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THE BUSHRANGERS
Source.—The Golden Colony (G.H. Wathen, 1855), pp. 138, 143-150
The combination of convictism in Tasmania and gold in Victoria and New South Wales produced bushranging on a large scale. Convicts now had a chance of living well if they escaped, and many took advantage of the opportunity.
If the Australian roads in winter may be well likened to those English roads of 200 years ago, out of which the King's Coach had to be dug by the rustics, so may the Australian Bushranger be regarded as the legitimate representative of the traditionary highwayman who levied toll at Highgate, or stopped the post-boy and captured the mailbags in Epping Forest. The real, living bushranger is, however, more of a ruffian and less of a hero than our ideal highwayman; for time, like
distance, softens down the harsh and the coarse, and gives dignity to the ignoble.
Never, perhaps, did a country offer so tempting a field to the public robber as Victoria did during the first year or two after the gold discovery. The interior was wild and uninhabited, abounding with lonely forests. Travelers were numerous, and mostly carried money or gold; for none were poor. The roadside public-houses were daily the scenes of drunken revelry. The police were few and untrained; and the mixed and scattered population at the several diggings offered a ready
asylum in case of pursuit. Add to all this that, separated from Victoria by a mere strait, was the depot for the most accomplished villains of Great Britain, and it needed no prophet to foresee that the roads of the new gold country would very soon be swarming with thieves and desperadoes.
It is no uncommon occurrence in the Australian Colonies for a large number of shearers or others collected in the hut in the country to be "stuck up," that is, subdued and bound, by two or three determined bushrangers. Fifteen or sixteen strong active men may be thus treated, and have been, frequently. At first, one is ready to conclude either that they must have a private understanding with the robbers or else be the veriest poltroons. I thought so myself till I had an
account of one of these affairs from a man who had been one of a large party thus "stuck up" by two very notorious bushrangers, the life and death of whom, would furnish materials for a romance. Their names were Dalton and Kelly, and they will long be famous in the annals of daring and outrage in Van Diemen's Land.
Dalton was a stout, powerful man, and about thirty years of age at the time of the rencontre I am about to describe. His accomplice Kelly, was about twenty-three years old. They were both prisoners of the Crown in Van Diemen's Land. Dalton was transported at an early age, and had for a time been confined in the "Ocean Hell" of Norfolk Island, the gaol of the double-damned convict; but was afterwards taken back to Van Diemen's Land. From the same informant I learned some
particulars of their escape. They were confined in a penal establishment on a strait or an arm of the sea, wide enough, it was thought, to preclude the possibility of flight. Dalton, Kelly, and five or six other prisoners, however, weary of a wretched life, determined to risk that life for liberty; and having one day eluded the vigilance of their guards, attempted, though their legs were weighed down with fetters, to swim to the opposite shore. One after another their
strength failed them; they sank and disappeared till at length only Kelly and Dalton survived. Kelly's strength was rapidly waning, when Dalton called out to him "Catch hold of me, Kelly! I can swim another hour yet."
When at last they both got safe to land, Dalton exclaimed, "Well, thank God, I shall have one comrade at any rate."
They now quickly freed themselves from their irons, procured arms, and, knowing that they would certainly be hotly pursued they at once started on a marauding expedition, visiting the neighboring stations in succession, and pillaging each; intending eventually, to make their way across Bass's Straits to Victoria. Dalton was a very formidable fellow; strong, active, and resolute, reckless of human life, and now rendered desperate by despair. He was, too, a first-rate marksman,
and could "stick up a glass bottle."
What follows is an account given me by my informant. Kelly came up to the hut, which was full of men. I was standing at the door at the time, but did not know who the man was. When he came close he asked me if I had heard that the bushrangers were out. I answered "Yes, I had." Then he pointed his gun at me, and said "I'm one of them. Go into the hut." I went in, but on turning round I saw one of my mates standing against the hut in a corner, with another man standing over
him, covering him with his gun. The other was Dalton, Kelly's mate. After I had gone into the hut, Kelly stood at the open doorway, with his gun pointed at those inside, swearing he would murder the first man who moved an inch. There were about fourteen men in the hut. Then he asked if there were any prisoners among them. One man said that he was. Kelly then ordered him to tie their arms together, one by one.
While doing so, one man complained that he was being tied too tight; but this only drew forth another volley of oaths and threats from Kelly. When all were secured, Kelly went out to assist Dalton who still stood over the man whom he had pinned to the wall of the hut, threatening to shoot him if he stirred. Kelly then tied up his hands while Dalton continued covering him with the gun. He was then marched into the hut to join the others. And now Dalton began walking up and
down the hut haranguing his prisoners. "He'd no doubt" he said "that some of them might be good and honest men, and some scoundrels. That for his part, he wouldn't hurt a hair of any good man's head, if he could help it. But he had been forced to take to this sort of life. It wasn't his fault. He had been lagged (transported) when only twelve years of age; had since then over and over again tried to obtain his freedom by good conduct; but they wouldn't give it him, and it was
useless to try any more by fair means. And he had now sworn to gain his freedom, or lose his life in the attempt. He didn't want to hurt anyone. What he wanted was money; and money he would have, come what, come might. He'd show them presently whether he was game or not. He'd go into the master's house and bring out, single-handed the man he wanted, no matter how many he might find there. But let them beware. If any man dared to move or tried to escape he swore he'd scatter
his brains about the yard, and blow the roof off his head."
Dalton now left the hut, and went to the house of the settler, their master, which was close at hand. All this time the household knew nothing of what had been passing in the hut. He entered, and went straight up to the sitting-room, where several gentlemen and ladies happened to be collected. He opened the door, and deliberately advanced with his gun pointed at those within. But a lady, who chanced to be behind the door, on seeing the leveled gun, slammed the door in the
robber's face. This was a timely diversion, and the signal for a general scattering of those present.
The men in the hut were subsequently tried for collusion with the bushrangers; but when asked how they could suffer two men to "stick up" so many, one replied to the magistrate, that, with their permission, he would himself "stick up" the whole Bench.
The free servants were acquitted; those of the party who were prisoners of the Crown were sentenced to imprisonment; but on Government being petitioned by their free mates, who protested the innocence of all, they were liberated.
After this the two bushrangers boldly carried on their depredations, roaming about from station to station, "sticking up" the men, and robbing the masters; while a large party of the police were following on their track. One day they came to a hut full of men, and, opening the door, tried the old plan of intimidation by standing with loaded double-barreled pieces in the doorway, and threatening with deep oaths to "drop" the first man of them, who moved hand or foot. But it
happened that several of the pursuing constables were within the hut. One of them, named Buckmaster, rushed towards Dalton. The robber fired and the constable fell dead. Dalton still stood unmoved in the doorway, with his leveled gun, and calmly said "Ah, how d'ye like that? Now, then, I'm ready for another!" This coolness saved them both and for a time they escaped capture. But such an outrage on one of their officers roused the Government. A large reward was offered for the
capture of the two bushrangers, and they were hunted through the island more hotly than ever.
Driven to desperation, they seized upon a whaleboat; by threats pressed four boatmen into their service, and actually compelled them to work the boat across Bass's Straits to the opposite shores of Victoria. Here they safely landed on the solitary coast of Western Port and made their way up to Melbourne. News of the escape of these formidable and blood-stained freebooters had been immediately transmitted to the authorities of Victoria. As they had left Van Diemen's Land in an
open whaleboat, there was no doubt but that they would make for the Western Port shores; and the Victoria police, stimulated by the hope of a large reward, were keenly looking out for two persons answering to the published description of the robbers. The boatmen who had conveyed them across the Strait were seen and arrested at Dandenong, between Western Port and the Capital; but no further trace of the bushrangers could be obtained. The Melbourne newspapers furnish us with
the conclusion of the tragedy.
The following account of the capture of the chief of these desperadoes, from the Melbourne "Argus" is more like a page from a romance than a passage in real life. It is one more instance of what appears like a special Providence laying its resistless hand on a murderer at the very moment when he seemed to have secured his escape, and dragging him forth to public justice. Within four hours after his capture, Dalton would have been on board a ship bound for England.
"Between eleven and twelve o'clock on Friday night, Dalton entered a coffee-shop in Bourke Street, in company with a man who had engaged to put him on board the Northumberland at daylight the next morning from Sandridge, and for which he was to pay £4. This man, we understand, was quite ignorant of the person he was bargaining with. Dalton asked the proprietors of the shop, if they could change him some Van Diemen's Land Notes for gold, as he was about to embark for England.
They could not do it, but a gentleman named Brice, formerly a cadet in the police force, suspecting all was not right, said that he could, as he was a gold-broker, if Dalton would only accompany him to his office. To this Dalton consented, and placed three £20 and one £10 notes of the Launcestoun Bank in his hands. They then left the shop together; the night was extremely dark; the stranger, however, led the way, Dalton and the boatman following close behind. After proceeding
some little way, they turned into Little Collins St. and by the back entrance, into the yard of the Police Court. Here it was so dark that the outline of the building could not be distinguished. The guide then showed them the door of his alleged office which was no other then the clerk's room of the Swanston St. watch-house. The man at the door was in plain clothes, and within were several of the detective officers, and two watch-housekeepers at the books, all, however, in
private costume. Once in, Mr. Brice stated that he had brought these men to the station on suspicion of having come by the notes wrongfully.
"Dalton at this time must have known where he was, but made no observation beyond affirming that they were his, and making some remarks relative to his being brought there on so paltry an accusation. During this he was smoking a cigar, and behaving himself in a careless nonchalant manner. Meanwhile, the detectives were making use of their eyes, and seeing if the descriptions they possessed corresponded with the figures before them. The watch-house keeper finding that Mr.
Brice had no charge to prefer against him, returned Dalton his notes, who was about to leave the office, when Detectives Williams, Murray, and Eason pounced upon him, and fixed him in a corner. Dalton endeavored to draw a pistol from his belt, but was prevented and overpowered. Finding himself mastered, he said, 'You have got the reward of £500. My name is Dalton!' He then said if he had only seen the bars of the station-house window, as he was entering, he would have sent a
ball through his conductor. He further said that he had been in the Police Court that morning, and had recollected going up a flight of steps which he did not see that night, as he had been led in the back way, and had he but seen these steps, his guide would have been a dead man. He was then handcuffed and searched, and two large horse-pistols heavily loaded and capped, besides a small one, were taken from his belt; he was then locked up."
Kelly, the other accomplice, was arrested the next day, and both were sent back to Van Diemen's Land, tried, and executed.
A Source Book of Australian History, 1919 |
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