The website "Ben Hall: Traps" provides a detailed account of the New South Wales (NSW) police force's struggle against the bushranger epidemic and criminal activities in the gold fields of NSW and beyond during the 1860s. The police force, often referred to as 'Traps', faced numerous challenges, including inferior equipment, harsh elements, substandard horses, and a lack of public support. Despite these obstacles, they persevered in their mission to maintain law and order.
Key figures in this struggle included Sir Frederick William Pottinger, a baronet who served as an Inspector of Police in the Lachlan District, and officers like Sanderson and Lyons. Pottinger, born in India and educated at Eton, had a tumultuous journey from a life of privilege in England to becoming a dedicated law enforcement officer in Australia. Despite facing public controversies and personal setbacks, Pottinger's commitment to his duty was unwavering.
The website also highlights the crucial role of Aboriginal trackers like Billy Dargin in the police force. These trackers used their intimate knowledge of the land and exceptional tracking skills to assist the police in their pursuit of bushrangers and criminals.
The site provides a comprehensive overview of the challenges faced by the NSW police during this period, the strategies they employed, and the individuals who played significant roles in this historical context. It offers a unique perspective on the law enforcement efforts during the bushranger era and the gold rush in Australia. Yet, despite the many obstacles, including the cone of silence from the bushrangers sympathisers, these police troopers undertook the exhausting and dangerous task of pursuing those outlaws who thought nothing of putting a bullet between their eyes.
'Traps,' The term used for Colonial Australian Police, most probably has its origins from the early period of the Colony of NSW when drinking in a public house on the sabbath was deemed sinning. Whereby, to catch publicans who flouted the sabbath, the Police would send in persons or Police in disguise to "Trap" a publican into or was known to be trading on Sunday by selling the plant grog. In due course, the term became synonymous to all Police in executing their duty, employing deceitful means to make arrests, i.e. "To Trap them." In the goldfields of Victoria and NSW, the term 'Trap' became famous as the more impoverished miners avoided purchasing Gold licences and were often snared by the Police, similarly dressed as the miners who were often nabbed in the dead of night. Those measures of trapping were a part of the catalyst leading up to the Victorian Eureka Stockade debacle.
The definition of Bravery: the quality that allows someone to do things that are dangerous or frightening:
Sir Frederick Pottinger born on April 27th, 1831, in India, was the second son of Sir Henry Pottinger and Susanna Maria Cooke.
His father, Sir Henry Pottinger, arrived in India in 1804 as a cadet officer of the East India Company. Climbing the ranks, he eventually reached the position of brevet rank Major-General and proved instrumental in ending the First Opium War in China with the Treaty of Nanking in 1842. Sir Henry's significant contributions led to his appointment as the first Governor of Hong Kong, serving from 1843 to 1844. Upon returning to England in 1844, he was appointed to Queen Victoria's Privy Council and, in 1847, returned to the diplomatic corps as Governor of Cape Colony in South Africa and later Governor of Madras, India, in 1851.
Following his father's footsteps, Sir Frederick Pottinger pursued a private education at Eton before joining the army. In 1850, he purchased a commission in the Grenadier Guards, rising to the rank of Lieutenant. However, maintaining a position in the Guards proved financially burdensome, and the accumulated debt forced Sir Frederick to sell his commission in 1854:
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| Sir Frederick's attire as a Guards Officer. |
A lawsuit emerged as Pottinger was accused of neglecting to pay an outstanding bill of £84. 13s for services provided by a house agent and furniture dealer named Mr F. Clerk. This debt had accumulated through the procurement of goods for a residence leased by Pottinger, ostensibly for his mistress, Miss Kate Perry.
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| The house at 165 Cambridge St, Pimlico, London, rented by Sir Frederick as John Perry & Miss Perry, as it appears today. |
Once the plaintiff's witnesses had finished their testimonies, it was time for Sir Frederick Pottinger to take the stand. Exhibiting his aristocratic flair, Sir Frederick masterfully executed a rhetorical dance, artfully disputing the implications of the prior testimonies. He framed his defence as a case of contradictory statements, downplaying the controversy to mere hearsay. His testimony was duly reported in the 'Reynolds Newspaper' on August 16th, 1857; (See article right.)Sir Frederick was not the only child of Sir Henry Pottinger. He had a brother, Eldred, who sadly died in infancy. Another sibling, Henry, who lived from 1834 to 1909, succeeded their father as the 3rd Baronet. He also had a sister, Henrietta-Maria, who lived from 1829 to 1905.
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| Great Western Hotel, Paddington, London. Sir Frederick's and Miss Perry's Haunt. |
To escape imminent court appearances over his debts, Pottinger slipped away to Spain, specifically Cadiz, in the company of a friend from the Guards. After a brief period, he returned to England quietly, only to leave again shortly. This time, his destination was Australia.
In 1859, under the guise of F.W. Parker, Sir Frederick migrated from Liverpool, England, to Melbourne, Australia. Arriving inconspicuously at Melbourne's Port Phillip Bay on board the passenger ship 'British Trident', he left his past behind, starting a new chapter of his life in a foreign land.
Australia, being situated at the 'bottom of the world', was a place where many could blend into the fabric of the growing colonies, often under assumed identities. Sir Frederick Pottinger was one such individual who seized this opportunity. Fleeing England and his relentless debt collectors, he booked passage to Victoria under the pseudonym of F. W. Parker. His ship, the British Trident, arrived on the shores of Melbourne City on 8th March 1859, marking the beginning of Pottinger's new life in the southern hemisphere.
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| City of Sydney 1853-62. Oil painting by C. D. Gregory. Courtesy Flotilla Australia |
However, after eight months of arduous toil and no significant finds, Pottinger found himself disillusioned with the promise of easy riches. He decided to shift his focus north to New South Wales and the bustling city of Sydney, the fledgling nation's metropolis. Sir Frederick secured passage on the ship 'City of Sydney', a 700-ton vessel under the command of Captain Moodie, and embarked on his journey.
It was during this voyage, on 4th March 1860, that he opted to reclaim his original name, registering his passage as Frederick Pottinger, while still withholding his baronet title. He left behind the pseudonym of F.W. Parker that had served him well on his initial journey from England. The 'City of Sydney' docked in the majestic Sydney Harbour, where Pottinger, keeping a low profile, disembarked without any fanfare or ceremony, ready to start a new chapter in the vibrant city.
After setting foot in the bustling town of Sydney, Pottinger opted for a degree of anonymity. He chose not to disclose his standing as a member of the British aristocracy or his military background and refrained from involving himself in Sydney's society. Taking an unexpected turn, Pottinger joined the ranks of the New South Wales mounted patrol.
This career move saw him assigned to the Southern Mounted Patrol in Gundagai. His responsibilities involved working with the NSW Gold Escort, an essential service operating in the South-Western Districts of NSW with its headquarters at Bathurst. This position allowed Pottinger to serve in a capacity that utilised his military skills and experience, all while maintaining a low profile.
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Brevet Major General Sir Henry Pottinger, 1st Baronet, GCB, PC  Pottinger family residence at 67, Eaton Place, London, 1851. |
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| Sir Frederick Pottinger's Fathers Will, published in the Illustrated London News, 14th February 1857. (In today's terms, £70,000 is more than $5.8 million, squandered in three years.) |
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| Sir Frederick Pottinger's alias of F.W. Parker departed Liverpool on 8th March 1859. |
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| Sir Frederick Pottinger's alias of F.W. Parker arrival in Victoria on 8th June 1859. |
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| A Gold Escort, Bathurst, c. 1870's. Courtesy NLA. |
However, gold at Kiandra and Ophir created a fever that stripped the police force of reliable men, whereby enlistment came with limited scrutiny. The impact of gold fever on the police force was noted:
Dozens of constables had deserted their posts during the decade of golden glory. The substitutes, hastily recruited to cope with the ever-expanding population and increase of crime, were seldom satisfactory. Many a constable was dismissed for drunkenness and other vices. A policeman's lot was "not a happy one" in New South Wales in the Furious Fifties and Sensational Sixties.
While Pottinger was navigating this new existence amidst the rugged terrain of New South Wales, safeguarding gold, an intriguing letter arrived at the Bathurst Police Headquarters. Addressed to Sir Frederick Pottinger Bart., the mysterious letter signalled a turning point in his life. The abrupt reminder of his noble roots forced him to face his precipitous descent from the aristocracy, prompting a moment of self-reflection captured in his diary. Here he candidly discussed his current life as a trooper, an existence far removed from the vibrant provincial towns or metropolises he once roamed. His 1860 diary entry spoke volumes about the discontent he felt amidst the humble surroundings of Gundagai. (I hold a copy of the diary. Many thanks to David Geerling)
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| Sir Frederick Pottinger's arrival in NSW, 4th March 1860, no longer using the alias of Parker. |
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| Bathurst Free Press and Mining Journal Saturday 5th May 1860. |
Pottinger kept the title of Baronet a secret until uncovered in May 1860. Whereby, the masquerade was exposed by Captain Battye (Officer-in-charge of the Bathurst Police), who had been handed a letter addressed for a Sir Frederick Pottinger Bart, Mounted Police Bathurst. There was a search and no luck in ascertaining who the gentleman was within his command, at a loss over this curious peer of the realm. Battye placed an advertisement in the newspapers seeking knowledge of the mystery Baronet's whereabouts.
Subsequently, living the mundane life of a gold escort guard and a fall from grace. There could only be one possibility for the letters' appearance. Sir Frederick himself sent the letter knowing that a change would be in the air. Therefore, upon Pottinger's unearthing, Captain Battye informed the powers that be in Sydney.
Now exposed, propriety stepped in as a Baronet riding shotgun on a gold escort could not possibly be condoned. Consequently, like lightening striking, Government promotion came rapidly for the unveiled Sir Frederick Pottinger. The Baronet was described as:
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| NSW Government Gazette, 1860. |
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| Clerk of Petty Sessions, Dubbo 30th Oct 1860. |
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| Pottinger appointed Assistant-Inspector Burrangong, November 1861. |
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| The table illustrated from the Police of Sydney 1788-1862. Showing the command organisation up to the consolidation of the current NSW Police Force. Swanton 1984. |
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| Empire, 5th October 1861. |
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| NSW Government Gazette, 1861. |
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| Sir Frederick at work Dubbo June 1861. |
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| Bathurst Free Press and Mining Journal Saturday Wednesday 15th January 1862. |
In 1860/1, Lambing Flat was in turmoil over the question of Chinese gold diggers. These ill feelings came to ahead as disgruntled European miners rallied to rid the field of the celestials. Riots became a daily part of life as men continued to agitate the banning of the Chinese. The Europeans despised the Chinese, who were considered the closest thing to an alien. The Battle of Lambing Flat-Frank Clune:
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| (1833-1913) Private Source. |
The journey took them through the tiny village of Eugowra, where the road ran parallel to a vast array of granite boulders strewn across the local range. As they approached, Sgt Condell, seated next to the driver, found their way obstructed by three bullock teams. The driver, John Fagan, loudly demanding passage for the Royal Mail, called out, "Make way for the Royal Mail." they slowly manoeuvred around the impediments.
However, as they neared the imposing granite boulders, a sudden cry of "FIRE" echoed through the air, followed by a flurry of gunfire that riddled the wooden frame of the coach. The attack resulted in injuries for two of the escort; a bullet found its way to Condell's ribs, while Constable Moran, seated inside the coach, sustained a wound to the groin.
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| Reputed Eugowra Escort Coach. c. 1900s. The photograph was taken by Frank Walker, 1861-1948. |
Pottinger, acting promptly, gathered local support and made his way to Clements' farm. Upon reaching the scene, he assessed the situation, organised the righting of the upturned coach, and set trackers to work tracing the assailants' steps. Led by the notorious Frank Gardiner, the bushrangers had seemingly evaporated into the wilderness, fleeing to their concealed refuge at Wheogo Hill, some 60 miles to the south.
Pottinger split his forces, sending one contingent to pursue the fugitives south. He reasoned that the culprits were likely from Victoria and set off on a gruelling 200-mile journey to the village of Hay, hopeful of intercepting the bandits. However, the expedition yielded no results, and a weary Pottinger and his small party decided to return to Forbes.
They chanced upon three well-dressed riders mounted on fine steeds during their return journey. Striking up a conversation, Pottinger requested one of the strangers produce a receipt for his impressive horse. The stranger, playing along, steered his horse towards the nearby scrub under the pretense of searching for the receipt, only to suddenly spur his horse and make a swift escape into the thickets. Taken aback, the police quickly recovered, drew their revolvers, and managed to handcuff the remaining two riders.
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| Gunfight marker at Sproules. Temora. My Photo. |
Having expertly calculated the police's route and the ideal location for the ambush, Gilbert waited in the shadows, ready to strike. As Pottinger and his contingent were passing by the Sproules' homestead, a mere eight miles from Temora in New South Wales, Gilbert launched his assault. A heated firefight ensued, in the midst of which the prisoners were freed. Unfortunately, amidst the chaos, one of the police horses, carrying the cash recovered from Manns, was shot. Startled, the wounded horse bolted, disappearing into the surrounding wilderness.
However, not all was lost. Pottinger, still in possession of 230 ounces of the stolen gold, managed to retreat successfully. Rallying his scattered men, Pottinger set a course back to Forbes, resolved to regroup and reassess their pursuit of the audacious bushrangers.
With the invaluable information at their disposal, four members of the gang - John Maguire, Alexander Fordyce, John Bow, and the recaptured Henry Manns - were transported to Sydney to face trial. The proceedings commenced in early February 1863, but the jury was unable to reach a unanimous decision, leading to a mistrial. The second trial convened two weeks later, ultimately finding Bow, Fordyce, and Manns guilty. They were sentenced to death, although Bow and Fordyce's sentences were commuted to life imprisonment. Manns was not so fortunate - he was destined for the gallows.
Meanwhile, as the trial was unfolding, Sir Frederick was soaking in the delights of city life in Sydney. However, an unpleasant incident occurred during one of his late-night strolls down King Street. On his return to his residence at The Victoria Club in Castlereagh Street, it was reported that Sir Frederick was accosted and assaulted by a group of men:
This violent event prompted many among the city's elites to rally to his defence. Praise for Sir Frederick's dedicated work in the bush began to appear in the more conservative newspapers, such as The Sydney Morning Herald. However, opposing views were put forward by The Empire, a publication that scoffed at the notion that his assault was anything more than a random occurrence. They poured scepticism onto the narratives praising Pottinger, generating further controversy around the already contentious figure of Sir Frederick.
Unfortunately, controversy once again stalked the tenacious baronet. In late September 1862, during a night out in Bathurst, an altercation occurred with a local resident, William Campbell Mockett. Outraged by the incident, Mockett pressed charges against Sir Frederick, alleging that the inspector had held his revolver to his head, threatening to "put a bullet through him." The dispute had stemmed from a private party at McMinn's, the jeweller's shop when Mockett tried to persuade a friend to return to the gathering. For reasons unclear, Sir Frederick intervened in a manner that would lead to further scandal. The court proceedings can be accessed through the link below.
Any criticism aimed at Pottinger only served to bolster his resolve, solidifying his determination to exert the full force of the law. He was not one to favour leniency or compassion, instead adhering to a rigid, unwavering stance. This became particularly evident when a subordinate, Constable Hassen, was charged with the killing of a man in police custody. In January 1863, Sir Frederick Pottinger found himself summoned to Orange, called upon to serve as a character witness for the accused constable. The jury, swayed perhaps by Pottinger's testimony, ruled the incident as 'Justifiable Homicide', by a slim majority of 7 to 9. 'Goulburn Herald', January 1863:
Sir Frederick Pottinger's tempestuous nature seemed to perpetually draw him into confrontations. On one occasion, he found himself at the receiving end of a young lady's wrath, a certain Miss Kyle, a local identity in Forbes renowned for her fiery Lola Montez-like temperament. Offended by a particularly impudent letter from Pottinger, Miss Kyle responded by attempting to horsewhip the Baronet in public, an event that undoubtedly stirred the local community.Miss Kyle, a formidable entrepreneur in her own right, owned and managed a series of popular public houses on Rankin Street, alongside a certain Mr Huey. Among these establishments were the 'Horse and Jockey Hotel', 'Bull and Mouth', 'Diggers Return', and 'Tara Hall'. However, in June 1864, a massive fire ravaged the street, decimating her thriving businesses as reported by the 'Empire'. Pottinger's escapades with Miss Kyle added yet another layer of colour to his eventful life in colonial Australia.
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| Frank Gardiner. c. 1862. |
The roots of Harpur's antagonism can be traced back to the experiences of his own family. His mother, Sarah Walsh nee Harpur, had suffered the traumatic experience of her stepson Johnny Walsh's imprisonment and subsequent death in Forbes. Harpur's defiance seemed to stem from a personal vendetta, wherein he declared, "he would advocate the cause of robbers and murderers-no, not even where some of them his own blood relatives."
Never one to shy away from confrontation, Sir Frederick took umbrage at the insult and demanded an apology. He challenged Harpur directly, ready to defend his honour. However, Harpur stood firm, refusing to back down. Given the recent public controversies surrounding Sir Frederick and perhaps considering the tragic circumstances of Johnny Walsh's death and the counsel of Mr. D. Egan, Pottinger decided to let the issue fade away. Eventually, Harpur, through Mr Eagan, issued an apology to Sir Frederick.:
Never one to leave things to chance, Pottinger meticulously planned his strategy. He summoned eight of his officers, including Hollister, Sanderson, and Condell, to accompany him. Together, they hunkered down in their hideout, patiently waiting for 'The Darkie' to appear. As the day unfolded, the air was thick with anticipation as Pottinger and his men kept their eyes peeled for any signs of their target.
For the first time, Pottinger found himself acting on solid intelligence. In the eerie quiet of the night, he spotted Gardiner, who had casually returned to Mrs. Brown's home after an earlier visit, anticipating an intimate evening with her. Astride his white charger, Gardiner seemed to be oblivious to the imminent threat.As Gardiner neared within a few yards, Pottinger sprang up suddenly, hollering 'Stand in the Queen's name', before aiming his carbine at the unsuspecting man and firing point-blank. However, a misfire allowed a thoroughly startled Gardiner to escape, even as two other troopers added to the chaos by discharging their weapons, their bullets whizzing past Gardiner as he disappeared into the obscurity of the night.
Despite the failure to apprehend Gardiner, Pottinger was undeterred. He proceeded to Mrs. Brown's home, questioning both Kitty and her younger brother Johnny Walsh, ultimately arresting the latter. The events of that night were laid out before the Forbes Bench during Walsh's subsequent arraignment, an incident that attracted much derision and criticism for Sir Frederick.
During this time, Johnny Walsh, along with Ben Hall, John McGuire, and John Brown—Kitty's brother-in-law—found themselves locked up in Forbes Jail in connection with the Eugowra Gold Robbery. Tragically, young Walsh would succumb to a fever while in Pottinger's custody, his demise marking a grim footnote to this tumultuous period. (For full details of the encounter between the two adversaries, see link below.)
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| Patsy Daley. (1844-1914) |
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| Sir Frederick Pottinger. |
Pottinger penned a detailed memorandum, elucidating the Herculean tasks faced by the police under his charge. The memorandum was intended to shed light on the difficulties posed by the harsh environment and hardened criminals and highlight the problem of those aiding and abetting the bushrangers, which compounded the police's struggle. 'The Cone of Silence.'
The memorandum was addressed to the Colonial Secretary, Mr Cowper, who tabled it in the New South Wales Parliament. Pottinger's intent was to ensure that the honourable members of the Parliament would understand the gritty reality of the police's endeavours. Thus, from the Lachlan district, Sir Frederick Pottinger's memorandum made its way into the chambers of the Parliament and those critics comfortable in their leather armchairs who never ventured further than MacQuarie street or their clubs:
"P.S.— But for the merest accident Gardiner would have been shot by me when Sanderson and myself alone met him in the bush at Wheogo, and it is chiefly owing to that fact, and my previous and subsequent untiring exertions, that Gardiner has finally left the colony.³
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| The above hotel was Frequented by Sir Frederick Pottinger and Ben Hall during the 1860s. Courtesy NLA |
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| Sir Frederick Pottinger's published official sanction for brawling and gambling. |
Sir Frederick's sometimes abrasive tactics stirred discontent among some quarters, but they also resonated with a significant faction of citizens who yearned for a resolute and forceful hand to curb the growing menace of the bushrangers. Thus, while his methods may have raised eyebrows in some circles, they earned him a wave of support from those desperate for effective action against the escalating bushranging onslaught. His unyielding stance and commitment to his duty were recognised and respected by many in the community, who saw in Sir Frederick Pottinger a beacon of hope in these tumultuous times. 'The Courier' Brisbane:
Moreover, despite his father's official censure of Pottinger for his perceived indiscretions, Charles Cowper Junior emerged as a staunch defender of the Inspector. Cowper Junior argued that much of the unjust ridicule directed at Pottinger was largely due to his aristocratic title, claiming that if Pottinger bore a more common name—such as "Charley," "Billy," or "Paddy"—the public criticism would be considerably lessened. In his view, Pottinger's noble lineage only amplified the public scrutiny he faced, unfairly overshadowing his tireless efforts to combat the lawlessness of the times.
Saturday 1st November 1862
SIR FREDERICK POTTINGER.
https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/59792056?browse=ndp%3Abrowse%2Ftitle%2FB%2Ftitle%2F57%2F1862%2F11%2F01%2Fpage%2F6052175%2Farticle%2F59792056
Pottinger introduced groundbreaking practices in the police force that were pivotal in the fight against bushranging. In a move that was quite novel for the era, he championed the concept of police officers adopting civilian attire while on patrol in the bush. This gave his men an element of surprise, blurring the line between the law enforcers and the general populace, thereby making it harder for the outlaws to evade capture.
Moreover, Pottinger's extensive deployment of Indigenous trackers proved to be a game-changer in the law enforcement landscape. The trackers' keen understanding of the terrain and tracking abilities provided the police with invaluable insights and, more often than not, spelled the difference between the successful apprehension of outlaws and futile pursuits. This kept the bushrangers perpetually on their toes, significantly disrupting their operations. Through these initiatives, Sir Frederick Pottinger demonstrated his firm commitment to pushing the boundaries of conventional policing in his relentless pursuit of justice:
Regrettably, despite his intense efforts, Pottinger's ultimate objective—the capture of notorious outlaws Gardiner, Gilbert, Hall and their associates—eluded him. He was known to have displayed an unwavering determination in his relentless pursuit of these lawbreakers, but success, it seemed, always stayed just out of his grasp.
This struggle was acknowledged in August 1863 in the NSW Parliament, where a more nuanced view of Pottinger's character was presented. It was noted that despite the missteps and controversies associated with his name, the dedication and tenacity of Sir Frederick Pottinger in fulfilling his duties as a law enforcement officer remained unquestionable. His commitment to the pursuit of justice, often in the face of daunting challenges and harsh conditions, was a testament to his character and dedication to his role.:
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| Artist's impression of Sir Frederick Pottinger on return from the hunt for bushrangers. c. 1928. Courtesy NLA. |
In the latter part of 1864, MacPherson had crossed into New South Wales from Queensland. His motive was allegedly to join forces with Ben Hall and his notorious gang, whose daring exploits were being voraciously consumed in newspapers across the colonies.
Operating under the assumed name of John Bruce, MacPherson initiated his nefarious journey with a horse theft at Wowingragong. However, he found himself unable to locate Ben Hall and his gang.
Pottinger, ever vigilant and proactive in his role, seized upon the opportunity presented by MacPherson's transgressions. In a display of skill and courage, Sir Frederick not only managed to wound the elusive "Wild Scotsman" but also effected his capture, adding another feather to his cap in his ongoing battle against bushranging in New South Wales, as reported in 'The Sydney Morning Herald', Tuesday, 3rd January 1865:
Before too long, MacPherson found himself crossing paths with the indomitable Sir Frederick Pottinger and the New South Wales police. In the ensuing confrontation, MacPherson found himself at a distinct disadvantage, having lost his horse and ammunition. Although he initially managed to elude Pottinger on foot, he was later encircled and apprehended by the police.
MacPherson was then slapped with charges of shooting at Sir Frederick. However, these charges were subsequently dropped in the wake of Sir Frederick's untimely demise. Despite the dropping of the charges, MacPherson was not destined for freedom. He was earmarked for transportation to Rockhampton, to stand trial for his suspected involvement in an earlier robbery of a publican.
However, displaying his habitual knack for eluding the law, MacPherson managed to abscond while the steamer carrying him was anchored at Mackay. In an audacious display that was nothing short of a mockery of the law enforcement authorities, MacPherson left behind his leg-irons nailed to a tree, with a note attached to them. The scene was later described in "The life and adventures of the Wild Scotchman" by P.W. McNally.:
Furthermore, in early January 1865, hoping to lure Hall, Gilbert and Dunn into the open at a local Forbes horse race, Pottinger rode in the Wowingragong horse races in breach of police regulations:
Sir
Frederick Pottinger's oversight proved to be the opening his
detractors in the government had been waiting for. Without missing a
beat, he was promptly dismissed from the New South Wales police force
on February 16, 1865.
However,
the abrupt termination of Sir Frederick's services didn't go
unnoticed by the local populace of Forbes. A wave of outrage swept
through the community, leading to a significant show of support for
the dismissed inspector. The residents rallied, organising protest
meetings against his dismissal on the local diggings while
neighbouring towns drafted and sent petitions calling for his
immediate reappointment.
The overwhelming response was a testament to the esteem and trust that Sir Frederick Pottinger had earned from the people of the Central West during his tenure as a police officer. Despite his perceived flaws and the numerous controversies that seemed to follow him, it was clear that many regarded him as an indispensable bulwark against the prevailing lawlessness of the time:
However, on the 5th of March, 1865, a tragic accident befell him. Sir Frederick Pottinger was trying to board a moving coach at Wascoe's Inn, nestled in the Blue Mountains, when he inadvertently shot himself in the upper abdomen. News of the incident spread rapidly, and it was reported that:
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| First report of Sir Frederick's Accident. |
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| The actual c. 1860 English made Tipping and Lawden American Christain Sharpes patent four-barrel.30 calibre breech-loading pistol issued to Sir Frederick and with which he suffered his fatal wound. (Photo reproduced from Edgar Penzig's book Definitive Illustrated History of Ben Hall©) |
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| Photograph of the first Pilgrim Inn built by Barnett Levey at Blaxland in 1826. Destroyed by bushfire in 1968. Photograph dated 1927. Frank Walker 1861-1948 |
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| The main building of the first Pilgrim Inn at Blaxland. Dated 1927. Frank Walker 1861-1948 |
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| The Pilgrim Inn, Blaxland, built in 1826. In later years the house was occupied by Mr John Outrim Wascoe. The building was utilised as both a hotel and a boarding house. |
Following
the unfortunate accident, Sir Frederick showed remarkable resilience,
recovering sufficiently to be transferred from the Blue Mountains to
the Victoria Club in Sydney, where he was regarded as a valued
member. Sir Frederick would pull through briefly, his condition
demonstrating signs of steady improvement.
However,
in a cruel twist of fate, he abruptly suffered a relapse. On the 9th
of April, 1865, Sir Frederick Pottinger passed away, leaving no will,
a legal status referred to as "intestate". His passing
coincided with a historic day - the same day saw Robert E. Lee
surrender the last significant Confederate army to Ulysses S. Grant
at Appomattox Courthouse, Virginia. It was also the day when the
infamous 'Mad Dog' Morgan, a terror in southern NSW, was shot dead at
Peechelba Station in Victoria.
News of Sir Frederick's death was conveyed in sombre tones, echoing the loss of a dedicated officer and the end of a tumultuous era in the annals of law enforcement in New South Wales.
The Victoria Club ceased to exist in 1872, Mr W. H. Cattell being the secretary at the time. The officers of the NSW Department of Audit then occupied the building.
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| The Victoria Club, 136 Castlereagh Street, Sydney c. 1870. The Victoria Club ceased to exist in 1872. |
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| Sir Frederick's Obituary, Bells Life and Sporting Chronicle 15th April 1865. |
Memorial Card in honour of Sir Frederick Pottinger, 10th April 1865. Discovered with Constable Hollister's effects. |
| St. Judes Church, Randwick with Parsonage at left. c. 1873. |
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| Sir Frederick Pottinger |
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| NSW Police Tracker. c. 1800s |
The English surname Dargin may have a connection to William Dargin, a colonially-born settler who resided in the same area. Born in 1806, the elder Dargin was a prominent figure in the community—a landholder and innkeeper known for holding licenses to establishments such as the Barrosa Tavern and the Emu Hotel. He passed away on March 19, 1875, and was buried at Rouse Hill in Parramatta.
An intriguing
possibility arises regarding the relationship between the younger and
elder Dargin. Although the elder William was married to Eliza Byrne
and had children of his own, he was known to spend extended periods
living among the Indigenous people of the Hawkesbury, sometimes for
years at a time. His prolonged and close interactions with the Dharug
community raise the question of whether he may have been the father
of Billy Dargin—a speculation that, while unconfirmed, remains an
enduring point of historical interest.
While the exact details of Billy Dargin’s youth remain uncertain—including whether he possessed a tribal name—some conjecture can be drawn from his locality, surname, and shared habitation with the elder William Dargin. However, any possible familial connection between the two remains speculative rather than historical fact.
Despite this uncertainty, it is important to consider the prevailing practices of early colonial Australia, where settlers frequently provided care, education, and religious instruction to children of mixed Aboriginal and European descent. Billy Dargin’s recorded understanding of English and exposure to Christian influences suggest he was of mixed heritage.
Therefore, during this period, it was not uncommon for children born of relationships between settlers and Indigenous women to be raised under the informal guardianship of their European fathers or other local settlers. Such as a charitable organisation or benevolent society. Contrary to some later perceptions, historical research suggests that these children were often integrated into settler households rather than mistreated or abandoned. Such informal foster relationships were a distinctive feature of Australia’s early colonial society, offering a possible insight into the circumstances that may have shaped Billy Dargin’s upbringing.
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| Children c. 1860. |
However, a historical exposé from 1863 offers insight into the perspectives of Indigenous people living within European settlements during this era. Several accounts reveal a fascinating and often overlooked viewpoint: many Sydney-based Aboriginal people perceived Europeans, including convicts, not as invaders but as self-enslaved individuals. Intriguingly, Indigenous communities frequently regarded white Australians born on their native soil—known as Currency lads and lasses—as kin or brothers.
This nuanced relationship between Aboriginal people and the settler-born population is chronicled in The Sydney Morning Herald on September 22, 1863. The account presents an unconventional perspective on the colonial period, highlighting the complex cultural interplay that shaped this pivotal chapter in Australian history. Except from A VOICE FROM THE COUNTRY highlights that view:
It is essential to acknowledge that Billy Dargin’s upbringing appears to have been one of relative comfort and care. There is little doubt that he received a solid education and that his well-being was attended to during his formative years. Notably, he developed a strong command of the English language, speaking it with fluency—an indication of the cultural interweaving that shaped his early life. His ability to navigate both Indigenous and European worlds reflects the broader complexities of identity and integration during this era of colonial Australia.
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| The arrival of Rev Styles and his wife in 1833. Note, that the Agent for the ship is Ben Hall's fathers Master, Mr A.B. Sparke. |
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| Rev. Styles c. 1840 |
Like many children of Aboriginal descent in that era, Billy Dargin was introduced to the Christian faith. Records indicate that he was baptised c. 1850, approximately at eight years of age. His baptism was conducted by Reverend Henry Styles, the minister at St. Matthew’s Church in Windsor—a church designed and built by Francis Greenway in 1817, which held a significant spiritual presence in the community.
Reverend Styles, a compassionate and dedicated clergyman, arrived in the Colony of New South Wales in 1833 aboard the Warrior, accompanied by his wife. He initially served as assistant curate at St. Matthew’s before later becoming the Master of the Parramatta Orphan School, further solidifying his role in the region’s religious and educational life.
While there has been speculation that Dargin may have originated from the Bogan District, north of Forbes, evidence suggests otherwise. In March 1863, Dargin himself confirmed his Windsor roots, stating:
"I was employed in the police force. I am twenty years of age and was baptised twelve years ago at Windsor by the Rev. Mr. Styles."
His declaration firmly situates his origins in Windsor, effectively dispelling claims of a Bogan District connection. |
| Traditional Fishing c. 1800's. |
Unfortunately, no records exist detailing Billy Dargin’s early life before his service as a tracker in the New South Wales Police.
However, whether he was of full Aboriginal descent or of mixed heritage, this in no way diminishes the significance of his contributions to law enforcement. Billy was a dedicated police tracker whose loyalty and reliability earned him widespread admiration.
Over time, this loyalty became even more evident. Despite facing harassment from other former trackers—perhaps due to his fluency in English or Europeanism or unwavering dedication—Billy remained steadfast in his commitment to his duty. His dignified response to these challenges only further underscored the respect and acclaim he earned throughout his brief but impactful career. Longtime resident aand known as the first white woman at Burrangong Sarah Musgrave, who died at Auburn in her 108th year noted of Billy.
Before his tenure with the police, Billy Dargin no doubt spent his early years navigating two cultural worlds. Within the traditional Dharug society, he learned bushcraft and the teachings of the elders—skills that would later form the foundation of his livelihood. At the same time, within the European world, he received an education, equipping him with the language and knowledge that set him apart from many of his contemporaries.
The abundant surroundings of the Hawkesbury River provided the ideal environment for Billy to develop skills essential for hunting and fishing, both of which were integral to Aboriginal culture. The deep knowledge and experience in reading the signs of animals he gained during this time would later prove invaluable in his police career.
A.L. Haydon, in his work The Trooper Police of Australia, provides insight into the specialised skills of police trackers—skills that Billy would have honed during his formative years. They not only shaped his abilities but also became the cornerstone of his effectiveness as a tracker, enabling him to excel in law enforcement.
The reach of the Dharug people extended beyond the Hawkesbury, encompassing the broader regions of Port Jackson, Broken Bay, and the Blue Mountains. Historical records indicate that, despite living within the expanding borders of European settlements, these tribes remained steadfast in their traditional ways. However, they in due course adopted European dress. Often discarded atire from farm workers or settlers.
Coexistence between Indigenous groups was complex, but occasional social gatherings, such as corroborees, brought together tribes from diverse regions, stretching from the Hawkesbury to Shoalhaven. Despite increasing European influence, the nomadic lifestyle remained deeply ingrained in Aboriginal culture. The concept of land ownership, as understood by settlers, was foreign to these tribes. When asked about territorial boundaries, a common response was simply to point to the horizon—an indication of their broader, less rigid understanding of land tenure. However, disputes over territory, food and resources, particularly the taking of women, frequently escalated into violent bloody conflicts. The killing of ones enemy was not dwelled upon.
This lifestyle, often harsh by today’s standards, was documented further in The Sydney Morning Herald on September 22, 1863, in an article titled "A Voice from the Country." The piece provides insight into the often-brutal realities of Aboriginal life in colonial Australia. It was also noted that individuals of mixed descent were outcast or shunned by tribal groups. While the extent to which this affected Billy Dargin is unknown, there are indications that he faced ostracisation from full-blood trackers in Forbes, suggesting that his heritage may have influenced his social standing within the policing community.
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| Alexander Riley. Pictured on the right C. 1970s Courtesy Pathfinders. |
Riley attributed his finely honed tracking skills to his early years on the mission stations, where he learned and perfected his craft—an intricate art passed down through generations. This knowledge became central to his success success that also harnessed Billy Dargin's tenue in law enforcement. Riley took immense pride in his ability to read and interpret the subtlest signs in nature, a talent that proved invaluable in his pursuit of fugitives.
The way Riley spoke of his skills offered a rare glimpse into the depth of his expertise and the enduring traditions of Aboriginal tracking—techniques that, in many ways, remained unchanged since the days of Billy Dargin.
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| Contemporary illustration of a tracker's employment. |
At the time of Billy's entry into police employment, four other trackers were stationed at Forbes under the newly appointed inspector, Sir Frederick Pottinger: Pilot, Jacky, Hastings, and Charlie Edwards, better known as Prince Charlie. Notably, Billy was an excellent horseman. Despite having been unfamiliar with horses until the arrival of Europeans, Aboriginal people demonstrated an extraordinary aptitude for riding.
In some instances, the trackers even had an uncanny ability to distinguish truth from deception in their police work. They were often presented with victims' stories and, with an uncanny knack, they could discern a falsehood when they encountered one.
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| Tracker Salary Register- 1863 |
Sir Frederick Pottinger, the officer in charge of the Lachlan district, recognised the benefit of a tracker force and implemented their use seeing men like Dargin's potential and recruited them into his command sometime in c. 1861. Pottinger was a strong advocate for the trackers, appreciating their unique skills in pursuing the rising tide of bushranging across the Western Plains. In the coming years, Pottinger, along with his officers and constables, would rely heavily on their trackers' expertise.
Trackers at that time earned approximately £3 17s 6d per month (or around $336.00 per month in today's terms), whereas a NSW trooper earned 5s 6d a day. The workload of a tracker was varied, encompassing tasks from tending to police horses, maintaining saddles, weapons and general equipment, patrolling the bush and even engaging in gunfights with bushrangers.
The trackers living conditions also varied widely, from residing in police stables to rudimentary shacks close to the police camp, ensuring their availability in times of emergency. Trackers were often outfitted with a constable's uniform, or when on bush patrol, they dressed similarly to the police under the directive of Sir Frederick Pottinger in bush or stockman clothing.
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| Much loved Tracker "Tommy" of Broken Hill c. 1900. |
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| Extract from Hollister Diary April 1863. Courtesy RAHS. |
Throughout history, the courage of Aboriginal trackers has been scrutinised, questioned, and even ridiculed. Yet, it is important to recognise that young Billy stood shoulder-to-shoulder with some of the most respected leaders of the New South Wales Police. On multiple occasions, he displayed a level of bravery that equaled—if not surpassed—that of many troopers. While some officers hesitated when faced with the daunting task of confronting bushrangers, Billy showed no such reluctance.
Historical records indicate that Dargin earned significant respect from both his colleagues and superior officers for his work as a tracker. One such figure was Inspector Davidson, who succeeded Sir Frederick Pottinger at Forbes. Davidson, in particular, commended Dargin for his exceptional efforts in the pursuit that ultimately led to the demise of Ben Hall.
Billy Dargin rode alongside some of the most respected inspectors and constables of the New South Wales Police. Many of his colleagues, who later ascended to the highest ranks, owed much of their success to the invaluable skills of police trackers like Dargin. Among these esteemed officers was Inspector Sir Frederick Pottinger, a pioneer in employing Aboriginal trackers specifically for hunting down bushrangers and uncovering their hideouts.
Other notable officers Dargin worked with included Inspector Sanderson, Inspector Davidson, Captain Battye, Inspector Norton, Superintendent Morrisset, and Sergeant Condell. He also collaborated closely with mounted constables such as American born Trooper Hollister. It was in their company that he earned a well-deserved reputation for his exceptional tracking abilities, securing the respect and admiration of his peers.
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| Police Tracker Sam Hall in mounted uniform with, horse. b. 1845 - d. 1909. Courtesy State Library of. NSW. |
As an Aboriginal police tracker, William Dargin proved his mettle not only through his unparalleled tracking skills but also through his character. While on duty in the unforgiving Australian bush, relentlessly pursuing bushrangers, Dargin—like his peers—endured arduous treks through dense scrub and rugged terrain.
This harsh environment served as a crucible, revealing much about a man’s companionship, attitude, humor, commitment, and loyalty. In the face of such adversity, the bonds between these men were forged through shared hardship, their focus on the mission overriding any potential prejudice or animosity. Through his dedication and unwavering work ethic, Dargin exemplified these qualities.
Billy Dargin was not merely part of the team; he was an integral element. As troopers, they endured all manner of hardships—braving extreme weather, traversing inhospitable landscapes, and at times enduring freezing conditions with little more than their resolve. Often, they slept under the open sky and ate together in makeshift camps. These hardships forged deep bonds among them, reinforcing their collective spirit. In the face of such challenges, Dargin’s steadfast presence underscored his value as an essential and respected member of the force.
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| Sir Frederick Pottinger. |
Billy Dargin found himself squarely in the thick of things as the audacious bushrangers—Frank Gardiner, Johnny Gilbert, Johnny O'Meally, Ben Hall, and their cohorts—repeatedly terrorised settlements across the Western District in the early 1860s. The surge in bushranging activity ushered in an era where the employment of Aboriginal trackers became increasingly vital and statewide, and by early 1863, they were being extensively utilised across New South Wales. When Ned Kelly was bushranging the Victorian police seconded trackers from Queensland to hunt the cold blooded killer.
However, the role of trackers extended far beyond police work. Explorers such as Burke and Wills, whose ill-fated expedition ended in tragedy, had also relied on trackers—though, in a cruel twist of fate, they abandoned their tracker before succumbing to starvation. Trackers were even sought out by desperate parents searching for wayward daughters who had absconded for an ill-fated romance.
Across various domains, the unparalleled skills of trackers like Billy Dargin were increasingly recognised and valued, solidifying their place in the fabric of colonial Australia’s law enforcement and exploration efforts.
In June 1862, a brazen act of thievery sent shock-waves through the colony of New South Wales—if not the entire country—igniting astonishment and alarm. The Forbes Gold Escort was ambushed at Eugowra by the notorious Frank Gardiner and his accomplices, including Johnny Gilbert, Johnny O'Meally, and Ben Hall. Executed with chilling precision, the audacious robbery left the authorities scrambling to respond.
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| Tracker at Work |
Frank Gardiner, well aware of the formidable skills of Billy and Charlie, held a particular fear of the trackers—one that, by his own admission, surpassed his fear of the police. During the gang’s flight from Eugowra, he warned Daniel Charters.
In the aftermath of the gold escort robbery, newspapers eagerly sought the latest developments. Reports surged along telegraph lines, with editors anxiously awaiting updates to share with their readers. By June 18, 1862, articles began to surface, offering fragmented and often distorted accounts of the heist. Yet amid the speculation, one thing remained clear—the relentless pursuit by the trackers was garnering widespread recognition and praise.
News of the chase spread swiftly across the colony, drawing the attention of the Colonial Secretary, who emphasised the vital role played by Aboriginal trackers in Sir Frederick Pottinger’s pursuit. Their relentless tracking skills led the police to within sight of the bushrangers' camp, perched atop Wheogo Hill—just days after the robbery and a mere stone’s throw from Ben Hall’s home.
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| Tracker Jack Cave in Mounted Police uniform. b. 1865 - d. 1950's Courtesy Blayney Library. |
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| Inspector Sanderson c. 1896 |
News of the recovery spread swiftly to Forbes, where the townspeople had been anxiously following the unfolding events.
Their worry soon turned to jubilation upon learning that part of the stolen gold had been retrieved. In their relentless struggle against the audacious bushrangers, this small triumph offered a glimmer of hope—a moment of celebration amid the prevailing tension and uncertainty.
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| "The black tracker" George Rossi Ashton, 1881. number: A/S18/06/81/SUPP Courtesy State Library of Victoria |
Despite the grueling hours spent in the saddle, the successful recovery of the stolen goods instilled a renewed sense of purpose and satisfaction.
The sight of the diligent tracker, elated in the face of victory, stood as a testament to the unyielding spirit and skill of those tasked with bringing the bushrangers to justice. Hastings’ pride and joy served as a poignant reminder of the immense value and importance of the trackers’ tireless efforts—an often-overlooked yet critical force in the fight against lawlessness.
The recovery of the gold marked a significant milestone in the investigation of the Escort robbery, reinforcing the indispensable role of trackers in the efforts of the New South Wales Police, particularly in the western districts. No longer merely a tactical advantage, the use of trackers had become a defining factor in the success or failure of police operations.
For the bushrangers, this relentless pursuit was an ever-present threat. The constant pressure exerted by the trackers meant they could no longer afford the luxury of resting comfortably in their makeshift camps. Every movement was scrutinised, every trail followed. The shadow of the trackers loomed over them, forcing them into a state of perpetual vigilance.
Even the fearless John Gilbert was not immune to the growing influence of the trackers. He was compelled to acknowledge the mounting threat they posed—their relentless pursuit, their unwavering dedication to justice, and their unyielding determination instilled a rare sense of fear, even in the heart of one of the most daring bushrangers of the era.
Indeed, Gilbert’s apprehension toward the trackers was well-founded. Both he and Ben Hall had experienced several close encounters that only deepened their respect—and fear—for these relentless pursuers.
One such incident occurred on February 7, 1863. The Pinnacle property, owned by Margaret Feheeily—the sister of escort robber and informer Daniel Charters—had recently become the site of a newly established police station. Seizing the opportunity, Ben Hall and Patsy Daley, two notorious bushrangers operating on the fringes of lawlessness, launched a daring raid on the station while it was unattended. Their objective was clear: to steal weapons, having already looted Meyer Solomon’s store at Lambing Flat just days earlier, on February 2.
Constable Knox, who was in charge of the station, quickly picked up their trail, tracking the bushrangers for three miles north to Allport’s Shanty, near Pinnacle Station. As Hall and Daley left the shanty, their presence did not go unnoticed—tracker Billy Dargin, alongside Trooper Hollister and another tracker, Prince Charlie, spotted them and immediately gave chase.
Hollister later documented the events in his diary, recording the theft and the ensuing pursuit of Hall and Daley. His entry for Saturday, February 7, 1863, provides a valuable firsthand account, showcasing the keen observational skills and unyielding determination of the trackers.
Hollister was certain that the men were Ben Hall and Patsy Daley. His certainty and diligence, coupled with the evidence at hand, played a significant role in the subsequent investigation.
After galloping for several miles, Hollister found himself dislodged from his horse when colliding with a tree. In a surprising turn of events, Daley swung around and fired a number of shots, intending to either kill or hit the tracker, Prince Charlie but missed. (Prince Charlie also known as Charley Edwards).
However, the
fallout from the Pinnacle robbery led to the unfortunate dismissal of
Constable Knox from the NSW police force. Hollisters diary:
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| Artists impression of Billy fleeing after Norton capture. c. 1933. |
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| At work. Courtesy NLA. |
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| John Oxley Norton |
Sir Frederick called to the man (presuming him to be there) to surrender, but received no answer. Again, after an interval, the same request was repeated, but met with no response. After several minutes, the supposed bushranger was again summoned to appear, without eliciting any reply. At length, finding mild exhortations insufficient, Sir Frederick threatened that he would at once proceed to burn and smoke him out like an opossum. The man not liking the latter alternative, surrendered at discretion, and was immediately taken into custody. It is obvious that if the notorious Gardiner selects such innocent looking striplings to execute the deeds generally left to men of sterner stuff, it must be for some new arrangement in bush tactics, such as the human telegram hinted at by a contemporary. Patrick Daley, who forms the subject of this sketch, is a mild, youthful whiskerless looking person, with light-blue eyes and fair complexion. There is nothing in his physiognomical expression outwardly, to denote the degraded villain. He certainly, during the examination, kept his head down, glancing furtively round. His eyes move quickly and, with a sinister expression, as if were in the habit of looking under his eyebrow and "taking stock" of those around him. Sir Frederick Pottinger undoubtedly deserves great credit for his prompt action and discernment in this matter; and doubtless, he is willing to accord is portion of the merit to the acute sight of his black tracker. Lachlan Observer. [prisoner was brought before the Forbes bench on the 12th instant, and remanded for a week."]
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| The newspaper account (above) gives insight into Billy Dargin and his right and wrong concept. Although history portrays most black trackers as lacking education, Billy Dargin was an exception. He had a good grasp of English, and he was intelligent in his delivery of it. |
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| NSW Police Gazette. |
Ben Hall dead and the inquest held, the reward money was divided among the police with half of the amount of £1000 going to the informant, namely £500, with the police receiving the other £500($41,500), led by Davidson £150($12,500), Sergeant Condell £75 and the four constables and Billy Dargin, the black tracker, each received £50 ($4,200 ea.) The other tracker, Charlie, was said to have "no claim". Both Davidson and Condell were promoted, Davidson to the rank of Inspector;
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| James Henry Davidson. |
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"Diary of Duty & Occurrences" Forbes Police Station week ending 21st October 1865. Courtesy Peter Bradley . |
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"Diary of Duty & Occurrences" Forbes Police Station week ending 21st October 1865. Courtesy Peter Bradley |
However was all as it seemed. In the death of Ben Hall Billy Dargin had a pivotal role in the final moments of Ben Hall' life, who was gunned down in a hail of bullets at dawn on the Rankin Plain, 12 miles northwest of Forbes, on May 5, 1865. The ambush was carried out by police, assisted by two Aboriginal trackers, Charlie Edwards and William Dargin.
However, Charley Edwards, who never fired his weapon, was later censured by Inspector Davidson and ultimately dismissed from service. The brutal nature of Hall’s killing, even a century and a half later, continues to cast doubt over the official accounts given at his inquest by Inspector Davidson and his second-in-command, Sergeant Condell. The only officers present to give an account of the shooting.
Suspicion only deepened when, within months of Hall’s death, both Aboriginal trackers associated with the ambush—Billy Dargin and Charley Edwards—were dead under mysterious circumstances.
Hall’s violent demise never sat well with his close friends and family, and speculation soon arose regarding the true events of that fateful morning. Did Davidson and Condell tell the full truth about the nature of Hall’s death? Shortly after the police returned to town with Hall’s bullet-riddled body slung over a horse, Billy Dargin—well known as a hard-working and trusted aide to numerous Inspectors—offered his own account of what had transpired.
According to Billy, he had stealthily tracked Hall’s movements and discovered his night camp, where the bushranger had settled down. Upon relaying the location to Davidson, he was sent back to keep watch. However, Billy later claimed that he overheard Hall preparing his sleeping area beneath dense ground cover. With the frigid night air and strong winds muffling most sounds, Billy allegedly crept up to the soon sleeping outlaw, placed a revolver to his head, and fired—killing him instantly.
This version of events stands in stark contrast to the official testimony presented at the inquest. Some speculated that the multitude of wounds inflicted on Hall came after he was already dead, suggesting that the police had deliberately staged his execution as a violent confrontation claiming Hall was well armed aand was preparing to engage. However, the extent of the carnage was later described by an observer as Hall’s body lay on Barracks Hill:
Even the evidence itself discredits the notion that Ben Hall remained on his feet, grasping a sapling, long enough to defend himself as shot after shot tore into him. The idea is fanciful at best. The overwhelming barrage of bullets suggests that Hall was already dead when the police continued firing. Even Inspector Davidson admitted as much in a letter to his father, confessing that he had lost control of his men and had been unable to check their fire. The events of May 5, 1865, descended into chaos, where logic and restraint gave way to uncontrolled brutality.
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| "Death of Ben Hall" painted by Patrick Maroney in 1894. Courtesy NLA. |
Nevertheless, rampant gossip quickly spread through Forbes over the brutality. However, Billy Dargin’s version of events failed to gain traction—perhaps due to his Aboriginal heritage. His account was largely dismissed by the wider community, with some branding it fanciful or an exaggeration of his role in the shooting, possibly for notoriety. Many locals struggled to believe that the police could have acted in such cold-blooded way.
Yet, Dargin’s account may have unsettled some within the ranks. Decades later, in 1906, John Maguire—Ben Hall’s former brother-in-law—published The Biography of a Reliable Old Native, in which he claimed that Billy Dargin had personally confided in him, recounting a firsthand account of what truly transpired that morning and its grim conclusion:
He was a native of the Bogan, and went early into the service of Mr. Dargan, of Bathurst, and for some years was on the Bogan. He gave his age as twenty-two.²⁶
However the news snippet claimed that Billy Dargin was from the Bogan District and was employed by Mr Dargan of Bathurst. This is unsupported, whereby, evidence supports the fact that Billy Dargin hailed from the Windsor district and was linked to the Dargan family who were hoteliers and land owners. As such he was of no doubt of mixed heritage.
Upon William’s death, there was no inquest, no inquiry, and no gathering of dignitaries at his graveside—not even among those whom he had served with unwavering loyalty. A quiet passing, met not with honour but with silence. For men of lesser standing, his death may have gone unnoticed altogether; and had foul play been involved, it is likely some of Hall’s sympathisers might have allowed themselves a grim smile. Yet, despite the official indifference, the reports of his passing in newspapers across the colonies spoke volumes. They bore witness to the respect he had earned and the integrity with which he served the police force. That such recognition was afforded to an mixed Aboriginal man in 1860s Australia is telling. It reflects not only the esteem in which he was held, but also the remarkable impression he made across the colonial frontier—a testament to a life of duty in a time and place that seldom repaid it.
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| James Condell. |
The testimonies of Inspector Davidson and Sergeant Condell have long been regarded with suspicion. Both men provided near-identical statements at Ben Hall’s inquest, conducted by Magistrate Farrand, raising serious concerns of collusion. Moreover, of the six officers involved, Davidson and Condell were the only ones to offer formal statements. Their accounts appear deliberately vague and obfuscating, particularly regarding their understanding of the Felons Apprehension Act and the overall legality of their actions. But there in these matters was no ambiguity.
While Hall, Gilbert, and Dunn had been ordered to report to Goulburn Gaol by April 29, 1865, the Act of Outlawry was not set to take effect until May 10, 1865. After that date, any citizen would be legally entitled to kill them on sight, while anyone found harbouring them faced confiscation of property and fifteen years’ imprisonment. Given their ranks and experience, it is highly unlikely that Davidson and Condell were unaware of the Act’s pending enforcement. Furthermore it is unknown whether the notification was delivered by electric telegraph as Forbes was connected in 1862 to Orange. It is probable that as Davidson left at 4am on the 29th April to nab Hall, no notice had arrived.
Hall’s brutal death sparked both sympathy and bewilderment, its savagery unsettling even those who had long opposed him. Some speculated that the police’s relentless humiliation at Hall’s hands over the years had driven them to exact merciless revenge. Others suggested that fear—the raw terror of confronting a man they believed murderous had everyone shaking in their boots—that fear had caused them to panic and overreact. Davidson stated he 'lost control' of his men, who emptied their rounds at Hall.
Had the true events of that morning come to light, Davidson and his men may well have faced charges of manslaughter or murder, given that the Felons Act had not yet taken effect. Yet, as Davidson himself admitted, he had no intention of giving Hall a chance to flee.
As for Charley Edwards, the other aboriginal at Hall's death and denied any reward but ultimately received £20 was found dead four months later where his decomposed body was found at Grudgery Station, Lachlan River in August 1865. A death also shrouded in mystery; 'Empire' Monday 14th August 1865:William Dargin—a dependable and trusted confidant of the men he served—met a horrific and mysterious end. Despite his invaluable contributions to law enforcement, his death remains shrouded in uncertainty. His tireless efforts played a crucial role in bringing down one of the most notorious bushranging gangs ever to stain the sunburnt country of Australia, yet he was laid to rest in an unmarked grave in Forbes, NSW.
Thankfully, his legacy has not been forgotten. Today, a plaque bears his name, ensuring that his dedication and sacrifice are rightfully acknowledged.
Inspector James Henry Davidson
Davidson came of age during a period of profound transition in colonial policing. The Police Regulation Act of 1862 reorganised the fragmented colonial forces into a more centralised structure under the Inspector-General, Captain John McLerie. At just twenty-three years of age, Davidson held the rank of Sub-Inspector within this newly structured system—a rapid advancement that suggests both competence and confidence from his superiors.
His early service was conducted largely in the western districts, particularly around Bathurst and Carcoar, where mounted patrol work demanded endurance, discretion, and familiarity with vast and difficult terrain. At this stage, his duties were initially directed toward the suppression of Frank Gardiner’s activities. However, as bushranging evolved and new figures emerged, Davidson’s operational focus shifted increasingly toward the growing menace of Ben Hall, John Gilbert, and John O’Meally.
The work was relentless and hazardous. In August 1863, while preparing to venture out on patrol, Davidson accidentally discharged his firearm and severely injured his foot, reportedly shooting off a toe. Contemporary reports lamented the accident, noting that his services could “ill be spared” at a time when bushrangers were active across the district—an early indication of how central he had already become to local policing efforts.
[THROUGH GREVILLE AND BIRD.]
Friday Evening.- INSPECTOR DAVIDSON.-A report reached here yesterday that this gentleman, while fixing his gun, accidentally shot his toe off. This accident is very much to be regretted, as Mr Davidson's services can be ill spared at the present time, for since Gilbert and his gang made their appearance about here he has exerted himself to the utmost in trying to find out their haunts. Davidson was not at Coombing when his horse was stolen, but had left him there to rest for a few days. Mr. Icely's man that was shot in the mouth on Sunday last is gradually recovering; Dr Rowland was only able to extract the ball yesterday.
However, the turning point in Davidson’s police career came in 1865. Following the dismissal of Sir Frederick Pottinger on 16 February of that year. Davidson, still only twenty-five, assumed effective command of police operations at Forbes. This appointment placed him at the centre of one of the most volatile policing environments in the colony.
Forbes and the surrounding Lachlan district had become synonymous with bushranger activity. The region’s geography, combined with sympathetic or silent local networks, made pursuit extraordinarily difficult. Patrol work involved long reconnaissance rides, reliance on informers, and tactical deception designed to counter the so-called “bush telegraph” that warned outlaws of police movements.
During this period, Davidson was actively engaged in tracking Hall’s movements across the district, exerting himself, as contemporary reports observed, “to the utmost in trying to find out their haunts.” His approach reflected the broader shift in colonial policing: from reactive law enforcement to proactive suppression of organised outlaw gangs. Within weeks of assuming command Davidson had a stroke of luck. The reward for the three bushrangers stood at £3000 a tidy sum for a struggling settler. Therefore, Davidson received valuable information from an informer. (widely known in the Forbes District as Michael Coneley. Husband of Mary Strickland, childhood friend of Ben Hall.) John Gilbert, and John Dunn were to camp close to Coneley's home at the Billabong Creek, 12 miles NW from Forbes, to await Ben Hall.
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| Mary Coneley |
Furthermore, Michael Coneley an Irish immigrant worked as a stockman for his in-laws. After his marriage to Mary in Wellington, NSW, in 1860. They lived at the benevolence of her disapproving family in a small cottage on Pierce Strickland's Billabong property. Their cottage was set along Billabong Creek, some 800 meters from the fatal camp of Ben Hall.
Although the reward for capturing the three bushrangers (Hall, Gilbert and Dunn) was £3,000, Coneley was entitled to 50 per cent of the prize. It was the incentive for his course of action and a sum that would finally provide him with the independence he sought from his in-laws, which Mary's family maintained that she had married beneath her station.
Author's Note: Although at the time of Hall's death, it was widely suspected that Coneley was the man responsible for selling him out. Much credit should be directed towards Peter Bradley and his meticulous research on Coneley's role as the man responsible. The Judas Covenant is a first-class historical reference regarding Coneley's participation and post-Hall death circumstances.
In April 1865, the NSW Government approved a strategy for bringing about the cessation of bushranging conducted by Ben Hall and Co. and Daniel 'Mad Dog' Morgan, then causing mayhem in the Riverina. However, Morgan crossed over to Victoria and was shot dead.
The strategy approved by the NSW Government was the introduction of an ancient English Law, 'The Felons Apprehension Act'. Accordingly, Ben Hall, Gilbert, Dunn, and Morgan (separate from Hall & Co.) were to surrender themselves at Goulburn Gaol by the 29th of April 1865. Any failure to appear after that date, the government would declare on 10th May 1865, the bushrangers to be 'OUTLAWS' and to be shot on sight.
The Act also legislated against those who harboured bushrangers, preventing them from providing aid to the outlaws. If convicted, it resulted in severe punishment and loss of property. Furthermore, the Act suspended the rights applied to lawbreakers under the customary laws of the land;
Normal rights under the law, including “assumption of innocence”, were revoked. The offenders were legally considered guilty without the usual pre-requisite of a trial, the lives of an “outlaw” were considered forfeited, and so once the Act was in force against an individual, killing that person became a “legal” action.
Although communications infrastructure such as the Forbes telegraph line existed, it remains uncertain whether Davidson received explicit instruction regarding the precise timing and enforcement parameters of the Act. What is clear, however, is that he was already operating on intelligence on Hall and his associates movements near Billabong Creek.
Davidson later stated in his official correspondence that he acted under the belief that the Act was effectively in force. This belief, whether legally precise or not, shaped his operational decisions during the final pursuit.
I determined upon doing this, thinking that the Felons Apprehension Act was about this time in force.
Acting on information received Davidson on the morning of Saturday, 29 April 1865, at 4:00 a.m., set out with a posse of eight men, acting on informers' intelligence. The patrol consisted of Sergeant Condell, several constables, and Aboriginal trackers Billy Dargin and Charley. His strategy was cautious and methodical: concealment of horse tracks, encampment in dense scrub, and careful surveillance of suspected camping grounds.
The plan wasn’t built around arrest. It was built around ending the chase.
Arriving in the Billabong area, Davidson nestled in the scrub some miles from Coneley’s cottage and the suspected bushrangers' camp. Coneley appeared to meet with the Inspector, reporting Gilbert and Dunn had arrived but not Ben Hall, insisting that the Inspector attack these two in their camp that evening. As £1000 for for two was as good as £1500 for all three. Coneley worried that his payment might be lost if Davidson waited longer. Unknown to Davidson, Gilbert and Dunn were disturbed by some local stockmen searching for strayed cattle near their camp. Believing them to be troopers, they bolted as the police were now on patrol dressed as Bushmen or drovers. Davidson wrote later in his report:
I determined to wait until the three got together and then attack them in their camp, I determined on doing this.
On the afternoon of May 4th, Coneley met with Davidson and informed him of the bad news that Gilbert and Dunn had fled, but Ben Hall had arrived at the men's designated campsite. As dusk on the fourth descended, Davidson’s posse moved to within striking distance. With Hall in camp this time, Davidson would not wait. That evening, he positioned his men, consisting of five troopers and two black trackers, all heavily armed and bootless, into position close to Hall's reported campsite.
In his formal report to Inspector-General McLerie, Davidson described how intelligence indicated that Hall, Gilbert, and Dunn intended to meet near Billabong Creek before leaving the district. When Gilbert and Dunn fled after being disturbed by stockmen, Davidson chose to wait until Hall appeared alone at the camp rather than abandon the operation.
Having taken every precaution to destroy our horses’ tracks, we encamped in a dense oak scrub, remaining there until Tuesday, when information reached me
Davidson’s later report emphasises the proximity achieved during the surveillance phase, noting that were his men were concealed they could have physically touched the suspect as he moved near the horses. Destiny awaited as the patrol advanced in the dead of night as Hall slept in a rough bush bed. Stealthily they removed boots and coats to avoid noise in the leaf litter of the pine scrub.
At dawn on 5th May 1865, the Inspector struck. Davidson had caught his prey by complete surprise. Ben Hall was alone. The attack was brutal in its making, and after a short chase, Hall was gunned down in a hail of lead. However, in the days after the indiscriminate shooting another version of events surfaced, and the Felons Act was not in force, an alternative to the Davidson account circulated. Whether from the bravado of boasting, Billy Dargin, through various people in town, claimed that he shot Hall while asleep in his camp. Dargin discovered Hall's bush bed, crept up, placed a gun to his head, and fired. At the moment, the remaining police pounced, opening fire, riddling an already dead Ben Hall. Conjecture, maybe, but the alternative version to Davidson and Condell’s testimony has some merit.
Hall fell shortly thereafter, mortally wounded by several bullets. Medical examination conducted in Forbes confirmed that multiple wounds—particularly the shot to the brain and body—were individually sufficient to cause death. Upon the conclusion of the killing of Ben Hall, Sub-Inspector Davidson made his way back to Forbes, a journey marked by a grim symbol of closure: the lifeless body of Ben Hall. The notorious bushranger's corpse, stained with blood, was unceremoniously slung across a horse's back, partially obscured by a blanket. The stark image was more than just a physical return; it represented the end of a tumultuous and fearful four-year saga that had gripped the Lachlan and adjacent regions.
Davidson's arrival in Forbes with Hall's body was a significant event. It signalled not only the end of Hall's reign of terror but also a turning point in the law enforcement history of the time. Upon arriving, Davidson initially attempted to keep his return a secret. But word spread, and soon many began to arrive to view the remains of Ben Hall, with some women cutting off locks of his hair. One witness to the scene wrote of the day's event:
"At 10 a.m. I was met in the street by Mr ---, and asked in an under tone if I had heard the news. I answered no, and inquired what it was. He replied-"Ben Hall is shot, and his body is now in the Police Barracks." I said, why tell me by way of a secret, if the thing is so notorious. "Oh," said my friend, "it is true, but the police don't like to speak of it." I desired to satisfy myself, and at once started for the barracks. As I entered, I saw the clothes of the ill-fated man in the outward room. The hat, which was a low crown felt, was perforated on all sides, more particularly the part that covered the forehead: the coat riddled, more especially the left side and shoulder: there were numerous wounds on the body and one leg, as I ascertained immediately after, when I removed the cover from off the body. Hall, when I saw him in death, appeared to be thirty-seven years of age, fleshy, yet very much bronzed, with long neglected beard; the countenance languid, and free from anything repulsive, such as we expect to find in one who openly violates the law, and defies the officers of justice. I heard several versions of the encounter and death, as well as discussions on the whole affair, which I wish to give you as plainly as possible. From what I then gathered, it was made to appear that Hall had been sold by one in whom he trusted."
Furthermore, on the day of arrival medical doctor Charles Assenheim examined the body of Ben Hall:
Charles Assenheim, on oath, being duly sworn, saith: I am a qualified medical man. I have examined the body of the deceased and find it perforated by several bullets. The shot between the shoulders, the two shots into the brain, and the one through the body were severally sufficient to cause death.
Taken and sworn at the Police Barracks, Forbes, this 6th day of May, 1865, before W. Farrand, P.M.
(Signed) Charles Assenheim, M.D.”Davidson was disappointed that his party failed to end the reign of Hall's fellow bushrangers, Gilbert and Dunn. However, within eight days, Gilbert was dead as the Felon's Apprehension Act came into force on the tenth of May, and Dunn, wounded, fled to Walgett only to be captured and hanged in 1866—the arrival of the corpse of Ben Hall by the 'Western Examiner' titled, A Dead Bushranger:
The Forbes correspondent of the 'Western Examiner' writes: -On Saturday morning the 6th May, at about 4 o'clock in the morning, a body of Police under the direction of sub-Inspector James Henry Davidson arrived in Forbes with the corpse of Ben Hall, the bushranger. He had been killed the night before near the north Billibong, about twelve miles, from Forbes, and the body was pierced with eight or nine bullets. Either one of four of the wounds must have proved fatal. It is said that the spot where he was killed is not far from Mr Pierce Strickland's station. It is also said that Hall had been in and about the town of Forbes two or three days previous to being shot. Gilbert and Dunn were not with him, and it is rumoured that they were off after some horses, while Hall visited Forbes and neighbourhood, and that it was while Hall was on his way to join Gilbert and Dunn that he was killed.
From ten o clock in the morning of Friday, the room, where the body lay was filled with persons curious to have a look at the corpse of the man who has contributed so much to bring New South Wales into disrepute by his wanton outrages. I suppose that four or five hundred persons visited the barracks, and I saw several females among the crowd. After the enquiry several parties availed themselves of an opportunity to got a lock of the bushranger's hair. His body was lying upon a stretcher in the south-west corner room of the building appropriated to the foot police. There was nothing forbidding in the countenance of Ben Hall, as he lay there still in death. In fact, I heard the remark made several times, during the moment I was in the room, "What a handsome, face." He appeared to be a young man about twenty-eight, finely made, excellent features, lofty forehead, and fine brown hair. His whiskers and moustache were cut quite close and of a much lighter colour than the hair on his head. I heard many make the remark, "I have often seen that face somewhere, but cannot tell where." I have myself seen the face, but have no idea when and where. The most remarkable feature in the countenance was a peculiar curl in the right side of the upper lip, indicating ordinarily a feeling of contemptuous scorn, and produced by the action of the mind upon the muscles. In this case, I am told that it is a constitutional feature, and may, therefore, indicate nothing.
I am told that the grave has been dug and that Hall will be interred, under the superintendence; of Mr J. S. Toler, the well-known undertaker, to-morrow. Such are a few of the particulars attending the death of Ben Hall.
In the aftermath of Ben Hall's demise, Inspector Davidson, playing a pivotal role in the events leading to Hall's death, prepared his comprehensive report detailing the encounter. He then submitted this crucial document to the Inspector-General, Captain McLerie. The report not only served as an official account of the final moments of one of Australia's most notorious bushrangers but also marked the culmination of a significant chapter in both Davidson's career and Australian bushranging history. The submission of this report was a formal procedure, symbolising the closing of a high-profile case and the beginning of a period of unmitigated bushranger suppression for law enforcement.
Sir,
In reference to the recent capture and shooting of Benjamin Hall, I have the honor of forwarding the following particulars for your information.
On the 23rd of April, I received information that the offenders Hall, Gilbert and Dunn were about to leave the district for the Merro Creek, that they were then collecting saddle horses for the purpose of making a start, and that they would be at a certain place, distant about fifteen miles from Forbes over the Billabong Creek for two or three days before leaving for the purpose of shoeing the horses, and further, that they then went down the river. I immediately started Sergeant Condell with a party of pursuers with orders if he saw the bushrangers to show to them, but not attempt a chase on horseback and to return on Friday.
He came up with the bushrangers on Wednesday 26th instant at Monwonga, pretended to give chase but doubled round and came into Forbes on the Friday evening. I then led the bushrangers Scouts to believe that all the Mounted Constables were absent from the town.
At 4 o’clock on the morning of the 29th inst. I started with a party consisting of Sergeant Condell, Constables Buckley, Caban, Bolan, Hipkiss and the trackers Billy Dargin and Charley.
Having taken every precaution to destroy our horses’ tracks, we encamped in a dense oak scrub, remaining there until Tuesday, when information reached me – a watch had been kept on the edges of a large plain to look out for the informant – that Gilbert and Dunn had only come, and Hall would surely be there the following day. I determined to wait until the three got together and then attack them during the night in their camp, which was about seven miles distant in an almost impenetrable scrub.
The informant said the only way we could take these men was to fire on them in their camp, for if they had one yard start, we would see no more of them. I determined upon doing this, thinking that the Felons Apprehension Act was about this time in force.
On Wednesday night according to arrangement, I met my informant and found that Gilbert and Dunn had started towards Monwonga and having been frightened by some stockmen who had been looking for horses, passed close to their camp and whom Gilbert mistook for police. They left two horses and some ponchos intending to come back for Hall next day, but did not, nor have I since had any authentic account of them. On Thursday evening I again saw my informant who told me that Hall had come but not the other two. He being the ringleader I determined to endeavour the arrest without the others, and then if successful, wait for their coming.
Having been shown near the place where Hall was encamped; this was in a scrub on the border of a large plain, I proceeded towards the place indicated. When about one quarter of a mile from the spot, I made everyone take off their boots and coats, so we should make no noise amongst the thick dead leaves, and would be better prepared for running. We then passed stealthily along through a narrow belt of thick pine scrub, and got up to where there were horses and a poncho. I knew at once these belonged to Hall and intended to watch until he came for them for we could not find out exactly where he was sleeping, and were unable to walk about without making some noise; at about ten o’clock the moon was shining, the night cloudy and wind blowing bitterly cold.
A man with a poncho on walked towards the horses, passing close to myself and Condell, which after catching and unhobbling, he led away. (At this time Constables Caban, Buckley, and Hipkiss could have touched the man with their guns) and rehobbled them, about ninety yards below us.
He then sneaked very quietly down the belt of pine, nearly walking over Billy Dargin and camped at the point of the scrub, just off the edges of the plain. Dargin then crawled up and pointed out where the man was sleeping. It was now about half past eleven o’clock. I arranged to give him two hours to get well asleep, then rush the camp and arrest. At half past one, the four men were now posted in a circle from the camp to them.
A little before seven o’clock we saw the man, whom we instantly recognized as Hall, moving out of the scrub with a bridle and a revolver in his hands and making for the horses. On his coming on the plain opposite us, we commenced to run and gained on him fifty yards before being seen. Seeing us, he immediately dropped the bridle and ran having the revolver in his right hand, and made towards the hidden men past the camp. I ran after him a considerable distance, calling on him to stand, several times, gradually gaining on him, and when within about forty yards, fired.
The shot taking effect in the left shoulder, he looked around. I thought with the intention of firing at me, I put up the gun again to fire but did not. Condell and Dargin then fired two shots each which seemed to have a slight effect. The four men and Charley now showed up. Hall, seeing them, turned to the right and made for a small clump of saplings on the plain. He still had the revolver in his hand. He caught a sapling with his left hand with the intention of trying to shoot round it. This he continued to hold until he fell. At this time I noticed Hipkiss firing with a revolving rifle, the bullet from which struck Hall on the belt and cut it, his revolver falling to the ground. Hall then seemed to be badly hit and appeared to me to be about to fall. At this time the whole of the remaining shots were fired; he fell back saying “I am wounded, I am dying, shoot me dead” and after a few convulsive shudders he moved no more.
The body was then packed on one of his horses and taken to our camp and there remained until night when four of us started with it for Forbes, the others being left in case Gilbert and Dunn should come before we had time to get back again, which place we reached about 4 o’clock in the morning.
I endeavoured to keep the death of Hall a secret, hoping that the next night Gilbert and Dunn would be back, but before I could get to the Telegraph Office it was known to everyone. In the afternoon I started again, sent the horse back to barracks and remained out until the following Thursday, when we returned having to walk. Great difficulty was experienced in destroying the tracks of our shod horses. There were scouts out every day trying to find us but failed, owing to the precautions we had taken.
Our arms consisted of five double-barrelled guns, which I carefully loaded, and three revolving rifles, these being fired without cessation, it was impossible to keep the men from firing off all the shots, will account for the large number of shots fired at Hall. None reloaded and fired again. During the weeks we had been out we subsisted on possum and water, having been short of provisions and could not get any. The night during which we watched the camp was most bitterly cold and frosty, and being without boots or coats we all suffered severely, and in the morning when running, were bent nearly double with cramps and cold. The coolness, courage and determination of the tracker Billy Dargin is worthy of some substantial reward and the greatest praise is due to him. Tracker Charley, from his behaviour, should not, I think, participate in the rewards beyond some slight recompense.
Herein enclosed is a list and description of the property found with Hall at the time of his death.
I have the honour to be Sir,
Your obedient servant,
J.H. Davidson.
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| Reward distribution 1865. NSW Police Gazette. |
An inquest was convened on the shooting, shedding light on the narratives provided by Davidson and Condell, the only two of the eight to give an account. Their accounts, however, were marred by self-interest, especially under the shadow of the Felons Apprehension Act, which influenced them to mitigate their actions' severity and their troops' excessive force. Davidson, particularly conscious of public perception, claimed that Hall uttered last words—a dubious assertion considering the intensity of the gunfire, which likely resulted in Hall's instantaneous death. This embellishment of events by Davidson appear to be an effort to cast their actions in a more favorable light amidst growing public outcry.
The reward for Hall's capture, amounting to £1000, was subsequently distributed. The informant received half of this sum, £500, while the police force shared the remaining amount. Davidson himself was awarded £150, and Sergeant Condell received £75. The four constables and Billy Dargin, the black tracker, each received £50. Notably, another tracker, Charlie, was deemed ineligible for any share of the reward.
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Cartridge Belt severed by Hipkiss |
A newspaper article on the 23rd May 1865 demonstrates that Davidson was out to kill all three bushrangers but had to settle for Hall. The idea that Davidson needed to identify Hall before acting is ludicrous, as a Sub-Inspector of police and all its powers and having drawn himself close to Hall's position in the night. Davidson could have arrested him without a shot fired while Hall slept. Eight to one are pretty good odds. No Hall was a dead man sleeping. I have provided an excellent link to an article that comments that the police were close enough to seize him. Why didn't they?
In 1869, Davidson was Inspector of Police for the South-Western District at Deniliquin NSW and married Catherine Shanahan in the same year in Victoria. Earlier Davidson was to marry Miss Sarah Bayly:
As engaged to be married to Miss Sarah Bayly, daughter of the late N. P. Bayly, of Havilah; but the contract was broken off, and the young lady became the wife of Mr. George Thompson, son of E. Dean Thompson, of Sydney.
The Davidson family, newly formed under the union of Sub-Inspector Davidson, soon encountered the harsh realities of life's fragility. Their firstborn, James Henry, tragically passed away at the tender age of one, casting a shadow of sorrow over the family. Despite this early heartbreak, the following year, 1872, brought a glimmer of hope with the birth of Mary Christiana.
The family continued to grow in the ensuing years. In 1873, they welcomed another son, John Rannie Davidson, heralding a period of joyous expansion. Over the next decade, the Davidsons embraced the arrival of more children: Catherine Josephine in 1876 and Arthur Andrew in 1878. However, their happiness was once again tinged with sorrow when they moved to Darling Downs, Queensland, where Catherine, just three years old, passed away in July 1879 in Toowoomba.
Undeterred by the ebb and flow of fortune, the family welcomed Martin Shanahan in 1880 and Alfred Charles, their last son, in 1884, his birth registered in Sydney. However, tragedy struck again when their daughter Mary Christiana died in June 1882 at just ten years old. The Davidson family narrative reached another milestone in 1888 with the birth of Eleanor Angelina, the last child to join their fold.
The Davidson family's journey through joy, expansion, loss, and resilience paints a vivid portrait of life in that era, marked by both the joys of new beginnings and the profound impact of personal loss. Whilst in charge of the police at Deniliquin 'The Pastoral Times' published this comment:
Ever since Davidson was placed at Deniliquin as headquarters of an immense police district requiring very great and laborious attention, we have felt the effects of strong and determined direction in police affairs. Mr Davidson came to Deniliquin seven years ago flush with having, by extraordinary exertions, eased the country of one of the most daring and reckless bushrangers, viz. Ben Hall.
In 1870 James Davidson became a magistrate at Deniliquin as published:
The Government Gazette to-day announces the appointment of eighty-eight new magistrates, including the names of James Henry Davidson, John Bellew Graves, and Thomas Brown of Deniliquin.
He resigned from the NSW Police in January 1874 as reported via the Government Gazette:
In 1870 he was appointed a magistrate, further embedding his role within the colonial justice system. Two years later, in 1872, he transferred to command the Northern District based at Armidale.
Inspector Orridge, of the Braidwood district, will succeed Mr. James Davidson, of Armidale, resigned, as Inspector of Police for the Northern district.
His departure from Deniliquin was marked by a public presentation, including an engraved address and silver service from local residents—evidence of the esteem in which he was held by the community.
On Monday afternoon, 7th instant, a meeting was held at the Royal Hotel, Deniliquin, for the purpose of presenting Mr. Inspector Davidson, who is leaving the district for Armidale, with an address, as also a service in silver. The former was engrossed on parchment and numerously signed by the residents of the town and district, and on the chief piece of plate was inscribed, "Presented by the residents of die town and district of Deniliquin to James H. Davidson, Inspector of Police, on the occasion of his leaving the district.
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| Sir Patrick Jennings |
Returning as a pastolist to Deniliquin he assumed management of Warbreccan, sheep station Davidson transitioned from policing to pastoral administration while maintaining a prominent civic presence in the district. He was elected Mayor of Deniliquin in 1877 and became actively involved in local governance and agricultural administration, including service as a Sheep Director.
In 1879 Davidson relocated with his family to the Darling Downs near Toowoomba, where he managed the sheep station “Westbrook.” His move was widely noted in Riverina circles, where institutions such as the Town Council and School of Arts publicly acknowledged the loss of a respected civic leader.
He later settled at Wellington Point near Brisbane and was appointed a Commissioner of the Peace, continuing his association with public service even after leaving active policing. His wife Catherine died in 1904, a significant personal loss after decades of shared life across multiple districts.
James Henry Davidson died in 1914 at the age of seventy-four and was buried at Toowong Cemetery alongside his wife. Remarkably, at the time of his death, public awareness of his decisive role in the killing of Ben Hall had faded considerably. Unlike some of his contemporaries, he did not cultivate a public legend around his police service.
His legacy, therefore, is best understood not solely through the dramatic events of May 1865, but through the full arc of a career that spanned the reorganisation of the New South Wales Police, the suppression of bushranging in the western districts, and later decades of civil leadership in rural Australia.
In this sense, Davidson’s life reflects the trajectory of many colonial officers: from frontier enforcement to administrative authority, and finally to civic and pastoral leadership. His career demonstrates the evolving nature of policing in nineteenth-century New South Wales—an era in which law enforcement was as much about endurance, district knowledge, and quiet administration as it was about the dramatic confrontations that later captured public memory.
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| James Glynn Condell. |
Condell’s adult life would follow both paths. First: the constabulary. Then: emigration. And in New South Wales, a career that put him at the centre of the colony’s most combustible decades—Lambing Flat, Eugowra, the pursuit of Hall and Gardiner—before ending in public disgrace and a quieter second career in government work.
In 1855, at eighteen, Condell joined the Irish Constabulary at Kilkenny. The recruitment standards were deliberately exacting—single men, aged eighteen to twenty-seven, sound in health, and tall enough to carry authority into a crowd. Condell stood 5’11”, comfortably above the minimum, and he entered an organisation designed not merely to police crime, but to enforce order in a country still raw from famine, landlord power, and rural agitation.
As policy required, he was posted away from his home county, assigned to Mulroy Carricart in Donegal: remote, Atlantic-harried, and poor. This mattered. Donegal’s hardships—and the limits placed on a constable’s prospects—are part of the logic of his later decision: a young policeman in an unforgiving district, watching families struggle on marginal land, while rumours of assisted immigration and colonial wages travelled faster than opportunity.
Condell reached Australia in 1859, landing first in Victoria. Like thousands, he tested the goldfields. Like many, he found little that lasted. The more durable path was the one he already knew: policing. By October 1860 he was in New South Wales, first as a supernumerary, then rapidly promoted to sergeant by 1861—quick advancement that suggests a man who could be relied upon under pressure.
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| James Condell NSW Police promotion and enlistment 1860-1865 at enlistment James Condell was 25 yrs old |
That pressure arrived almost immediately.
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Roll up flag. Courtesy Young H.S. |
The riot prosecutions that followed show Condell not as a distant figure on the fringe of events, but as a witness inside the moving mass—close enough to identify faces, to see torches thrust into tents, and to admit plainly that he did not arrest on the day because he “had not sufficient force.”
In court, his evidence was granular and practical: the flags (“Roll up. No Chinese”), the cries, the shots fired from the crowd, the burning of tents, and the difficulty of controlling hundreds with too few police. It is also where the biography picks up its first sharp human detail: Condell knew at least one accused from Ireland. Colonial policing was small-world work; old connections crossed oceans and reappeared in the dock.
After Lambing Flat, Condell made a decision that reads as both personal commitment and colonial pattern: he sponsored two Donegal sisters—Margaret and Elizabeth Davis—to travel to New South Wales.
This act of sponsorship, a common practice for those seeking to bring family or loved ones to Australia, was particularly noteworthy as it marked the continuation of a relationship that had begun during his time in the Irish Police Force.
Condell had developed a connection with Elizabeth Davis while he was stationed in Donegal. Demonstrating his commitment to this relationship, he paid a deposit of £3 for each sister, a substantial sum at the time, to ensure their safe passage to NSW. The journey, which commenced on 21st December 1861, was made possible with the necessary reference provided by The Reverend Cox of Donegal, Ireland, a requirement for such migrations.
This move not only signifies Condell's personal investment but also reflects the broader patterns of immigration during the 19th century, where individuals and families often made significant sacrifices to start anew in distant lands. For Condell, the arrival of Margaret and Elizabeth Davis would have marked a significant and personal milestone in his life, intertwining his professional endeavors with a deepening personal narrative.
He paid deposits for their passage and secured the required reference from the Reverend Cox.
The long delay tells its own story: they did not arrive until January 1864 aboard the Sirocco. By then Condell was no longer simply a rising policeman; he was a man who had survived one of the colony’s most audacious armed robberies, and whose professional life had become inseparable from bushranging.
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| Sisters arrival |
Not long after their arrival, Condell married Elizabeth. She was twenty. He was already hardened by escort duty and pursuit work—marriage coming not as the beginning of his adulthood, but as something threaded through danger.
The contemporary descriptions are vivid because they were written by men who could not quite believe the choreography: volleys delivered from behind rock cover, attackers rotating “with military precision,” the escort stunned by the suddenness, bullets cutting clothing and flesh, horses hit and bolting, the coach overturning, and the bushrangers cheering as they rushed in.
Condell’s own letter to Inspector-General McLerie is not romantic; it’s administrative trauma, written like a man reporting a catastrophe that could end his career:
the drays blocking the road;
the concealed firing line;
two volleys in seconds;
his coat hit four times, one ball entering his left side;
Moran wounded;
the gold and cash taken;
the mailbags cut open.
That letter is also important because it shows Condell in the one role that colonial policing demanded above all others: accountability upwards. When things went wrong—especially on an escort—an officer survived or fell not only by gunfire, but by the quality of his report.
If Eugowra was the spectacular crime, the aftermath carried the quieter horror: the accidental shooting of Constable William Haviland at Orange.
Condell’s inquest evidence is one of those bleak colonial records where the banal becomes fatal. A revolver—Senior Constable Moran’s—ended up loose in the coach. One chamber was discharged. A report was heard. Haviland was dead.
Condell’s testimony captures the mood of a man already shaken by ambush, now escorting a colleague whose mind had turned dark:
“He was troubled in mind… spoke of his wife and children… said this was a very unfit life for him.”
It is hard to read this as anything but cumulative pressure: violence in the bush, the sense of being hunted, the thin margin between competence and disaster, and the psychological toll that rarely appears in heroic bushranger lore.
For the next phase of his police career, Condell became what many sergeants become in turbulent districts: the dependable right hand of a more famous superior. Under Inspector Sir Frederick Pottinger, Condell was repeatedly in the saddle after Gardiner, Hall, Gilbert, and O’Meally—doing both the visible work of pursuit and the invisible work of keeping a station running.
He appears in reports of bush encounters—shots exchanged near Wheogo; horses bogged; the quarry slipping away. This is the rhythm of bushranger policing in the 1860s: long rides, bad ground, unreliable intelligence, and brief flashes of gunfire that ended either in injury or in another week of nothing.
When Pottinger was dismissed in early 1865, Condell remained—now serving under the younger James Henry Davidson at Forbes. His constancy mattered. In frontier policing, personnel continuity was often the difference between mere presence and actual capability.
Condell’s most consequential moment came on the morning of 5 May 1865, as part of Davidson’s party at Billabong Creek. His inquest evidence is straightforward and, importantly, consistent with the posture of the police party as a whole: surveillance, early sighting, pursuit, commands to stand, then shooting as Hall ran.
Condell describes the pursuit and the volleys, and he records Hall’s reported final words—“I am wounded; I am dying”—before death. Whether those words were spoken as remembered, or as later shaped by the need to justify a killing, they sit in the record as part of how police narratives were built: the dying outlaw, the lawful command, the necessity of force.
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| Ben Hall reward |
With the bush quieter after Hall’s death, Condell was posted to Gundagai. Here the biography shifts from famous events to lived reality: the condition of police housing, the precariousness of family life, and the social scrutiny attached to rank.
In 1874, a newspaper reported that Mrs Condell narrowly escaped serious injury when heavy ceiling plaster collapsed where she had been standing—an incident framed not as bad luck but as a scandal of government neglect. It’s an unusually domestic vignette, but it reveals something essential: the police family lived inside the institution’s failures as well as its authority.
Condell’s police life did not end in gunfire or exhaustion, but in scandal.
In 1875, he became entangled with a married woman, Mrs Paine, and made advances that—on the reporting—were unwelcome and inflammatory. Her husband, William Paine, shot Condell (head, shoulder, arm), and Condell injured his ankle escaping over a fence. Paine was charged, escaped custody, was recaptured, and ultimately tried.
The trial reporting is brutal on Condell. The defence centred on the justification of protecting a wife from “improper purposes,” and Condell’s evidence in the box was described as so unsatisfactory it drew judicial rebuke. The jury acquitted Paine. The press response was colder still: the implication was that Condell had forfeited the moral authority expected of a senior sergeant.
This is the pivotal biographical turn: a man who had ridden after Gardiner and Hall, survived Eugowra, and endured the colony’s most unstable years, undone by conduct that the community refused to excuse—especially from a married officer in public trust.
Soon after, Condell resigned.
Condell did not disappear. He moved into a different kind of government work—appointed Inspector of Conditional Purchases within the Forestry Department at Narrandera. It is a quieter post-police life, but still recognisably “state” service: oversight, compliance, administration, and travel through districts where land and authority were always contested.
In biography, this matters. It suggests that whatever his fall from police respectability, he retained enough capability—and enough institutional acceptability—to be employed again by government. The scandal ended his police career, not his working life.
Condell died aged sixty-nine (as you note), leaving a life that resists easy moral packaging. He was, undeniably, a capable colonial policeman: fast-promoted, repeatedly entrusted with escort duty and dangerous pursuit, present at pivotal events. He also became, later, a cautionary tale: proof that in tight communities a senior officer’s private misconduct could erase public service in a single sensational case.
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| Although this eulogy states that James Condell was 63 evidence points to this being incorrect. |
Detective Patrick Lyons
A Colonial Policeman in the Age of Bushranging
In the turbulent decades of the mid-nineteenth century, when the gold rush transformed New South Wales into a restless frontier of wealth, violence, and rapid social change, the colony required a new breed of lawman. Among those who rose to prominence during this formative period of policing was Detective Constable Patrick Lyons—a man whose career spanned riot control, goldfields crime, bushranger pursuits, and the structural reorganisation of the New South Wales Police Force itself. His life, though less celebrated than the bushrangers he hunted, reflects the harsh realities faced by colonial police tasked with maintaining order in one of the most volatile societies of the Victorian Empire.
Origins and Recruitment to the Colonial Police
Patrick Lyons was born in 1832 in County Mayo, Ireland, during a period of profound social upheaval across the British Isles. Like many young men of the era, he sought opportunity within the expanding imperial structures of law and order. Before coming to Australia, Lyons spent time in Britain, residing at Clonbervie in Kincardine, Scotland, and later joining the constabulary, with early service reported in Brailsford, Derbyshire.
In 1855, in response to advertisements seeking police recruits for the colony of New South Wales, Lyons applied and was accepted. He embarked aboard the migrant ship Exodus, which sailed from Liverpool on 21 April 1855 and arrived at Port Jackson on 26 July 1855. The voyage marked not merely a geographic relocation, but entry into one of the most demanding policing environments in the British world.
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| Arrival via the Exodus. |
His arrival, however, was immediately overshadowed by controversy. Of approximately one hundred recruits who arrived on the Exodus, forty-two—including Lyons—refused to be sworn in due to dissatisfaction with the living conditions promised to them in England. Testimony given in the Police Court indicated that recruits had been assured of suitable lodgings at fixed rates, but these assurances had not materialised upon arrival. Captain John McLerie, then overseeing recruitment, took a firm stance, warning that refusal to take the oath could result in prosecution. The government even issued public notices warning employers against hiring dissenting recruits.
After several weeks of dispute and legal pressure, a compromise was reached, and Lyons, along with many of the original objectors, finally took the oath and entered the New South Wales Constabulary in late 1855. This early episode is revealing: it demonstrates Lyons’ stubbornness, independence, and willingness to challenge authority—traits that would later define his policing career in the field.
Early Service in Sydney and Rise to Detective
Lyons began duty in Sydney, where he was soon engaged in investigative work. By 1859, he had been promoted to detective, a significant advancement in a force still evolving from older constabulary traditions into a more structured investigative body.
One of his early recorded appearances was in an insolvency case involving Camillo Valenti, in which Lyons gave evidence regarding the arrest and seizure of funds. The case resulted in a conviction, illustrating Lyons’ competence in both arrest procedures and courtroom testimony—skills vital to the emerging detective branch of the colonial police.
Yet Sydney would not remain his primary posting. The discovery of gold and the rapid growth of inland settlements dramatically shifted policing priorities. Experienced detectives were urgently needed in the goldfields, where lawlessness, sly grog selling, robbery, and violence flourished amid transient populations.
Lambing Flat, Kiandra, and the Goldfields Crisis
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| Chinese gold diggers. |
From Lambing Flat, Lyons was dispatched to Kiandra in the Snowy Mountains, another rapidly expanding goldfield notorious for crime, mining disputes, and violent confrontations. There, he immersed himself in frontier policing: arresting thieves, investigating murders, settling claims, and confronting lawless elements operating beyond the reach of regular authority.
His methods were firm, sometimes controversial. In November 1860, he faced a charge of malicious assault at Kiandra, though the case was dismissed when witnesses contradicted the complainant’s account. Such incidents highlight the precarious position of detectives on the goldfields, where policing often required immediate physical intervention in hostile environments.
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| Kiandra 1860s |
The Reorganisation of the New South Wales Police, 1862
The year 1862 marked a watershed in colonial policing. The Police Regulation Act unified disparate branches of law enforcement into a centralised New South Wales Police Force under Inspector-General Captain John McLerie. The colony was divided into structured districts, and the detective service was formalised into first- and second-class ranks.
Lyons was promoted to First-Class Detective under this new system, placing him among the most trusted investigative officers in the colony. The reorganisation aimed to combat the growing scourge of bushranging—mobile, heavily armed criminals who exploited the vast distances and sparse population of the interior.
Confronting Bushrangers: The Brewer’s Shanty Engagement
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| John Davis |
The bushrangers opened fire at close range. Lyons, advancing despite being under revolver fire, returned shots that struck Davis multiple times—in the thigh, wrist, and hand. Even after sustaining severe injury to his own finger, Lyons physically secured the wounded bushranger. The engagement demonstrated the brutal, close-quarters nature of bushranger policing and Lyons’ personal courage under fire.
The Eugowra Escort Robbery and Pursuit Operations
The robbery of the Forbes Gold Escort on 15 June 1862 triggered one of the largest police pursuits in colonial history. Lyons joined Inspector Sir Frederick Pottinger and other officers in extensive tracking operations across the Lachlan district.
During the pursuit, police tracked the gang toward the Wheogo Mountains, where camps containing bottles, food remnants, and equipment were discovered—evidence later described in court testimony by Sub-Inspector Sanderson. These findings confirmed the gang’s movements and contributed to the recovery of a significant portion of the stolen gold.
At Temora, Lyons and fellow officers encountered riders later identified as John Gilbert and Henry Manns. Gilbert escaped, and the following day, armed bushrangers confronted the police. In the ensuing gunfight, Lyons’ horse was shot, and he was unseated—a common and dangerous occurrence in mounted policing engagements. Despite the setback, Lyons survived and continued active service, demonstrating resilience typical of officers operating in bushranger districts.
Tracking Murderers and Frontier Justice
Lyons’ investigative skill extended beyond bushranger suppression. Following the murder of mailman Daniel Crotty in 1862, Lyons tracked suspects over vast distances—reportedly up to 300 miles—before arresting Charles Robardy at the Harp of Erin Hotel in Forbes. His testimony in court, alongside medical evidence obtained after exhumation of the victim’s body, helped secure Robardy’s conviction and execution in 1863.
This case exemplifies the multifaceted duties of colonial detectives: investigators, trackers, arresting officers, and court witnesses.
Personal Courage and Public Duty
An episode in September 1861 further illustrates Lyons’ character. When a coach carrying high-ranking officials, including Inspector-General McLerie, became stranded in floodwaters near Yass, Lyons voluntarily attempted a dangerous river crossing. His horse was swept downstream and overturned several times, nearly drowning him. Nevertheless, he persisted with the rescue effort, helping to extricate the vehicle using ropes and additional horses. Contemporary reports praised the voluntary exertions of Lyons and his fellow officer Scarlett.
Discipline, Controversy, and Human Frailty
Like many frontier officers, Lyons’ career was not without blemish. In 1861, a magistrate sharply criticised his testimony in a theft case, stating he did not believe a word of it and calling his conduct discreditable. Such rebukes reflect the enormous pressure on detectives operating in chaotic goldfield environments where evidence was often scarce and witnesses unreliable.
Similarly, policing in bushranger districts produced extreme stress. Officers faced constant danger, public hostility, and the frustration of local populations who often refused to cooperate with authorities—a “cone of silence” that severely hindered investigations.
Later Career Advancement and Senior Service
Despite setbacks, Lyons’ career trajectory remained upward. He continued serving through the 1860s and beyond, gaining the confidence of superiors and the public alike. His long tenure saw him transferred repeatedly across districts, reflecting the colonial practice of redeploying experienced officers to emerging trouble spots.
Over the decades, he rose steadily through the ranks, eventually attaining senior positions within the police hierarchy. His administrative reach later extended across large districts, including Bathurst and western New South Wales, where he supervised inspectors and oversaw policing from Penrith to Coonamble and Quambone.
Such advancement was not merely bureaucratic; it was earned through sustained field experience spanning riots, gold rush lawlessness, bushranger pursuits, and serious criminal investigations.
Retirement and Final Years
After a remarkable career spanning more than half a century, Lyons retired from the New South Wales Police Force in 1902, making him one of the longest-serving officers of his generation. His service had spanned the transformation of colonial policing from a fragmented constabulary into a centralised professional force.
He had served under multiple Inspector-Generals, including McLerie and Fosbery, and had witnessed the decline of the bushranging era he helped suppress.
Patrick Lyons died on 4 January 1919 at his home in Ashfield, aged ninety-six. His death marked the passing of a generation of officers who had policed the colony during its most dangerous and formative decades.
Historical Assessment and Legacy
In assessing Patrick Lyons’ career, it is essential to place him within the broader context of nineteenth-century colonial policing. He was neither a politician nor a celebrated public hero; rather, he belonged to the class of working detectives whose daily efforts underpinned the enforcement of law during an age of disorder.
His career highlights several defining themes of colonial law enforcement:
Adaptability during the gold rush and bushranging crises
Courage in armed confrontations
Extensive investigative and tracking work
Endurance under administrative and public scrutiny
Long-term institutional contribution during police reform
While bushrangers like Ben Hall and Frank Gardiner entered folklore, men like Lyons remained largely confined to court records, newspaper reports, and police gazettes. Yet it was their persistence that ultimately eroded the operational freedom of bushranger gangs.
Lyons’ life encapsulates the paradox of colonial policing: bravery often performed without recognition, success measured in quiet stability rather than dramatic acclaim, and a legacy preserved not in ballads but in the gradual establishment of law and order across an expanding frontier.
In the final analysis, Detective Patrick Lyons stands as a representative figure of the early New South Wales Police Force—resilient, controversial, courageous, and indispensable. His long service, from the goldfields riots to the suppression of bushranging and the maturation of the police system, places him among the most significant yet understated law-enforcement officers of colonial Australia.
Superintendent Charles Allen Sanderson
London Policeman, Goldfields Officer, and Relentless Pursuer of the Lachlan Bushrangers
Superintendent Charles Allen Sanderson occupies a significant, though often underappreciated, place in the operational history of the New South Wales Police during the turbulent bushranging era of the 1860s. A product of the London Metropolitan Police and a veteran of civil unrest in Britain, Sanderson brought to the Australian colonies a disciplined policing ethos forged in the streets of London and tested amid the gold rush upheavals of New South Wales.
His career spanned more than half a century and intersected with some of the most consequential criminal episodes in colonial history, including the Eugowra gold escort robbery, the pursuit of Frank Gardiner’s gang, and the suppression of disorder across the goldfields. His service illustrates the demanding realities of colonial policing—low pay, high risk, public hostility, and the near-constant strain of bush operations in an era when law enforcement infrastructure was still evolving.
Early Life and Service in the London Police (1822–1848)
Charles Sanderson was born in 1822 in the City of London, near Temple Bar, at a time when metropolitan policing itself was undergoing transformation. He entered the London police in June 1848 under the authority of Sir Richard Mayne, one of the founding figures of the Metropolitan Police.
His early service coincided with the Chartist disturbances, a period of political agitation culminating in mass demonstrations such as the rally at Kensington Park. As a plainclothes officer during these unrests, Sanderson gained firsthand experience in crowd control, intelligence gathering, and civil order policing—skills that would later prove invaluable on the volatile Australian goldfields.
He was also on duty during the state funeral of the Duke of Wellington in 1852, a major ceremonial operation requiring strict discipline and crowd management. Such assignments indicate that Sanderson had already earned a reputation for reliability within a demanding policing environment before his departure for the colonies.
Migration to New South Wales and Early Colonial Service
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| Arrival via the ship Bangalore |
His first posting was to Kiandra, a rapidly expanding goldfield settlement where law enforcement was notoriously difficult. The gold rush had drawn thousands of diggers, fortune-seekers, and criminals into remote districts where policing structures were understaffed and frequently undermined by desertion.
Contemporary commentary underscores the difficulties faced by officers of the period:
“Constables were hard to recruit and harder to keep… who would be a policeman at 5s. 6d. a day when fortunes were being made by diggers?”
This economic imbalance contributed to high attrition rates, poor discipline among recruits, and chronic instability within the force. Officers such as Sanderson were therefore essential in maintaining continuity and operational effectiveness.
Lambing Flat and Goldfields Disorder (1860–1861)
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| Lambing Flat Chinese Riots |
These disturbances were not isolated incidents but part of a broader pattern of unrest across goldfields districts. Shortly afterwards, riots also broke out at Forbes, where Sanderson again assisted in quelling disorder. His presence in these districts coincided with a period when police were often outnumbered, poorly resourced, and deeply unpopular among sections of the mining population.
Transfer to the Lachlan District and the Rise of Bushranging
With the discovery of gold at the Lachlan (Forbes), Sanderson was transferred to the district that would soon become synonymous with organised bushranging. The rise of Frank Gardiner, John Gilbert, Ben Hall, and their associates transformed the region into a focal point of criminal activity targeting escorts, mail routes, and isolated settlements.
Sanderson’s career from this point became closely tied to the campaign against these bushranging gangs, whose mobility, local support networks, and intimate knowledge of the terrain made them formidable adversaries.
The Eugowra Escort Robbery and Recovery of Gold (June 1862)
The escort robbery at Eugowra on 15 June 1862 was one of the most audacious crimes in colonial Australian history. Frank Gardiner, John Gilbert, Ben Hall, and accomplices ambushed the gold escort near Eugowra Rocks, seizing a substantial quantity of gold destined for Sydney.
Sergeant Sanderson played a central role in the subsequent pursuit. Acting with mounted police and Aboriginal trackers, he followed the gang’s trail into the Wheogo Mountains. His sworn evidence before the Special Criminal Commission in February 1863 provides a detailed operational account of this pursuit:
“By the aid of our black tracker we got on the tracks… we followed them twenty or twenty-six miles through dense scrub… when we came upon a shod horse with a pack on his back containing 1239 ounces of gold.”
This recovery represented a major investigative success and significantly mitigated the financial impact of the robbery. Contemporary newspapers, including the Sydney Mail (June 1862), praised Sanderson’s diligence and endurance during the pursuit.
Promotion and Recognition (1862)
On 15 August 1862, Sanderson was promoted from Sergeant to Sub-Inspector, a promotion directly linked to his effectiveness in operations against Gardiner’s gang and associated bushrangers. Colonial commentary noted that his police work had helped, “in no small degree,” to rid the country of notorious desperadoes.
Such advancement was notable in a force where promotion was often slow and dependent upon demonstrable field service rather than patronage alone.
The Murder of Daniel Crotty and the Robardy Investigation
Sanderson’s investigative abilities were further demonstrated in the pursuit of Charles Robardy, accused of murdering Daniel Crotty, the Marengo mailman, in August 1862.
Tracking the suspect over a distance of approximately 300 miles, Sanderson arrested Robardy at the Harp of Erin Hotel in Forbes. His testimony confirmed the suspect’s changing statements and eventual admission of presence on Lambing Flat.
Subsequent medical examination of Crotty’s exhumed remains revealed that the victim had been shot at close range, the bullet entering the temple and exiting the occipital region—clear forensic evidence of deliberate murder. Robardy was ultimately executed in May 1863, marking the successful conclusion of a complex investigation that required persistence across vast distances and limited forensic resources.
Frustration, Public Silence, and the “Cone of Silence”
One of the greatest challenges faced by Sanderson and his contemporaries was the reluctance of local populations to provide information regarding bushrangers. In districts where bushrangers were admired or feared, settlers frequently maintained silence, hindering police intelligence gathering.
This environment bred deep frustration among officers. In June 1863, Sanderson’s tensions came to a head in an incident at Margaret Allport’s accommodation house in Forbes, where, reportedly intoxicated, he caused damage while venting his frustration at perceived obstruction.
The court acknowledged both the misconduct and the pressures of policing:
“The police had a very onerous duty to perform… and in carrying out their instructions did, no doubt, at times cause some inconvenience.”
He was ordered to pay damages and court costs, an episode that illustrates both his human fallibility and the extreme psychological strain placed upon officers engaged in relentless bush campaigns.
Later Career and Senior Command
Despite this controversy, Sanderson’s career continued to advance. He ultimately rose to the rank of first-class superintendent, a position he held for approximately twenty years. His later postings demonstrate the confidence successive Inspector-Generals placed in his administrative and operational capabilities.
Key appointments included:
Formation of a new district at Narrabri (1878)
Relief of Superintendent Garland at Tamworth
Succession to Superintendent Morrissett at Maitland
Command at Bathurst (from 1884)
His jurisdiction eventually extended from Penrith to Coonamble and Quambone, overseeing multiple inspectors stationed at Dubbo, Orange, Forbes, Mudgee, and Bathurst—an immense policing responsibility in an era of limited communications and transport.
Institutional Loyalty and Long Service
Sanderson’s career was remarkable not only for its operational intensity but also for its longevity. He received “marching orders” fifteen times during his service, reflecting the frequent redeployments required in a rapidly expanding colony.
He served under three major police leaders:
Sir Richard Mayne (London policing influence)
Captain John McLerie (Inspector-General, NSW)
Inspector-General Edmund Fosbery
This continuity of service across administrative regimes underscores his adaptability and institutional loyalty.
Retirement and Death (1902–1919)
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| Pension |
He died at his home in Ashfield on 4 January 1919 at the age of 96, an extraordinary lifespan for a man whose working years were spent in physically demanding and often dangerous conditions.
Historical Assessment
Charles Allen Sanderson represents the archetype of the professional colonial police officer: disciplined, persistent, and hardened by frontier service. His career reveals several defining themes in nineteenth-century Australian policing:
Chronic understaffing and desertion during the gold rush
Dependence on mounted patrols and Aboriginal trackers
Public reluctance to cooperate with police investigations
High operational stress and psychological strain
The gradual professionalisation of the police force
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| Photographed 1896. |
While not as publicly celebrated as some officers involved in dramatic bushranger confrontations, his recovery of gold after the Eugowra robbery, investigative persistence in murder cases, and long administrative leadership place him among the most consequential operational figures in the policing of the Lachlan and western districts.
His legacy endures as that of a relentless and durable officer whose career spanned the formative decades of New South Wales law enforcement, bridging the transition from improvised goldfields policing to a more structured and professional colonial police system.
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Captain Edward Montague Battye |
Royal Court Page, Soldier, and Architect of Goldfields Policing in Colonial New South Wales
Captain Edward Montague Battye stands among the most intriguing figures of nineteenth-century colonial administration in New South Wales—a man whose life bridged the worlds of royal service, imperial warfare, goldfields policing, and frontier law enforcement. His career unfolded during one of the colony’s most turbulent eras, when the discovery of gold, the rise of bushranging, and the reorganisation of the police system demanded officers of both military discipline and administrative adaptability.
Remembered by contemporaries as a gentleman officer of refinement and courage, Battye’s legacy is inseparable from the formative decades of mounted policing, escort protection, and district command during the mid-nineteenth century. His long service, culminating in senior district superintendencies and honoured retirement, reflects both the evolution of colonial policing and the enduring influence of military-trained leadership in the Australian context.
Early Life and Royal Connections (1817–1830s)
Edward Montague Battye was born on 29 March 1817 at Rougham Hall in Suffolk, England, the son of Mr. George Battye of Campden Hill, Kensington. His upbringing was distinctly genteel, shaped by privilege, education, and proximity to the British establishment.
Educated at Wandsworth and Brighton, Battye shared a tutor with Prince George of Cambridge, a connection that would mature into a lifelong friendship and position him within influential social circles. At the remarkably young age of fifteen, he entered royal service as a page to Queen Adelaide.
This appointment was not merely ceremonial. Pages within the Royal Household were expected to display discipline, discretion, and deportment befitting court service. Battye’s favour with Queen Adelaide endured throughout his life, symbolised by the silver tablet book she presented to him and the annual pension of £100 he received until his death—an uncommon honour that attests to the depth of royal regard.
Military Formation and Imperial Service
Battye’s formal military career began with a commission in the 18th Lancers, followed by a transfer to the 23rd Royal Welsh Fusiliers, where he attained the rank of captain. His service coincided with a period of imperial unrest, requiring officers capable of both leadership and administrative coordination.
In 1837 he proceeded to Canada under Colonel Harrison during the disturbances associated with the Canadian Rebellion. There he served as staff drill adjutant for multiple local corps, overseeing the discipline and training of five battalions—a demanding post that honed his organisational skills and command experience.
His subsequent appointment as aide-de-camp to Sir William Williams during the rebellion further demonstrated the confidence placed in his operational abilities. These formative military experiences would later shape his approach to colonial policing, particularly in mounted patrol command and escort organisation.
Marriage and Colonial Transition to New South Wales
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| Arrival |
Upon arrival in Sydney, Battye temporarily assumed the duties of Adjutant-General during the absence of Colonel Munday, demonstrating the level of trust placed in his administrative competence even at an early stage in his colonial career. This period marked his transition from imperial officer to colonial administrator, a path followed by many British-trained officers in Australia during the mid-nineteenth century.
The Gold Rush and Reorganisation of Colonial Policing (1851)
The discovery of gold in 1851 transformed New South Wales socially, economically, and administratively. Law enforcement structures, previously designed for a dispersed pastoral colony, proved inadequate for the sudden influx of miners, escorts, and opportunistic criminals.
Battye, alongside Mr. J. R. Hardy, was called upon to assist in reorganising the police force during this period of upheaval. His military background made him ideally suited to the creation of mounted escort and patrol units tasked with protecting gold shipments and maintaining order across volatile diggings.
He organised a corps of mounted men headquartered at Parramatta, specifically trained for:
Gold escort duties
Patrol service
Rapid-response deployment
Frontier policing in mining districts
These mounted units became a cornerstone of colonial policing during the gold rush, and Battye’s organisational work contributed significantly to their operational effectiveness.
Western Patrol and the Turon Goldfields (1855)
By 1855, Battye was stationed in Bathurst, where he was appointed superintendent of the western patrol during the turbulent period of the Turon goldfields. The region was characterised by:
High population mobility
Armed diggers
Escort robberies
Increasing bushranger activity
Battye’s leadership required constant patrol operations across difficult terrain and frequent confrontations with criminal gangs targeting gold escorts and isolated settlements. Contemporary accounts credit him with active engagement in multiple bushranger conflicts, underscoring his reputation as a field officer rather than merely an administrative commander.
Inspector of Police at Young (Lambing Flat) and the 1862 Police Reforms
The reorganisation of the New South Wales police system in 1862 marked a significant administrative milestone. Under the new structure, Battye was appointed Inspector of Police at Young—then known as Lambing Flat—one of the most volatile districts in the colony.
The Lambing Flat region had only recently experienced major anti-Chinese disturbances and continued to require firm but measured policing. Battye’s leadership in the district proved effective in restoring confidence among settlers, miners, and financial institutions.
His success in capturing the Hartley and Mudgee mail robbers earned him a testimonial from the Bank of New South Wales, reflecting the direct economic importance of police efficiency in protecting colonial commerce.
Interaction with Frank Gardiner and Bushranger Policing
One of the most notable incidents associated with Battye’s career involved the bushranger Frank Gardiner. At one point, Battye had Gardiner in custody on a charge of horse theft. However, due to confusion surrounding identity—a recurring issue in an era before modern identification systems—Gardiner was released.
This episode illustrates the procedural limitations of mid-nineteenth-century policing rather than any lack of diligence. Indeed, Battye’s broader record in gold district enforcement and bushranger suppression remained widely commended by local communities and miners alike.
His operational environment placed him within the broader policing campaign against organised bushranging networks that included figures such as Gardiner, Ben Hall, and John Gilbert, whose activities plagued escort routes and rural settlements throughout the 1860s.
Senior District Commands: Monaro, Cooma, and the Murray
Following his service at Young, Battye was appointed Superintendent of the Cooma and Monaro district, and later of the Murray district with headquarters at Albury. These postings represented senior regional commands within the colonial policing hierarchy.
His responsibilities included:
Cross-border policing coordination
escort protection
rural patrol supervision
administrative oversight of constables and mounted units
Battye remained in these senior roles until his superannuation in 1893, an unusually long tenure that spanned over four decades of colonial service.
Community Standing and Personal Life
Beyond his official duties, Battye maintained a respected social presence within colonial society. In 1890, he and his wife celebrated their golden wedding anniversary, an occasion marked by tributes from community members who recognised their long-standing contributions to public life.
His career, unlike many frontier officers, was not marked by scandal but by steady administrative advancement, public trust, and institutional loyalty. Such stability distinguished him from more controversial contemporaries operating in bushranger districts.
Retirement and Death (1893–1898)
After retiring on pension in 1893, Captain Battye spent his final years in North Sydney, living in quiet domestic retirement with his family. His death on 12 July 1898 at the age of 82 marked the passing of one of the last surviving officers of the gold rush policing generation.
His funeral at St. Thomas’ Church of England Cemetery, North Sydney, was attended by:
The Inspector-General of Police, E. Fosbery
Numerous serving and retired police officers
community representatives
long-standing associates
The presence of the NSW Police Band and senior officers demonstrated the institutional respect he commanded, even in death.
Character and Historical Assessment
Captain Battye embodied the archetype of the military gentleman-administrator who transitioned effectively into colonial civil service. His career reveals several defining characteristics:
Strong organisational discipline rooted in military training
adaptability during administrative reform
commitment to escort protection and district policing
personal loyalty to the institutions he served
While not as publicly celebrated as some contemporaries involved in dramatic bushranger pursuits, his influence on the structural development of mounted patrols and goldfields policing was substantial.
Legacy in Colonial Policing History
Battye’s life illustrates the critical role played by British-trained officers in stabilising New South Wales during its most volatile decades. From royal page to colonial superintendent, his career traversed the imperial, military, and civil spheres in a manner characteristic of nineteenth-century administrative elites.
His contributions to:
gold escort organisation
police restructuring in 1862
frontier patrol systems
and regional district command place him among the key operational figures in the evolution of the New South Wales Police during the gold rush and bushranger era.
Superintendent Henry Zouch (1811-1883)
Soldier, Magistrate, and Bushranger Hunter in Colonial New South Wales
Among the senior officers who shaped policing in colonial New South Wales during the turbulent gold rush and bushranging era, Captain Henry Zouch occupies a distinguished yet often underappreciated position. A military officer by training and a civil administrator by necessity, Zouch’s career spanned the formative decades of the colony’s transition from frontier outpost to structured civil society.
His service intersected with several defining episodes of colonial history: the expansion of mounted policing, the regulation of the goldfields, the Lambing Flat disturbances, and the long campaign against organised bushranging, including the activities of Ben Hall’s gang. At times praised in Parliament and by contemporaries for his discretion and courage, Zouch also operated within controversial contexts—riot control, frontier policing, and the enforcement of colonial law in volatile districts.
This section examines his life chronologically, assessing both his administrative achievements and his operational role within the evolving police system of New South Wales.
Early Life and Military Formation (1811–1834)
Henry Zouch was born on 18 August 1811 in Quebec, Canada, the eldest son of Lieutenant-Colonel Henry Zouch of the 10th Royal Veteran Battalion and his second wife, Ann Ritchie. His upbringing in a military household strongly influenced his professional trajectory.
Educated at the Royal Military College, Sandhurst (1826–1828), Zouch received formal training in discipline, command structure, and imperial service—qualities that later defined his administrative approach in colonial policing. He was commissioned as an ensign in the 4th (King’s Own) Regiment on 10 November 1826.
In February 1827, he arrived in Sydney aboard the ship Midas, entering a colony still shaped by convict administration and expanding frontier settlement. The convict ship also carried convict one Benjamin Hall the father of future adversary Ben Hall. This early arrival placed him within the generation of officers who transitioned from military enforcement to civil governance roles as the colony matured.
His promotion to lieutenant on 1 July 1833 reflected steady advancement, and by October 1834 he was entrusted with command of the first division of the Mounted Police at Bathurst—one of the most strategically significant postings in inland New South Wales.
Mounted Police and Frontier Administration
Zouch’s command at Bathurst placed him at the centre of frontier law enforcement during a period marked by rapid pastoral expansion and conflict on the colonial frontier. Mounted police units were essential in maintaining order across vast and sparsely settled districts where conventional policing was impractical.
The following year, on 29 December 1836, Zouch married Maria Brooks, youngest daughter of Captain Richard Brooks, at Holy Trinity Church, Kelso. This marriage connected him to one of the established colonial families and further embedded him within the administrative elite of inland New South Wales.
Crown Lands Administration and the Goldfields (1851–1853)
The discovery of gold in New South Wales at the Turon River in NSW, Australia, was a major site of the 1851 gold rush, featuring rich alluvial deposits that established the town of Sofala. The discovery by Edward Hargraves transformed the colony’s social and administrative landscape. That same year, Zouch was appointed Assistant Commissioner of Crown Lands for the gold districts, based on the Lower Turon—one of the earliest and most volatile goldfield regions.
His role required balancing:
Mining regulation
land administration
public order
and revenue oversight
The Goldfields Management framework demanded firm yet measured governance, as thousands of diggers—many transient and often armed—flooded the interior districts. Contemporary accounts suggest that Zouch’s administration contributed significantly to maintaining relative stability during a period when disorder and unrest were common across goldfield settlements.
By 1853, he returned to Goulburn as Superintendent of Police for the Mounted Patrol in the southern districts, overseeing key escort routes including the Gundagai and Braidwood gold escorts. These routes were prime targets for bushrangers, making his command operationally critical to colonial economic security.
Lambing Flat Riots and Colonial Crisis (1860–1861)
Zouch’s leadership during the anti-Chinese disturbances at Lambing Flat (modern Young) in 1860 and 1861 marked one of the most controversial episodes of his career. The riots, driven by racial tensions and economic competition on the goldfields, threatened to overwhelm local authority.
On 30 June 1861, Zouch commanded police forces during a critical confrontation when miners attempted to storm police quarters. His decision to order a mounted charge, followed by a strategic withdrawal to Yass to prevent escalation, demonstrated both firmness and restraint.
While some critics later debated the severity of police responses during the disturbances, parliamentary commentary at the time acknowledged the difficulty of maintaining order amid mass unrest. Zouch’s actions were widely regarded by officials as instrumental in preventing broader violence and administrative collapse in the district.
Superintendent Under the Police Regulation Reforms (1862)
In March 1862, under the restructured policing framework associated with the Police Regulation reforms, Zouch was appointed Superintendent of Police for the south-eastern district. This appointment placed him within the newly professionalised police hierarchy emerging in New South Wales.
His jurisdiction included districts heavily affected by bushranger activity, particularly those associated with the movements of Ben Hall and his associates. Zouch’s operational style was frequently described as discreet and methodical rather than theatrical, favouring intelligence gathering, patrol coordination, and measured deployment over impulsive confrontation.
Parliamentary references to his service during this period commended his efficiency, noting his capacity to manage volatile districts without excessive reliance on force alone.
Campaign Against Bushranging and the Hall Era
During the early 1860s, bushranging reached one of its most organised phases, with gangs operating across the Lachlan, Bland, and southern districts. Zouch’s responsibilities included intelligence coordination, escort protection, and mounted patrol deployment against highly mobile offenders.
His work intersected directly with the era of:
Ben Hall
John Gilbert
John O’Meally
and associated bush telegraph networks
Unlike some officers who pursued bushrangers with overt aggression, Zouch’s approach was characterised by surveillance, district coordination, and logistical containment. This administrative efficiency contributed to the broader policing pressure that ultimately led to the dismantling of several bushranger networks during the mid-1860s.
Civic Life and Community Leadership
Beyond his policing duties, Zouch remained an active and engaged member of colonial society. His civic contributions included:
Founding President of the Goulburn Rifle Club (1865)
Membership in the Australian Club
Service on the local Public School Board
These roles reflect the dual identity common among senior colonial officers, who functioned not only as enforcers of law but as community leaders within emerging regional centres.
The Reprieve Incident: A Glimpse of Character
A notable anecdote illustrating Zouch’s sense of duty and decisiveness concerns an urgent reprieve delivered by Cobb & Co messenger Mr. Richards. According to later accounts, Zouch—still in night attire—immediately recognised the gravity of the official letter, which carried a last-minute reprieve for a condemned woman awaiting execution at Goulburn Gaol.
Without delay, he ordered rapid conveyance to the gaol, arriving with only minutes to spare before the execution was to proceed. The intervention halted the execution at the final moment, an episode that became part of regional memory and reinforced his reputation for prompt and humane administrative action. Mr Richards stated;
Mr. Richards told how he saved a woman from the gallows at Goulburn. He had an official letter to deliver to Captain Zouch, who was head of the police at Goulburn. Captain Zouch, who lived two miles from the gaol, told him to wait while he read the contents of the letter.
He was in his pyjamas, said Mr. Richards, "for it was early in the morning. On that day a woman was to be hanged for the murder of her husband. When he read the letter, Captain Zouch shouted to me to drive as fast as I could to the gaol, for the letter I had delivered was a reprieve for the condemned woman.
Not welting to dress, he jumped into the cart. When we reached the gaol, we had only three minutes to spare. The cap was already on the woman's head. "I never saw anyone look so pleased as she when she was told of the reprieve.
Personality, Controversy, and Administrative Style
Like many senior officers of the colonial period, Zouch’s career was not without controversy. Frontier policing, riot control, and goldfield administration inevitably placed him in situations where decisive authority could be interpreted as severity.
However, contemporary commentary frequently emphasised:
Courage under pressure
Administrative discretion
Professional efficiency
Personal integrity in public service
His leadership style aligned with the broader shift toward a disciplined and centralised police system in the 1860s, paralleling reforms implemented across New South Wales policing structures.
Final Years and Death (1883)
Captain Henry Zouch died on 28 October 1883 in Goulburn, reportedly from sunstroke, after decades of public service in military, administrative, and policing roles. His death marked the passing of one of the last senior officers whose careers spanned the transition from early mounted patrol policing to the more structured constabulary system of the later 19th century.
He was buried with Anglican rites in Goulburn and was survived by his wife, four sons, and three daughters. Probate records valued his personal estate at £4,057, reflecting a life of professional stability and standing within colonial society.
Legacy in Australian Colonial History
Captain Henry Zouch’s legacy rests upon his adaptability across multiple phases of colonial governance: military officer, magistrate, crown lands administrator, and police superintendent. His career intersected with some of the most volatile developments in New South Wales history, including gold rush unrest, racial tensions on the diggings, and the bushranger crisis of the 1860s.
While less mythologised than the bushrangers he helped suppress, Zouch represents the administrative backbone of colonial law enforcement. His measured leadership, particularly during the Lambing Flat riots and the height of bushranger activity, contributed to the stabilisation of districts that might otherwise have descended into prolonged disorder.
In historical assessment, he emerges not merely as a police officer but as a colonial administrator of considerable competence—one whose discreet courage, operational discipline, and public service helped shape the evolution of policing in New South Wales during one of its most turbulent decades.
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| Police Trooper c 1862 (representation only of Haviland) |
The first Policeman to die on duty under the New Police Act 1862.
William Haviland, whose life was marked by service and a tragic end, was born in September 1827 in St Nicholas, Gloucestershire, England. His journey into military life began with his enlistment in the Royal Artillery at the age of 20 in 1847, but his service was short-lived, lasting only twelve months due to a reduction in the Army.
In February 1858, Haviland married Sarah Heale at St Nicholas Anglican Church in Winsley, Wiltshire, England. Together, they embarked on a new life, arriving in NSW aboard the 'Oliver Jordan' on July 1, 1858, after setting sail from London on April 30. The 'Oliver Jordan' was a merchant ship of American origin, captained by James Frost with Dr. Mackeller as the ship's surgeon. Haviland's military background soon led him to a position in the NSW Police as a street patrol constable based in Parramatta. The Havilands became parents to two girls, Ellen and Laura. With the introduction of the new police act in March 1862, Haviland joined the Gold Escort, a role that offered higher pay, crucial for a family man like him.
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| Haviland Arrival 1858. Note James Moyes. |
On June 15, 1862, while preparing for a gold shipment from Forbes to Bathurst under Sergeant Condell's supervision, Haviland experienced a life-changing event. As the escort coach approached Eugowra, it was ambushed, leading to injuries among the officers, including Condell and Moran. However, Haviland escaped unscathed.
Following the robbery, Hanbury Clement penned a letter detailing the event and praising Sergeant Condell's composure. Clement noted that Frank Gardiner was the only unmasked member of the gang. The coach, after a tumultuous journey, arrived in Orange, where Haviland assisted with the mailbags. Tthe following is a summary of the attack on the troopers from the 'Empire' dated the 24th June 1862;
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| A Gold Escort. Artist unknown. |
The troopers fell across the owners of the bullock teams, who had been stuck up by the bushrangers. The unfortunate men state that they had been made to lie upon the ground, face downwards, for several hours; and that whilst the firing was going on between the bushrangers and escort, they were exposed to the bullets. After urgent entreaty, they were removed from this perilous position by the bushrangers.
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| Sgt Condell |
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| Hanbury Clements. c. 1880. |
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| James Dalton |
William Haviland's body was taken into the Inn and placed on a couch in the verandah room where Dr Warren was sent for and stated;
Mrs Haviland received a gratuity from the police force of £100, and in later life would remarry.
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Memorial plaque commemorates the 150th anniversary of the death of Constable William Haviland. The plaque coincides with the 150th anniversary of NSW Police. Photo by
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Captain John McLerie (1809-1874)
The First Inspector-General of Police, the Police Act Reforms, and the Campaign Against Bushranging (1857–1874)
The history of bushranging in New South Wales is often dominated by the names of outlaws—Hall, Gardiner, Gilbert, and O’Meally—yet the institutional response to their activities was shaped by one of the most consequential figures in colonial law enforcement: Captain John McLerie. As the first Inspector-General of Police under the modernised colonial system, McLerie presided over a critical transitional period in which the fragmented and often ineffective policing structures of the early colony were reorganised into a more disciplined and centralised force.
His tenure coincided directly with the peak of organised bushranging in the Lachlan and Western districts during the early 1860s. While frequently characterised as stern, abrasive, and uncompromising—particularly by those in the bush districts—McLerie’s administrative reforms and operational directives were instrumental in the eventual suppression of the Gardiner–Hall–Gilbert network. This paper examines his military background, administrative career, role in the restructuring of colonial policing (particularly in the early 1860s), and his strategic influence in the pursuit and capture of major bushrangers.
Early Life and Military Formation
John McLerie was born in Ayrshire, Scotland, in 1809, entering military service at approximately sixteen years of age with the Scots Fusilier Guards. His early professional development was grounded in discipline, hierarchy, and imperial service—traits that would later define his administrative approach in New South Wales.
During his military career, McLerie reportedly played a role in thwarting Edward Oxford’s attempted assassination of Queen Victoria in 1840, an event that enhanced his standing and contributed to his advancement within the corps. Such experiences reinforced a lifelong commitment to order and state authority, a principle that would later underpin his policing philosophy in the colonies.
Following imperial service in Britain, McLerie transferred with the 58th Regiment to Hobart Town, where he was involved in the supervision and transport of Crown prisoners—an experience that familiarised him with colonial penal administration and frontier discipline. His subsequent posting to New Zealand during the Northern War (commonly referred to in colonial records as the “Heki War”) exposed him to irregular warfare and frontier resistance, conditions not unlike those later encountered in the bushranger campaigns of inland Australia. While serving in the "Johnny Heki" war against the Maoris, his exemplary conduct in several engagements put him in contention for the Victoria Cross, although he did not receive the decoration due to the time elapsed for seeking the award following post war.
Transition to Colonial Policing in New South Wales
After returning to Sydney, McLerie entered colonial administrative service, holding several key positions that bridged military and civil authority:
Adjutant of the Mounted Military Patrol
Governor of Darlinghurst Gaol
Police Magistrate of Sydney
Metropolitan Superintendent of Police
These appointments placed him at the intersection of penal discipline, urban policing, and frontier enforcement. His experience with mounted patrols proved particularly relevant in a colony where vast distances, sparse settlement, and mobile offenders rendered conventional policing methods inadequate.
In 1857, following legislative reforms to the policing system, McLerie was appointed Inspector-General of Police—the first to hold the office in its modern administrative form. This role gave him overarching control of colonial policing strategy, discipline, and operational coordination.
The Pre-Reform Police System: Structural Weaknesses
Before the reforms associated with the Police Act framework (mid-19th century developments culminating in administrative restructuring by the early 1860s), policing in New South Wales was fragmented. The system consisted of:
Local bench-appointed constables
Mounted patrol detachments
Gold escort guards
Rural police under magistrate influence
This decentralised arrangement created serious operational weaknesses:
Poor coordination between districts
Inconsistent training and discipline
Vulnerability to corruption or local influence
Slow response to mobile bushranger gangs
The gold rush intensified these problems. The movement of large quantities of gold, combined with increased population mobility, produced ideal conditions for organised bushranging.
McLerie and the Policing Reforms of the Early 1860s
By 1862, the colonial government recognised that the existing policing framework was inadequate to counter increasingly organised bushranger activity. Under McLerie’s administrative leadership, the restructured police system emphasised:
1. Centralisation of Command
The Inspector-General’s office strengthened oversight of district police, reducing reliance on local magistrates and informal authority structures.
2. Expansion of Mounted Police Capabilities
Mounted troopers became the primary operational force against bushrangers. McLerie advocated mobility, discipline, and intelligence-led pursuit rather than static policing.
3. Intelligence Coordination
McLerie’s administration placed increased emphasis on informants, surveillance, and cross-district communication—methods later crucial in the Escort trials and subsequent bushranger prosecutions.
4. Professionalisation and Discipline
Drawing from his military background, McLerie imposed stricter discipline, uniform standards, and chain-of-command accountability across the force.
These reforms marked the effective end of the older, loosely organised colonial policing model and the emergence of a more modern constabulary system.
The Bushranger Crisis: Gardiner, Hall, and the Lachlan Gangs
The early 1860s saw the rise of a highly mobile and coordinated bushranger network centred on Frank Gardiner, Ben Hall, John Gilbert, and John O'Meally.
The Eugowra Gold Escort robbery of June 1862 exposed the limitations of existing police structures and directly accelerated reform efforts. McLerie’s office coordinated the legal and operational response, including:
Support for Special Commission prosecutions
Strategic deployment of mounted patrols
Use of Crown informants
Intercolonial intelligence tracking
The Pursuit and Capture of Frank Gardiner
One of the most significant successes during McLerie’s tenure was the eventual capture of Frank Gardiner in Queensland. Acting on intelligence regarding Gardiner’s movements near Rockhampton, McLerie authorised the dispatch of troopers to pursue and apprehend the fugitive.
This intercolonial coordination reflected a shift toward broader strategic policing beyond district boundaries—an approach that would become standard in later Australian law enforcement.
Field Engagements and the Suppression of the Lachlan Gangs
Although primarily an administrator, McLerie was not detached from operational realities. Contemporary accounts indicate that he occasionally took an active interest in mounted pursuits in bushranger districts, reflecting his belief in visible leadership and disciplined enforcement.
Under the restructured police system:
John O’Meally was killed in 1863 following armed conflict
Ben Hall was shot by police in 1865 after prolonged pursuit
John Gilbert was killed the same year
John Dunn was captured and executed in 1866
These outcomes were not the result of isolated encounters but of sustained, coordinated policing pressure—an approach directly linked to McLerie’s administrative reforms.
Administrative Style and Reputation
McLerie’s leadership style was widely described as firm, uncompromising, and at times abrasive. In bushranger districts, where sympathy for outlaws occasionally existed, this severity was both criticised and respected.
To settlers and officials, he represented stability and order.
To bushrangers and their sympathisers, he symbolised the tightening reach of the colonial state.
His military temperament shaped his policing philosophy:
Order over popularity
Discipline over leniency
Central authority over local discretion
Final Years and Death (1874)
Despite declining health over approximately twelve years, McLerie remained active in administrative service. On the day preceding his death, he visited the Police Department and walked through Sydney—an exertion that likely contributed to the fatal attack that occurred early the following morning, on 6 October 1874.
Medical efforts by Dr. Kenwick were unsuccessful, and his death at the age of 65 marked the end of a foundational era in New South Wales policing.
Funeral and Commemoration
McLerie’s funeral was one of the most significant public processions in Sydney at the time, attended by:
Senior police officers
Government dignitaries
Members of the public
In recognition of his service, officers and men of the police force erected a monument at Camperdown Cemetery bearing the inscription:
“John McLerie, Inspector-General of Police, died in Sydney on the 6th of October, 1874, aged 65. This memorial was erected as a tribute of esteem by the officers and men serving under his command.”
Legacy: Architect of Modern Colonial Policing
Captain John McLerie’s legacy rests not merely on the suppression of individual bushrangers but on the structural transformation of policing in New South Wales. His tenure bridged the gap between:
The early colonial constable system
The disciplined, centralised police force that followed
His reforms in command structure, mounted mobility, intelligence use, and administrative discipline created the operational framework that enabled effective action against organised bushranging in the 1860s.
While bushrangers such as Hall and Gilbert entered folklore, McLerie’s contribution was institutional rather than legendary. He professionalised policing during one of the colony’s most volatile periods, ensuring that law enforcement could operate across vast and hostile terrain.
Captain John McLerie stands as one of the foundational figures in Australian law enforcement history. A soldier, administrator, and reformer, he oversaw the transition from a fragmented colonial policing system to a coordinated force capable of confronting organised bushranging.
His leadership during the critical years surrounding the Police Act reforms and the bushranger crisis of the early 1860s placed him at the centre of one of the most decisive law-and-order campaigns in colonial New South Wales.
If the names of Gardiner, Hall, and Gilbert represent the era’s outlaw mythology, then McLerie represents its institutional counterweight: the steady, disciplined architect of the police system that ultimately brought the bushranging age to its close.
Very good website, good to see factual information, and glad to see that Hall is not being portrayed as some sort of folk hero.
ReplyDeleteBest website ever & very informative
ReplyDeleteBest website ever & very informative as well!
ReplyDeleteFantastic website! Where did you find the images of the 1862 police trooper and Captain McLerie 1860?
ReplyDeleteThank you Nic, The images are from the National Library and Edgar Penzig. This is my hobby so I source as much as I can from those who have gone before including my own pics from my travels. There are many references on both the Source Page and Endnotes. Once again I appreciate your interest. You can Follow the site if you wish. Cheers, Mark Matthews.
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