “No, that is impossible! Surely, you
have thought of my brothers - Ned has already been in jail, and
people say dreadful things about him. You have to maintain the
law; it would be bad for us both”. But his answer was: “Kate, my
love, I would give up anything, go through anything for you!" If
you had only known I have warded off suspicion against your
brothers many times!”
“Oh, don’t speak about them”, she said, “it hurts me”, but his
tongue was loosen, and he poured out such a story of love and
flattery, that it was no wonder she was carried away by him. She
broke off a peace of wattle and played with the golden spray of
blossoms, then pretended to beat him off, when he pleaded for just
one kiss; it did not end with one, but many kisses. He had won her
heart, but she was taking no risks. When he proposed that they
should get off their horses and sit on the nice soft grass, she
touched her horse, and was gone like a flash.
This was only one of many meetings during the next few
months. He grew bolder, sometimes calling at her mother’s house.
There were reports of cattle stealing in the district. Dan Kelly
was suspected, a warrant had been issued for his arrest, but he was
supposed to have escaped to another part of the state. In 1878,
Constable Fitzpatrick rode up to Mrs. Kelly’s house, and to his
surprise, the first person he saw was Dan Kelly. Here was
Fitzpatrick’s chance to arrest him, but he had not got the warrant
with him; still, he would chance taking him without it - perhaps it
might mean promotion to him! Whatever feeling there might be for
Kate, it would soon blow over.
He put Dan under arrest. Dan said: “Very well, I will go with
you, but I suppose you will let me have my dinner first.” Glad of
the chance to show kindness, Fitzpatrick gave his consent.
During the dinner there was a brawl and the policeman was
knocked unconscious. When he recovered, his prisoner had
escaped, and his helmet was smashed by a blow. He returned to
Benalla with a bullet hole in the sleave of his coat. He swore that
while Dan Kelly was having his dinner, Ned Kelly appeared at the
door and fired several shots at him at point blank range, and
Skillion, a son in law of Mrs. Kelly, and a man, named
Williamson, covered the constable with revolvers, while the Kellys
escaped. He also reported that Mrs. Kelly hit him on the head with
the fire shovel.
Mrs. Kelly and the two men were arrested and stood trial.
Their version was different: While Dan was having his dinner,
Mrs. Kelly’s daughter came into the room, and the constable threw
his arms around her and kissed her. This so enraged the mother,
that she picked up the fire shovel and knocked him senseless. If
there was a bullet hole in his coat, he must have fired it himself.
Dan was the only man present. Both Skillion and Williamson
swore they were nowhere near the place and knew nothing about
the affair.
On the face on this, all three were found guilty. Mrs. Kelly
was sentenced to three years imprisonment, and the men to five
years hard labour each. It does not seem like British Justice to
impose such a severe sentence on the uncorroborated evidence of
one witness, taking it for granted that the evidence for the defence
was weak, and that it was not believed by the jury.
The punishment was unduly severe. How natural it is for
people to look for the worst rather than the best that can be found
in their fellow-men! If we commit a breach of the law, we have to
suffer, and the worst of it is that we are not the only ones, who are
held responsible. We have forfeited the honour of the name of the
family, to which we belong. It was the case with the unhappy
Kelly family. The state of that country at that time lent itself to
deeds of dishonesty, principally cattle stealing. Many thousand of
acres were still open, and the greater part of it was hilly bush
country. Farmers at Winton and other places turned their dry cattle
and young stock into the bush, allowing them to roam about at
will. Some of them were not seen for months. It was quite easy for
cattle thieves to drive them off and sell them in some other part of
the state; this was often done.
Ned Kelly was a convicted thief, but there were many others
just as bad, and some of them sheltered behind him. The old saying
“give a dog a bad name and he will keep it, and in most cases
make it worse” is true. The family were not naturally bad - a
statement, I think, I will be able to prove in this story. Indeed, I
will go further and say that there was a lot of good in them. There
were two things that led them astray: his lawless state of the
country, and the lack of parental restraint. The severe sentence
passed on Mrs. Kelly prevented her from exercising what little
influence she might have had on her sons.
The thunder clouds had burst, and it meant tens of thousands
of pounds to the country, and the loss of many lives.
Chapter 9
Murder at the Stringybark Creek in the Wombat Ranges.
The Kelly brothers had started their career of crime. They had
been weighed in the balance and were determined to set at defiance
law and order. For some time their whereabouts could not be
found. Then it became known that they were hiding in the
Stringybark Ranges in the Toomboollup district. It was whispered
that two others had joined the gang. This proved to be too true,
their names were Steve Hart from South Wangaratta and Joe Byrne
from the Woolshed near Beechworth, and they proved a most
formidable combination, determined to stop at nothing They had
large numbers of relations, some respectable, law-abiding people,
who deeply deplored the disgrace the gang had brought upon them,
while others openly aided and abetted them, if not in their crimes,
in assisting them to escape the avenging hand of justice. It has
always been evident that now, who defies the law, bares the
sympathy of a large number. They are the people that are against
the government and they were never a reliable source in giving
evidence during the reign of the Kelly Gang.
A party of four policemen were sent to the Stringybark Ranges
to capture the escaped Ned, but they little knew the desperate
nature of the undertaking they had in hand, and that the dead
bodies of three of them could be brought out of the hills on packhorses. The party was led by Sergeant Kennedy, a brave and
efficient officer from Mansfield. The names of the other men were
McIntyre, Scanlon and Lonigan. They were drawn from different
small towns.
In the case of Lonigan, there was an evidence of presentiment
– how things are hard to understand! They may or may not be from
the spiritual world. How many cases have we heard of during the
dreadful world inside war, where men, who were in danger, and
who have led wonderful escapes in many a bold charge, have at
last gone off with a strange foreboding that they would never
return? In most cases it has come true – it was so in Lonigan’s
case. He had kissed his wife and children bidding them a loving
farewell, mounted his horse and rode away some distance, when he
turned around, came back, dismounted, took them one by one in a
long affectionate embrace and pressed them to his heart. This was
the last time they were to be in the arms and caress of a good
husband and kind father.
All went well with them so far, and they reached the ranges
without adventure, but it was thought that a word was given to the
Kellys about their movements, and they suspected that the police
were coming
On their arrival at Stringybark Creek the policemen found
unmistakeable signs that there had been someone there not long
before, but the men they wanted were nowhere to be seen.
They pitched their tent and made themselves comfortable for
the night. In the morning the sun was bright and clear, the bush
was alive with the songs of the birds. They heard chatter of the
parrots, the screech of the gang-gangs, and in the distance the cry
of a dingo, but the wild hills seemed to contain no human life.
After breakfast they looked to their weapons and made a search
around the camp, but discovered nothing. Kennedy and Scanlon
went down the creek on horseback to look for tracks, and Lonigan
and McIntyre stayed at the camp to cook the dinner.
Lonigan was no engaged when he heard someone call out:
“Bail up!” and he saw that four men had him covered with rifles.
The Kellys!!!
Being a brave man, he was not going to fall into their hands
without trying to make a fight of it, but no sooner did he place his
hand on his revolver than he fell dead with a rifle bullet through
the brain. McIntyre came out of the tent, and seeing the fate of his
comrade, he held up his hands, and was made prisoner. The men
searched him and made him stand back, while one of the
desperados stood guard over him.
“Why did you shoot Lonigan?” asked McIntyre. “Because he
would have shot us”, said they. Then they grew alert. In the
distance could be heard the sound of the tramp of horses’ feet and
men’s voices. The two other troopers were drawing near. Ned
Kelly said to McIntyre: “If you play the game, we will not hurt
you, but if you get up to any tricks, you will die. Go and meet your
mates! Get them to surrender to avoid bloodshed!”
McIntyre did so, but they were men of courage and scorned
such a thing. Scanlon was carrying a rifle slung over his shoulder,
secured by a strap. No sooner did he put his hand on it than a shot
made the forest ring, and he fell dead with a bullet through his
throat. Sergeant Kennedy, still undaunted, sprang from his horse,
intending to use it for a cover while he fought the murderers of his
comrades. When he dismounted, McIntyre sprang on the horse
from the other side and galloped away, followed by a shower of
bullets, some of which wounded the horse. Still he pressed on,
leaving poor Kennedy to his fate. At last the horse fell dead. Then
he ran as far as his legs would carry him. So terrified was he that
he crept into a large wombat hole, where he remained for the day:
We can imagine the extreme horror of his position and the
desperate thoughts that would pass through his mind: There was no
hope for Kennedy…… they would kill him …..then they would
track the horse. …… and would be sure to find his hiding place
….. and they will kill, for they know that a dead man will tell no
tales…….
A mob of kangaroos scamped through the bush. He starts with
a cry upon his lips:
“They are here! Oh, that is the end. May it be swift and
painless!”
But no! All is silent again. He is cramped from the position he
has been in. The movement has hurt him. He is unable to restrain
cold, grotty drops of perspiration falling off his face. Hours seem
like years……
At last it is dark. He comes from his hiding place. His limbs
are numbed and refuse to move. Little by little his strength returns
to him, and he is able to start on his long journey.
The church bells are ringing in Mansfield; never had he heard
such sweet music as the bells were to him that day. The people are
on their way to the places of worship. They are surprised at the
appearance of a man with his clothes torn and tattered, dragging
himself wearily along the street. Little did these people know about
the grim tragedy he was about to reveal.
The district was shocked at the dreadful murder. A strong
force was soon organised to go in pursuit of the murderers. It was
dark when they reached Stringybark Creek. The Kellys were gone.
The police tent was still there, and the bodies of Lonigan and
Scanlon were soon found. Kennedy’s body was found some
distance from the others. He evidently had made a running fight,
and was overtaken and killed. His face was disfigured. Some were
of the opinion that the gang tortured him to compel him to give
them information they wanted; I am more inclined to think the
damage was done by wild dogs or dingoes that infested the ranges.
The bodies of the murdered troopers were taken to Mansfield
where they were buried. A monument was erected in the town in
memory of the police who were murdered by the Kelly Gang at
Stringybark Creek.
Chapter 10
Outlawed
An inquest was held on the bodies at Mansfield, where
McIntyre gave his startling evidence. Some say he was a coward to
desert his sergeant, but it is evident that his position was desperate,
and had he remained there would have been very little chance of
his life being spared. It is a good thing that he escaped, or the
whole business might have remained a mystery for all times.
At the inquest a verdict of wilful murder was brought in
against Ned Kelly, Dan Kelly, Joe Byrne and Steve Hart. The
Victorian Government declared them to be outlaws, and placed a
reward of one thousand pounds each on their heads, dead or alive.
The public were shocked at the dreadful outrage the gang had
committed. It was thought that the avenging hand of justice would
soon be upon them, but in this they were doomed to
disappointment. There is in every country a large number of
dishonest people who have no respect for the law. They hate as
well as dread the uniform of the police. Another class are the
relatives of criminals. They are not dishonest themselves and have
no sympathy with deeds of violence, yet the ties of nature are so
strong that they are unable to resist the temptation to keep silence,
or even to refrain from assisting them to escape, if it was in their
power to do so.
Bushranging was always very expensive; so many had to be
bribed by what was called “bush money”, and the bushrangers
employed spies to let them know when danger was near. Such
unprincipled scoundrels are, unfortunately, far too numerous. They
neither care for the law nor the law-breaker, all they want is
monetary gain for themselves.
The trail was followed by the police from Stringybark Creek
further into the ranges, but was soon lost in the rough country.
Days lengthened into weeks, and weeks into months; still, the
pursuers seemed no nearer discovering the whereabouts of the
outlaws. The police force was strengthened and their pay was
doubled. Hundreds of men were employed scouring the North East
in the parts where it was thought the outlaws might be, but all
without success.
Mrs Kelly was liberated from jail and allowed to go home in
the hope that the sons would visit their mother, but they kept away.
Two of the daughters, Kate and Grace, were both expert
horsewomen. They had inherited some of the wild spirit of the
bush, and they loved to gallop over the ranges. Many an old-man
kangaroo has looked back with fear in his eyes, when Kate was in
hot pursuit on her dashing bay. The police thought that these
excursions into the hills might lead to a clue, and the Kelly sisters
were shadowed, but all to no avail. They were never seen to meet
anyone, then they pulled down their mother’s house and did not
leave a stick or a stone standing. Mrs. Kelly had another house
built on the other side of the creek, and there were reports that the
outlaws had been seen in some place. The police would rush off,
only to meet with disappointment or to hear that they were in some
other place a hundred miles away. And so it went on month after
month.
At length some enterprising person invented a story that the
Kellys had escaped from Australia on a boat that sailed from
Sydney, bound for America, Ned disguised as a clergyman and
two of the other outlaws as women. There were some who were
foolish enough to believe it, but the police were unshaken in their
belief that the gang were still in the district. Where they were will
never be known, but it was evident that they were in close touch
with a number of sympathisers. They have been credited by some
writers with sticking up stores and robbing people on the roads. I
think I am safe in saying they never did anything of the kind - they
only played for big game. The bank robberies, cunningly planned
by Ned, were carried out like clockwork.
Ned Kelly could almost be regarded as a sort of a Robin
Hood, robbing the rich and giving to the poor. It is a very great
pity that his talents were used in the wrong direction.
Chapter 11.
The Euroa Bank Robbery
The Kellys had been in hiding for many months and it was
evident they were short of funds. Their agents, not yet known to
the police, would be growing restless and wanting to know if
harbouring them was worth the risk if they were to get nothing for
it. So the outlaws made their plans to rob the Euroa Bank.
They cut the telegraph wires on both sides of the town and
stuck up a cattle station about four miles on the Benalla side of
Euroa. They made prisoners of all the people of the station. One
man, a Scotsman, refused to go into the storeroom, but Ned Kelly
put the revolver in his mouth, and he replied: “Man, I smell
powder there now. I will do whatever you want me to do”.
Making their prisoners secured, the outlaws then took two of
the buggies from the station and they drove into Euroa a little
before three o’clock - at the most busy time of the day. So well did
they lay their plans, that they were able to commit the robbery,
close the bank, and take the manager and his wife and children
together with the clerks and drive them all off in the presence of
many people in the street. On their way to the station on the main
road they met a funeral; pulling to the side, they stopped, removed
their hats and bared heads, and sat in a state of reverence until the
funeral train has passed. Several of the bank manager’s friends
were in the procession and nodded to him, thinking he was out for
a pleasure trip with some friends, never dreaming that the party
were being carried off by a band of outlaws carrying eight
thousand pound from the bank.
When they arrived at the station, the guard reported all well.
The prisoners had been orderly and well behaved. Another man
had been added to the number of prisoners - a hawker of drapery.
He was brought out to show the goods he had in his wagon. The
Kelly Gang bought four suits of clothes and paid him for them
with some of the gold they had taken from the bank. Then they
demanded refreshments, and after having a hearty meal, they were
preparing to take their departure.
Dan Kelly said: “While you are packing up, I will go and have
a bit of fun with one of the women”, but Ned answered him very
crossly: “You will do nothing of the kind while I am the leader of
this gang. No woman shall be molested. And I insist on every
member of my party treating all women with respect!”
The horses were saddled, the money strapped on them. The
outlaws rode away with the threat that anyone who gave
information would be shot.
Chapter 12.
Unsuccessful pursuit.
For some time the people, who had passed through such a
startling experience, sat looking at each other, almost afraid to
speak or even move. The gang had ridden away into the night, but
who could say that they had not returned? They might even now be
lying in wait to shoot anyone that would have to make bold to try
to get away to spread the news of their desperate doings!
At last a move was made. There was no sign of the robbers
being about. The bank manager and his party were driven into
Euroa. The news soon spread of the daring exploit of the Kelly
Gang. An attempt was made to wire the news to Melbourne and
Benalla, but the foresight of the gang prevented that being
accomplished. Indeed, they were bold enough to be seen cutting
the wires when a train was passing. The train crew thought they
were experts repairing the line. No message could be sent until
some man went to Longwood on a railway trolley, and the news
was telegraphed to Melbourne. A special train was despatched
with a strong force of mounted police and black trackers. They
arrived at Euroa early the next morning, but the outlaws had got a
long start. The trail was easy to find. It led in the direction of the
Strathbogie Ranges. The police came on several camps, but the
wanted men disappeared into the ranges. Still they followed them
over hills, up creeks, through mountain passes and along bridle
tracks. The travelling was becoming hard for both men and horses,
and they were in great danger of being shot down from some
ambush.
No one knows the risk they had taken, only those who have
been in these places. There are eaves so inaccessible that one man
could defy a whole company. Still they pressed on, mile after mile.
At length they came to a piece of tableland. Here, there had been a
recent camp; the fire was still smouldering, but there was no sign
of anyone being in locality. The strangest thing of all was that
there was a jumble of fresh tracks, made leading in ever so many
different directions. The police tried first one track, and then
another, but all without success. The tracks would go through the
scrub and disappear on the rocks. It was impossible to follow them,
and the police had to confess that they were beaten. Tired, worn
out and disheartened, they returned to Euroa, no nearer to solving
the mystery than ever. The outlaws had disappeared as completely
as if the earth had opened and swallowed them up.
Theory after theory was considered, only to be rejected as
impossible. It was quite evident they could not have done what
they did without a large number of accomplices – or what is
known as “sleeping partners”. Most likely, there were a number of
others in the plot, and it was part of the program that they should
meet the Kellys on the tableland, or be there waiting for them.
When they came there, they would divide up the cash and go away
in different directions. It was obvious that the gang did not go to
the tent, where the police expected to find them.
It is a well known fact that the Kellys had relatives in many
parts of the state and a number of friends unknown to the police.
These friends would gladly shelter them because they knew they
would be well paid. These young desperados knew the country
from the Murray to the sea; they have been over it many times.
Also, they had trained their horses to mountain climbing and
would ride over hills and through trackless ranges, where no other
horseman would dare to follow. It has been said – but I do not
know on what authority - that when they succeeded in throwing
their pursuers off their track they went straight across the ranges
into Gippsland, where in many parts they could go about
unsuspected. They were credited with going into Bairnsdale to buy
provisions on more than one occasion, and it is quite likely they
did. The police were working for four men, when often there was
only one.
There was a wild story that the outlaws were hiding in the
Buchan caves. I don’t give it much credit, even though the caves
would appear to be an ideal place to hide in, when they were still
in their original state, but at that time the Kellys were unknown to
anyone who has seen them of recent years. A well known fact was
that I the Kellys visited Orbost; it was supposed that they had
relations there.
In any case, the outlaws did not stay anywhere long. They
were fleeing from the avenger of blood and were at enmity with
the world. They had broken the laws of God and man. Thoughts of
their evil deeds were ever with them. In the dark they would start
at the slightest sound. They would see the bodies of their victims
lying stiff and stark, or the pleading eyes of Sergeant Kennedy,
when he begged them to spare his life for the sake of his wife and
children. They flattered themselves with the thought that they had
only taken human life when it was to save their own - what right
had people to stand in the way of their evil deeds? If they did, they
were prepared to take more life. How hardened men can become!
What right had they to take other peoples property? What right had
they to make widows and fatherless children? The blood of three
honest men was crying out for vengeance. The mills grind slowly
but exceedingly small, so they could not shake off the thoughts of
the dreadful fate that was to overtake them. They dreaded the
police; they could outwit them, but they could not get away from
their own thoughts, which were always there with them like some
horrid nightmare.
What could they do? Where could they go? They would think
out places for their escape, but then they thoughts would scare
them out of their wits up to weakness and cowardice, and they
would not try to get away, but plan fresh robberies instead. They
would show their cunning, daring and skill from time to time. They
got news of the police; they read in the papers where the police
were hot on their track. They know that the police were either
going to overwhelm them or starve them out, and they laughed
when they knew this was going to be done hundreds of miles from
where they really were. The man in the street was saying: “We
have heard the last of the Kellys! They have got out of the country,
and by this time are the other side of the world”.
Money is the great power. With that they can go anywhere,
but they had no intention of leaving the country, even if they
could. They had finally made a decision of what they were going
to do. They had planned another bank robbery that was to be a
greater success than Euroa.
Chapter 13
The Jerilderie Bank Robbery
(Missing)
Chapter 14
The Mystery Deepens
(The beginning of this chapter is missing.)
While the mystery had deepened, the outlaws were
laying out their plans for a still more daring outrage.
They were prepared to undertake anything. So far
everything had gone well with them. They had been
able to bluff their pursuers and woe-betide the men who
dared to stand in the way of their plans. They were
drunk with success, and thought no skill could conquer
their cunning. They were like the elusive Pimpernel; we
seek him here, we seek him there, those French seek
him everywhere; is he in heaven, is he in hell, that
damned elusive Pimpernel?
The Kellys had thought out a scheme, by which they were to
be proof against rifle bullets. A morning, when a number of the
farmers in Greta went out to plough, they found that their
mouldboards had been stolen. Brown, Smith, and Jones met in
Wangaratta, they had all come for the same purpose, to order new
mouldboards. Soon they were joined by five or six more angry
farmers, who had come in for the same business. It was most
annoying that their ploughing should be delayed. They were loud
in the condemnation of the silly practical joke of some brainless
hooligans. Most likely, their boards were lying at the bottom of
some dam in the district, and would not be found until the next
drought came. Not a few of the angry men said damn suspicious
things.
Events proved that it was not a joke, but a deep laid plan. The
gang had secured the services of a blacksmith to make the stolen
mouldboards into suits of armour. The man was a farmer, who had
been working in the district, but no one would suspect him – he
was a good man who never failed to attend church, a Methodist
who always stood for the prayer meetings. And he was deeply
grieved at the dishonesty of the mean thief who stole the farmers’
mouldboards.
The blacksmith disappeared shortly after the boards were
taken, and was never seen again. It was thought he had been well
paid, and betook himself to fields green and pastures new.
There was much talk as to where and how the armour was
made. It was quite evident that the work was done in the bush.
There was the place in the ranges only known to a few, who called
it “Devil’s Basin”. It was only accessible from one point, and that
was so overgrown with scrub and undergrowth, as to make the
entrance hard to find. It was thought that that this was the safe
retreat, where the blacksmith worked with hammer and tongs. The
measurements of the men must have been taken. Every suit fitted
perfectly; the armour was cleverly made, protecting the whole of
the body. The front and back plates were joined at the side with
rings and fastened with a clasp on the opposite side, so that they
could be quickly removed. There was a sort of apron to protect the
upper parts of the legs, and shoulder plates for the shoulders. The
helmet was made of three pieces of mouldboard. The two front
plates were riveted to the back plate, and a slit was left for the
eyes. When the helmet was worn, its weight rested on the
shoulders of the body plates. Ned Kelly’s armour weighed between
eighty and ninety pounds. The others were not so heavy.
I had the chance of trying on the armour, and I saw distinctly
the stain of the sap from a green tree. This proved that the armour
had been made in the bush and turned into shape on logs, cut for
the purpose.
Chapter 15
The Murder at the Woolshed.
It has often been said that there is honour among thieves, and
it is true in many cases; they will suffer rather than betray their
friends. Very few will be tempted by money, but those who are,
bring upon themselves the hatred and revenge of those they have
betrayed.
The gang have been hiding in perfect safety and could have
remained there until the want of funds compelled them to make
another raid. But one of their friends had proved false and they
knew it, so they determined that the traitor must die. They would
use his death as a decoy for their much hated pursuers and thus,
they will be revenged on the police.
For years there had been a compact between Kelly and Byrne.
They were both wild sons of the hills. Byrne’s mother lived in the
Woolshed District, and living not far from her was Joe’s cousin, a
young man named Aaron Sherritt, who had been in close touch
with the movements of the Kelly Gang. He was an acquaintance of
the Kelly family for years. Some have gone as far as to say that
there was a love affair between Aaron and Kate. I do not think
there is much grounds for the statement, but if he was a rejected
lover, he soon consoled himself with another girl. Now he had
been married for some time.
Aaron was suspected of being one of a party who meet the
gang in the hills after they robbed the Euroa Bank, and assisted in
carrying off the spoil. He was arrested and put in jail, but there was
no proof of his guilt.
The Kelly scare became so great that efforts to capture the
gang were doubled. Not only police, but scores of detectives were
employed. They were at railway trains, working in places of
business, or carrying their swags on the roads. Some, disguised as
tramps, begged their bread in order to gain any information that
was usually not to be got. The police went into the ranges and
made camps exactly the same as the bushrangers’.
Sherritt was still in the pay of the outlaws, but was also in the
pay of the police. He was doing well; his victims did not suspect
him. Soon the police would be hot on the trail. He had visions of
wealth and comfort. When the gang were all dead, he would go
away where he was not known, and live on the reward.
He used his house as a secret meeting place for the police in
the night. Often they were hiding there in the day. There was a
police camp in the ranges near Beechworth. It was well hidden by
rocks and scrub. The police were waiting for Sherritt to bring them
news.
But their presence was known to someone else. An old woman
was lying in the rocks, overlooking the camp. Day and night she
had been there. Aaron Sherritt had got news of the gang, and came
to the camp to tell the police. She saw him - and it sealed his
doom. Dan Kelly and Joe Byrne went to his house one dark night.
Kelly knocked at the door and called Aaron in an assumed voice.
Sherritt opened the door, but no sooner did he show himself than
Byrne shot him. He fell dead at his wife’s feet.
Dan and Joe made a great heap of wood at the end of the
house, and set it on fire but the wood was damp, the fire went out,
and the house was saved.
Ned Kelly and Steve Hart were already in the Glenrowan
District, and the other two outlaws galloped off to join them. The
public were shocked at the cold-blooded murder of a police agent,
and prompt measures were taken to bring the murders to book.
Ned Kelly foresaw this.
Chapter 16.
The Breaking up of the Gang.
Something has been said about Glenrowan in the early part of
my story, but that was in the sixties. It is now 1880. Years have
passed. They have brought many changes. The wagoners no longer
whip, slash and swear to get their heavy wagons through the
crabholes. The crack of the mail-coach man’s whip is forgotten.
All these things are out of date and have been replaced by the
railway. Many new settlers have come to the district, prosperous
homes have sprung up in Glenrowan, Taminick and North Winton,
and even the dreaded crabholes have been divided up into farms.
William Liddle and many others have passed away. The hotel
and store are still standing, but have long since been closed and
used as private houses. There is a state school on the other side of
the Sydney Road. This place was not suitable for a railway station.
It has been built about a mile nearer Wangaratta and a small
township has grown around it. There are two hotels, a store, and a
few private houses. On the north side, the hotel is kept by Mrs.
Jones, and south of the line the hotel was kept by Paddy
McDonnell. The railway station was fairly large one. A large
quantity of wheat, oats and other farm produce is delivered there.
The post office was at the railway station.
Now, let us look at the year 1922. The township is still small.
There is only one hotel; it is a large one and is well conducted.
After the Kelly capture a licence could never be got for Mrs.
Jones’ hotel. It has been rebuilt twice and is now run as a wine
shop. There are two stores - a baker’s and a butcher’s shop, a
blacksmith’s shop, and a post office. The old store was pulled
down, and the bricks were used to build a police station near the
railway station. There is a Shire stone crushing that gives
employment to a number of men, and for that reason there are
more private houses. There is also a wood mill. The school was
removed into the township over thirty year ago. There are three
churches – Church of England, Roman Catholic Church, and
Methodist Church. With all this evidence of man’s repentance it
can be said that things have changed for the better.
The old people are gone; there are only a few alive who took
part in the Kelly capture. At that time, people were talking about
the dreadful murder. Arrangements have being made to despatch a
special train load of police to Wangaratta, while Ned Kelly was in
Glenrowan, working out his plans to entrap them. The Kelly Gang
made their headquarters at Jones’ hotel.
It was an easy matter for the outlaws to round up the few
people who lived in the township. Having done this, they told the
stationmaster he would have to go with them and make a breach in
the line. He said that he knew nothing about that kind of work and
would be quite unable to do it. They then called upon the line
repairers, and while Steve Hart stayed on guard, Ned forced the
men to go at the point of the revolver, get the tools out of the shed,
put them on a trolley and take them to a place about a quarter of a
mile from the station. There they stood over the men and made
them take up two lengths of rails.
The place was chosen for the villain as purpose; there was a
curve in the line, a high embankment, a culvert and a deep ravine,
into which the train would have fallen. The police took the
precaution of running a pilot engine in front of the train, but even
this would not save them. The curve was so sharp that they would
not have seen the pilot go over. The gang were going to be there
and shoot at those who were not killed in the wrecked train. If their
plans had been carried out, it would have been the most dreadful
outrage in the history of crime.
They work done and the trap set, the outlaws returned to the
hotel to sleep in turns, while one watched. The prisoners could get
no rest, being all packed in one room. Sunday morning was spent
in rounding up more prisoners.
At the time of the Kelly scare, there was a policeman stationed
at Glenrowan, but he lived in the old store. The outlaws went there
and took him by surprise, handcuffed him, and sent him off to the
hotel. His wife was in bed with a baby a few days old. Ned Kelly
said it would not be safe to remove her. He turned back the wraps
and looking at the child, he said: “You are a fine little chap. I
might be worth a thousand pounds to you some day”. Then he
went to the school and told the teacher, Thomas Curnow, to put his
horse in the buggy and take his wife and child to the hotel. Mr.
Curnow was a cripple; he had a short leg. He could walk but was
very lame. He was a man of quick thought and great courage, and
when he found how things were, he determined, if possible, to get
the gang to believe that he was with them, which he succeeded in
doing.
The afternoon and evening was spent in dancing to the music
of an accordion. Curnow talked a lot with Ned Kelly, arguing with
him over his plans, and flattering him and encouraging him to
drink freely, and so far gained his point that Kelly told him to go
home, but said: “Mind you, don’t dream too loud. As you do, you
will be a dead man”.
When Curnow reached home, he took the horse out of the
buggy and put the saddle and bridle on him. His wife asked: “What
are you going to do?”
“Ride to Benalla”, he answered.
“If you do”, said she, “they will come and shoot me and the
child”.
“If I don’t go”, replied he, “hundreds of lives will be lost. My
duty is plain, and I must do it”. At that moment, he heard the train
in the far distance. There was not a minute to lose. He ran into the
house, got a piece of candle and a red cloth, and rushed to the
railway line, a distance of about 150 yards. He reached there just in
time to light his candle and stop the pilot engine. The train drew
up, and Mr. Curnow cautioned them that the line was torn up on
the other side of the station, and the Kelly Gang were at Jones’
hotel.
After giving this information, he refused to board the train,
preferring to go back and defend his wife and child, and if needs
be, die for them. They gave him a revolver, and he went back. If he
had not stoped the train, it would have meant disaster to all on
board. Thomas Curnow performed a deed for Australia, and for
humanity, that few have ever equalled. He afterwards said that
when he was on his way, he thought his last moments had come.
He heard something coming to meet him. It must be one of the
gang!! But it was a goat, and he was so panic-stricken that he
nearly shot the poor beast.
Up at the hotel they heard the train coming, and the faces of
the imprisoned people were transfixed with horror, as they thought
of the crash that was to come in a few minutes - of the orgy of
blood - but the train stopped. Ned Kelly sprang up with a curse
upon his lips: “We have been betrayed! It is Curnow or Mrs.
Bracken! I will go and shoot the lot!” But he did not have time.
The train was coming full steam ahead and stoped at the station.
The gang knew that the cat was out of the bag, but they would put
up a fight.
The brakes had not stoped grinding, when twenty-five shots
were fired from the hotel verandah. Most of them hit the train, but
beyond breaking a few windows no damage was done. Then began
a battle that lasted all night.
The tactics adopted by the police is a black spot on the police
history of Australia. There was a washed out drain between the
hotel and the station. In this drain a number of the police took
shelter. They had been ordered to keep up a constant fire on the
hotel. There were forty innocent people imprisoned, consisting of
men, women and children. Their position was desperate. They
were all laying flat on the floor, some with people lying across
their legs, other with someone on their arms.
The outlaws were trying to shoot the police from the windows.
They had their armour on. Time after time people begged to let
them go out, but the answer they got was: “You are safer here.
Stay with us”.
Joe Byrne was standing in the bar drinking a glass on brandy,
and as he rose it to his lips, he exclaimed: “Here’s too many happy
years in the bush”! At this moment, he fell dead, hit with a bullet
in the groin.
About this time, Mr Stanistreet crept out. A scary line of rifles
were levelled at him. He threw up his hands calling out:”
“Stationmaster!”
About this time Constable Bracken managed to escape from
the hotel and informed the police officers that there were still
thirty-eight civilians inside, but the firing from outside went on
until the walls of the hotel were like a sieve. At last Dan Kelly
announced: “You can go out if you like”. All made a rush, but
were met by a hot rifle fire. Mrs. Reardon was carrying a baby. A
bullet passed through its hood but luckily did not hurt the child.
John Jones, a young lad, the son of the landlady, was shot. He
died the next day. His sister was also wounded and she died three
months after.
Michael Reardon was shot in the chest; he is still carrying the
bullet within an inch of his heart. The Government have been
paying him a pound a week for forty-two years - a sum of two
thousand one hundred and eighty-four pounds.
I knew a man named Martin Cherry, a repairer on the railway
line. He was an Irishman of the good old school, a merry old soul.
His Irish wit and humour made him good company, and he was
always welcome wherever he went. Someone told him the Kellys
were at Jones’ hotel, but he said: “I don’t believe it. I will go and
see”. He went, but it cost him his life. Laying on the floor in a back
room, he was suffering greatly. His limbs were cramped and
numbed from laying on the hard boards. A man named Larkins
was lying beside him. Hearing the crowd go out of the hotel and
noting that there was a lull in the firing, Larkins proposed that they
should go out. but Cherry said: “No, we are safer here, but my
poor old bones are sore, I would be more comfortable on
something softer”. He got on the bed. No sooner had he done so,
however, the firing started again, and a bullet passed through his
body. Larkins tried to stanch the wound with a silk pocket
handkerchief, but a bullet knocked off a bit of his ear, and he was
compelled to leave Cherry to his fate. Escaping from the building,
he made know the desperate condition of poor Cherry, but it made
no difference.
The guns still thundered. The police sent to Melbourne for a
cannon to blow the hotel down, but it only got as far as Seymour,
when word was sent it would not be required.
The night was far spent. There were signs of the approaching
day. Sergeant Steele, a railway guard, and a gentleman from the
western district were behind some trees about a hundred yards
from the hotel, where the police station now stands; they saw a
man coming from the direction of the Sydney Road. He was
wearing an overcoat and had something on his head, like a nail
can. Thinking he was a madman, the men called out: “Go back,
you fool, you will get shot”! The answer he gave was a volley of
revolver bullets. He struck his breast with his hand and shouted:
“Come-on you curs! I am bullet-proof”. They accepted the
challenge and began to fire at him, but with no effect. Every time
they struck him, he rang like a bell. Some reckoned: “It is no use;
we are firing at the devil." But Sergeant Steele formed the opinion
that the man was wearing armour. He put two duck shot cartridges
in his gun and aimed at the strange person’s legs. He started to run
and fell. When they reached him, he was hammering on the helmet
with his revolver. They thought he was trying to shoot himself, but
he afterwards told them it was a signal for his mates to come to his
assistance.
When the police took him to the railway station, they found
that the captive was Ned Kelly, the leader of that desperate gang,
who had struck terror into the Australian police for three years.
Now captured, he was quite calm, and when they administered first
aid, he asked: “Why don’t you, fellows, use bullets - not duck
shots?”
The day was now well advanced. People had come from all
parts from the surrounding district. Special trains have been run,
bringing large numbers of people from Wangaratta, Benalla, and
Melbourne. The crowd was increasing as hour by hour went by.
The hotel still holds out, but they have only fired a few shots.
Now the resistance has died out - all is still, no sound comes from
the ill-fated house. It was known that Byrne was killed many hours
ago, and the leader was in the hands of the police at the railway
station. There is only Dan Kelly and Steve Hart left. Why do not
the officers order the men to search the building? Surely, they are
not cowards? I think the reward was influencing them, and they
did not want any of the men to distinguish themselves. A trouper
dressed himself in Ned Kelly’s armour and prepared to go singlehanded, but was told to obey orders.
The Kelly sisters, in the agony of tears, pleaded to be allowed
to go and see their brother, but permission wars refused, and when
they attempted to go on their own responsibility, they were brought
back at the point of the rifle.
There was a priest present. His name was Father Gibney. I am
told he is now a Bishop in West Australia. He was a brave man and
offered to go to the hotel, and if Dan Kelly and Steve Hart were
still alive, induce them to surrender, but his services were curtly
refused. It appeared that the lion was dead, and they were afraid to
go near it.
At last, the most insane order ever given came. “Fire the
house!” What a cruel thing to do! Had they no regard for the life of
that innocent man, Martin Cherry, who lay bleeding in a back
room? Apart from this, what madness! No one knows what papers
might have been found, or what criminals brought to justice only
for the fire.
This was not like the action of a well organised police force.
We would have only expected such a thing to be done by a band of
rabble.
A trooper crept up to the building with a large bundle of straw;
put a match to it, and the deed was done. Soon the red flames were
shooting high in the direction of the bright blue sky. The crowd
stood spellbound at such a want in act of destruction. Then a cry of
horror went up: “Martin Cherry is in the house!” Oh, that dreadful
fire! Even now he would be dying by inches. Nothing could save
him now, but the cry reached a noble heart. Father Gibney,
regardless of danger, rushed through fire and smoke. He stumbled
over a body and carried it out.
A cheer died on the lips of the watchers and ended in a cry of
despair. It was the body of Joe Byrne. The priest, still undaunted,
handed over his grim burden and rushed back into the fire. People
stood as if they were in a dream. Everyone held their breath. “The
house would fall. The roof was caving in. No one could escape.
The brave priest would be burnt to death”.
But no! There is someone coming out of the fire. It is Father
Gibney with Martin Cherry in his arms. Their faces are burnt and
blackened. Silence falls on the throng. They gather around. The
priest, still holding Cherry in his arms, repeated a prayer. There is
a gasp and a sigh, and Martin Cherry is dead - gone, where the
wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at rest.
When the fire burnt down, the bodies of the outlaws were
found laying on the ruins of a bed-stead. They had taken the
armour off; it was lying beside them. It is most likely they shot
themselves to avoid capture. Of course, they were burnt beyond
recognition, but there is not a shadow of a doubt as to their
identity; they were Dan Kelly and Steve Hart.
There have been lots of wild stories told about their escape.
Some unprincipled fellows at the South African war passed
themselves off as the escaped highwaymen, and said the bodies
found were those of two swagmen. Even as late as the last great
war, the same story was told. There are always people who have
such a love of notoriety, that they will tell any lies.
I once heard a man in a hotel in Melbourne enlarging on the
deeds of the Kelly Gang. I could not help telling him he knew very
little of what he was talking about. He boasted: “I should think I
ought to know, when I am their brother Jim”. I was sure then, and
told him I knew Jim Kelly. He was a man, and if he were there, he
would wipe the floor with him. The hero made himself scarce.
The morning after the fire, the place presented a sight of utter
desolation. The ruins were still smouldering. There were eight
horses laying dead. One of the first things done by the police was
to shoot every horse near the place in order to prevent anyone from
escaping on them. Crowds of people were raking and scratching in
the embers, searching for souvenirs. In the centre of a smouldering
heap lay the cleared remains of Dave Mortimer’s greyhound dog.
The faithful brut had followed his master into the hotel, and had
shared the same fate as the men who had brought about the
destruction of the place.
There was a rumble of wheels. A heavy wagonette came down
the Sydney Road and passed through the township. In it were two
coffins. The charred bodies were handed over to the relatives and
taken to Mrs Kelly’s, and from there to the Greta Cemetery, where
a rose bush marks the spot. The body of Joe Byrne was wrapped in
a blanket and buried by the police in the Benalla Cemetery at
midnight.
Chapter 17
The Last of Ned Kelly.
The bushrangers had a long run, and no decent person could
have any sympathy for them after the cold-blooded murder of the
three policemen in the Wombat Ranges. Everyone feared what the
end would be. No one thought they could be guilty of such a
diabolical plot as that of wrecking the train, and all honest people
looked upon the crime with intense loathing. The crime may be
some excuse for the police, but to say the least, their head as well
as their nerve, and the saddest thing of all is that it cost the lives of
three innocent people. Who would think that the descendants of
such men would be amongst the men who stormed Voussoirs, or
stood like a wall of steel before Amiens, and hurled the Germans
back again until they had to retire, bleeding, broken and beaten.
I am not condemning all of the police. A whole company may
be lost by the funking of a few of their number, or they may fail
through the mistakes of their officers. They must obey orders. I
have no doubt, that there were many men at Glenrowan who would
have been brave enough to win the V.C., if opportunity had come
their way.
Mrs Jones was in a dreadful way. She blamed the police for all
her trouble. It was pitiful to see her when the news of her son’s
death was brought to her. She looked at the ruins of her home,
wrung her hands and sobbed as though her heart would break. It
was true the government would compensate her for the loss of her
property, but nothing could give her back her child. In her raving
she denounced the police, calling them everything that was bad,
but no one held her responsible for what she said, because she was
distracted with grief.
Ned Kelly was taken to Melbourne and placed in the gaol
hospital. Soon he recovered from his wounds, only being caused
by duck shots. Sometimes he talked freely, but had no sense or
shame or remorse for what he had done. His grievance was against
the police; he felt he had been treated unjustly and accused of
things he was not guilty of. The one regret he expressed was the
shooting of Sergeant Kennedy. He said the Sergeant was a brave
man and fought fairly. He was laying badly wounded and begged
Ned to spare his life for the sake of his wife and little children. He
was in great pain, but the gang could do nothing for him. To leave
him would have been worse than to shoot him, so they chose the
latter. They had to do it when the wounded man was not looking.
When Ned was asked if they tortured him, he indignantly denied it,
and said if the body had been tampered with, it had not been done
by the Kellys.
On Sunday evening at Glenrowan, when his tongue was
loosen by drink, he talked freely and told about a good many of
their experiences, declaring that they would be able to defy the law
as long as they liked. From words dropped it was evident that the
outlaws thought that if they succeeded in wrecking the train,
everyone would rush to Glenrowan; Benalla would be left without
police protection and the gang could ride down and rob the three
banks. Ned did not say exactly that they were going to do it, but
expressed the opinion that it could be done. He said they were sick
and tired of being hunted from place to place, and did not care
much how things went. However, it was a blessing that the gang
was broken up, and the bushranging of the back country of
Australia was at an end for all time.
Ned Kelly was brought from Melbourne by special train
several times to appear before the court at Beechworth. It has been
said that when the train drew near the Strathbogie Ranges, he
would look out and say to himself: “There they are. Will I ever be
there again?” At times he would sing songs and be in wonderfully
good spirits, defiant to the last.
It was a very great pity, that one with such a powerful brain
should have turned his energy to such a brutal purpose. He baffled
the best skills that could be brought against him both in this state
and New South Wales, and by the way he carried out his plans,
proved himself to be a genius of no mean order. Had he placed his
powers in the right direction, he could have been a power for good
instead of evil. It proves the truth of the old proverb “evil
communication corrupts good manners”.
It was his association with Power, the bushranger, that first led
him to tread the path of folly. If he had lived at the time of the
Great War, instead of dying the death of a felon on the gallows, his
memory covered with disgrace. He may have fallen on the
battlefields of the Empire, covered with glory, or won the V.C.,
and returned to Australia, loved and admired by a grateful public.
Subsequent events in the family will prove what I am stating
to be true. I am not saying this to make excuses in any way, and I
have no sympathy with those who break the law. The Thorns and
the Briars had overgrown Ned’s heart, and made him a beast of
prey.
Ned Kelly stood his trial in Melbourne before Judge Barry. He
was found guilty and sentenced to death. When asked by His
Honour if he had anything to say, why sentence of death should
not be passed upon him, all he said was: “I will go a little further
than that and say I will see you there, where I go”. It was strange
he should say this. The judge died within three months after Kelly
was hanged.
While waiting for his execution he seemed quite cheerful. It
has been said that when he was asked what he would have for his
last meal, he said: “Roast lamb, green peas, and a bottle of Claret”.
A man under sentence of death is given anything he likes to ask
for. It is fulfilling the words of the good old book: “Give strong
drink to him, who is ready to perish”. Ned is said to have smoked
his pipe before walking with a firm step onto the scaffold. When
asked if he had anything to say, he said: “Oh, well. Such is life”.
The bolt was drawn. The drop fell. Death was instantaneous. So
died the last of the Kelly Gang.
On the night after the execution, there was a large sideshow
tent pitched on a vacant allotment somewhere in Melbourne. On a
box stood a magician, shouting at the top of his voice: “Come this
way! Come this way and see the mother and sisters of Ned Kelly,
who was hanged this morning. They are now on the inside. Pass
right in for the small sum of one shilling”. In the tent sat an elderly
woman and two girls. The public came in hundreds; so strong was
the morbid curiosity, that it fairly rained shillings. The organisers
of the show made so much money that they repeated the farce in
other places, even going into New South Wales. At Parramatta
they showed “Ned Kelly’s grey mare”, and it turned out that they
had bought the horse from a farmer a few miles out of the town.
People are very foolish to be taken in this way.
A mother and sisters would not resort to such a mean way of
making money, even if they were starving.
Chapter 18.
A Mother’s Sorrows.
Time was passing. Three years had elapsed since the gang had
been broken up. We have all heard the story of King Richard the
First, the mighty man of war. So great was his strength, that he
wielded a battle-axe of enormous weight, and he was so dreaded
by his enemies, that his fame lived for hundreds of years. If a horse
shied, the rider would say: “Dost thou think King Richard is in that
bush? And for years, some foolish mothers would say to their
children: “If you do not be good, Ned Kelly will get you!”
Prejudice is hard to kill. The world is cruel, selfish and
unkind. We are in danger of making those suffer, who least
deserve to be condemned.
A thrashing machine was working at a farm on the creek. All
was hurry and rush. Men toiled in the heat. The sheaves were
pitched from the stacks to the hand-cutters and passed on to the
feeder. The straw rolled up the elevators. Chaffey and Cavey were
hard at work. A number of men were busy filling, sewing and
stacking bags of wheat.
At a little distance under the shade of a big gum tree, there are
five or six farmers’ daughters waiting with the lunch. We hear
their merry laughter and jokes about the boys. A rider is seen to be
coming down the road; it proves to be a woman. She is mounted
on a fine upstanding bay horse and sits gracefully on side-saddle.
She is wearing a black riding habit a white blouse, and a black hat.
It can at once be seen that she is an accomplished horsewoman,
rather past middle age, but still very good looking. Her face is
pleasant, but her brow is furrowed with sorrow.
She approached the owner of the thrashing machine and said:
“My name is Mrs. Kelly. I have three wheat stacks. Will you come
and trash them?” When he assured her he would be pleased to do
so, she was loud in her thanks. She admitted she had been almost
afraid to come and ask him, but he replied: “Your money is as
good as anybody’s. You are honest, and will pay for the work”.
She nodded. “Oh, yes! You can be sure of your money. You
do not seem to understand what the trouble is. I am the mother of
outlaws, who died for their crimes. People look down on us and
avoid us”.
Being a fair-minded man, he answered: “I think that is a cruel
thing for them to do. Your sons were guilty of a most dreadful
crime. They have been made to pay the extreme penalty of the law.
They are dead, and the matter should be allowed to rest; you
should not be made to suffer on their account”.
These few straightforward words, spoken in a kindly spirit,
sank deeply into her breast, and she never forgot them.
How dreadfully cruel it was for this poor woman to feel that
she carried the brand of Cain! How often it has been said: “Am I
my brother’s keeper?” To a very great extent, we are. Our actions
influence others. If we are guilty of things that are mean and
selfish, our friends are made to suffer. It is our duty to look for the
best, not the worst, in our fellow men. We often only see the
Thorns and the Briars and overlook the roses in the better side of
life.
The thrashing at Kellys’ was something pleasant to remember.
The conduct of the family was all that could be desired. The
woman’s heart responded to the kindness extended to her.
Sitting under a big willow tree in the warm summer evening
with Kate and Grace at her feet, she told the story of the lawless
career of her sons from her point of view.
While she made no excuse for them, she said it was all
brought about through the row in the house, when, in the heat of
temper she struck Fitzpatrick over the head with the fire-shovel,
and the fatal mistake was made, when they put her in prison. If she
had been at home, she would have been able to save her sons from
being guilty of murder and would have freely given her life’s
blood to save them from a career of crime.
The scorn and contempt that was shown the Kelly family by
some people was hard to bear. When she spoke about the sideshows that had gone about the country, her eyes filled with tears;
what dreadful things people could do for money! They had no
mercy or pity for the feelings of those who were overtaken by
misfortune.
“Oh, that dreadful night! How can I ever forget it? While I
was in an agony of grief, with my heart broken, people were trying
to sink me lower in the eyes of the world”.
So the evening went before they knew it. The hour of
midnight had arrived, and the listener went to his bed on a bundle
of straw under the open canopy of heaven. The stars twinkled.
There was a red glow in the sky, a sign that another hot day was
not far away. Down in the old creek, the frogs croaked. There was
the hoot of an owl, and then came the cry of a night hawk, but the
stranger did not hear them. He was deep in thought how strange it
was that he should meet the woman in his way! He was thinking
about the story and turning it over in his mind. The woman that he
had heard so much about was intensely human, with all the love of
a mother’s heart. She may have had her faults, but beyond all
doubt, there was a lot of good in her.
A good name easily lost but very hard to regain. We
sometimes bring upon ourselves the disrespect of our fellows by
our own folly.
This can be well said about Mrs Kelly. She was left a widow
when her family were young. A few years before the outbreak of
the gang, she married again. Her second husband was a drover, and
he was often away. There were no near neighbours, and the
husband was hardly ever seen about the place. People called her
“Mrs Kelly” and she let them continue to do so, and she neglected
to make her marriage public. There was a boy and two girls in the
second family. Not knowing the truth, people regarded her as an
immoral woman.
I am quite sure of my ground. She was married in Benalla by a
Protestant minister. I knew him well; he is since dead. I also know
one of the witnesses who is still alive.
The husband disappeared about the time of the outbreak, and
it was reported that he was drowned while he was attempting to
ford the Upper Murray.
When the sons got into disgrace, the mother felt that it would
be cowardly to forsake the name, and the family took the same
view. Her son, John Kelly, as he was known, left the country some
years ago. He became a moving picture artist. He married an
actress and they are both employed on the movies in America.
The two youngest girls are both married.
Old Mrs. Kelly is still alive and in her ninety-fourth year. This
is evidence that in some cases trouble will not kill. She is a
wonderful old woman. At the age of eighty-eight she walked three
miles to visit a sick neighbour. Her sight is wonderfully good. The
same can be said of her memory. It would be better for her if it was
not. The state of forgetfulness will come when she goes to the
grave.
Chapter 19.
A Kind Son.
I have felt somewhat backward in writing this story, but I
know the facts so well and there have been so many statements
made, and so much written that is far from truth. The worst side
has always been put to the public. I want to show both sides. I am
not referring to the gang, but to those who are left. Criminals are
made, not born, and it is not to be said that because a man’s
brothers are bad, he will be also.
Jim Kelly was a brother of Ned and Dan. The statement has
been made that if he had not been away in another state, he would
have joined the gang.
Now, I know for a fact that he was home after his brothers
were out, for I saw him in Benalla and talked to him. He went to
New South Wales shortly afterwards, I believe, to get away from
them. He left for the Back Blocks and got work on a station. In
these faraway places, the men neither feared God or man.
Sundays were spent by the young fellows in kangaroo hunting
and any other sport they could get. The Kellys were all fine
horsemen and delighted in buckjumping.
There was a common a few miles from the station with
stockyards, where people could yard their stock. The lads used to
go there on Sundays and yard some of the young horses off the
common. They would catch the wildest of them, and Kelly would
ride them to the delight of the onlookers.
Someone informed on them. The police set a watch and
caught Jim Kelly on the horse. He was arrested and charged with
horse-stealing and alternately with illegally using. He stood his
trial and was acquitted of horse-stealing, but convicted of illegally
using.
When he was brought up for sentence, the judge said: “Before
dealing with your case, I want to ask you if you are any relation to
the Kellys, the outlaws, at present at large in Victoria?” Then he
made a very foolish speech.
Jim replied: “Yes, they are my brothers, and I am not ashamed
of it”.
“Well”, said His Honour, “I will see that you do not join them.
You are sentenced to five years hard labour in the Parramatta
Gaol”.
For what could be regarded as a boyish prank, the sentence
was a very harsh one. But perhaps it was the best thing that ever
happened to Jim. All prisoners who served five years had the
opportunity of learning a trade, and he learnt boot-making. When
he came out, the gang were broken up, and he had a trade.
He lived with his mother on the creek and worked at his trade.
After some years, they sold the place and he started a shop in
Winton. It was on the main road, and he got as much work as he
could do, but he longed for the old creek, the hills, the horses,
cattle and sheep. By hard work, he saved enough to take up six
hundred and forty acres at the foot of Kellys’ Gap, where he made
a home for himself and his mother.
They say: “To know a man, you must live near him”. There is
not a neighbour who would hear a bad word said about Jim Kelly.
It is therefore surprising to listen to the stories told by people who
are ignorant of the facts. A friend of mine was travelling on a train,
when he heard a man telling a story about the Kellys, and he was
annoyed to hear him say that Jim Kelly still took his wild fits, and
would gallop through the streets of Glenrowan, cracking a
stockwhip and firing a revolver, and the people would run into
their houses in dread of their lives. My friend was indignant and
denied the statement with a great amount of warmth, telling the
man that Jim Kelly was a strictly sober man, and one of the best
behaved men that came into the town.
Jim is a most kind-hearted fellow. If he was going along the
road and saw a man stuck, he would take off his coat and help him,
even if he had never seen the man before. If there was sickness or
death in the neighbourhood, he would be the first to go and ask:
“What can I do for you? How can I help you?” The task imposed
on him was never too heavy or too hard. He would be with them
day and night, as long as they needed his help.
He was always very fond of horses and dogs. It has been said
he never had a bad dog; some were better than others. When he
started work on the creek nearly forty years ago, he made a vow
never to get into trouble again, and I believe he has done his best to
keep to it.
There are many things in his nature that are truly noble, but
the family had got a bad name and he had to suffer for it, although
it was not his fault. His name was Kelly, and there was an intense
hatred of the name. Can you wonder at him resenting it? They
were made a scapegoat by everyone. There were still people, who
were dishonest, and cattle have been stolen, and I know some had
been bad enough to do it in a way that would cast suspicion on
Jim. Twice he has been charged with cattle stealing, and in both
cases he has been able to prove he was not guilty. The hardest case
of all was when a woman claimed one of his horses. She said she
lost it when it was a foal, and swore information against Jim Kelly.
He was brought before the Police Court and committed for trial.
He was able to bring neighbours to prove that he bred the horse.
Some of the neighbours were present when the foal was born. The
evidence was so conclusive, that the judge told him, he walked out
of the court without a stain on his character. That was a poor
satisfaction, considering that it cost him fifty pounds to save
himself from being jailed for his own horse.
I must leave him for the present, to say something about his
sisters, Kate and Grace. They were fine looking girls. Grace got
married in the district, where she is still living. She is the mother of
a fine family of sons, who are hardworking young men and are
doing well.
Kate left Victoria and went away to earn her own living.
Rumour had it that she was getting a large salary as a barmaid to
draw custom. There was no truth in the story. She was never a
barmaid; she was too high-spirited to trade on her identity. She
would prefer to keep silence, when the unhappy past was
concerned.
Somewhere in New South Wales she fell in love, got married,
and settled in the Riverina. For a time all went well; she had two
girls and a boy. While the boy was still a baby, Kate was taken ill,
and died. The news was broken to Jim and the old lady, and they
determined to adopt the children.
One of our respected state members spent the greater part of
his boyhood on the old creek within two miles of Kellys and, of
course, knew them well. Many years ago he settled in the Murray
District. He said he was in Wodonga one day, and he saw a man
driving a hooded buggy and paired up the street. The man drew
into the curb, sprang out of the trap, and when he looked up, he
exclaimed: “Why, it is my old friend, Harry!”
“My old friend Jim!” They both expressed the pleasure at
meeting. It seemed like old times over again, but Jim’s face was
sad and his eyes downcast.
“What brings you up here?” Jim was asked, but he was unable
to speak for a while, overcome with emotion. “Sad business. Very
sad business. Kate is dead. I am going over for the children”. He
shook his head, and at last he composed himself.
“It will mean a six hundred miles drive for me, but I must
have them” and he added: “By the help of God, while Jim Kelly
has a pair of hands to work with, Kate’s children shall never want!
I will feed and clothe them, send them to school, and bring them
up as well as I can”.
And Jim Kelly was true to his word. Imagine the big, burly
fellow holding the little baby on a pillow on his knee, driving mile
after mile. He handled this baby as tenderly as a woman. He fed it
wrapped it up from the cold, and slept with it, getting up every
hour to attend to its comfort. It was his sister’s child, and he would
see that it was not neglected.
The little girls were bigger, and able to sit up in the buggy
themselves. Sometimes the grew weary with the long journey, then
Uncle Jim would talk to them, give them cake or biscuits and
promise to buy them lollies when he came to the store – which he
never failed to do. They must be amused and have the best he
could give them. They were Kate’s children – oh, how he loved
Kate’s children!
So day after day passed and Jim grew more fond of them
every day. The little girls would soon be big enough to learn to
ride. He would get them a pony and they should ride to school.
They would have to be made fine horsewomen like their mother.
And when the boy grew big enough, he should have a pony too.
Then Jim looked at his little hands and feet and thought: “Ah, the
little mite! I wonder - will he ever be big enough to ride a horse?”
The days went by; at last he was in sight of the old gap, and
soon handed the baby into his mother’s arms with the words: “We
must do our best for them, Mother”.
“Yes, that we will”, said the old lady, and she got busy right
away. Soon baby’s clothes were changed. She had given him his
supper, and then she set to work, going over the children’s clothes,
seeing what they had got. She would have to go into the town and
buy some material, so that she could make them some dresses and
some warm underclothing, and they must have strong boots, so
that they would not get their feet damp.
When Jim saw how much his mother found to do, he
wondered how he had managed with them for that three hundred
miles’ drive. A woman is always better with children than a man and a bachelor - at that. The mother took charge of the children,
and Jim amused himself with them. His greatest pleasure of all was
teaching the girls to ride, but they inherited their mother’s skill and
did not need much teaching. Soon they were able to get on the
pony and go down the paddock and bring up the cows. Jim was
never done praising them, but one of his greatest pleasures was,
when he was coming home from work in the evening and the two
little girls would run and meet him, and each one would take his
hand.
Then the time came when he took them to school for the first
time. There was now someone else to come and meet him. The
little boy would toddle out and hold out his little hand to come to
uncle.
When he was big enough, he had his first lesson on horseback.
What a little fellow he was! His legs did not reach halfway down
the horse’s sides, yet he was not frightened. He wanted to get on
again.
Chapter 20.
Life is But a Dream.
How time flies! It has truly been said: “Life is but a space
span”. In the battle of life we are tossed from place to place,
sometimes carried on by the sea of prosperity, but held back by the
waves of adversity. In the days of happy childhood we look
forward to the time when we will be grown up. In youth we dream
of success of love and matrimony. In middle life we pride
ourselves in our strength. Our time is taken up with the realities of
life. In old age and failing strength, when our arm has lost its
power and our step its fleetness, we look back over our past life
and alas! - Too often we see wasted hours and neglected
opportunities, and viewing our many failures, we sigh for what
might have been, and find we have grown old before we knew it.
How often have we heard those words: “Man, that is born of a
woman, hath but a short time to live. He cometh forth like a
flower. He flee-eth like a shadow and continue-eth not.” The
children of today are the men and women of tomorrow. We have to
do our best to lead them in the right way.
In the last chapter, the children were going to school. Now
they are grown up. The grandmother is a very old woman. The
uncle’s hair and beard is thickly streaked with grey. The baby is a
big man and able to wear his uncle’s riding boots. He has become
an expert horseman, and loved to gallop over the hills. He had
been taught to work, and was a great help to his uncle in many
ways.
Above all, he had been taught to love his country. It is deeds,
not words that had built up the Empire and made it the most
mighty nation under the sun. This young fellow was to be a man of
deeds in a great cause.
The girls have grown in strength and intelligence. They have
blossomed into womanhood, and have a fair share of their
mother’s good looks. The uncle thinks as much of them as ever
and is proud to introduce them to his friends as Kate’s children.
Things are continually changing, and another stage in their lives is
approaching, when they would feel the first throb of love - that
desire that burns in every true woman’s heart for a home of her
own with the man she loves. Notwithstanding the relationship to a
family, who carried the name that brought back memories of a
black past, that in the interest of those who were not then born,
should be forgotten, their good looks and kindly nature brought
them admirers. Many young men approached them. There are a
great number of callers at the little house in the hills. One wants to
enquire where he can get a good saddle horse, another is in want of
a good sheep-dog, while yet another had lost some cattle and
thought they might have come that way - had they seen anything of
them? Others had various reasons for calling, but all were “looking
for information”.
The unsuspecting old uncle did not dream what their real
motive was, and in a good-hearted way he would start to answer
their questions, often at a much greater length than the young men
wished. They would be casting sheep-eyes in the direction of the
girls, while Uncle Jim would be advising which was the best breed
of horses, or telling them about what a wonderful horse this old
grey, he had years ago, really was; he could yard the wildest of
cattle with him. The old fellow knew as much as a man, but he
died up in the gully, and Jim Kelly had buried him at the foot of a
bug wattle tree.
Youngers would be a good place to go, they always had a lot,
and their horses were a good class. He had heard Bill Tanner had
some horses for sale. Did he know much about horses? If he did
not, Tom Lloyd would go and pick one out for the interested
visitor.
About dogs - Jim was a good judge of dogs and had had some
wonderfully fine ones. Old Lass, the mother of Rover, was just a
marvel. She would bring the sheep from the far end of the
paddock. There was nothing she could not do with sheep, and she
had never been beaten in the sheep-dog trials at the shows. “Come
here Rover!” A black dog with a white ring around his neck
rubbed himself against his master’s leg. “Now, that is a good dog!
He is very much like his mother both in looks and ways. I know
where I could get you a pup if you would care to have one”.
To the man who was looking for cattle, Jim would say: “There
have been none around this way lately, but I saw about twenty
yesterday on the Glenrowan Road near Tindles. If you go there at
once, you will most likely find they are yours”.
To the other interviewers he gave full information; but as
water finds its level, preference was shown by the girls and the
visitors dwindled down to two. Things were now in a fair way of
working.
The uncle had never had a love affair. There were so many
things to take up his time and thought. Had it been otherwise, he
would have known the joys of married life, but he had devoted his
life to his aged mother and his dead sister’s children. He dismissed
all thought of settling in life from his mind. That made him
somewhat dull regarding love affairs, but it dawned upon him that
the young men had not come to see him, but his sister’s daughters,
and he made up his mind not to stand in the way of the happiness
of Kate’s children. They had chosen honest, hardworking men, and
he made them welcome in his house.
The path of love ran smoothly. Weeks came and went. The
young couples would go out on horseback on a Sunday afternoon.
Often they would find their way to the Winton lake and sit on the
lookout, watching the ripple of the water and the black swans
swimming proudly past. Nature was at peace. Life was a happy
dream, bringing them nothing but pleasant thoughts of the joys that
were to follow. Then the sun would sink behind Lawford’s Hill,
and they would turn homeward in all the vigour of youth.
One Sunday afternoon, they had gone for a walk in the hills. It
was spring once more. The wild flowers had come again, the
wattles were in bloom, the sarsaparilla climbed up the saplings and
hung from them in beautiful purple garlands.
They sat down on a log at the top of a hill and feasted they
eyes on the glorious view. A rabbit ran past, chased by a hawk.
The young man began to speak. The old, old story was trembling
on his lips. The girl was holding a bunch of wild flowers in her
hand, and her eyes were fixed on Mount Bogong with its white
mantle of snow. A mild-eyed steer stood watching them, as their
lips met and the engagement was sealed by a kiss.
Shortly afterwards there was a great joy in the Kelly home. It
was the wedding breakfast of Kate’s eldest daughter. The priest
had said the words that had joined the young couple before God
and Man in the honourable state of Holy Matrimony.
Her sister soon followed in the same path - and so ended
another stage of life’s dream.
Chapter 21
The Call to Duty.
Things went on in much the same way in the humble home
near the Gap. Now that the girls were gone, Jim Kelly had the care
of his aged mother. Uncle and nephew were drawn more closely to
each other.
War had broken out between Germany and Russia. Then came
the news that Germany had declared war against France and had
invaded Belgium. England was drawn into the fight, and soon the
foundation of the world was shaken by the most dreadful war in
history.
The German guns thundered and carried weight with
everything before them. At the battle of Mons, the Allies were
driven back. The Germans went on in their mad rush, leaving
behind them ruins and desolation.
Then we heard stories of murder, of the outrage of women and
the maiming of little children. The world was in great danger from
a monster that threatened to devour it. If they were not stoped, life
and property would not be safe. The fate of the women and
children of all overseas dominions would be the same as the fate of
the women and children of France and Belgium.
The call went across the sea and tens of thousands flocked
together in the name of the Royal standard from all parts of the
British dominions. We are proud that Australia sent the first
volunteer army the world ever saw.
It was the supreme test of manhood between those who
served, and the conscientious objectors who shirked. They called
war legalised murder. To some extent I admit that it is, but if the
expression may be used, we are all “beasts of prey”. We depend on
each other and have to defend our rights. This state of things will
continue until the swords are beaten into ploughs and shears,
shears and the spears into pruning hooks.
I would not condemn a man because he did not go to the war.
There may have been many things to prevent him, but the fit man
without ties, who refused to go for want of courage or lack of
loyalty, is unworthy of the name of an Australian. If a man is
unwilling to defend his country, he has no right to claim its
protection.
The men who enlisted gave their lives for the Empire just the
same as those who went. It was not their fault that they were
rejected. They had done all they could, and they should be
respected.
We go to the top of a hill overlooking Greta. We see four men
in conversation. One is a tall man with a grey beard. He is not
many years short of sixty. The other three are in the uniform of the
A.I.F. They are on final leave from the Broadmeadows Camp.
Let me introduce them to you: That fine strapping young
fellow is Fred Foster, the baby that his uncle carried on a pillow on
his knee when he brought the children from New South Wales.
The two other men are his brother- in- laws. The old man is Jim
Kelly.
They have been having a serious talk. Uncle Jim has been
telling them some facts about the unhappy past. Fred’s face is set
and resolute, and he has promised: “Uncle, I am going to win back
a good name. I will dare death. I will fight for my country and the
honour of the family”.
The old man said: “Well spoken, lad! You show a true spirit
of a Kelly”. Then they stood in silence and gazed over the fair
scene – the snow-capped towering mountains, the fertile valleys,
and the fields of waving corn. This was what the men were going
to fight for – the home of their childhood, and the safety of women
and little children. Could anything show the true man to a better
advantage?
Slowly they retraced their steps to the house. The two
husbands were returning to camp that evening, but Foster had a
few more days to spend with his people. How many have known
the pain of partings of this kind! It seemed as if they were going to
their grave. Yet in all of it, there was a humble pride that they were
going to do their duty. When uncle and nephew grasped each
other’s hands for the last time, they stood for a long time looking
into each other’s faces. Then the young man said: “I wish you were
going with me, Uncle”.
“Not more than I have wished it myself”, replied Uncle Jim.
“It is only weight of years that prevents me, and ever now, as old a
man as I am, I would go, if they would take me”.
“Never mind - I am going to make good, and if the Germans
get me, I will not be taken alive”, Fred assured his uncle.
There was a short whistle and the train rushed into the station.
The flag is waved. The train starts …… and Fred Foster is gone.
The old man stood on the platform and watched the train until
it looked like a little black speck - and it was gone.
Chapter 22
Off to the Middle East.
In camp there were men from all parts of Australia – men of
every trade and every profession, farmers from the country,
stockmen from the backblocks, clerks from banks, students,
lawyers, and teachers, all fired with the same object – the honour
of King and Motherland, and the safety of the nation. Some have
roughed it, other have lived in the lap of luxury, But in camps, all
were on the same footing – they had to sleep on hard beds, and
were subjected to hard discipline and hard training.
Although they knew what they had to face, they grew tired of
camp and longed to be sent to the front. They were men of great
courage and iron will. When they were ordered to leave camp, for
the transports, they were pleased.
The Australian soldier is well known for being always ready
for anything. They were marched on to the boats. When they were
all on board, the barrier was removed, and the crowd were allowed
on the pier.
The farewells are always sad and touching. There were
hundreds of streamers, held by the men on the boats and their
friends on the shore. The waiting was very trying, but at last the
gangways were taken up. The engines began to throb, the
propellers revolved, and slowly, gently, the boat was gliding from
the shore. The crowd was silent, only for the sobs of grief-stricken
relatives. Then, the soldiers on board sent up a mighty cheer.
People on shore took it up, and when they looked at the great liners
with the soldiers thronging their decks, everybody felt how proud
Australia was of their sons.
They went out on the mighty deep, guarded by an escort of
men of war, and ploughed through the sea on their way to help the
Motherland. Amongst that band of noble heroes stood young
Foster, Kate Kelly’s son. He was going to wipe out the strain. Yes!
He had the fighting spirit of a patriot, and was determined to use
his powers for the good of his country.
He had all the experience of the men, who had taken their first
long voyage, and not the least trying of them was sea sickness. But
an Australian is always noted for looking on the best side of
everything! So the soldiers made fun of their own sufferings, and
cheerfully submitted to discipline.
The days went by until the voyage became tiresome, and they
were glad to disembark at Egypt, where they were placed in a
camp at Cairo. Then came more training under the burning sun,
and in time they came in contact with the Turks and had their first
taste of war. However, the real fighting was yet to come.
Then came the forced marches across the burning sands of the
desert. The heat, the dust, the dirt and flies, the burning thirst!
When the great dust-storms overtook them, many a man fell, to
rise no more. Still, there was something more to be dreaded, than
the stories of the desert or the thunder of the enemy’s cannon - the
sins of that wicked city – Cairo.
It was a calamity that this place should have been made the
headquarters of the troops, with its crime, sin, and immorality; its
snares and its pitfalls to entrap the unwary; its glitter and glare, its
gay life, where women, dressed in the hight of fashion, tempted
men to destruction; its native quarters with their seating beds of
infamy – all united to drag men down, to ruin them through the
agency of women and wine. Many of the Australians from the
country, ignorant of the sins of big cities, became an easy prey for
the vultures that hovered around them. Too soon they found
themselves ruined in body and soul, to be sent back to Australia as
medically unfit, and eventually to die a dishonoured death, or live
to carry a loathsome disease and become a reproach to themselves,
and a menace to society.
While regretting that so many young soldiers fell victim to the
dreadful scourge of humanity, we are proud that of the tens of
thousands of men who were in Egypt, only very small percentages
were victims to the dreadful vice.
Young Foster was one of the best. It was not in his nature to
be immoral. Whatever could be said about his family, they could
not be accused of immorality. Even the dreaded leader of the
desperate band of highwaymen was always so gallant in the
presence of females, that he was called by many “the gentleman
bushranger”.
Chapter 23
On the Battlefields of the Empire.
The troops were growing restless. They were tired of Egypt,
tired of the burning sands and most of all, tired of Cairo. For some
days there was a feeling in all ranks that there was going to be
something doing. The order to prepare to embark for Gallipoli
came. It was received with great rejoicing. The soldiers were eager
for the fight.
It was the first opportunity they had of showing what they could
do, and they did it well. On that 25th day of April, they wrote the
name of Australia on the scroll of fame in letters of blood. Who
has not read with pride of the charge of the Light Brigade? Our
hearts have thrilled when we have thought of the bravery of those
noble men who obeyed orders, although they knew someone had
blundered.
Yet compared with the Gallipoli landing, it sinks into
insignificance. I need not enlarge on the dreadful scenes of blood
and slaughter of the undaunted courage of the Australians in their
attack. Artillery and machine guns opened fire on them; they fell
by thousand. Still they came on like the waves of the sea until they
reached the land and stormed the heights - but at what a price!
It can be said, as it was of the charge of the six hundred, surely
someone had blundered, but that did not in any way lessen the
glory of the achievement. Artists will paint, poets will sing, and
authors will write of the wonderful deeds, and the name of the
ANZAC will live forever.
From Gallipoli, we let our thoughts take us to France – that place
where the Germans had been making such headway and spreading
ruins and destructions to such an extent, that it had been called
“bleeding France”. The horror and suffering of the French people
can never be told.
I do not wish to give more credit than is due to the Australians,
even if it would be possible. The British soldier has always been
known as a brave and fair fighter, and it is from this stock, that the
people of the overseas dominions have sprung. We are the same
people, our greatness has been brought about through our being
British, but the conditions have been different.
The open free life has made the Australian more independent.
Not only can he be lead, but he can be a leader. In cases where the
officers have all been cut down, again and again, a private has
stepped out, led his comrades on, and saved the situation.
The French soon found the fighting strength of our boys and
regarded them as the saviours of France. Young Foster was one of
these men. His skill in the Australian bush made him useful in
raiding on no-man’s- land. He fought in many fierce engagements
and performed acts of great bravery and had numbers of hair’s
breadth escapes.
Then would come the time for his unit to go out to rest. Letters
would come from Australia, and many hearts would be softened
with sweet thoughts of home and mother. Foster’s letters brought
news from the Gap, and he thought of the time when he was
carefree; when he sat in the little school in Greta West, of the time
when he was a friendless child, of the benevolence of his uncle,
and of the tender care of his old grandmother. His face would
become more resolute, for had he not come here to make good to
redeem the name of his people? He became more determined that whether he lived or died - he would do his duty, and again he
would move with his comrades into the fight. For a long time they
had been hard pressed, and many of Australia’s noble sons had
gone west, but the tide was turning, and soon they hoped to inflict
a crashing blow on the hated enemy.
They were to storm Vouziers, and were standing too for the hop
over. Some were thoughtful and serious, others were laughing and
joking, but none were afraid. Fear was unknown to such men. The
officers were staying with their watches.
Young Foster took a firmer grip of his rifle. Then came the
sharp word of command: “Charge!” - and all along the line, a great
human wave swept over the top, supported by their artillery fire.
The Germans poured into them artillery, machine gun and rifle
fire. Officers and men fell thick and fast, but still on they rush “to
Victory, to Glory, or the Grave!”
Not all the powers of death or hell could keep these men back.
Shouting and cheering, they rushed forward; then came the clash
of arms - The fearful bayonet thrusts. The enemy crumpled up,
broke and fled, like some venomous viper that had been beaten off,
he crawled away into what shelter he could find. The victorious
troops settled themselves in his trenches and turned his own guns
on him, but, oh, what dreadful costs this victory was gained!
The saddest thing in war is to go over a field after the battle. The
cries and groans of the wounded and dying are heartrending. From
the starting point to the objective is one great sieve of suffering
and death. The ground is torn up with bursting shells, there are
wrecked guns and dead horses. The air is still full of poisonous
gas, increasing the sufferings of the dying, and hanging over the
field like a black pall of death.
Lying with the fallen is young Foster. Doctors are going over
the field. First aid men are hard at work, giving temporary relief to
the sufferers. Stretcher bearers are busy carrying the wounded off
the field to the clearing station. A god chaplain is moving about
amongst the wounded. He speaks words of comfort and
encouragement to the dying men, telling them of a living Christ, of
a land that is fairer than day. So in the knowledge of God’s eternal
love many a brave soldier enters into rest.
Now he kneels beside a dying man. He is seen to take out his
pocket book and write a last message to a mother, who somewhere
in Australia is hoping and praying for the son that can never return.
A fine looking young man is lying with his head on a stone. His
life’s blood is fast ebbing away from a dreadful wound in the
chest. His eyes are closed. The pallor of death is in his face. Seeing
that he was breathing, the Chaplain knelt beside him and took his
hand. The man’s eyes opened and he whispered: “The pillow is
hard, Granny. Put your hand under my head.” Tenderly the good
man complied with his request. “That is better now. I think I will
go to sleep. How dark it is, and it is so cold. Kiss me, Granny,
before I go.” And the Chaplain kissed him.
The death dew was on his lips, and the brave soldier had gone
west. The Chaplain did not know who he was. He might have been
rich or poor. He might have been a city gentleman who rode in his
motor car. He might have been a stockman from outback. He
might have been born and reared in a settler’s hut, or ambled in the
slums, or a palatial mansion in some great city. He was one of that
great throng of mortals, who had given their lives on the altar of
the Empire, A sacrifice for right against might, and he had gone to
the reward of those who are found on the path of duty. He is
worthy to be remembered for all time.
Young Foster died on the battlefields of France, fighting
shoulder to shoulder with the best and bravest men that ever
breathed the free air of fair Australia. Can anyone tell me they
have not made good? No, they can not. Foster’s death is so
crowned with honour as one of that sixty thousand men, who made
a sacrifice that was only surpassed by the world’s Redeamer, who
died for all mankind on the cross at Calvary.
Fred Foster’s and his dead comrades’ names are surrounded
with a halo of glory. They died so that we might live. How many
hearts are torn and bleeding? How many homes are filled with
sorrow, and will never be the same because of the ravages of war?
How many of us there are, who would, if we could, put back the
clock of time and have things as they were?
I can speak from my heart for my son who has been also laid to
rest with Foster somewhere in France, in a grave I never shall see.
It is more than a horrid nightmare, but it is something that we have
to face. We cannot undo the past, but it is in our power to improve
the present.
The names of some of the men from this district are in my mind,
and while I think of them with regret, I am proud that Australia
produced such men. I refer to Major Clements, Captain Auston
Mahoney, Lieutenant Gerald Evans, Lieutenant Cyril Ashmead
M.C., Sergeant Herbert Tanner, Corporal George Goodland,
Lieutenant Cecil Lewis, and Privates Gamble, Green, Gould,
Lindsay, Gardner, Tippet, Lewis, Emsllie, and Smith. I feel how
much we are indebted to them for the liberty we enjoy. They were
a credit to their parents, a credit to their country and to the Empire.
I class young Foster with them, for he did the same work and made
the same sacrifice on the battlefields of the Empire. Should we not
honour his memory?
Chapter 24
Mischief Makers and Lying Tongues.
This world is cruel and it never fails to visit on those who
have made mistakes or are in anyway connected with the
transgressor. The ill will of what they are pleased to call offended
justice. If a dog has a bad name, they kick him, and if a man is
down, they do the best to keep him down. Some of suchlike people
pride themselves in their religion, but by the same token, they
assume a virtue that is ill-chosen.
St. Paul said: “Though I speak with the tongue of men and of
angels and have now charity, I am but a sounding brass and a
tinkling symbol”. The religion of the Lord Jesus Christ, no matter
by which creed it is taught, is a gospel of love. There is no love in
blaming the innocent relatives for the deeds of the sinner in their
family.
I heard a sad story from a girl who was only two years of age,
when her brothers suffered death for their crimes. She never knew
them; but when she grew to be a young woman, she felt a barrier
between her and the people she knew, and remorse for her
brothers’ actions made her go away to another state to earn her
living. A feeling of loyalty to the name her mother always went by
prevented her from taking another name. All went well with her
for a while, until it was found that she came from Victoria. Then
she was told about the wretched people in that state, and she was
asked if she had ever met them. She was also told that the women
in that family were a most immoral lot! This was hard enough to
bear, but above that, when later her identity was discovered, she
lost her place - for who would employ the sister of bushrangers?
She would remove for other place and get work, but the illness
would soon follow her, and she would have to move again. At last,
she was driven to take the post of barmaid. Here she heard coursed
jokes, and often remarks about her people. One day, a drunken
loafer was reviling the name of her sister Annie, who had been in
her grave for ten years, and that was more than the girl could stand.
She gave the fellow a piece of her mind, but it cost her place. She
was thought not even fit for a bar. In despair she said: “I feel like a
leper - an outcast from society”. I am glad to say that she kept to
the straight path; she is now married to a respectable man, and has
made a good wife.
The mischief makes talk but seldom speak, unless it is to
injure someone. I have heard lots of things said about the Harts at
the time of the breaking up of the Kelly Gang. There were some
dreadful things said about the family; it was stated that one of the
brothers swore vengeance over the bodies of the dead bushrangers;
this was claimed in public print, and even a picture shown in one
of the Melbourne papers.
I am unable to believe it. I have known the Harts for forty
years, have done business with them, and always found them the
soul of honour. So far as I have known, Steve Hart was the only
one of the family who ever got into trouble.
There has been a black sheep in many a good family, and the
writers, who put everything before the public in its worst light, do
not tell us that old Mr. and Mrs. Hart both died with their hearts
broken, or that the descendants of the family are highly respected
residents of Wangaratta, and people in a good position.
I have so much respect for many people, whose misfortune it
was to be related to a desperate band of law-breakers, that I do not
like to bring their names into this story, though the names became
public property over forty years ago. I am only using them to state
the truth from personal knowledge.
With regard to lying tongues, I feel inclined to tell one or two
little stories. They are about a well know man in Greta. Everyone
calls him Tom Lloyd. He is a cousin of the Kellys. When he was a
young man, he was known far and wide for his splendid
horsemanship. He was admitted to be the best buckjump-rider in
the whole of Australia. In fact, it was said there was no one to
surpass him in the world. It was not possible for a horse to throw
him.
He is an old man now, but is still very fond of horses; he is
often seen riding into the town, and always on a good horse. He
can still ride well.
A few years ago, there was a buckjump show in Wangaratta.
The organisers were offering five pounds to any man who could
ride one of their outlaws for five minutes. Old Tom came forward,
and when they saw his white whiskers, there was roar of laughter.
However, they grew serious, when they saw that their horse could
no more throw him than it could cast its skin, and they had to part
with the five pounds.
One of his sons is a very fine rider, who went to England with
a rough-rider show.
At the time of King George’s coronation a few years ago, I
met a man in Melbourne, a few days after the Melbourne Cup
When he found that I was from the North East, he said: “I met a
man yesterday from up that way. Perhaps you know him - Old
Tom Lloyd they call him. He was down for the Cup and had a
pretty good win. He was flourishing a riding whip, and said that
there was no horse that could throw him”.
“I suppose you shouted for him”, I remarked.
“Oh, yes, and the old man is very fond of the beer. He has
been in to see me several times, and I always take him to the hotel.
The old chap is so interesting”.
I said: “You have been imposed upon for two reasons. I know
the man is not Lloyd. Tom Lloyd is a strictly temperate man, and
would be above loafing for beer. He never makes a boast about his
horsemanship”.
When I saw Mr. Lloyd a few days later, I asked him how he
got on at the Cup. He answered: “I had nothing on it”. I hinted: “I
heard you went to the Cup”.
“No!” he denied it. “I have not been to Melbourne for over
four years”.
When I told him my reason for asking, he added: “Oh that’s
nothing strange”. Then he went one better and told me how he met
“Tom Lloyd”:
“I had been over at New South Wales, shearing. I was coming
back to Victoria with two mates. We had the three horses we were
riding, and two packhorses. We arrived at a hotel a few miles the
other side of Albury at about eleven o’clock. We decided to wait
for dinner, fed our horses and sat in the verandah. After a while I
decided we would have a drink. We went into the bar and I called
for the drinks.
A big loafer came up and said: “I will have a long beer”. I
answered: “Not at my expense”. He began to swear and wanted to
fight. The landlord called me aside: “You have better give it to
him. He is a desperate character - Tom Lloyd from Greta, one of
that Kelly crowd. He would think no more of killing you than
drinking a glass of beer”. I retorted: “I would like to have a talk
with Tom Lloyd”, but was told to keep away from the brute, he
would kill me. I took the risk, but he would hear of nothing but
fight. My mate exclaimed: “Hit him!” but I said: “Oh, no. Let it
pass!” My mate then hit him and knocked him out of the bar, and
when he went after “Tom Lloyd”, he ran for a barb-wire fence. He
tried to get through it but got stuck. My mate gave him a kick and
sent him through and the impostor ran, but left one leg of his pants
in the fence - and we introduced the landlord to
Chapter 25
Consuming Fires.
Fire is a good servant if kept under control and used for
domestic and commercial purposes; but when it gets beyond
control and becomes man’s master, it is a cruel and merciless
enemy, and commits the most dreadful ravages on life and
property. A great many of us have seen it in its worst form.
In the country, what is most to be dreaded is the bushfires. We
have seen them, fought against them, been driven back and found
ourselves utterly helpless against the out-coming wall of fire, and
could do nothing but watch the flames like hungry wolves, licking
up every thing that was before them - not only grass, crops, or
timber, but sheep, cattle, and horses leaving behind it – nothing but
blackened ruins, smouldering hay stacks, burning grain, the burnt
fences, and the charred remains of stock.
All that we have worked for years to acquire has gone in a few
minutes. Is it to be wondered at that we dread the bush fires? On a
scorching day in the month of February we see that a fire has
started a few miles away. Great pillars of smoke rise high in the
heavens. The volume increases, and great tongues of red flame
shoot high in the air.
It was evidently in good country; everyone rushed to a fire,
not only to help their neighbours but, if possible, to protect
themselves. There are men of all parts. The bushfire brigades are
there with their fire-carts and beaters. It is impossible to stand in
front of the fire. All that can be done is to follow up the sides and
keep it from spreading.
Then, with a roar like thunder, the fire sweeps into the hills.
The thick timber, the high scrub and the dense undergrowth adds
fuel to the flames. The scene becomes appalling. The tailers labour
on falling trees, and carting water to put out fires to prevent a fresh
outbreak. Men are thirsty and hungry. Buggies come and bring
refreshment. The fire-fighters eat a hurried meal and feel better.
Night comes, but still there is no rest. People’s homes are in
danger - they must fight the fire. The night is made hideous with
the shrieks of terrified animals; overwhelmed by the fire, they are
suffering a dreadful death. Large flocks of birds fly about
screaming, only to fall into the fire and be roasted alive.
Daylight came, but it brought no relief. The sun rose like a
ball of fire. The flames were burning more fiercely than ever in the
night, they had reached the level country and were rushing on to
the King River like a mighty cyclone.
Most of the farmers managed to save their homesteads, but
there were a few who lost all they had. Word was brought that a
homestead in a valley in the hills was in danger. We went at once
with the fire-carts and beaters. The place was sheltered - a big hill
prevented the wind from fanning the flame, but it was still
creeping on like a big snake.
United effort turned its course, and for the time the danger was
over, but as if hungry for its work of destruction, the flame crossed
a road and burnt back on the other side. With a mighty roar, it
swept down on the house. Men fought like demons, but the very
ground seemed to burn. Soon the flames were licking the walls.
Determined effort saved the house. As if to show its revenge, the
fire went on and burnt the haystacks.
Forty men, with their faces blackened and grimy, were tired
and worn out. Still their task was not at an end. Scarcely had they
rested, when the fire broke out again on the west side. Now came
the greatest fight of all. Could it be stoped? It must be stoped! If it
went another mile, all would be lost. Men worked all day long with
horses and ploughs. They burnt track and made fire-breaks, and at
last were rewarded with success - the fire was gotten under and all
was safe.
The last of the fire was near the Kellys. Jim had worked like a
tiger. When we went around by his place to see if all was safe, his
mother had made some tea, which was much enjoyed by the firefighters.
Of ten in long past years, I have thought of the time, when we
stood near the little house and looked across at the blackened hills
– the result of the last great bushfire. How many disasters are
brought about by small things? Perhaps some foolish action that
the person, who made the mistake, would give worlds to recall.
The great fire was caused by a spark from a swagman’s pipe. It
caused the loss of thousands of pounds worth of property, and the
suffering and death of many poor animals.
Every calamity has a small beginning. It was so with the Kelly
Gang. A little spark caused a big fire, and brought sadness to many
hearts. The big fire burnt many Thorns and Briars, but it also burnt
many flowers.
In this closing chapter of my stories I want to say that men and
women are not all bad, and often in the lives of those, who are
most condemned, there are noble qualities. In any case, we all are
within the each of God’s saving grace, for Christ died that all men
might live. Let us be kind, and we will be better men, better
citizens, and better Christians.
I want to take you to a little house at the foot of Kellys’ Gap.
There is no sign of richness or ill-gotten gain to be found here.
Look at the pictures on the walls! There are enlargements of
members of the family, but that is not all. There are the framed
enlargements of the King and Queen. These people are loyal. Of
course they are loyal, for had they not proven it with the blood of
their own kith and kin?
Look at the old lady - she is in her ninety-fourth year. She is
sitting in her chair by the fire. She is cold, always cold. Her great
age has made her blood thin, and she loves to sit by the fire.
Someday, she will not die but will just fall asleep.
Now look at her son. His beard is snow white. Working hard,
he has become old in a life which he devoted to his family, to his
dear sister’s children, and entirely to his aged mother. Few have
made a greater sacrifice or played a more noble part.
For forty years the Kellys have been trying to live down a bad
name, and so did their many relatives in the North-East - the
upright honest people; they are above reproach, and gladly would
they forget the black past.
Why not help them, and let the deeds of the past be buried
with the dead?
By Glenden Gordon.