The Charters' former home, now Fern Hill. c. 1970's. Reputed birthplace of Henry Hall. Courtesy Carcoar Historical Society. |
In the years leading up to his outlaw career, Hall enjoyed simpler times in Carcoar. He often shared these moments with his close friend, Daniel Charters. However, their friendship underwent a severe test when Charters transitioned into an informer of the Eugowra Gold Robbery in August 1862. The strain in their camaraderie peaked when Charters became a key prosecution witness at the trials held in Sydney in February 1863.
Despite the life changes and looming notoriety, Hall managed to preserve his relationships with old friends from his more peaceful days in Carcoar. Their unwavering loyalty became evident as they willingly offered him sanctuary amidst his burgeoning outlaw activities. As Hall began to assert his presence in the Carcoar district, his violent escapades weren't confined to the shadows. Detailed accounts of his ruthless attacks on storekeepers, settlers, and travellers in New South Wales's Western districts flooded the newspapers and police gazettes. These chronicles painted Hall as a fearsome bushranger, and he swiftly became public enemy number one. The media further magnified his reputation, transforming him into a figure of notorious celebrity status akin to his mentor, Frank Gardiner.
These relentless endeavours by the police signalled a change for the isolated locals, inspiring renewed confidence in those supporting the police. They began to believe that the terror of Hall's gang was nearing its end, as law enforcement seemed to close in on them with each passing day. This period represented a crucial turning point in Hall's notorious life, indicating the impending downfall of his reign as a bushranger.
Yet, in the face of these mounting challenges, certain sympathisers remained resolute in their support for Hall. Key among these was his brother, William, who was engaged in gold mining at the Pinnacle Range, and the steadfast Charters family in Carcoar. Their unwavering loyalty provided Hall with a semblance of support and refuge
Inspector Charles Sanderson, who retired in 1903, later shared his thoughts on those individuals who showed sympathy towards Hall.
Henry Hall. c. 1895. Penzig. |
In 1851, Mary Hall had wed an ex-convict, William Wright, and subsequently settled in the vicinity of Carcoar. Initially, they made their home at 'Bulligal Station', where Wright shepherded sheep, thereby carving out a modest existence. However, in a tragic turn of events, William Wright passed away near Forbes in 1861. Left to navigate life on her own, Mary eventually found companionship in George Huddy, whom she married at Forbes.
As the years rolled on, Mary relocated to Charters Towers in Queensland, where she spent her later years. Despite the geographical distance, the familial bond between her and Hall remained, offering him a safe haven amidst the tumultuous chapters of his life. This bond, no doubt, contributed to the 'Cone of Silence' that the authorities were unsuccessful in breaching.
Hall's knack for continually evading capture ensured his activities remained a constant subject of government deliberations. Parliamentary debates were often dominated by discussions around the perceived inefficiency of the police force and the cost it entailed. The seeming lack of resolve demonstrated by the police force in apprehending Hall was regarded as scandalous by many legislators.
The expenditure on policing for the year ending 1863 was a staggering £257,000 (equivalent to $21,588,000 today, with £1 equating to $84). This figure placed a significant financial strain on the citizenry of New South Wales, a burden that many found to be untenable given the population of approximately 350,000.
As such, many parliamentarians of New South Wales found these costs justifiably objectionable. Their discontent found expression in the relentless questioning of Colonial Secretary Charles Cowper about the seeming impunity that allowed Hall to sustain his reign of terror.
The loudest clamour of criticisms emanated from the seats of those parliamentarians whose districts were subjected to the terror of the bushrangers. They faced the twofold pressure of their citizens' fear and frustration and the risk of losing their parliamentary seats due to the ongoing lawlessness. The saga of Hall was not just a tale of outlawry but also a political whirlwind that stirred the highest echelons of government. 'Sydney Morning Herald' 1st October 1863:
Amid the mounting parliamentary furore, Ben Hall remained undeterred. He boldly continued his activities, holding sway over the Queen's roads. Venturing into the Carcoar district, Hall, in tandem with Gilbert and Burke, began their audacious raids. Even as spring brought with it the challenge of inclement weather, their activities remained unaffected. If anything, the adverse conditions did little to aid the beleaguered police in their relentless chase.
It was reported in newspapers of the time that the only ones seemingly thriving under such inhospitable conditions were Hall, Gilbert, Burke, and their network of informants. In contrast to the frustration and impotence experienced by law enforcement, this infamous trio seemed to be revelling in their outlawry, unaffected by the elements or the escalating public and governmental outcry. Hall's story was becoming one of continuous audacity and bravado, his life a source of intrigue for both authorities and the citizens who lived under the shadow of his exploits:
As 1863 swept on, a climate of fear permeated the region. Every whisper of a suspected robbery echoed with cries of "Ben Hall! Ben Hall!" Just as in the past, these exclamations had been "Gardiner! Gardiner!" Yet, this attribution was not always accurate. Amid the thousands who flocked to the gold-rich districts of Forbes and Lambing Flat, a sizable number were of questionable repute, a blend of rogues and vagabonds.
Among them, a significant number were miners, either strapped for cash or on the run from past misdeeds. Driven by desperation or lawlessness, some resorted to sporadic acts of robbery and, in more extreme cases, even murder. The spectre of crime was ubiquitous and not always attributable to the notorious Ben Hall. His name, however, had become synonymous with lawlessness, a symbol of the rampant disorder that gripped the gold districts. As his reputation grew, so did the infamy attached to his name. As highlighted:
Among the most common culprits were domestic workers. Often placed in positions of trust, these individuals had access to their employers' cash. Fueled by desperation or greed, they found themselves drawn into the web of crime. Once more, Charles Sanderson, 'Hero of Wheogo', provides numerous instances of such thefts.
Though Hall's notorious exploits continued to dominate the public narrative, Sanderson's observations underscored the fact that crime in these turbulent times extended beyond the deeds of one man and his gang. The gold-rush era fostered a broader climate of lawlessness. :
In parallel, other demographic groups were drawn into this lawless world, notably the much-maligned Chinese gold diggers. Since the riots at Lambing Flat in 1861, the Chinese community had endured an unending barrage of assaults and slurs from their European counterparts. Although the government eventually quelled these violent uprisings and jailed prominent anti-Chinese agitators such as William Spicer, Charles Stewart, and Dougal Cameron, the leaders of the 'Roll-up' campaign aimed at expelling the Chinese from the Flat, the sentiment continued to simmer beneath the surface in the goldfields of both New South Wales and Victoria.
This prevailing hostility and distrust towards the Chinese community confined them to old, abandoned areas of the goldfields. Marginalised and vulnerable, they became easy prey for acts of robbery, physical violence, and, in extreme cases, murder. This grim reality underlines the pervasive lawlessness of the era, a state of affairs that extended well beyond the notorious deeds of Ben Hall and his gang.
John Ward 1835-1865. |
Amid the era's tumult, one individual broke through the relative invisibility of the Chinese community in the lawless saga of New South Wales. A Chinese miner named Sam Poo took the path less travelled by his compatriots and embraced a life of crime. In February 1865, he began his outlaw career, robbing travellers along the trail between Mudgee and Gulgong. Poo, endowed with an impressive repertoire of bush skills, managed to elude the authorities for several months, painting a portrait of defiance that made him a notable exception among his generally reticent peers.
However, Poo's run as a bushranger was not destined to last. He was eventually located and cornered by police trooper John Ward. What ensued was a dramatic chase and gunfight, the confrontation escalating until Poo landed a fatal shotgun blow to Ward's groin. The gravely injured Ward was transported to Birrawa Station, formerly known as "Billaroy", situated near Dunedoo, where he succumbed to his injuries. The place of his final rest became his grave.
The death of Trooper Ward, however, marked the beginning of the end for Sam Poo. A few months later, he was apprehended and faced the full weight of justice. He was sentenced to death and on December 19th, 1865, met his end at the gallows in Bathurst Gaol. His story is a stark reminder of the multifaceted nature of the era, demonstrating that the paths leading to lawlessness were taken by individuals from all walks of life.
Due to their implication in the murder of John Barnes at Wallendbeen Station, both O'Meally and Vane found themselves estranged from the gang, leading them to remain anchored in the Lambing Flat area. This part of their story is echoed in John Vane's autobiography, where he stipulates that their arrival in the Carcoar region did not occur until September 21, 1863.
Interestingly, Vane's memoirs also point to a lull in their criminal activities with Hall, indicating that between September 1 and September 22, 1863, the pair were not implicated in any robberies alongside Hall. This period serves as an intriguing chapter within their tumultuous lives as bushrangers, reflecting their mobility and sporadic criminal operations.
As Ben Hall roamed freely, terrorising the Carcoar district, law enforcement maintained their vigilance, constantly scouring the Weddin Mountains in hopes of capturing the notorious bushranger. One day, during a seemingly routine patrol, a troupe of mounted troopers found themselves the victims of a juvenile ruse.
A group of audacious boys, native to the Weddin Mountains, (possibly the younger O'Meally's) decided to play an elaborate prank on the unsuspecting patrol. Emulating the very bushrangers that the troopers were seeking, the young boys provoked a chase. The prospect of apprehending the notorious bushrangers, not to mention the enticing reward attached, spurred the troopers into action.
Covering a sprawling eight miles, the relentless pursuit persisted until the troopers finally managed to catch up to their elusive quarry. However, their jubilation swiftly soured as they were confronted with the disheartening reality - their relentless pursuit had been provoked not by bushrangers, but by a band of mischievous boys.
Bitterly disappointed and far from amused, the police vented their frustration on the young pranksters. What was initially a harmless jest resulted in a harsh reprimand from the duped troopers, serving as a stern reminder of the serious and dangerous nature of their profession., S.M.H. 3rd October 1863:
On the 19th of September, the time had come for O'Meally and Vane to break their solitude and set out to rejoin their companions in Carcoar. Their journey was a daunting one, stretching across 70 miles of diverse terrain. Their trek, lasting several days, was a testament to their determination, endurance, and commitment to their lawless brotherhood.
In his writings, Vane provides a vivid recollection of their expedition:
The encampment Vane made reference to was possibly situated about a mile south of the southern terminus of what is now recognised as the Carcoar Dam, concealed within the sheltering embrace of Mount Macquarie. It is worth noting that the coach robbery he mentioned was the handiwork of Gilbert, Hall, and Burke.
Allowing us a continued insight into their escapades, Vane's narrative goes on:
The messenger returned bearing the encouraging news about Ben Hall. However, an amusing case of mistaken identities between the two parties led to an initial mix-up. Vane recounted how he and O'Meally unwittingly happened upon Ben Hall's camp, misconstruing it for a police camp. On the other hand, Hall's group had also confused Vane and O'Meally for the police, now donning bushman's attire — a cunning strategy introduced by Sir Frederick Pottinger.
After some shared laughter over this harmless misunderstanding, the five bushrangers — Vane, O'Meally, Gilbert, Burke, and Hall — ultimately reunited in camaraderie. Their shared experiences served as the adhesive that bonded this band of outlaws in their quest for survival and defiance against the law.
Cowra Mail Robbery, NSW Police Gazette September 1863. Note, Description of the 2nd perpetrator matches that of Ben Hall. |
Nevertheless, a reexamination of historical records suggests that John O'Meally and John Vane were not involved in this specific hold-up. Instead, recent research places the responsibility on the shoulders of Gilbert, Hall, and Burke. Diaries, memoirs, and various documentations from the period leading up to September 19th, 1863, indicate that O'Meally and Vane were in transit from the Weddin Mountains at the time.
Given this, it seems increasingly likely that the actual perpetrators were John Gilbert, Ben Hall, and Micky Burke. This conclusion finds robust support in the descriptions of the mail coach robbers provided by the New South Wales Police Gazette in September 1863, which even notes Burke's use of a face covering, a fact which further implicates him.
The following linked newspaper article provides a detailed account of the day's events, from the robbery of the Mail Coach and its passengers, including Mr Garland, to other victims, one of whom was a trooper and another was the former magistrate, Mr Beardmore. Notably, Beardmore was the one who initially issued the warrant for Frank Gardiner's arrest in 1861. He had already been detained by Burke at the time of this report.
However, one point of contention arises regarding the article's account of the destruction of a police carbine. It was not perpetrated by John O'Meally, as commonly believed, but by Johnny Gilbert, a fact which Vane corroborates. He affirmed that this robbery unfolded before the end of their period of estrangement, thereby excluding their involvement in this particular incident.
The encounter with Mr. Garland also merits particular attention. He proved to be a rather unwilling victim, which led Gilbert to threaten to "blow the gentleman's brains out" if he did not surrender the money quickly. However, Hall was able to placate Gilbert and defuse the situation.
Later in the evening, at a location known as Flood's Mount, the three bushrangers found themselves in the midst of stealing horses when they were confronted and asked about their identities. Cleverly, they responded by asserting they were 'policemen'. Further adding to their ruse, they informed the inquirers that the man leading their supposed patrol was one Sanderson.
As previously mentioned, Charles Sanderson was a steadfast and diligent officer of the law, serving at the Forbes station. Recognised by Hall due to his involvement in the retrieval of the Eugowra Gold in 1862, Hall often invoked Sanderson's name when questioned about who was "in charge." Notably, Vane was not a participant in these particular encounters. (The Cheshires were relatives of Vane.)
In Charles White's posthumously published account, "John Vane Bushranger", which is narrated by Vane himself and was released in 1906, there's no mention of the Cowra Mail robbery. Only later incidents at Marsh's Farm and the Stanley Hosie raid at Caloola are recollected. Given that the Cowra mail robbery had been successful, and Vane was known to boast about his triumphant ventures, it appears that the gang regularly sought to confound their victims regarding their true identities. They would sometimes purport to be law enforcement officers or each other, and occasionally suggest that Gardiner was surveilling from a distance.
However, one consistent aspect in the victims' descriptions was that Ben Hall was regularly depicted as being relatively short, with a height of around 5 feet 6 to 7 inches, and of a stout build, verging on being overweight at approximately 190 lbs or 13½ stone, as documented in police gazettes. By contrast, the other members of the gang were all noted to be taller and leaner.
NSW Police Gazette 30th September 1863. |
The troopers, having found no trace of their quarry around the Number One, Caloola and Trunkey, were returning to Carcoar. They decided to pause their journey at a local farm, inhabited by Mr. & Mrs. Marsh along with their five children. Mrs. Marsh was also expectant with their sixth offspring. Nestled in the foothills of Mount Macquarie, southeast of Carcoar, the farm offered a chance for the troopers to relax and replenish, while also providing the possibility of obtaining any information on recent sightings of the bushrangers.
Mr. Marsh shared with the troopers his recent observation of a saddled horse nearby, which he suspected belonged to the notorious bushranger Micky Burke, a man he knew well. Armed with this valuable lead, trooper Cromie and Marsh ventured out to investigate further and hopefully recover the horse. Yet, unexpectedly, they found themselves face to face with the very bushrangers they were seeking. 'Golden Age' of October 1863,
On Tuesday afternoon three troopers left the Long Swamp on route for Carcoar, and called at George Marsh's farm, distant about 8 miles, where they had. some refreshment, and were informed by Mr Marsh that he had seen a horse, with saddle and bridle on, and he believed that it had got away from the bushrangers who were in the neighbourhood, and he offered to go with one of them to get the horse. After being out about half an hour, the two troopers at the house heard two shots fired a short distance from the place, and went in the direction of the reports when they met two mounted men who ordered them to stand. Only one of them had taken the precaution to carry his rifle with him, and he was told that if he attempted to fire he would get his b--- brains blown out and, that they would go to the place, where Marsh and the other trooper were handcuffed to a tree, and shoot them. As a matter of course, the trooper gave up his rifle and revolver. The two bushrangers were then joined by three more of their gang, and after liberating Marsh and the captive trooper, they went into the house and had something to eat and then secured the three revolvers, three rifles, and all other traps belonging to the police. The gang are O'Meally, Gilbert, Burke, Vane, and Ben Hall. When the troopers first saw them they thought they were some of the Carcoar police, having carbines at their side, with buckets to hold the muzzles in. They informed the troopers that they would like to fall in with McLerie and his men, for they would strip and handcuff them to trees for the night, having handcuffs with them for the purpose.
The unfortunate event that led to accusations of "Neglect of Duty" by Superintendent Morrissett against the three troopers proved to be a costly misstep for the police force. The bushrangers managed to seize new and potent weaponry during their abduction of the unsuspecting lawmen. The loss of such vital equipment was not overlooked and was meticulously recorded:
Four breech-loading carbines, and four revolvers, and all the holsters, straps, breastplates, and other lumber that make up the total of a trooper's accoutrements.
A contemporary view of the capture of the troopers by Ben Hall. Courtesy NLA. |
The troopers' unexpected display of incompetence was a significant blow to the reputation of the police force and the government. The officers' startling assertion that they had "never expected to be called upon to pursue bushrangers" further called into question the preparedness and determination of the entire force. It painted a damning portrait of a police service that lacked bravery, decisiveness, and the resolve to carry out their sworn duties.
The public dissatisfaction with this alarming development was captured in a piece by a Carcoar townsperson in the 'Bathurst Times'. The writer expressed a sense of frustration and incredulity, reflecting the collective sentiment of the public.
These developments set the stage for an escalation in the lawlessness and emboldened the bushrangers who, bolstered by their success at Marsh's farm, continued their campaign of robbery and intimidation seemingly unimpeded. With the police force and government seemingly incapacitated and unable to stem the tide of lawlessness, public trust and confidence were severely eroded. The situation was spiraling rapidly out of control, with a palpable sense of apprehension gripping the citizens of New South Wales.
On a separate note, legal proceedings were underway for two of Ben Hall's former accomplices, Patrick 'Patsy' Daley and John Jameison. After spending several months in custody, they were finally brought to trial at the Goulburn Court. The result of the trial was a harsh sentence for both men. They were each given fifteen years in prison, with the first year to be spent in irons. This was a stern punishment meant to serve as a deterrent to others who might be tempted to engage in similar criminal activities.
The sentencing of Daley and Jameison was another blow to the gang, as it meant the loss of two experienced and capable members. However, it is also likely to have fueled the gang's resentment towards the law enforcement authorities, further stoking the flames of their rebellion. The situation in New South Wales was becoming increasingly volatile, with an emboldened gang of bushrangers on one side and an increasingly frustrated and fearful public on the other. The stage was set for more confrontations and conflicts in the years to come. Notably the 1870s pursuit of the Kelly gang.
NSW Police Gazette for Daley and Jameison sentences. |
This tactic was a clever subversion of the police's own strategies, as law enforcement officers often dressed as stockmen to blend in and avoid detection. By adopting the appearance of police, the bushrangers could often approach their targets without arousing suspicion, giving them a significant advantage in their illicit activities.
Additionally, Marsh's claim of prior acquaintance with John Gilbert suggests that the bushranger's past connections may have helped him and his gang blend in and evade capture. These factors highlight the cunning and resourcefulness of the bushrangers, which was a key factor in their continued success and notoriety.
However, these tactics also further increased the fear and mistrust within the community. With bushrangers disguised as police and vice versa, it became increasingly difficult for ordinary people to know who they could trust. This likely contributed to an escalating atmosphere of fear and suspicion throughout the region.
As for trooper Cromie, who was directly captured and outgunned by the bushrangers, the authorities found that he had no case to answer. Given the circumstances of his capture and the significant firepower advantage held by the bushrangers, Cromie's lack of resistance was deemed reasonable and understandable.
While these outcomes might have preserved the careers of the three troopers, they also highlighted the difficult and dangerous circumstances faced by law enforcement officers in their attempts to capture and suppress the bushrangers. Even when well-armed and ostensibly prepared, the police were frequently outmaneuvered and outgunned, creating a narrative of frustration and embarrassment for the authorities.
NSW Police Gazette September 1863. |
This kind of tactical coordination was a hallmark of these bushrangers. Their well-planned and executed operations often caught their victims off-guard, contributing significantly to their success and notoriety. Despite Hosie's courageous initial response, he soon found himself significantly outgunned and outnumbered.
These kinds of situations highlighted the often dangerous and unpredictable conditions faced by shopkeepers, travellers, and settlers in regions troubled by bushrangers. Being prepared to defend one's property was essential, but as Mr. Hosie discovered, even the best-laid plans could quickly unravel when facing such formidable and determined adversaries.
Mr Larnach c. 1860. Private Source. Never before published. |
The bushrangers, efficient and methodical, then turned their attention to George Garrett's blacksmith shop. Garrett and his mate found themselves in the same predicament as Hosie. Outnumbered and outgunned, they too were quickly handcuffed. The bushrangers' relentless raid continued, with local shoemaker Robert Knott also falling victim to their aggressive tactics. He was brought back to the store, joining Hosie and the blacksmiths as prisoners of the audacious gang.
With their captives securely locked away, the bushrangers proceeded to ransack the store. The captives, powerless to prevent the looting, could only watch as their hard-earned livelihoods were casually destroyed by the ruthless gang. The correspondent from the 'Bathurst Times' would later describe the bushrangers' brazen actions, painting a vivid picture of their audacity and the destruction they left in their wake. 'The Courier' Monday 5th October 1863:
Stanley Hosie. c. 1872. Kindly provided by Brenda Simmons. |
Hosie's account noted that it wasn't just his livelihood that was violated; his family was also directly affected. Ben Hall, the leader of the bushrangers, personally robbed Mrs Hosie of brooches and other trinkets, in a blatant display of disregard for personal boundaries.
Additionally, the bushrangers didn't hesitate to utilize the Hosie's own bedding to facilitate their theft, showing a disturbing level of comfort and familiarity with their criminal acts. These insights into the bushrangers' behaviour not only showcased their audacity and callousness but also gave the public a glimpse into the personal violation and emotional distress endured by their victims.
John Vane, one of the five bushrangers, had surprisingly turned himself into a priest in November 1863, mere months after the incident at Hosie's. This unexpected surrender led to his trial, where Hosie's damning testimony was shared. However, despite his surrender and the subsequent trial, the scars left by the bushrangers' actions remained, a harsh reminder of their relentless and ruthless exploits. 'Empire', on Tuesday 8th December 1863; Stanley Hosie being duly sworn stated:
Hosie's store Hill End. Hosie standing middle. c. 1872. Courtesy NLA. |
Emily Hosie c. 1862. Kindly provided by Brenda Simmons |
The gang also displayed their audacity and disregard for the law by seizing any animals they fancied, including Hosie's own horse. The ability of the bushrangers to conduct such brazen and cruel actions without immediate retribution underscored the public's growing frustration with the inability of the authorities to curtail these outlaw activities.
The horrifying incident at Hosie's store painted a vivid picture of the bushrangers' cruelty and their destructive force. These events only served to deepen public resentment and fear, creating an atmosphere of anxiety and desperation as the local communities awaited the next attack. The bushrangers' reign of terror was increasingly painting a bleak picture of lawlessness and disorder, sowing seeds of doubt in the effectiveness and strength of the law enforcement authorities.
Mr John Loudon c. 1863. Penzig |
Unknown to the bushrangers, the station was housing several troopers, who were blissfully unaware of the impending danger. The bushrangers, leveraging their telegraphs' intelligence, quickly gathered up the station hands and secured them in the station's store. With the station hands under control, the bushrangers turned their attention to the homestead, tracking down the unsuspecting police.
Ben Hall, known for his audacity and cunning, knocked on the homestead's back door, startling Mrs Loudon. When she inquired about the late-night visitor, Hall, maintaining his police disguise, replied, "Police". When Mr Loudon asked which officer was at the door, Hall further deceived them by using the name "Sanderson", a known figure in the police force.
This clever ruse showcases the bushrangers' audacious tactics and their ability to manipulate situations to their advantage, further highlighting the threat they posed to the law enforcement authorities and the community at large.
Thomas Kirkpatrick brother of Helen Loudon. 1810 - 1895. Kindly provided by Val Kinghorne. |
During John Vane's December 1863 trial at Bathurst for bushranging, Loudon was called as a witness. Loudon's describes how well armed the gang were—carrying both revolvers and carbines. Stating the bushrangers opened fire indiscriminately without any concern for those in the house. The 'Illawarra Mercury' Friday 11th December 1863:
Loudon's overseer Mr Charles Young had arrived from Scotland in 1860 with his wife Elizabeth onboard the ship 'Telegraph' and commenced work for his kinfolk, Mr Loudon. In later life, Mr Young recounted how he attempted to fetch the police but was thwarted by Burke with a gun held to his head:
Mrs Helen Loudon c. 1863. Penzig |
Melbourne Punch, 22nd October 1863. A depiction of Ben Hall & Co.'s evening at Loudon's. Note the papers use of satire with the artist name. Courtesy NLA. |
The letter suggests that Ben Hall had effectively taken the leadership role within the gang. His strong command over the group was observed, and it's likely that his assertive behavior contributed to the successful execution of their criminal activities.
Interestingly, the letter also indicates that John Gilbert, one of the bushrangers, managed to charm at least one of their captives, the letter's author, with his charisma and good looks. Known for his quick wit, engaging stories, and physical attractiveness, Gilbert clearly left a lasting impression on this young woman.
This fascinating insight into the interpersonal dynamics of the bushrangers and their victims offers a unique perspective on these historical events. Despite the criminal and violent nature of the bushrangers' activities, it seems that they were able to cultivate complex relationships with their captives, demonstrating their ability to manipulate and influence people to their advantage. However fear is a great motivator. 'Sydney Sportsman' August 1908:
A Dambrod Board. A game of Draughts. |
One bullet smashed my mirror, and another splintered a drawer. Wicked destruction, I called it. Some had to go out, and they handcuffed Loudon and Wilson together and sat them on two chairs by the window. Then they said they were hungry, so my niece and I got them some supper, and put it on the table. 'There ye' are,' I said, 'and I'm sorry to say that for the 'first time in my house I canna' say yo're welcome to it.' And I must say the poor fellows were hungry. When the table was cleared, and they had turned the place fair inside out, looking for money, Burke lay down and put his dirty boots upon my sofa, and went to sleep. I told Ben Hall the little wretch would sell him yet. There's none of the breed was any good says I. Hall said if he had any suspicion, he would shoot him like a dog. And sure enough, he did, about three weeks after. Don't tell me Keightley shot him. Hall did it himself, I'm sure. But I was real sorry for Gilbert. I talked to him a long time that night. He told me he was sick of the life, and if he could get away from the country he would. But he said, 'there's not one of my mates who would stick at putting a bullet in me if he heard me say what I am telling you,' Poor boy! I used to pray for him every night till I heard that Dunn's grandfather had sold the pair to the police, and Johnny Gilbert was shot." But space is running out. This sketch of the bushrangers' visit to Grubbenbong is a picture of Helen Loudon. And Helen Loudon is but one of a regiment.
Aside from Mrs Loudon's thrilling encounter, J. Ward Harrison went on with this tribute to our valiant women of yesteryear:
However, there is corroboration, to validate Mrs. Loudon's claim.
Cliefden c., 1900. Courtesy NLA. |
The bushrangers' strategy remained the same as they moved on to their next target - Mr William Montague Rothery's 'Cliefden' estate. It was located near Limestone Creek, a mere 5 miles north of Woodstock. This 2,500-acre estate was famous for its thoroughbred horses, which were considered to be of immense value. Rothery, aware of the attractiveness of his assets to horse thieves, had installed an elaborate alarm system. The system would trigger a bell to ring if the stable doors were opened, alerting everyone in the vicinity to the possible theft.
Ben Hall and his gang arrived at Cliefden around eleven in the morning. As was their usual strategy, they rounded up the staff and secured them to prevent any resistance. Once they gained control over the estate, they indulged themselves in a midday feast, consuming Rothery's food and champagne. Following this indulgence, they moved on to the stables, where they had the pick of the highly prized thoroughbreds.
This incident yet again highlights the boldness and audacity of Ben Hall and his gang. Despite the presence of security measures such as the stable alarm, they carried out their activities with a level of brazenness that seemed to embolden them further. Their ability to remain unscathed despite such high-risk operations underscores their adeptness and adaptability, as well as the challenges that law enforcement officials faced in trying to apprehend them.
William Rothery Courtesy NLA |
What stands out in these accounts is not just their criminal activities, but the gang's uncanny ability to revel in the finer things in life while on their lawless spree. Their enjoyment of William Rothery's fine dining, even as they carried out their operations, adds a unique twist to their outlaw image. It suggests that their motivations extended beyond mere theft and violence - they were perhaps seeking a certain level of excitement, thrill, and even social status that their otherwise ordinary lives could not provide.
Nevertheless, their behavior also served to deepen the public's fear and outrage. With each passing day and each new incident, it became increasingly clear that the bushrangers were becoming a formidable force, one that the authorities were struggling to contain. This escalating situation painted a grim picture of the state of law and order in the colony, further intensifying public calls for stronger action against the outlaws.
John Stinson 1850-1921. Private Source. Never before published. |
Canowindra from Blue Jacket Lookout, 2016. My photograph. |
However, the fact that Gibson, along with Hall's former lover Susan Prior and William and Ann Hall, had continued to live on the Sandy Creek property even after it was no longer under Hall's ownership suggests a level of complicity and support for the outlaw's activities. The destruction of the station by the police, led by Sir Frederick Pottinger, had been a clear message to Hall and his associates, but it seemed to have done little to deter their activities.
While Gibson's acquittal on the charge of 'Shooting with Intent' was a significant setback for the police, it also exposed the complex network of relationships and loyalties that underpinned Hall's operations. It showed that the bushrangers had allies and sympathizers who were willing to defy the law and risk their own freedom to support them. This, coupled with the public's growing perception of the police's ineffectiveness, continued to bolster the bushrangers' boldness and audacity. ‘Sydney Mail’, 19th September 1863:
After Gibson's May 1863 release, Sir Frederick Pottinger re-arrested Gibson, and he was held over until the Victorian Police bona fides could be ascertained. |
Gibson Acquitted, NSW Police Gazette, September 1863. |
Gibson held for transfer to Melbourne Victoria September 1863. |
This description of Canowindra as a place one could "blink, and you would miss it" reflects the sleepy tranquillity that often characterises such rural settlements. It would have been easy for outsiders to overlook Canowindra's strategic importance, but for people like Ben Hall and his bushranger gang, it presented an opportune setting for their operations.
Knowing that the troopers stationed there were out in the bush, they saw a window of opportunity to continue their bold streak of raids without fear of immediate interference from the mounted troopers. The telegraphs, their informants, had once again proven to be a reliable source of information for the gang, enabling them to stay one step ahead of the authorities. It goes to show the network and level of organization they had established to support their bushranging activities.
As unassuming as it was, Canowindra proved to be the perfect location for Hall and his gang to continue their daring exploits. Upon their arrival, they likely would have been greeted by the sight of a quintessential rural settlement of the time - a scattering of buildings, including a general store, blacksmith's shop, and perhaps a pub or two, all surrounded by a seemingly endless expanse of Australian bushland.
Their arrival at Canowindra marks yet another chapter in their notorious escapades. Despite its humble appearance, the town was about to become the backdrop for the exploits of one of Australia's most infamous bushranger gangs.
However, beyond the stolen store goods, they seemed primarily interested in seeking shelter and respite from their usual fugitive lifestyle. Rather than resorting to violence or threats, the bushrangers sought temporary camaraderie with their captives, turning the event into an odd sort of celebration.
This unusual conduct, characterised by a mix of audacity and bonhomie, might have further mystified the townsfolk. For some, it might have even humanised the gang members, who, despite their criminal activities, displayed a certain degree of charm and charisma.
William Robinson owner of the Travellers Rest Hotel, situated on the Cowra side of the Belubula River 12th July 1862. For Lease. |
In an unexpected turn of events, the bushrangers orchestrated an evening of entertainment, with festivities including music and dance. Forcing the townspeople into this strange celebration, the outlaws footed the bill for the revelry, ironically using the spoils they had taken from their victims.
Despite being conducted under duress, this unusual show of goodwill has created an atmosphere of relative merriment amongst the town's folk. Reports of the incident described it as a jovial gathering, transforming the otherwise fearful encounter into a strange and paradoxical event. Even as they committed criminal acts, they displayed camaraderie and joviality that challenged societal norms and expectations.
While it's essential to remember that these actions were still within the context of their lawless activities, the bushrangers' actions during this event painted a more nuanced picture of their personalities. They were criminals, undoubtedly, but they were also individuals capable of warmth and generosity, albeit in their unique and unconventional way. 'Empire', 6th October 1863:
After the tea-things were cleared away, Gilbert very politely asked one of the young ladies to play him a tune on the piano. Some short time after, a dance was proposed, and commenced about nine o'clock, and continued till daylight next morning (Monday). Constable Sykes being amongst the company, it was proposed by Ben Hall that he (Sykes) should act as M.C. and that Burke and O'Meally should receive any company that might arrive during the evening. The company, we are informed, numbered eighteen at 12 o'clock, and the numbers were not augmented after that hour. Gilbert and his companions called and paid for all they drank during the night, and the night's amusement is spoken of as one of the jolliest affairs that has ever taken place in that small town-not a low or improper word being spoken by the gang. Gilbert kept the crowd in roars of laughter, at intervals, during the night, by giving an account of the police, whom he designated as a lot of cowards and said when he left Rothery's he mentioned where he was going so that it might be intimated to the police; knowing full well that they would not reach Canowindra until they (the bushrangers) had left. He said they never came till a day or two after. How fully borne out is this assertion, I will presently show. However, to finish my narrative: The bushrangers left Robinson's at five o'clock, and retired to a paddock opposite, where they had two hours' sleep, and left Canowindra unmolested at eight o'clock.
In the aftermath of the night's festivities, it was reported that O'Meally, who had many friends and relatives throughout the district, paid some of them a celebrity visit:
Shortly after the festivities at Canowindra, a resident's letter to relatives characterised the bushrangers appearance stating that Ben Hall was the leader as all requests were deffered to him:
Sub-Inspector George McPherson McLerie, the son of the Inspector-General of Police, Captain John M'Lerie, had a near-fatal encounter on September 27th. While on patrol in search of the notorious Ben Hall, he attempted to cross the flooded Five Mile Creek near Carcoar.
The treacherous water levels and swift currents posed a significant risk, and McLerie was nearly swept away. This event underscored the dangerous conditions that law enforcement had to contend with in their pursuit of the bushrangers. Apart from the risks of confronting these armed and often desperate criminals, the natural environment often presents significant challenges.
McLerie's brush with death would have been a sobering reminder for all involved in the search for Hall and his gang of their potential dangers. It also demonstrated the commitment and determination of the authorities in their pursuit of justice.
Crossing the Belubula. Contemporary Illustration by Frank Dunne, Smiths Weekly. 1935. Courtesy NLA. |
However, the rain had been falling steadily, and the Belubula River, which meandered through Canowindra was rising as not yet in flood Hall and Burke and John Vane crossed over to the southern or Cowra side. They rode to ‘Bangaroo Station’, owned by Mr Icely of Carcoar. Their purpose was to obtain some good horses. However, on investigation none were of any use. Disappointed the three returned to Canowindra. Approaching the earlier crossing point, they were surprised and disconcerted to find the river in flood. However, on the opposite bank, Gilbert appeared with O’Meally. They were calling out that a party of troopers had camped across from the town on their side. The troopers were also held up from crossing the rising waters, Hall and his two companions discussed whether to swim for it or wait, deciding to swim the flooded river. Without hesitation and stripped naked, their guns rolled into their clothes. The first to leap in was Ben Hall plunging his into the turbulent waters:
Vane, desperately clinging onto his panicked horse, found himself struggling to maintain control. The duo was rapidly swept downstream by the river's relentless pull. The bushranger's desperate shouts were lost amidst the roar of the flood, creating a scene of frenzied chaos. It was a stark contrast to Hall's determined crossing, and the danger Vane found himself in became alarmingly clear to his watching comrades on the other bank.
Despite the desperate struggle and danger, Vane's resolve did not falter. Mustering all his strength, he tried to right his faltering mount and guide it through the perilous waters, hoping to emerge safely on the other side as Ben Hall did.
Burke's rescue attempt was successful, and he was able to bring the horse back to safety. The horse was saved from a watery grave. However, the river's relentless currents had washed away Vane's saddle in the chaotic struggle. Along with the saddle, valuable possessions including £19 in banknotes, two revolvers, and other personal items were irretrievably lost to the river's depths.
Despite the harrowing experience, crossing the river was no longer a feasible option given the rapidly increasing water levels. Burke with the saved horse were caught on the Cowra side of the Belubula Creek. Vane narrated:
A Correspondent wrote of the river affair. Freeman's Journal Wednesday 7th October 1863:
Sullivan had been sympathetic to the bushrangers, having punted them across the river on other occasions. He was a man that Hall trusted to pass on the offer of a duel to the camped NSW police. Crossing the swollen river, Sullivan fronted at the camp of the pursuing troopers and relayed Ben Hall's challenge. To facilitate the proposed duel, Sullivan offered to ferry the police over to the bushrangers side. However, Sullivan's keenness in offering to help raised suspicion amongst the police. Who suddenly realised that Sullivan might be a Charon with a more sinister motive and hastily declined the offer.
Furthermore, the newspapers continued commenting on the ease with which the bushrangers robbed uninterrupted and editorialised the widespread belief that the gang had the police's measure; 'Bathurst Times', 30th September 1863:
The family homestead of John O'Meally, one of the bushrangers, was incinerated, an event that was covered in Bell's Life in Sydney and Sporting Chronicle. The piece exhibited a surprising degree of sympathy towards Ben Hall and sharply criticized the actions of the police, which appeared to be condoned by the NSW government. The event was detailed in the publication's issue of Saturday, 26th September 1863:
Portrait of Joseph Harpur. Courtesy of Harpur Critical Archive. |
Despite this, the above article is trying to garner some sympathy for Hall from readers. By painting a picture of Hall's background that might elicit both pity and a somewhat perverse admiration of his current actions, the author capitalises on the surge in Hall's notoriety driven by media coverage of alleged injustices by authorities against him. However, this perspective is far from the truth.
Hall voluntarily gave up his property in September 1862, and his home was burned down on March 14, 1863, under the 'Crown Lands Occupation Act of 1861', to prevent it from continuing to serve as a base for bushrangers. Nevertheless, Joseph Jehoshaphat Harpur, a member of the New South Wales Parliament who likely knew Ben Hall personally through his mother, Sarah Walsh nee Harpur nee Chidley, often defended the affected settlers and, to an extent, the bushrangers. His stance drew significant criticism, and Harpur was quick to call out the police for their heavy-handed treatment of the settlers who found themselves in the spotlight:
The Bushrangers. Courtesy NLA |
In response to these mounting outrages, newspapers continued to publish severe editorials about the bushrangers' escapades. The editors were indignant over the seeming ease with which the attacks were carried out, and they demanded answers from the New South Wales Legislative Assembly. They questioned why the NSW police seemed reluctant or unable to successfully confront the bushrangers, despite the significant resources deployed to do so.
The editorials insinuated that if the police conduct at George Marsh's Farm was a suitable gauge, then the public had seriously overestimated the NSW Police's abilities, leadership, and the government's legislative power to apprehend the bushrangers. These public discussions created a palpable sense of frustration and demand for accountability. (See article below.)
NSW Police Gazette 7th October 1863. |
Good information has just been received that the bushrangers were seen camped about fifteen miles from Bathurst three hours since. These scoundrels have been within twenty-five miles of this town, committing all kinds of depredations, during the last week, and it is firmly believed that the police, from their dilatory and sluggish proceedings, are afraid of them.
Where were they! The police, that is?
However, the activities had many of the districts asking just that! Where were the police! The question of the polices' inability to corral the gang following the Canowindra party brought more severe criticism from the 'Sydney Morning Herald', 7th October 1863 expressing disdain at the response to the gang's Canowindra, Rothery and Loudon outrages:
Their frequenting of local establishments further evidenced their brazenness. Even as the local law enforcement ramped up their patrols and the newspapers continuously issued reports about their misdeeds, the gang seemed to taunt them by hiding in plain sight. They would often frequent local pubs, engaging in conversations with locals and gathering information. For some, there was a secret thrill in having a drink with the notorious outlaws. For others, the presence of the bushrangers was a terrifying ordeal, not knowing when or where they might strike next.
The gang’s affinity for strategic planning and their intimate knowledge of the terrain made it incredibly difficult for the police to make any significant headway. Officers often found themselves chasing shadows, arriving at reported sighting locations only to find the gang had long since moved on. Furthermore, Ben Hall's innate ability to charm and persuade meant that he often received tips from sympathisers about police movements and planned raids.
All these factors combined made the bushrangers a formidable force. While they revelled in their reputation and the fame it brought, it was their meticulous planning, intimate knowledge of the region, and the complacency of the police force that allowed them to remain at large for as long as they did.
Dr Richard Machattie, father of 'Dosh.' Private Source. |
Challenging the very man who held him at gunpoint, Dosh threw down a gauntlet, proposing a running race or even a bare-knuckle boxing bout. The audacity of the challenge elicited a chuckle from Ben Hall, who, perhaps recognising the spirit of the young man before him, declined with an air of amused indifference.
But Dosh, and his companion Bertie, were not easily dissuaded. They decided that if they couldn't challenge the bushrangers physically, they would challenge their bravado. With a mischievous glint in their eyes, the duo dared Ben Hall and his gang to undertake a feat that would prove their real mettle - to target Bathurst, the very heart of the western capital. It was a dare that encapsulated the spirit of youthful rebellion and resilience, even when faced with Australia's most notorious outlaws. 'Empire’, Tuesday, 6th October 1863:
Interestingly, within the camaraderie of the gang, nicknames emerged that provided hints about personalities and appearances. For instance, the moniker "Toad" was affectionately used for their comrade Burke. This playful nickname speculates that the long-circulated hand-drawn portrait of Burke might be more generous than accurate.
In the twilight years of the 19th century, an older and undoubtedly wiser Richard 'Dosh' Machattie sat with a friend, the weight of years evident in his eyes, but a hint of youthful mischief still present. As they settled into comfortable chairs, Dosh began to reminisce about a day from his youth, a day that had left an indelible mark on his memory.
He recounted the unexpected and tense encounter with the infamous bushrangers, Ben Hall and John Vane. As he delved into the story, his friend could picture a younger Dosh, filled with bravado, alongside his close friend, Charles 'Bertie' Battye. The two, though sons of esteemed members of the Bathurst community, were, on that day, at the mercy of two of Australia's most notorious outlaws.
The afternoon's events were etched into Dosh's memory – the surprise of being 'bailed up', the audacity to challenge Ben Hall, and the adrenaline that came with it. With every word, his friend could sense the palpable tension of that standoff, the audacious spirit of the young men, and the amused reactions of the bushrangers.
Through Dosh's recollections, that fateful day from decades past came alive once more, offering a firsthand glimpse into a time when legends roamed the Australian bush, and everyday encounters could turn into stories told for generations.
Some of these parliamentarians' seats of power were hanging by a thread. The system of compulsory voting was still decades away from its 1912 inception, making every vote a battle to be won. Fearing the potential backlash from their communities, these parliamentarians were caught in a web of political survival, with many grappling with the idea of significant change.
At the forefront of this tumult was James Martin, an ambitious figure who seized upon this discord, fanning its flames. His incendiary rhetoric and pointed critiques led the charge, placing immense pressure on those in power.
Amidst this backdrop, the Premier, Mr Cowper, felt the weight of responsibility. With the public outcry mounting and his own position under scrutiny, he took a decisive step. In a move that reverberated through the corridors of power, he publicly censured the Inspector-General of Police, Captain McLerie, signalling a momentous shift in the narrative surrounding the bushranger threat:
Amidst the political unrest and public outrage of 1863, the relentless journey of the bushrangers persisted. These renegades of the wild terrains became the embodiment of rebellion and fear in the hearts of many.
As the 21st-century adage goes, politicians have often been more fluent in the art of rhetoric than in the act of meaningful change. This was as true in the 1860s as it is today. Much to the public's chagrin, obfuscation and evasion became the political norms. Yet, while politicians bickered and debated, the local press played an essential role in shaping public opinion.
H.P. Williamson's 'Lachlan Miner', dated September 30th, 1863, stood as a testament to the times. Williamson, who would later have a fateful encounter with Hall and Gilbert, used his platform to shed light on the trials faced by a beleaguered police force, perpetually at odds with the wily bushrangers. For the first time, the media, echoing the public sentiment, termed this relentless chase and elusive evasion between the lawmen and outlaws as the 'Bushranger War'. This term captured the intensity of the ongoing confrontations and painted a vivid picture of a nation grappling with its very identity and the battle for law and order:
NSW Police Gazette, 30th September 1863. |
In a startling confrontation in September 1863, two bushrangers made the fateful decision to target Wilding's homestead. As fate would have it, the owner was not alone. Surrounded by guests, they all found themselves momentarily held at gunpoint, their fate seemingly sealed. However, the tables turned swiftly. In a sudden turn of events, one of the invaders met a violent end, falling to the combined efforts of Wilding and his guests. The second perpetrator, after a savage confrontation, was left brutally battered, teetering on the edge of life.
The identity of these two bushrangers emerged as James Murphy and Frederick Phillips, both from Lambing Flat. Their association with Ben Hall and his infamous gang remains a matter of speculation. Were they mere opportunists inspired by Hall's exploits, or did they belong to the fringe of his notorious company? The lines blurred in these tumultuous times, but Wilding's resistance against their aggression stood as a testament to the resilience of some settlers, unwilling to bow to the reign of the bushrangers. From the Queanbeyan Age and General Advertiser, Thursday, 1st October 1863:
The community of Burrowa and its neighbouring regions had long endured the terror and thievery brought about by Ben Hall and his gang. So, when news arrived of the capture of two bushrangers and the subsequent demise of one, a wave of satisfaction washed over the beleaguered townsfolk. In an era where the death of a bushranger was often met with widespread celebration, this particular incident was no exception. The feeling of jubilation was palpable.
Upon hearing of the face-off at Wilding's residence, a surge of curiosity swept through the town. People flocked to the local lockup, eager to lay eyes on the bruised and battered survivor and, in a morbid twist of the era, to view the lifeless body of his accomplice. As whispers permeated through the crowd, speculation grew that the deceased might be either Gilbert or O'Meally, two notorious names that had long haunted their nights. The identity was yet to be confirmed, but hope and rumour intertwined for the moment, offering the community a temporary respite from the shadow of fear that the bushrangers cast over them. Clarence and Richmond Examiner and New England Advertiser, Tuesday 20th October 1863:
The captured survivor was described so:
View of Bathurst from the bushrangers perspective on Bald Hill. (Mount Panorama) Courtesy NLA. |
Bathurst, the cultural hub and the beating heart of the Western Districts has a rich history of its own. Its growth can be traced back to 1813, with the pioneering journey led by Surveyor William Evans. After successfully navigating the treacherous terrains of the Blue Mountains, Evans became the first European to cross the Great Dividing Range, finally reaching the Macquarie River, situated forty-two miles beyond Bathurst. This monumental feat was achieved despite the numerous challenges presented by the mountains. Though the renowned expedition of Blaxland, Lawson, and Wentworth had set the pace earlier in the same year, they had not managed to traverse the imposing Great Divide completely. Evans' accomplishment thus marked a turning point, forever etching Bathurst's name into history. Furthermore, Evans, after struggling across the majestic ranges, noted:
To the surveyor, it was like a glimpse of paradise after his strenuous journey over the Blue Mountains.
Established in the wake of exploration, Bathurst's origins date back to 1815, mere years after William Evans' trailblazing traversal of the Blue Mountains. The town's inception was strategically placed along the primary route connecting it to Sydney. This critical roadway, carved across the challenging terrains of the Blue Mountains, stands as a testament to the architectural vision of William Cox. With the assistance of hundreds of convicts, Cox masterminded and completed this remarkable construction by the close of 1815. Therefore, Bathurst became a testament to exploration, human tenacity, and the drive to connect new frontiers.
Father Jerome Keating, who married Ben & Bridget as well as her sisters Ellen and Catherine Walsh. c. 1870's. Courtesy E. Penzig. |
Yet, for Ben Hall and his gang, Bathurst was more than just a repository of personal memories; it was a formidable fortress of law and order. The town functioned as the nerve centre for the NSW Western police, commanded by the adept Superintendent Morrissett. Officers like Morrissett and the tenacious Inspector Pottinger routinely patrolled its streets and surrounding regions, with their sights set on capturing the five bushrangers who had become local legends. The juxtaposition of Hall's personal history with the looming threat of law enforcement painted a picture of Bathurst that was both nostalgic and perilous.
William Street, Bathurst. View from top of St Michael's Church looking N.E. as the Gang approached Pedrotta's shop on the right from the south c. 1880's Courtesy RAHS. |
However, the book was not without its imperfections. White's account often jumbled the sequence of events, interchanging time and place, creating a mosaic of memories rather than a linear story. Yet, the inconsistencies did not overshadow the essence of Vane's recollections, especially the events leading up to the Bathurst spectacle.
Upon rejoining their comrades - Gilbert, O'Meally, and Micky Burke - after a short hiatus, Vane and Hall were animated as they narrated their encounter with the spirited youths of Bathurst, 'Dosh' Machattie and Charles 'Bertie' Battye. With an air of amusement, they recounted the dare posed by Machattie and Battye, their audacious challenge that would set the stage for one of the most memorable events in the annals of New South Wales's bushranging history.
You are not game they called to come to Bathurst and take DeCloutt’s ‘Pacha’:
Vane stated to the group that Ben was incensed at the cheek of Battye, where Hall remarked:
We’ll show you about that.
John O’Meally, always game was ready to jump at a chance for action stated:
As the idea took root, the gang unanimously decided upon the audacious raid on Bathurst. With a glint in his eye, Vane expressed his desire to acquire one of the 'Revolving Rifles' or the 'Double-Trigger Revolvers'. He believed Pedrotta's gun shop in the town would have these sought-after firearms. Meanwhile, ever the horse aficionado, Johnny Gilbert revealed his intentions to lay claim to the thoroughbred racehorse 'Pacha'. This magnificent beast was housed at 'The Sportsman Arms', a hotel owned by his former employer, 'Dublin Jack' DeClouet.
The gang wasted no time. With meticulous attention to detail, they handpicked the finest horses from their stock for the impending expedition. On the brisk morning of October 3rd, 1863, the bushrangers set out as dawn painted the horizon. They chose a circuitous route via Newbridge, Wimbledon, and George's Plains to avoid the main thoroughfares. Eventually, they crossed the Evan's Plains and ascended to the vantage point of Bald Hill, from where the sprawling town of Bathurst lay visible. Here, amidst the embrace of nature, they decided to pause, allowing the hours to roll by as they patiently waited for evening's cover to embark on their audacious mission.
Bathurst, "a big sensation."
As the hues of twilight began to paint the skies, the bushrangers readied themselves for their audacious venture into Bathurst. Saturdays in the town were always bustling, as it was re-stocking day — a day of significance for the outlying farmers. They would ride into town to replenish their larders and indulge in a rare night of festivity and relaxation. In the year 1863, the concept of standardised trading hours had not yet been established, making the night an opportune time for extended business and revelry. Against this backdrop, the sight of five young horsemen weaving their way through the town's streets would hardly draw a second glance.
Note: Vanes book 'John Vane, Bushranger', can be accessed from the Source Page, see pages 124-132 inclusive on the Bathurst raid.
Amidst the vibrancy of a Saturday evening in Bathurst, the town hummed with life. Farmers and townsfolk alike converged in the bustling streets, filling the air with the clamour of commerce and jovial conversations. Melodies from dance halls wafted through the night, harmonizing with the lively chatter of people catching up with friends or partaking in a bit of shopping. In such a lively atmosphere, no one anticipated the unexpected arrival of the bushrangers.
Emerging amongst the throng were five impeccably dressed men, each astride a magnificent horse. They ambled leisurely at first, blending seamlessly with the ebb and flow of the crowd. But as they approached the dimly lit heart of William Street, they transitioned to a confident jog, all while going almost unnoticed amidst the unsuspecting townsfolk.
Bathurst was badly lighted, I. N. Wark not having at that time descended upon the city with his gas. The shops were dimly lighted with oil and candles so that the time was well chosen—the residents were at tea, and the town at peace.
Yet, their ambitions within the jeweller's establishment were abruptly interrupted. Frances, the spirited daughter of John McMinn, let out a shrill scream of alarm upon spotting the intruders. Her cry, resounding with genuine fear, expedited the bushrangers' departure from the store.
Charles White. 1845-1922 |
View of Bathurst from cnr of Russell and Stewart St c. 1880's. Frank Walker, 1861-1948. |
However, as the crowd swelled and edged closer, Ben Hall fired a shot into the dark sky, perhaps feeling cornered or seeking to command some authority. The loud crack of the gunshot reverberated, pushing the awestruck crowd back, creating a makeshift pathway for the riders.
Yet, as history often demonstrates, even the best-laid plans can unravel. The events that unfolded that fateful night in Bathurst were chronicled in a series of newspaper articles that gripped the colony. In a frenzied rush, editors battled to procure the most sensational and fresh updates as they received telegrams with new information. By Sunday morning, the colony was abuzz. Homes and coffee houses were filled with astonished voices as the telegraph wires hummed with the shocking news of the audacious Bathurst raid.
A town meeting was hastily convened, drawing in concerned citizens from all walks of life. Assembled under the high ceilings of the town hall, their murmurs echoed as community leaders discussed the urgent need to fortify their community against further such attacks.
The gathering's outcome was a unanimous call to form a unit of Special Constables. This would be a force composed of local volunteers, men who knew the town and its surroundings intimately and were committed to its safety. The proposition was met with enthusiastic agreement, with many hands raised and names noted. Some among the volunteers had military or policing experience, while others were driven solely by a desire to defend their homes and loved ones.
Newspapers celebrated the town's resilient spirit the next day, splashing headlines about Bathurst's newfound defiance and determination to capture the notorious gang. The formation of the Special Constables embodied the community's collective will to resist and signalled a turning point in the 'Bushranger War' - the townspeople were no longer mere spectators; they were active participants:'The Sydney Morning Herald' reported on the 6th regarding the efforts of the townsfolk.
In the midst of the chaos and shock, the 'Bathurst Times' became a beacon of information and opinion for the local residents. The paper's fresh ink carried the emotions and tumult of a town wrestling with newfound vulnerabilities. One correspondent, whose pen was driven by a mix of anger and urgency, penned a passionate call to arms.
Mary Mutton 1800 - 1883. Private Source. |
NSW Police Gazette 14th October 1863. |
Bartholomew Pedrota Penzig. |
On the 9th of October, 1863, a comprehensive account of the raid appeared in the Bathurst Chronicle. The article, filled with vivid descriptions and eyewitness accounts, offered a detailed chronology of the events. It spoke of the gang's casual stroll down William Street, the disappointment at Pedrotta's gun shop, the McMinn's jewellery store commotion, and the panic gripping the town. The article also detailed their encounters with the local residents and the sheer audacity of their actions in the heart of a major town.
However, as engrossed as the townspeople were in recounting the events of the raid, Ben Hall and his gang had not been idle. They had moved on, riding the trails and back roads, continuing their life of crime. They left a string of robberies in their wake, each adding to their notoriety and the lore that surrounded them. With each successful raid, their confidence grew, and the myth of their invincibility was further cemented.
The authorities, meanwhile, were left scrambling. The police, the posse, and countless volunteers spent days and nights on the hunt, but the gang always seemed one step ahead. The vast landscapes of New South Wales, with its sprawling plains, dense forests, and rugged hills, offered countless hideouts.
As days turned into weeks, the initial shock and fear gave way to a mix of grudging admiration for the bushrangers' audacity and a burning desire for justice. The events of that night in Bathurst became a part of local folklore. A story passed down through generations, a testament to the town's resilience and the indomitable spirit of its people.
Pedrotta's Gun shop located in William St. It was situated next to Rachel Leed's Great Western Hotel, seen here on the right. Courtesy BDHS. |
The night of the raid was, as Vane described, "bright, clear and calm." Under the silvery sheen of the moonlight, the town of Bathurst presented a serene picture, its streets alive with the regular hustle and bustle of a Saturday evening. The unsuspecting townsfolk had no inkling that this night would be etched into their town's lore forever.
As they rode in, the gang, led by Ben Hall, was a study in contrast. On one hand, they were hardened criminals, feared and reviled. On the other, they were five young men with the audacity to challenge an establishment that seemed ill-equipped to handle them. As they made their way through the town, stopping at Pedrotta's gun shop and McMinn's jewellery store, their swagger was evident. They weren't just there to loot but to send a message.
Newspapers, always on the lookout for sensational tales, had a field day with the Bathurst raid. Each report was more extravagant than the last, with some accounts bordering on the fantastical. But Vane's detailed and unembellished account painted a picture of a gang that was more than just a band of outlaws. They were a tightly knit unit with a clear hierarchy and an unshakable bond.
Ben Hall's leadership was undisputed. Charismatic and strategic, he was the glue that held the gang together. John Gilbert, O'Meally, Vane, and Micky Burke each brought their unique strengths to the table, making the gang formidable.
But what set them apart was their audacity. They didn't just operate in the shadows; they rode into towns, in full view of everyone, taunting the police with their brazen acts. Their modus operandi was clear - it wasn't just about the loot; it was about challenging the establishment, about showing them up for their ineptitude.
In the days and weeks that followed, as the dust settled on the Bathurst raid, one thing became clear - Ben Hall's gang was not to be trifled with. They were a force to be reckoned with, and their legend was only growing. The 'Bushranger War' had truly begun.
Howick St & William St looking southeast. St Michael's in the background. John Staines and William Matthews premises foreground. c. 1872 |
Having lit up Bathurst. As dictated to Charles White, John Vane looked back on Bathurst's events before his death in 1906 and provided an overview of the sensation that brought about the downfall of Cowper premiership's.
John Vane opened his narrative as they entered the town; "The night was bright and clear and calm." Riding first in a single file as they rode down William street, grouping closer, nudged their horses into a jog to avert any undue suspicion. Giving the appearance of five local lads in town for an evening out, tipping their hats at the ladies as they passed, they made their way towards Pedrotta's gunshop. Reining their horses outside entered, seeking the much-heralded new type of weapon, the Revolving Rifle. The gang's historic invasion commenced. Dismounting in front of Pedrotta's Gunshop here Hall, Gilbert and Vane entered but were disappointed that Pedrotta had no 'Revolving Rifles' in stock and his quality firearms not to their liking. Without fanfare, they left promising to return another time. Re-mounting, they rode on with Gilbert spying a fruiterers shop wishing to grab some oranges dismounted and ordered two dozen but was soon called away by O'Meally to "come on quick" riding with Ben Hall reached the jewellery shop of Mr McMinn's.
At McMinn's, their much-heralded 'Lark' commenced with Ben Hall entering the store first. The family were at tea. Hall walked in, revolvers presented, ordering the family to be quiet. However, the ladies, McMinn's wife Mary and daughter Frances believing their, "last hour had come", began to scream, which startled the bushrangers, one of whom threatened to, "Blow their brains out" if they did not cease. The unrest forced a hasty retreat. However, emerging from the store, a crowd had now formed con-fuddled by the noise and uproar from the store. The bushrangers leapt into their saddles as the public became more excited by the McMinn women's continued screaming. Finally, Mr McMinn rushing to the door of his shop crying out, "Police! Bushrangers! Bushrangers! Police!"
Charles De Clouet, son of 'Dublin Jack' 1866-1941. Private Source. |
Down William Street, they rode, five silhouettes bathed in the soft moonlight, a quintet of mischief that would soon send shockwaves throughout Bathurst. At first glance, they appeared as just another group of young locals, maybe out for some revelry after a hard week's work. The deceptive calm with which they tipped their hats to passing ladies did little to reveal their intentions.
But as they halted outside Pedrotta's gunshop, their objective became clear. Here, at the heart of Bathurst, the fabled raid began. Their mission: to procure the latest marvel in firearm technology, the Revolving Rifle. The disappointment was palpable when they discovered none in stock. However, with a coolness that marked their every move, they promised to return and mounted their steeds once more.
Next, Gilbert's whim took them to a fruiterer's shop. Just as they were in the process of procuring oranges, a call from O'Meally changed their course. They sped towards McMinn's jewellery store, where their escapade took a dramatic turn.
Navigating the narrow lanes of Bathurst, the gang veered onto Piper Street. They slowed their pace as they approached the 'Sportsman Arms Hotel', a notable establishment owned by the prominent Mr DeClouet, affectionately known by locals as 'Dublin Jack'. This wasn't just any ordinary tavern – it was the abode of the famed thoroughbred 'Pacha'.
Even as the town's exhilaration reverberated through the night, the bushrangers maintained their composure. Stealthily, they bypassed the main entrance, choosing instead to enter through a back fence leading to the stables. Their target was clear: 'Pacha', the majestic steed that was the talk of Bathurst.
Within the dim confines of the stable, they encountered Mark, the hotel's Ostler. With a mix of authority and desperation, they demanded the keys to where 'Pacha' was kept. But Mark, ever loyal to his employer, revealed that only Mr DeClouet himself had the keys. The gang now found themselves facing a new dilemma in their audacious night of mischief. However, to expedite the snapping up of the horse, one of the gang, no doubt O'Meally, said:
Blow out somebodies brains; you'll soon have the keys then.
John Vane 1880. |
As Hall approached Rachel, the intention was clear. He was after the hotel's cash box. Remarkably composed given the circumstances, Rachel, holding her youngest, made a light-hearted offer to Hall. "Would you mind holding the baby while I fetch the tin?" she jested. With a revolver in each hand, Hall chuckled, showcasing the impracticality of her request. But time was of the essence. With the money secured, an impatient Hall was soon on edge, the pounding of distant hooves suggesting the arrival of mounted police.
With the hotel's cash box in tow but their original mission unfulfilled, Gilbert's quest to secure 'Pacha' was abruptly cut short. Despite their threats and pleas, Mr DeClouet and Mark the Ostler remained steadfast in refusing to part with the keys to the prized thoroughbred's stable.
With their path forward uncertain and the approaching peril evident, the duo decided to abandon the original plan, choosing discretion over valour. They quickly rejoined their counterparts in the yard, ready to decide their next course of action.
'The Newcastle Chronicle and Hunter River District News' Wednesday 14th October 1863:
About half-an-hour after, while the townspeople were gathered in knots talking excitedly of the events we have described, a rumour began to circulate that Mr De Clouet's public-house had been visited by the gang, who had robbed the inmates, and but just left. This proved to be true, for upon inquiry it was discovered that the bushrangers on passing Piper-street, in which Mr. De Clouet's house is situated, had turned off George street and made for the rear of the premises. Here they dismounted, and tearing down two rails of the fence leading into the stable yard, four of them went to the stable door, leaving one behind in charge of their horses. Just at this moment a man named William Bromley, a horse trainer, stepping in the house, crossed the yard when he was bailed up. The ostler, Mark, almost at the same time, was coming up with a lighted lantern, and he was quickly pounced upon and asked for the keys of the stable. Mark told them the keys were kept by Mr De Clouet, and, in answer to another question, told them he did not know what money there was in the house. Leaving the two prisoners to be guarded by the others, Gilbert and (it is supposed) Ben Hall went into the house and made their way into the bar-parlour, where Mr. De Clouet and a lodger, Mr. John Hunter (a compositor engaged in our own office), were seated reading the newspapers. In a bedroom leading from the parlour, Mrs De Clouet was engaged washing and putting the children to bed.
Woodcut of DeClouet's Sportsman Hotel Piper St, Bathurst. Penzig. |
In the night, the bushrangers' silhouettes faded from view, leaving behind a town buzzing with whispers, fears, and tales of audacity. The horse hooves of the gang rhythmically tapped, matching the elevated heartbeats of Bathurst's inhabitants. Heading down George Street, the landscape of Milltown awaited them.
Yet, in the midst of all the chaos and cunning of the night, Hall had left behind a token of information, a breadcrumb of sorts. He had a message for Machattie, an almost cheeky nod to the audacity of their raid. He informed them that the horses belonging to Machattie and young Battye were not stolen but simply relocated. The creatures were in Mrs Mutton's paddock on Vale Road, just a short distance from the town. A semblance of honour among thieves, perhaps?
As dawn's light broke the next morning, Machattie's horse was indeed found, just as Hall had promised. However, fate has its own jests. Battye's horse, while supposed to be alongside Machattie's, was absent. Someone from the town, seizing an opportunity amidst the chaos, had presumably taken Battye's horse.
The bushrangers' jest was clear in their message to John DeClouet. If not for the brazen challenge the two young men threw at them, they might never have ventured into Bathurst. But who were they to resist "having a lark" when dared? The events of that night became yet another chapter in the legendary escapades of the gang, proving that sometimes, tales are birthed not just from ambition but from sheer mischief.
It appears that they had according to a promise made to Mr Licensed Surveyor Machattie and young Battye a few days before on occasion of sticking them up in the neighbourhood of Mulgonnia, brought both the horses of the young gentlemen with the and left them in Mutton s paddock on the outskirts of the town they left word at the Sportsman's Arms that the horses would be found there remarking at the same time, that if young Machattie had not said they were not game to come into town, they would not have paid that Saturday evening visit. The whole time they stayed at this house was about 20 minutes.
Bathurst streetscape at the time of the Ben Hall raid. Courtesy NLA. |
The gang's intent was clear: stay unnoticed and move on. But fate had other plans. They paused, hoping to remain shrouded in the darkness, a mere shadow among the many. But their counterparts, the police, too halted, sensing the presence of the very men they'd been chasing.
In that split second, their cover blown, the bushrangers tried a ploy. They leaned low, hugging their horses' necks, hoping to merge into the night and confuse the troopers. But the darkness wasn't enough to shield them. The ploy crumbled.
What followed was a burst of adrenaline. Sensing their time was running out, the gang clapped spurs into their horses, urging them into a frantic gallop. The ground beneath them seemed to tremble, descending steeply, making their escape all the more perilous.
The police wasted no time. Their revolvers found voices barking loudly into the night, sending bullets whistling past the bushrangers, each one echoing the danger the gang now faced. The chase was on, a dance of danger in the dead of night, with each side driven by its own form of justice and rebellion.John Vane declared:
John Gilbert 1862. |
As Vane and Hall were in hot pursuit of the troopers, an unexpected sight disrupted Vane's focus: a horse galloping wildly without its rider. The silhouette of the riderless beast in the pale moonlight evoked instant dread in Vane. He surmised it must belong to Gilbert, further complicating their escape.
Determined, Vane and Hall chased the panicked horse, which, fueled by its own fear, took a daring leap across a creek. The sight was almost cinematic - the horse, against the backdrop of the night, sailing over the shimmering waters of the stream.
Emboldened and perhaps carried away by the moment's intensity, Vane decided to mirror the horse's audacious jump. Spurring his mount, he braced himself for the leap. But Vane's attempt lacked the same grace and precision as the horse. The creek seemed to stretch wider than he had anticipated, and in a heartbeat, both he and his horse faltered. Vane was unceremoniously unseated, finding himself tumbling, disoriented, with the echoes of galloping hooves filling his ears. The waters of the creek, which had looked invitingly serene moments before, now loomed as a testament to his miscalculation. Vane un-injured commented:
Another view from Bald Hill of Bathurst. Courtesy NLA. |
The immediate aftermath of the chase was a haze of anxiety and relief. As the gang regrouped, it was Burke who brought the startling news: Gilbert had fallen during the pursuit. But as always, hope and camaraderie shone through. Burke was adamant that Gilbert had managed to evade capture, having caught a fleeting glimpse of him fleeing on foot.
With Gilbert's safety now their paramount concern, the gang did what they always did - they looked out for one of their own. Dismounting their horses, they trawled the rugged landscape, the moonlight guiding them through the shadows. Their efforts, however, proved fruitless. Re-mounting, the weight of Gilbert's absence hung heavy on their shoulders as they pressed on towards Bald Hill.
But nothing could prepare them for the scene that would greet them upon their return to camp near Evan’s Plain. To their astonishment and relief, there was Johnny Gilbert, alive and relatively unscathed. Gilbert recounted his harrowing tale as the gang embraced their seemingly lost comrade. In the heat of the chase, sensing he couldn't outpace the relentless police, he had chosen to dismount. His horse, he claimed, had faltered at the creek, echoing Vane's own experience.
Tensions flared at Evan’s Plain. Johnny Gilbert, the audacious and brazen outlaw, was not one accustomed to ridicule or doubt, particularly from his own gang. Yet, the words thrown at him by O'Meally that evening, coupled with the mocking undertones, touched a raw nerve. There was an intense energy in the air as the two men faced off, their words like daggers in the cool night.
For almost ten minutes, the verbal clash echoed through the camp, with the other members of the gang watching in uneasy silence, unsure of how to mediate the growing hostility. Gilbert's pride was wounded; like a wounded animal, he retreated into a shell of resentment. His slouched and defeated posture was uncharacteristic for a man of his reputation.
Yet, it wasn't in Gilbert's nature to wallow in defeat. In a burst of indignation, he made an emotional appeal to the gang, offering to strike out on his own and inviting any of them to join him. But the gang's loyalty was complex. Despite the tensions, Hall, Burke, and Vane decided to stay put, further isolating Gilbert.
The camp, which moments ago was filled with the cacophony of disagreement, now settled into an uneasy quiet. Distancing himself from the main camp, Gilbert found solace in his solitude, a lone figure in the vast expanse of the bush.
Morning would reveal another twist to the tale. The horse that Gilbert had so hastily abandoned during the chase was discovered by the police, a silent testament to the harrowing events of the previous night. The Maitland Mercury and Hunter River General Advertiser, Thursday 8th October 1863:
From the intelligence gathered through their network of informers and messengers, it was clear to the gang that Bathurst had been stirred into action. The police, under pressure to capture these elusive outlaws, had mounted extensive searches, their presence growing more pronounced with each passing day. Not just the trained lawmen but even a band of enthusiastic volunteers had taken to patrolling the roads and highways, their determination fuelled by a mix of civic duty and the promise of the bounty on the bushrangers' heads.
But Ben Hall was not one to be cowed down. He thrived on the very challenge, the cat-and-mouse game with the law. It was this fearless attitude, this audacity, that set him apart. Instead of fleeing the region, he chose the Vale Road, a mere four miles from Bathurst, as his next hunting ground. This major thoroughfare, peppered with inns and stores, was ripe for the taking. And taking he did, in a series of raids executed with military precision.
For the townsfolk and the police alike, it was almost incredulous to imagine that the bushrangers were operating right under their noses while they searched the distant corners. Each successful raid was not just a treasure trove for the gang, but a slap in the face of the establishment, an establishment that seemed increasingly incapable of reigning in the renegades.
James Martin, MLA. |
Night raid on Bathurst. Painting by Patrick William Marony (1858-1939) |
After the dramatic events in Bathurst, the gang felt the heat of increased police vigilance. However, the precision of their informants' information ensured their hideout remained untouched and unseen. It was as if the very earth opened up to hide them from their relentless pursuers.
The gang decided to break camp with the autumn evening chill setting in. With the soft orange hue of the setting sun as their backdrop, they proceeded along the Vale Road towards Caloola. Despite the potential danger that lurked in every thicket and behind every tree, there was an air of confidence about them. Each gang member knew that they had the intelligence and skill to evade capture, which filled them with a certain arrogance.
The Vale Road, stretching ahead of them, was not just a route of escape but a path lined with opportunities. On the evening of 6th October 1863, under a clear sky that held the soft glow of a waning moon, they embarked on a series of heinous crimes. From isolated storekeepers to remote hotels, no one was spared their wrath.
The robberies weren't just for personal gain; they were a necessity. The gang had to fund an extensive network of informers and protectors. These collaborators didn't come cheap, and the gang had to maintain a steady inflow of money to ensure their loyalties. Every stolen coin, every looted item was a means to an end.
However, among their many transgressions that night, one incident stood out for its sheer cruelty. After taking everything of value at one humble dwelling, they didn't hesitate to snatch away a child's piggy bank. It was a heart-wrenching moment; the act not only robbed the child of its savings but also of its innocence.
More than any other, this act painted a vivid picture of the depths to which the gang had sunk. Their actions were not just about survival or rebellion against the establishment. They were a stark reminder of the darkness that dwells within men when unchecked by the boundaries of morality and law. Link to the events attached below.
However, Vane's account painted a different picture. He claimed his hands had borne the scars of the burning curtains, not Gilbert's. This wasn't a trivial matter of burnt hands but a significant episode that laid bare the internal dynamics of the gang. The fiery accident had led to an altercation among the gang members, with O'Meally reprimanding Gilbert, accusing him of starting the fire. If Vane's account was to be believed, it showed a clear case of misunderstanding and wrongly attributing blame within the gang.
Vane's correction of this episode is essential as it challenges the previously held narratives and shows that memory and truth could become a contested terrain even within tight-knit groups like the bushrangers.
As historians and enthusiasts pick apart Vane's version of events, the question arises: how many other tales of the bushrangers' exploits are based on misremembered events or purposeful alterations? In the murky waters of history, where facts blend seamlessly with myths, Vane's account is a stark reminder that sometimes the truth may come from the most unexpected sources.
Publican License Henry Butler's Hen & Chickens Hotel 1860. |
It's worth noting that before setting his sights on the Hen and Chickens, Butler had managed the Carriers Arms in Bathurst for a year, from 1859 to 1860. His shift in proprietorship made for an intriguing backdrop to the gang's activities.
As dawn approached, the gang swiftly distributed their spoils among their allies and supporters. The police, in their relentless pursuit, always seemed to be a step behind, often left confounded by the gang's uncanny ability to disappear into the night. With their recent conquests behind them, the bushrangers shifted their gaze towards Caloola, ever eluding the grasp of the law. Vane narrates.
Inspector-General of N.S.W. Police, Captain M'Lerie, c. 1863. Penzig. |
Following the bushrangers' audacious exploits in Bathurst and the consecutive robberies that had left Vale Road reeling, a correspondent from the 'Bathurst Times' took it upon himself to journey to the crime scenes. Through detailed interviews with the victims, the correspondent was able to paint a vivid tableau of the bushrangers' activities on that fateful night: the methodical manner in which they operated, the total number of stores they targeted, and an inventory of all the stolen assets.
Intriguingly, the correspondent’s report pointed out that during the later stages of their crime spree, the bushrangers were accompanied by four additional individuals, believed to be their local informants, or "bush telegraphs" as they were colloquially known. This network of informers played a pivotal role in the gang's operations, providing timely information on police movements. Such intelligence emboldened Ben Hall and his gang, allowing them to commit their crimes with an air of invincibility.
The correspondent also meticulously described how the gang transported their stolen wares: goods were fastened securely to the front of their saddles, piled so high that they almost reached the riders' waists. Some items were even seen falling off during their hasty retreat, a sight that should have offered police a viable opportunity to chase and possibly apprehend the culprits. However, for reasons that remained shrouded in mystery, Superintendent Morrisset hesitated, letting this golden chance slip through his fingers.
In a seemingly desperate attempt to manage the situation, Captain M'Lerie from Sydney arrived at the scene. Rather than pursuing the real perpetrators, he displayed a perplexing penchant for badgering the very victims of the robberies. M'Lerie's lack of empathy and dismissive attitude towards the rural populace, which he derisively termed "that class of people," only further alienated the local community.
Meanwhile, unaware or perhaps indifferent to the criticisms they had sparked, the bushrangers revelled in their newfound loot. Setting up camp not too far from the scene of their latest exploits, they celebrated their victories undisturbed by law enforcement despite widespread reports of their whereabouts. Attached link below.
In 1912, memories of Ben Hall's audacious raid along the Vale Road still lingered in the collective psyche of New South Wales, particularly for those who had witnessed it firsthand. Among those was John Harper, an elderly resident who had once plied his trade as a butcher. Harper's recollections of that October evening in 1863 weren't mere musings of a bygone era – he had been an actual participant in the unfolding drama, albeit in a tangential role.
Superintendent Morrissett, in his pursuit of the bushrangers and perhaps out of desperation to gather intelligence, had approached Harper. Recognizing him as a local, Morrissett had implored Harper to accompany the police in their search for Ben Hall and his gang. For Harper, this wasn't merely an observation from the sidelines; he was momentarily thrust into the epicenter of one of the most talked-about events of his time.
As 1912 rolled around and Harper narrated his experiences, it served as a poignant bridge between the past and the present. For the younger generation, his account offered a tangible connection to the thrilling and tumultuous days of the bushrangers. For Harper and his contemporaries, it was a nostalgic journey back to a youth marked by danger, audacity, and the legendary exploits of Ben Hall.
NSW Police Gazette October 1863. |
Superintendent Morrisset, determined to track down the gang and their stolen treasures, eventually made a breakthrough. His relentless pursuit led him to Cheshire's hotel. And hidden away were the very goods that the gang had plundered.
The connection to Cheshire's hotel wasn't merely coincidental. The Cheshires, proprietors of the hotel, were related to none other than John Vane, one of the members of Hall's gang. This familial tie raised eyebrows and deepened the intrigue surrounding the gang's operations and their intricate network of informants, hideouts, and collaborators.
The recovery of the stolen goods was a small victory for the beleaguered police force, who often found themselves outwitted and outpaced by the bushrangers. For the public, it was yet another chapter in the fascinating and tumultuous saga of Ben Hall and his notorious band.
NSW Parliament. Bathurst aftermath.
Bathurst, a major settlement west of the Blue Mountains, represented the expanding frontiers of the British colonial enterprise in Australia. For an armed gang to strike at its heart, almost in a dare, was a slap in the face of the colonial establishment. More than just a criminal act, it was a political statement, underscoring the limitations of the government's reach and control.
The fallout was swift and politically charged. Mr Cowper, the Colonial Secretary, found himself in the eye of a storm. Parliamentarians, already critical of the government's inability to rein in the bushrangers, saw in the Bathurst raid an embodiment of their worst fears. The brazenness of the act brought to the fore calls once more for drastic measures, including an 'Outlaw' proclamation targeting Hall and his gang.
Yet, in the labyrinthine politics of the day, Cowper sought to deflect blame. He pointed fingers at the very citizens of Bathurst, suggesting their complicity and lack of support for the police. It was a risky gambit, seeking to turn public sentiment against the gang by implying broader societal complicity in their crimes.
In the larger tapestry of Australian colonial history, the Bathurst raid is but one of many such episodes, yet its implications were far-reaching. It challenged perceptions of order, questioned the government's efficacy, and highlighted the ever-present tension between the colonial authorities and the land's rugged individualists. (I have placed below one of the verbal encounters from the Parliament Hansard relating to the debate by Slippery Charley on the Bathurst raid.); 'The Empire’ Wednesday, 7th October 1863 page 3; THE BUSHRANGERS IN BATHURST. (Government Hansard)
Mr. Cowper, five-time Colonial Secretary ( 1856-1870) Photo c. 1863. |
NSW Police Gazette 21 October 1863. |
The idea of declaring the bushrangers as outlaws was not new, but it had never been seriously considered during the era of Hall's precursor, Frank Gardiner. Yet, Premier Cowper found himself on increasingly shaky ground with the public and the press clamouring for action in the aftermath of the Bathurst raid. The colonial administration's seeming impotence in the face of the bushranger menace made them vulnerable to political attacks.
Enter Mr Martin, QC, Cowper's arch-nemesis. Martin, a formidable political operator, saw once more a political opportunity to rally his forces and challenge Cowper's leadership regarding the Bathurst raid. The Colonial Secretary's controversial decision to blame the citizens of Bathurst for the raid only added fuel to Martin's fire.
Martin's motion of No Confidence was more than just a political tactic; it was a declaration of war against Cowper's administration. Such a motion could potentially topple the government, ushering in a new era of leadership with potentially drastic policy changes, including how the government would deal with the bushranger threat. Martin wanted Ben Hall brought to heel.
The political machinations in Sydney might have seemed a world away from the dusty roads and bush camps of the outlaws, but they were intrinsically linked. The challenges faced by Cowper's administration in quelling the bushranger menace had direct implications for the political survival of his government. The fight against the bushrangers was not just a battle for law and order; it was a battle for the very soul and future direction of the young colony of New South Wales. 'The Newcastle Chronicle and Hunter River District News’, Saturday 10th October 1863:
In the shifting sands of colonial politics and the backdrop of escalating bushranger activities, Premier Cowper faced an uphill battle to retain confidence. Stoked by humiliating episodes such as the Bathurst raid, and the detainment of armed troopers, the public outcry demanded a swift response. The delicate situation required both a show of strength and a bid to win back the trust of a disillusioned populace.
Thus, in a move aimed at showing decisive action, Cowper took to the widely-read 'Sydney Morning Herald' on the 8th of October. Announced a substantial new reward for the capture of Ben Hall's gang. This was not just an increase in the bounty; it was a message to the outlaws and their supporters that the government was stepping up its efforts and was willing to pay a premium for their apprehension.
The strategic calculation behind the decision was clear. By hiking up the reward, Cowper aimed to lure potential informants from within the inner circles of the bushrangers, perhaps even those who harboured and aided them. The idea was to create divisions, sow distrust, and tempt someone from the gang's periphery to rat them out.
Interestingly, the reward for Gilbert remained unchanged at £500, a holdover from his days riding alongside the notorious Frank Gardiner. This static figure for Gilbert, amidst an otherwise revamped reward system, perhaps indicated a recognition of his elevated status and the existing challenges in apprehending him.
The new reward announcement was as much a political move as it was a strategic one. Cowper aimed to portray an image of a government taking a hard line against criminality while simultaneously fending off political adversaries eager to exploit the situation. The stakes were high; the government's credibility, Cowper's political survival, and the safety of the colony's inhabitants hung in the balance. BATHURST. Wednesday, at 9 p.m.:
Sir James Martin (1820-1886) |
Enter James Martin. With a sharp legal mind, honed through his defence of the Eugowra robbers just months earlier, he sensed the momentum shift. His history of challenging authority figures and his familiarity with the bushranger issue placed him in a unique position to lead the charge against Cowper's faltering leadership. Martin recognised the growing unease among country members, many of whom bore the brunt of the bushrangers' reign of terror. Their cries for more effective action were getting louder, and Martin made it his mission to amplify them.
Assembling a coalition of discontent, Martin's efforts culminated in a strategic move: a call for an adjournment vote, a clear indicator of lost confidence in the Cowper leadership. The very essence of Cowper's tenure - his approach to law enforcement and the colony's financial health - was called into question. The vast expenditure, necessitated by the ongoing bushranger threat, was proving to be a fiscal albatross, and many viewed it as a drain on the state's prosperity.
Mr Piddington, a formidable political figure and a close ally of Martin, took up the mantle in parliament. His fiery orations highlighted the government's perceived failings, from the ineffectiveness of the police force to the financial ramifications of the bushranger epidemic. Piddington's impassioned plea was not just an indictment of Cowper's policies but a clarion call for change.
With the political walls closing in, Cowper found himself in an untenable position. The weight of the bushranger issue and broader concerns about the state's direction under his leadership proved insurmountable. Recognizing the inevitable, Cowper relinquished his position, marking the end of a tumultuous chapter in New South Wales' political history. The aftershocks of the bushranger saga were being felt far and wide, and the state's leadership was its latest casualty.
Colonial Secretary Charles Cowper. (1807-1875) |
This political stalemate presented an opportunity for Mr James Martin, a rising star and recent thorn in Cowper's side. Invited by Governor Sir John Young to step into the breach, Martin was given the task of piecing together a government from a fractured and fragmented parliament. With a keen eye for strategy, Martin assembled a minority government primarily composed of unaligned members without strong ties to the major factions of the time. This bold move signalled his intent to prioritize governance over partisanship.
On the 15th of October, 1863, with the official pomp and circumstance befitting the occasion, Martin's new ministry was sworn in. In a move that showcased his political savvy and a desire for continuity amidst change, he retained Mr Forster, Cowper's close ally, in the cabinet. This gesture was seen by many as an olive branch, an attempt to heal the wounds of past political battles and bridge divides.
With the formation of the new government, there was an immediate and pressing matter on Martin's desk: the issue of Ben Hall and his gang. Their reign of terror, audacity, and recent raids had embarrassed the previous administration significantly. Their actions were not just criminal; they symbolized the government's inability to maintain order and protect its citizens. For Martin, addressing the Ben Hall menace was more than just a matter of law enforcement; it was a test of his leadership, a chance to prove that his administration could succeed where others had failed. Ben Hall, illiterate, brought down the government.
Hen & Chickens Hotel Vale Road 2019. My Photo's. |
The gang's audacity went beyond their brazen robberies. They set up camp in plain sight, a stone's throw away from the territories most patrolled by law enforcement. To the chagrin of the authorities, Hall seemed to have little fear of the troopers, almost making a game out of evading them. While the police, armed with their badges and rifles, combed the bush, they seemed to be always a step behind or in the wrong place, turning their pursuits into futile exercises.
But more than their heists and escapes, the gang's flamboyant disregard for convention captured the public's imagination. They didn't just hide; they celebrated. Locals would whisper tales of the gang's merry-making. There were accounts of jubilant evenings under the stars where laughter echoed, music played, and shots were fired, not in violence but in celebration, as the bushrangers demonstrated their shooting prowess.
Ben Hall's antics were not merely about the thrill of crime; they were a performance, a theatrical defiance against the establishment. By inviting locals to join in their festivities, they were sharing their spoils and building an image of themselves as folk heroes, the Robin Hoods of New South Wales. In doing so, they blurred the lines between outlaws and legends, further deepening the government's quandary. How does one battle not just criminals but myths in the making? As reported:
While Hall was seen by many as a charismatic rogue, a Robin Hood of sorts, Morgan was a different beast altogether. His very moniker, 'Mad Dog', was an embodiment of his violent and unpredictable nature. The tales of his deeds, more horror than adventure, filled the pages of the press. Morgan's exploits were not just of theft or evasion; they were tales dripping with blood and marked by sheer brutality.
The discovery of the mutilated body of one of his try-hard's, Clarke sent a shiver through all. Could it be that Morgan had really turned on one of his own? Clarke's corpse became a testament to the depths of Morgan's depravity. While the initial findings hinted at suicide, whispers soon emerged that the wounds were indeed Morgan's handiwork. To many, the idea was not far-fetched. If Morgan could unleash such brutality on strangers, what would stop him from doing the same to an associate, especially if he deemed it necessary for his survival?
In comparison to the wild ferocity of Morgan, Ben Hall's gang seemed almost genteel. With Halls charisma and panache. Hall was fearsome but not overly brutal in the vein of Mad Dog. While Morgan emerged as the face of unbridled, psychotic violence. The citizens of New South Wales were now caught in a tale of two bushrangers: one a defiant rogue, the other a bloodthirsty villain. The frontier was no longer just wild; it was becoming terrifying.
For all its audacity and bravado, Ben Hall's gang had yet to descend into the dark abyss of distrust and mutual suspicion. The line they walked was thin but held together by shared success and an often unspoken camaraderie. Their reputation was built on their collective ability to evade capture and humiliate law enforcement, not on internal betrayal or violence against one another.
But even in the strongest of groups, tensions simmered. John Gilbert and John O'Meally were prime examples. While bound by their shared exploits, the two men often found themselves at odds. O'Meally, fiery and impulsive, frequently cast aspersions on Gilbert's courage. The accusation of "lack of pluck" was not merely an affront to Gilbert's pride but a challenge to his very place in the gang. In the bushranging world, where reputation was everything, such accusations could not be taken lightly.
Such internal tensions were a stark contrast to the public persona of the gang. They were a cohesive unit to the outside world, mocking the law and living by their wits. But within the camp, the dynamics were more complicated. Egos clashed, tempers flared, and the pressure of life on the run tested the bonds of loyalty and trust.
Yet, despite these internal squabbles, the gang was not at the point of self-destruction. They had not experienced the kind of paranoia and distrust that would lead one member to turn on another, as seen with Morgan. The unity of the gang, despite its frictions, stood in stark contrast to the mad descent of 'Mad Dog' Morgan. Where Morgan's tale was one of escalating violence and paranoia, the story of Ben Hall's gang was still one of shared rebellion against the establishment.
You were afraid of the bullets which were flying about; I believe you will be shot yet when running away for you have no fight in you.
The dynamics of the gang were a complex tapestry of loyalty, ego, and the shared experience of life on the run. While Gilbert would often retreat in sulks after his altercations with O'Meally, it wasn't long before the shared camaraderie and thrill of the next venture pulled him back into the fold. The unity of the gang, however, wasn't always secure. The occasion when Gilbert knocked Vane flat with a punch was a testament to the fragile equilibrium within their ranks. Burke's questioning of Gilbert's courage didn't help matters, adding to the internal strife. Gilbert's subsequent warning to Burke – to watch his back – was a chilling reminder of the high stakes of their life of crime and the simmering tensions just beneath the surface.
While the internal dynamics of the gang played out, the larger world of bushranging in New South Wales saw the rise of other formidable figures. 'Mad Dog' Morgan, with his erratic behaviour and brutal tactics, was spreading terror in the Wagga Wagga district. Other smaller but influential gangs, led by figures like the Seerys and the Druitts, took charge of regions like Yass and Burrowra.
Yet, despite the many threats posed by these external forces and their internal skirmishes, Ben Hall's gang thrived, thanks in large part to the complicity of many settlers. This unwavering support from the local community, a sort of 'Cone of Silence', was a shield that allowed the gang to operate with a level of audacity and impunity. These settlers, driven by either admiration, fear, or a mix of both, became the lifeline for the gang, ensuring their legend grew even as the law sought to bring them down. MONDAY, OCTOBER 12, 1863:
Canowindra return, "The bushrangers, who were beginning to be quite popular."
As the vast, rolling landscapes of New South Wales unfolded before them, Ben Hall's gang made their way towards Canowindra, a town already familiar with their antics. Whispers and murmurs trailed in their wake as news of their audacious Bathurst raid sped through every corner of the colony. It wasn't just a robbery; it was a brazen challenge to authority, a defiance that had become symbolic of the bushrangers' spirit.
While Bathurst still grappled with the aftermath of the 'Big Sensation', Canowindra was set for a return of Hall and Co. Once more, they rode towards Canowindra, their journey punctuated by occasional sightings and tales of their camaraderie, painting a picture of men who still revelled in their newfound infamy despite being on the run.
Australia, still in its infancy since its establishment in 1788, had never seen anything quite like the boldness exhibited by Hall and his gang. They were a far cry from bold Jack Donahue. Their very existence was a testament to the rugged, wild nature of the sparse bush of human habitat, where rules could be bent and boundaries tested. The Bathurst raid had already cemented their place in history, but the whispers hinted at more. A sense of anticipation hung in the air – the feeling that Ben Hall's gang was just getting started and more daring feats lay just beyond the horizon.
Reputed photo of Pierce's Canowindra General Store. c. 1860's |
But amidst this rustic array, one brick structure stood out prominently, its walls echoing the prosperity of its owner, Mr Collits—a name well recognised not just in Canowindra but in the broader district for his extensive land holdings and business ventures. Collits' leased the thriving business of Mr Pearce and Mr Hilliar, their general store a hub of activity and commerce.
However, for these businessmen, prosperity came at a cost. As the shadows of the notorious gang lengthened over Canowindra, Pearce, and Hilliar, weeks earlier deprived of valuable stock by the gang, many others would again find themselves ensnared in the outlaws' escapades. Little did they know that their enterprises would become recurrent targets for Hall and his men.
Mr James Collits, aged 74. Courtesy NLA. |
While these establishments played pivotal roles in the community, serving both locals and travellers, there were certain customs and regulations that they had to adhere to. One of the most prominent of these customs was the practice of prominently displaying the licensee's name at the hotel's front. As a result, establishments often became colloquially known by the licensee's name, leading to the 'Canowindra Hotel' often being referred to as 'Robinson's Hotel'.
But this was not just about nomenclature. For the safety and convenience of travellers, laws of the 1800s mandated that hotels, especially those in the countryside, keep a light prominently displayed during the night. This beacon would guide weary travellers, ensuring they found solace in the comforts provided by establishments like Robinson's. Situated strategically on Gaskell Street, the light from 'Robinson's Hotel' would have been a welcoming sight for many, a symbol of safety and rest in the unpredictable wilds of the Australian countryside. (There are some conflicting views on the right spot where the bushrangers held both their jubilee's.)
Making their way towards Canowindra, with the sun gradually ascending the horizon, the five bushrangers, a quintet notorious for their audacious crimes, approached 'The Falls' station. The sprawling land, owned by Thomas Grant J.P., was a testament to his stature and influence in the region. Grant was no mere landowner; he held the title of Justice of the Peace and was well-regarded among the upper echelons of society. He was a firm believer in the rule of law, a staunch supporter of the police force, and had little sympathy for the likes of Ben Hall and his gang.
Their unanticipated visit, however, was not one of animosity. Hall, ever the tactician, sought to converse with Grant, likely wanting to gauge the atmosphere in the region and any potential threats. But it was more than mere pleasantries; the underlying tension in the conversation was palpable. With his questions about the police, Hall subtly, yet firmly, indicated that any act of treachery or assistance to the authorities would not bode well for Mr Grant or his estate.
Grant, with his strong allegiance to the law, would have been well aware of the bushrangers' brutal reputation. Any false move or perceived betrayal could have dire consequences. The exchange, though cordial on the surface, had layers of mistrust and veiled threats.
And then, as swiftly as they had arrived, the bushrangers mounted their steeds, leaving behind an atmosphere rife with tension. Their departure from 'The Falls' was but a precursor to the events that would soon unfold in Canowindra, and the entire region would once again be reminded of their presence and the challenge they posed to law and order.
Empire
Tuesday 20th October 1863
CANOWINDRA HELD BY THE BUSHRANGERS FOR THREE DAYS.
Free drinks were not the only form of entertainment provided. During the morning, various people arrived in the settlement on business from outlying homesteads. Included among these was a young woman able to play the piano. She was requested, quite politely, to favour the company with dance music, and intermittent dancing helped to pass away the morning. All prisoners were next provided with a good lunch, also at the expense of the bushrangers, who were beginning to be quite popular. By afternoon all apprehension had evaporated. The citizens decided it was not every day their town was captured by outlaws, and that the occasion ought to be celebrated with due jollity. Another teamster had arrived. He had a concertina. This made a variation to the piano for dancing, so that by evening time the whole party was able to have a really fine time, the bushrangers (generally two at a time) participating and enjoying a thoroughly sociable interlude to their usually hazardous life. Altogether, this impromptu ball was such a success that it continued till dawn, as is the habit of the bush, after which the women and children were allowed to go to the bedrooms for asleep. The men had to take what slumber they could get seated round the dining-room table, head in arms. The members of the gang seemed to be impervious to any such need.²¹
On hour later, Hall ushered all the guests onto the verandah. O'Meally was still on guard there, and the bushrangers' horse’s, fine thoroughbreds, stolen from rich squatters were tethered to the posts. Hall and Gilbert gravely thanked everyone for their attendance, paid Robinson the final reckoning for the party, and galloped off. As they rode off the three young outlaws waved gaily back at the crowd on the verandah. For nearly 60 hours they had held a whole township captive-five men against 40. They had danced with pretty women, eaten good food again, sung songs and laughed with other people-a change from the grim hide-and-seek they played with the police in the ranges.²² Nevertheless, for the unfortunate constable Charles Sykes this was the second time Ben Hall had accosted him. However, to Sykes's credit, he attempted to cross the rising Belubula River to get word to Cowra. Unfortunately, due to its fast-flowing waters, he was discovered when Ben Hall got wind of his leaving, riding quickly to intercept him on the road a short distance from Sykes' home. Hall returned him at the point of a revolver, marching him back to Robinson's Hotel. Described by witness: While the morning was still reasonably young, Ben Hall strolled out of the hotel-bar, limping slightly, as usual, due to one of his legs having been broken, unhitched the reins of his horse from the hitching rail, and cantered away in the direction of the police barracks. After all, it is no use conquering a city and leaving its official defenders to wander free. Before long, he returned. Ahead of him walked the one constable of the settlement, with rifle at the shoulder and bayonet fixed. The officer, thus armed, was then ordered to march up and down in front of the hotel, as though on parade, and, having no mistaken ideas, either of valour or duty, he obeyed. After a brief while, Ben Hall strolled outside and relieved the constable of his arms, telling him to go and enjoy himself with the others.
On regaining his liberty, the peeler tried to make for Cowra; but the gentry of the road put a veto on his journey in that direction. He then headed another way and came to Toogong, where he secured the co-operation of two troopers. The army then marched to the homestead of Mr Campbell, of Goimbla, who, being a J.P., very wisely thought he was bound to join in the chase; and taking with him his brother and Mr Barnes (an agent of Cobb and Co., who was driving the coach nearer Bathurst at the time) and at a moment's notice, sounded his bugle "to horse!" That party returned next morning, and issued the usual bulletin; - Results nil. In January 1864, at Vane's bushranging trial, his presence with Ben Hall was recounted by Charles Sykes. Sykes provided an account of both of his encounters with the bushrangers. First remarking on the meeting on the 26th September 1863, and then the October visit to Canowindra, from the 'Empire', Friday, 15th January 1864: Constable Sykes, being sworn, said: I am stationed at Canowindra, I saw prisoner on the 26th September last; he was in company with Hall, Gilbert, O'Meally, and Burke; I was going down the town about half-past seven in the evening, and they all stuck me up when near Robinson's public-house; I had no arms at the time; they took, me to Robinson’s public house, and kept me a prisoner until five o'clock the next morning; they were drinking during the night; I could not get away as they watched me closely; they went backwards and forwards to the store during the night; there were between twenty and thirty people in the house; the men were all well-armed at the time; I saw; Vane again on the 15th October with the same party; I was away for a short time, and when I returned I was informed by my wife that my arms had been taken away by Hall; I had a carbine and a horse pistol-they were both taken; I then left to go to Cowra, and was stuck-up by Hall near my own house; I saw Vane at the same time at some little distance away from Hall; Hall ordered me to stand, and I was taken to the public-house; that was about eight o'clock in the morning, and I was kept a prisoner until about four o'clock; Gilbert, O’Meally, and Burke were there; there were between twenty and thirty people there; when I left Vane told me he would get me the arms back, and they were afterwards given to me; I did not see the bushrangers any more after that time. After the constable's ordeal, Sykes expressed this comment his capture and treatment by the gang, especially Gilbert: They detained the constable a close prisoner from the time of his arrest, until eight o’clock on Wednesday morning. The prisoner speaks very highly of the kindness he met with from Gilbert and does not seem to have suffered any indignity at the hands of his captors. During the time of his captivity, Gilbert showed the constable a pistol taken from the police camp; and asked whether, in the event of its being returned loaded to him, he would shoot Gilbert; to which he replied, that "he might if he got a chance." "Then," said Gilbert, "to do away, with any chance you might have, I'll fire it off for you." After discharging the pistol, he handed it to the constable, remarking that such arms were useless to them, we learn from the constable, that they rode splendid nags, though rather light in condition, and that they took the police paddock fence like a bird.³⁰ Constable Sykes also attested to Gilbert's leadership of the five bushrangers, although this assumption could be disputed as per another view below of Ben Hall's stamp of authority: Gilbert is described as possessing the most unlimited authority over the rest of the band. His every command is law, no one daring to dispute it; and at night, while one of the five keeps watch, the other four slept soundly, and with the utmost confidence and reliance upon the watchfulness and good faith of their mate on sentry. The same men, on this visit to Canowindra, gave a look in at Mr Pierce's, and took £12 in money; and about £30 worth of goods.³¹ John Gilbert's position as Frank Gardiner's former lieutenant appeared to carry some weight in the public's eyes. However, at this stage, whether Gilbert still wielded some influence with his bushranging fraternity is questionable, as Ben Hall was often reported as the leader. During the three periods of festivities at Canowindra, the residents deferred to Hall to resolve any matters. Hall's leadership is also attested to and noted as organising the bushrangers as guards at various points and gathering those about the town, and allowing passes to be issued so residents could return home for a while: Ben Hall next announced that no one was to leave the town without a written permit, and stated that no harm would be done to anyone unless they attempted treachery. Although Ben spoke in a quiet voice, there was such a stamp of authority about his presence, and such a tone of determination in his speech, that no one felt inclined to resist. Ben Hall was not only quiet of speech, but of appearance and behaviour. He wore a dark tweed suit, slouch hat, Wellington boots. There was nothing of menace, nothing of boastfulness in his manner, and had it not been for the points of two revolvers just showing below his coat, he would have passed for an ordinary, rather prosperous, squatter. His beard helped to hide his fine features, and also his youth, making him look more like 37 than his correct 27. Note: Charles Sykes would retire from the force in 1872 on a pension of £126 per year.
The bushrangers remained until evening, the town having been in their possession for three full days, three gala days, three days which established their popularity, announced to the world that they did not rob or kill as a pastime, and which served as a direct challenge to the police parties that during those three days were out searching the surrounding bush for the outlaws. It was a remarkable piece of audacity on the part of the bushrangers, whose resultant prestige was enhanced greatly by the fact that all the expenses of those three days of jollity were borne by them. It must also be mentioned that as gracious as Ben Hall and Gang appeared. However, the funds provided for the three days being covered by the men were not earned through hard toil, but from the point of a revolver on some hapless victim who on occasion was, no doubt, terrified for his life.
Furthermore, the initial newspaper reports of the gang's arrival at Canowindra indicated that Bill Robinson's publican had been absent. However, this appears to be incorrect, as once again at Vane's future court hearing. Bill Robinson gave a brief account of the situation. Robinson states that at the first raid in late September, he was absent from Canowindra. Robinson's testimony varies from the newspaper accounts of the gangs gala over the three-day hiatus. About the end of September, while I was absent from my home, my house was robbed by persons said to be bushrangers. One day, about the beginning of October, about eight o'clock in the morning, five armed men came to my house; they were Gilbert, Ben Hall, Burke, O'Meally, and Vane. Ben Hall and Gilbert came into the house, leaving the others outside, they bailed me up with the other inmates of the house. Hall searched me and found some silver in my pockets, which he returned, saying he never took silver. Gilbert asked for the keys of the cash box which he opened and took one pound from it, he returned the pound about an hour afterwards, saying if he could not get any more he would not be bothered with it. Hall was dissatisfied, and said Gilbert could not have half searched the house, he then went to the drawers, and found £2 10s' he took the notes and left the silver, the other men then came in, and other people being about the house, Gilbert treated them, after this Hall and Vane got on one horse and rode across the river to the other public-house. Gilbert, O'Meally, and Burke remained at my house. Hall and Vane did not return until one o'clock in the morning, and an hour after that they all want away. Next morning (Sunday) about six o’clock, they all returned, and told me they intended to take the town and stick-up everybody, they did so but did not take any money from those they stopped. Young Mr Robert Kirkpatrick was stopped and searched, and a revolver taken from him, they also bailed-up Messrs. Twaddell and Hibberson, and a number of bullock teams. The same day Ben Hall went up for Sykes the policeman, on the first occasion he could not find him, but brought his arms down, consisting of a pistol and a carbine, he went again some time afterwards and returned with Sykes and another man named Ferguson about 4 o'clock in the afternoon they let Messrs. Waddell and Hibberson go as the river was rising, and they were anxious to reach Bathurst. Mr Kirkpatrick went with them. O'Meally and Burke then went in the direction of Molong. O'Meally took one of my horses, the others went away in about an hour. At about 8 o'clock at night Burke and O'Meally came back again, and at 10 o'clock Gilbert, Vane, and Hall came to look for them, the night was very wet, and Hall said they could not camp out without blankets, and he had no money, he asked the strangers in the house if they had any money, and on their saying no he turned to me and said I must have done well that day, and ordered me to turn out, my pockets that he might see what I had. I did so, there being £3 in notes and £2 in silver, he took the notes and returned the silver, he went over to Mr Pierce's stores to get some blankets, they paid for everything they got at the store after the first time they robbed it. When the bushrangers left this time they did not return until after Burke was shot. I then asked them where Vane was, and they said they had left him behind, for since Burke had been shot he was no good, they had some drinks, and offered to pay, for them, but as I heard that the money was a portion of Mr Keightley's ransom money I declined to take it; they then went away, and I have not seen them since, before going away they told me not to give information to the police, as they wished to getaway. I had given information on both the previous occasions. I know John Vane as one of the men who came to my house. A Police Debacle, "With three, I shall have enough to do to protect myself should I by chance meet the bushrangers." - Superintendent William Chatfield. |
View of Canowindra, c. 1901. Taken from south-side looking north. In 1863 there was no bridge over the Belubula River. Hall and Vane crossed close to this point and Robinson pitched his message in a bottle across. Courtesy Canowindra Historical Society. |
Eventually, Chatfield departed for Canowindra, but he was too late for any effective action as the bushrangers once again melded into the bush. Regardless, after a fruitless search for the bushrangers in foul weather. Chatfield returned to Cowra irate. However, Chatfield again complained again to McLerie about his force's reduced size. Firing off another telegram on the 12th October 1863. Meanwhile, on the same date, Ben Hall and entourage rode into Canowindra, Telegram, Cowra, 12th October 1863;
Canowindra c. 1900. Note Robinson Newsagency. Courtesy NLA. |
Sir, - I wish to inform you that the bushrangers, viz. Gilbert, O'Meally, Hall, Burke and Vane, are here; they came here on Monday morning at 8 o'clock and have been on and off until one o'clock today. They stuck up the stores and public houses, and everyone that was travelling to and from the Lachlan yesterday, and detained them all day - would not let anyone go for fear of giving information. Constable Sykes could not get across the river to go to Cowra; he then started to go to Eugowra, but they met him somewhere on the road and turned him back; they would not leave sight of him all day yesterday, and took all his firearms and handcuffs but gave them back to him last night, saying they would give him or anyone else fifty lashes if they left the town. They detained Waddell, Hibberson and Kirkpatrick, but did not search the former; John O'Meally searched Kirkpatrick and took a revolver from him. I have not time to give you any more information as the mail is starting; the bushrangers are only now gone, so I could not write while they were here.
Artist contemporary impression of Sir Frederick Pottinger with silver-tipped riding-whip. Courtesy NLA. |
Charles Lydiard c. 1860's |
Consequently, the western patrol's lack of success prompted the Inspector-General to seek more efficient officers. Accordingly, McLerie ordered an officer based at Maitland and recruited from Victoria, Superintendent Charles Lydiard, to the battlefield of western NSW.
Charles Lydiard arrived in the Victorian colony in 1850, serving in the public service in various capacities from 1851 to 1860. However, Lydiard's credentials and contacts in Victoria enabled him to rapidly rise to an Assistant Gold Commissioner at the Mount Alexander gold diggings on a salary of £250 per yr. Then he enlisted into the Victorian police force.
Lydiard also commanded the Victorian Native Police Force of twelve highly skilled and disciplined Aboriginals and commanded various Victorian gold escorts. Including the first escort from Ballarat to Geelong. However, Lydiard's quick rise to prominence may well result from nepotism. (reportedly rife throughout the colonies) A family connection to the highly placed cousin Evelyn Sturt of the Victorian police. Sturt was Superintendent of the Victorian police force. Lydiard was also the cousin of Australian explorer Charles Sturt. Superintendent Charles Lydiard transferred to the NSW Police and was seconded from Maitland. At Bathurst, he was directed to hunt independently with his select party of police. Lydiard's handpicked police departed Newcastle on the 13th October 1863:
Lydiard took to the field, as Sir Frederick Pottinger received Robinson's message in a bottle, gathered his troops, and departed Cowra. A departure that had the newspapers speculating, even ridiculing, the polices' movements. Observing that a force from Bathurst was en route with orders not to return without Ben Hall:
The five surviving their brush with the flooded Belubula River rode northward towards Murga. The town of Murga is situated on the fringe of the Nangar State Forest. The settlement lies on the road from Forbes to Orange. The same highway where 16 months previously Hall, Gilbert and O'Meally had robbed the Eugowra Gold Escort in-company with Frank Gardiner. The bushrangers pushed on from Canowindra, forming a camp near the town. However, law-abiding citizens kept the NSW troopers appraised of the gang's whereabouts; unfortunately, this critical intelligence appeared to produce no urgency except to have the police traversing from one reported sighting to another but not near the described or marked camps. Was it the cold, salty taste of fear that held the troopers back?
The searching troopers at times were overloaded with bushranger sightings and information, often becoming wholly bewildered. The deluge of local reports also contributed to frustration and nervousness, whereby troopers often resorted to drinking hard spirits whilst either on duty or camped—no doubt for the Dutch courage required to confront the five desperadoes who had murdered in their repertoire. The frequent use of booze gave rise to five mounted troopers, led by a senior constable Wright to be outed for drinking on the job. Complaints from citizens reached Sir Frederick Pottinger, who was furious over their lack of discipline and did not hesitate in dragging offenders in front of a magistrate charged with Neglect of Duty;
The case was brought by Sir Frederick Pottinger against five men of the police force, for neglect of duty, by being drunk and unfit for duty and that at a time when their energies were most required to track and apprehend the band of bushrangers that have lately been keeping this portion of the Western and South-western districts in a state of lawlessness and fear hitherto without precedent in the history of the colony. Senior Constable Wright, constable Mannix, constable Simpson, constable Hamilton and constable Cox were charged by Sir F. Pottinger with misconduct and neglect of duty They pleaded not guilty, and were defended by Mr James, solicitor, from Forbes.³³
Thomas Grant appointment, May 1863. |
Trooper's dismissal. NSW Police Gazette 16th December 1863. |
Looking toward the hill that overlooks Grant's 'The Falls', where Hall camped with the Belubula treelined in the foreground. |
On my arrival, here I found a party of six men whom Sir Frederick Pottinger has sent to cooperate with me. The senior constable (Wright) has gone to Mr Grant's: I have not yet seen him, but one of the men tells me that the whole five bushrangers were seen the day before yesterday at Hartigan’s, some miles up the Belubula. I have also heard that they have a camping place opposite Mr Grant's on the Canowindra side of the creek, on a rising ground, whence they can see everything that goes on. I purpose going there this evening with the fresh party nowhere.
The Bald Hill just mentioned is a remarkable place from whence the bushrangers had a view of the Eugowra Road, the crossing-place at King's, on the Nyrang Creek and the whole surrounding neighbourhood. From this hill they can escape in any direction through the bush; but, should they again make it their rendezvous, which as I am keeping its discovery dark, is probable, I think it improbable that they could altogether escape were two police parties working together, and ascending the hill from different directions. I do not think any of the gang have gone from this part of the country unless there be truth in the report that they were seen at Hartigan’s. If so, they are returning to No.1 Swamp, through King's Plains.
I believe I told you in my note from Goimbla that I had engaged a black tracker "Albert." He was in the police at Forbes, some time ago., Without him, I could have done nothing, the whole country being intersected by hills and gullies, and being a perfect terra incognita to me and my party, I have gone over a great deal of it; much more might be searched with advantage, should the gang be in the neighbourhood.
I beg to call your attention to the perfect uselessness of sending parties of police out after bushrangers, such as are now at large, without trackers; by chance, they might meet the offenders, but they would never trace or find them.
I trust you will excuse this note; I have no other paper. I have been up nearly all night, and am wet through. I have one request to make, before I conclude, which is to be rendered perfectly independent of Sir Frederick Pottinger. I have only three men of my own.
I consider I ought to have five. Sir Frederick has lent me one; he has also sent a party to co-operate, but he writes to me as if to a subordinate under him. As a senior officer working out of my own district, this is not pleasant; at the same time, I will not allow any such feelings to interfere with the public service. This request I make contingent on my being continued here, for, unless I hear farther from you and I learn that the gang have left this district, I intend returning to the Flat by the end of next week.
For a more comprehensive account of the mass of correspondence between M'Lerie and Chatfield over the Ben Hall debacle, see pages 2 and 3 in the link below;
Near Murga, with Nangar Range in view. The camping area of Ben Hall, October 1863. |
David Henry Campbell, 1829-1885. Private Source never before published. |
On the 16th October 1863, 'The Five' conducted several hold-ups in the neighbourhood of Murga. One of the first hold-ups was the Forbes mail coach. Earlier that day, an old friend of Ben Hall's and reputed bush telegraph had been sent out to canvass the outgoing Forbes coach.
Furthermore, the presence of Hall's suspected bush telegraph, who had been openly observing the encounter and conversation, was also reported to Campbell, who unfortunately ignored the information. However, Campbell's presence would do little to deter the bushrangers next actions. Furthermore, Campbell's presence may well have been the catalyst for a future encounter with Hall, Gilbert and O'Meally, which turned deadly for one. As reported:
Later the same day as Campbell rode on, Ben Hall's old pal Gallen reported the pursuers' passing. The bushrangers with the latest intelligence descended on the town of Murga:
In 1920, an eyewitness to the gang's visit to Murga, Mr Edmund Rymer, then 15 yrs old, recounted the day's activities. 'Forbes Advocate':
A dry Nyrang Ck, summer 2016, with Nangar Range in background. |
Vane describes the raid on Murga:
The police party was no doubt led by Inspector Chatfield. Furthermore, friction soon raised its head in the gang, and a petty squabble erupted between Vane and Gilbert over some victuals that saw the two come to fisticuffs:
Spurious maybe? However, if any may have been a victim, exactly which Grant is unknown or if it ever happened? Burning down someone's home would not be seen lightly. At this juncture, the gang still had many harbourers where if the gang started this type of attack, their welcome would undoubtedly wane rapidly. Furthermore, the Grant family had been highly respected, and long-time residents of the Canowindra district having been settled there for well over thirty years holding extensive property throughout the fertile reaches of the Belubula River. At the Canowindra raid, three of Grant's brothers owned three properties on the town's outskirts. George D Grant held the 'Grove', John Grant' Belubula' and Thomas Grant' The Falls'.
Moreover, it is difficult to ascertain to which home was believed burnt down. As before the arrival of Ben Hall at Canowindra on the 12th of October 1863, it had been reported that 'The Boys' had paid a brief visit to the property of Thomas Grant's 'The Falls,' where it was said that "they committed no mischief there," and after a short conversation departed. (see above) However, the incident regarding the destruction of one of the brothers' homes may well be only Chinese Whispers, not based on any solid evidence!
Model 1855 .56 calibre Colt Revolving Rifle. |
Lawson's 'Errowanbang Station' homestead. Original home with some minor upgrades. Courtesy Edward Higginbotham, 2010. |
View of Lawson's 'Errowanbang Station' across Flyers Creek. Courtesy Edward Higginbotham, 2010. |
The gang arrived at Dunns Plains am Friday 23rd October and took up an advantage point 300 yards east from the house amongst a copse of trees and granite rocks on a small hill overlooking their quarry's residence. (See maps below.) Taking up positions, the men observed that a police party was camped in a paddock adjacent to Keightley's house headed by Inspector Davidson. During the whole day and into Friday night, the bushrangers paid attention to the occupants' comings and goings. Including sighting Keightley conversing with Davidson whom Keightley had invited to lodge at the house, but Davidson declined to remain encamped with his men:
William Crisp Pechey. |
Aware that the gang were in the vicinity, a plan of defence had been prepared. The bushrangers dismounted near the rear stables opening fire on the two men who made for their defence position as the bushrangers scattered around the homestead. Consequently, the two men under fire would show stubborn resistance secreting themselves into the house then onto the roof as the gang peppered the dwelling and back door with shot after shot which luckily did not course injury. As the gunfight erupted, it was reported that Mrs Keightley's four-year-old step-sister Lily had been left outside and wandered about with bullets flying in the twilight hour. However, she was miraculously unharmed. (Lily Rotton was Elizabeth Clive Rotton, born in 1859 to Henry Rotton and Mary Ann Ford's second wife. Caroline's mother, Lorn, passed away in 1843. ) Unknown to the gang as they peppered the house with shots, Mrs Keightley's four-month-old baby Henry b. June 1863 was inside under the housekeeper, Mrs Baldock's protection. (There was a daughter Caroline who passed away in 1863; however, her 1863 date is unknown. She was born in 1862.) In the melee, Micheal Burke, aged 19, would be mortally wounded and, in fear of his capture, placed a revolver to his head and pulled the trigger not once but twice. The young bushranger lay dying for some time before life departed.
H.M. Keightley. ©Penzig. |
Henry had been born at Corfu, Greece, in 1830, where his father had been Governor of several Greek islands controlled by Britain following Napoleon's defeat. Henry's father had also fought at the Battle of Waterloo in the Fourteenth Regiment as a Major and was promoted to Lieutenant Colonel. Unfortunately, as the third son, Henry was required to make his way in the world wherein adulthood due to the constraints of Primogeniture's law that upon his father's death, Henry was compelled to immigrate to NSW in 1853, the same year as his father's death.
Keightley was employed by two brothers named Tindal, who held extensive property on the Clarence River in far northern NSW. During his time, Keightley was involved in a variety of work. Work that incorporated an expedition to dispose of aboriginals who had been stealing cattle from his employer’s;
However, Keightley's striking frame and consciousness of his attractiveness to women soon suffered a flirtatious setback whilst at the Clarence River. When his desire for a female cook may have got the better of him. In turn, the female made known her disinterest in the tall man, made apparent through her reaction and rejection towards Keightley following an argument of a fiery nature.
When Keightley's arrived in NSW 1853, Brittan found itself caught up in the Crimean War against Russia through its alliance with France, the Ottoman Empire and Sardinia. The war was principally fought over protecting the Christian minorities in the Holy Land, controlled by the Ottoman Empire's Islamic Sultan, Omar Pasha. Although the war also had a broader objective. Denying Russia any new territory, the war even posed a Russian threat to NSW, creating Fort Denison's construction in Sydney Harbour. The conflict itself was noted for its sheer butchery and where the 'Victoria Cross' Medal for bravery was born. The Medal was cast out of the cannons' steel from the war by the order of Queen Victoria. And where Florence Nightingale brought a revolution to medical care for the wounded. However, as with many British subjects in NSW, Keightley at the time of the war's outbreak had expressed a desire to enlist, but those who knew him took it as a half-hearted proposal:
The layout of events at Dunns Plains 23rd, 24th, 25th October 1863. |
(From the Bathurst Times of Wednesday.)
The Back Door peppered with the bullet holes fired by the gang. Can Be viewed at the Bathurst Historical Museum. My photo. |
Burke lays dead. Highlighted from the painting by Patrick William Marony 1858-1939. Courtesy NLA. |
Saturday evening, 24th October 1863, Ben Hall lays siege to H.M. Keightley's home. |
Mrs's Keightley and Baldock pleading for Henry Keightley's life. Painting by Patrick William Marony 1858-1839. Courtesy NLA. |
Dr Pechey then examined Burke and discovered a large wound in the abdomen, through which his entrails, in a frightfully torn and lacerated condition, were protruding. He was still breathing, although unconscious, and the doctor said he could do very little for him without his instruments. He asked, if one of them would go into Rockley, and fetch what he required, but they said it would be of no use, and that it would be better to shoot him at once and so end his misery. The doctor thought something ought to be done, and at length prevailed upon them to let him go and obtain such things as he wanted, having first pledged his honour that he would not raise an alarm. Before he returned the man was dead. We have said O’Meally was absent, and Mrs Keightley, fearing lest he might not agree to accept the ransom, prevailed upon one of the party to fetch him. When he came, he at first refused to listen to the proposal, and declared his intention to revenge the death of his companion; but he was, however, eventually pacified by the others. They then went into the house, and remained there for a considerable time, awaiting Dr Pechey‘s return, and drank some spirits and wine, Mrs Keightley having first tasted it, in order to assure them the liquor was not drugged Some conversation passed, in which the bushrangers said that the reason Burke was so daring, arose from the fact that they had just previously been twitting him with the want of courage, and seemingly he was determined to convince them to the contrary. In answer to a question from Mrs Keightley, as to what could induce them to pursue the course they did, when, by the many robberies they commuted, they must possess considerable wealth, Gilbert replied – that, with all their depredations, they had not so much as would keep them a week.
Following the night flight to Bathurst, Dr Pechey alone pays the ransom to the gang on Sunday morning, 25th October 1863. The exact place may have been any one of the small hills close to the homestead. Dunns Plains elevation above sea level is 850 m.
|
Mr Keightley speaks most favourably of the manner in which he was treated during his captivity, and it seems he had a long conversation in the night with one or two of them, in which he was told that the gang would never have come into Bathurst, or visited him, had it not been for the taunts received from two individuals who ought to have known better than to spur them to the enterprise. They denied ever having threatened to use any violence towards him, but being told that he (Keightley) was a splendid shot, and would riddle them through, as he was in the habit of practising at a target, they imagined he must be possessed of first-class weapons, and the desire to possess these, as well as to test his courage, had induced them to make the attack they had. Personally, they did not know him. Once in the night, the galloping of horses was heard, and as for some time the bushrangers had taken it in turns to rest – two sleeping while the others watched – Gilbert, who was standing sentry over the prisoner, went up to the sleepers, and touched them gently with his foot, calling them quietly by name. They jumped up without noise and held their weapons in readiness, but as the sound drew nearer, it was discovered to emanate from a passing mob of bush horses.
Henry & Caroline Keightley. c. 1885. Courtesy NLA. |
In the years following the battle of Dunns Plains, the hellish events have been analysed on and off. The harrowing experiences of Dr Pechey and the Keightley's are riddled with multiple and conflicting accounts regarding what transpired during the first initial engagement in the dying light of Saturday evening, 24th October 1863 and the subsequent detainment of Henry Keightley for ransom. In Keightley evidence at Vane's later trial, he said under oath describing his initial observation of the bushrangers, Empire 4th December 1863:
On the evening of Saturday, the 24th October, between the hours of six and seven, he was standing in the yard of his house at Dunn's Plains, when he saw five horsemen coming over a hill at a walking pace, towards the house. The moment he saw them he called out to Dr Pechey to come and look at them. He thought they were a party of police who had camped in the paddock the night previously, headed by Mr Davidson.
They passed the gate, which is the only entrance into witness's place, and as they still came on at a walk, he was still under the impression they were police. But he told Dr Pechey who was standing by his side (if they should prove to be bushrangers), to make a rush for the campkeeper's room and prepare some firearms placed there. It was in consequence of this that he afterwards retreated to the roof, being under the impression that Dr Pechey had assured the weapons, which, however, as subsequently transpired, he had been unable to do. The party came up slowly until within thirty yards when they simultaneously jumped off their horses and then lept over the fence.
He ran by the back door into the house furthest from where he stood. As they jumped off, they cried out "stand," but he did not heed them. In his bedroom, he picked up a revolver. As he was entering the house, two or three shots were fired. From the glance he caught of them, he thought they were a parcel of lads, so young was their appearance.
William Pechey provided his account under oath and the wound inflicted upon Burke:
Towards evening, Mr Keightley, who was in the yard, called him out, and he then saw five men who rode up to the house. When they approached, they called to witness and his companion to stand. They ran back, witness endeavouring to reach the servants' room, where there were some firearms, but he was confronted by one of the bushrangers, and he then retreated towards the house and took his position near Mr Keightley. While doing so he heard the report of firearms all round. Shortly after, they made for the roof, when the bushrangers commenced to fire on them again, and a bullet passed through Mr Keightley's hat. The hat (produced) was the one worn by Mr Keightley.
The men were then screening themselves behind posts and other things. They shouted out to witness and Mr Keightley to surrender, which they consented to do, and came down. They did so, and the bushrangers finding by that time that their mate was wounded, rushed up to them, and Vane knocked witness down with his hand, in which he held a revolver; producing the cut of which the scar now remained on his temple.
He asked them to let him attend to the wounded man, telling them he was a doctor. Upon going up to Burke he found a large wound in his abdomen, from which his bowels were protruding about two feet.
In 1911 an account of the battle was published, titled 'The Lone Hand' by Mr George Quickie. In it, the son of Henry Keightley, Leo Keightley, recounts the details of the passing night. Whereby shining a light on his father's night of infamy at the hands of the gang. The bulk of 'The Lone Hand' is a solid historical account and relates how the gang passed the night away. Including the intense desire of both Vane and O'Meally to seek retribution for the death of Micky Burke. Hall's command over the gang is also evident. The events surrounding Mrs Keightley departure at midnight, cradling the couple's baby son, and her 4 yr old half-sister Elizabeth and Dr Peachy are recounted as well as her arrival at her father's home 'Blackdown' outside Bathurst.
The 'The Lone Hand' is linked below and exposes that contrary to the belief that the gang's inner relationships were harmonious, Leo Keightley reveals through his father's account that a fracture was evident. Where Hall, Gilbert and then O'Meally long time mates afterwards left Vane in the cold and became in fear of his life. As such shortly after, he left the gang:
Followed by the death of Burke at Mr Keightley's; Vane, being tired of a bushranger's life, and afraid of his associates, next gave himself up to the authorities.
The truest account of the siege at Dunns Plains.
Sgt Michael Hanley Penzig |
Keightley Testimonial. S.M.H. 2nd November 1863. |
With the reward paid and testimonials gathering pace, doubt continued to appear in the NSW press regarding whether or not Keightley indeed fired the fatal shot. The Clarence and Richmond Examiner and New England Advertiser, 8th December 1863, noted the subject raised at Vane's court appearance following his surrender to Father McCarthy in November 1863:
However, one person overlooked in the events' rush to heroism was Mrs Isabella Baldock, the housekeeper whose husband was also an employee of Keightley's. Earlier that day, Mrs Baldock's husband had been dispatched to Rockley with mail and carried one of Keightley's pistols for self-protection. In her later testimony, Mrs Baldock held firm that Hall admitted to her of having fired the shot that dropped Burke, saying:
At the time the conversation turned to the still alive Burke. Here Pechey expressed a desire to help save the boy, although he had assessed it was hopeless, as did Ben Hall, who expressed as Peachy prepared to depart Dunn's Plains a desire to shoot Burke and put an end his misery:
The above extracts from the letter sent to the press by Isabella Baldock's husband concluded with this addendum:
Caroline Keightley. c. 1865. |
The former trooper reiterated the long-held version of Hall's confession and sorrow said:
The back of the homestead at Dunns Plains as it was in 1863 when occupied by the Keightley's. Henry Keightley was perched on the roof between the two buildings while returning the bushrangers' fire. Note the backdoor extreme right and rear garden gate. Burke hid near chimney in foreground left. Courtesy Des Shiel. |
Caroline Keightley went on to become a public favourite as the heroine of Dunns Plains. However, the initial £500 laid out by Henry Rotton MLA appears to have not been reimbursed by the Government nor Keightley. Long after the events, Mr R. J. Rotton, brother of Caroline, stated that only Keightley was given the reward money:
As the dust settled on the events, the talk in the colony continued a closer examination. Questions regarding the shooting and defence of Dunns Plains constantly appeared. In reviewing the circumstances, the first crack in the Keightley version of events was the weapon he admitted to firing, a double-barrel shotgun and stated that it was only loaded in one barrel. Primed with snipe (birdshot.) Snipe is the smallest lead pellet used out of all the shotgun ammunition types of the period. Was snipe capable of disembowelling Burke to the extent evidenced by Dr Pechey? Even at close range, reputedly less than ten yards?
Accordingly, at the inquest into Burke's death, the physician, Dr Rowland, reported that he removed nine Leaden Slugs (Buckshot) from Burke, indicating that at ten feet, a rough estimate of the distance from Keightley at the door to Burke. Remembering that Keightley stood 6ft 3in and Burke 5ft 6in, snipe would not cause the massive gut-tearing injury inflicted on Burke. But lead slugs would rip him apart. Therefore, when considering Burke's clothes' and their thickness, where the bushrangers were known to wear two or three thick Crimean shirts also two pairs of trousers while living rough against the cold nights. (See the illustration of the shot effect below.)
During the detainment of Keightley, the gang remained at the property till the early hours. As the evening wore on and their nerves frayed, the sound of horses galloping brought the men to their feet, guns drawn covering Keightley. Hall exclaimed, "By God, we are betrayed", leveling his revolver at Keightley's head. Fortunately for Keightley, the alarm was only his horses galloping around the home paddock. Commenting so, Keightley placated Hall and the bushrangers stating that they were his animals, which diffused the tension. On initial detainment Keightley says before his wife and Pechey left they suppered and afterwards, Vane and O'Meally ransacked the house taking various items:
Before doing so, however, they had supper, and Vane with O'Meally (to the best of witness's belief) went into his bedroom and took some clothes, rings, his arms, and a few other things which he had since missed.
The bushrangers returned to their places and continued to wait out the night dozing. As day dawned and for safety, the bushrangers shifted their position a short distance from the house at the request of Mr Keightley, as noted in the 'Lone Hand', to a spot known as the Black Stump. With daylight tingeing the sky in the early hours, the doctor arrived at the Black Stump location with the ransom:
Witness was then taken upon a hill about half a mile distant, where, upon his parole, that he would not attempt to escape, little restraint was imposed upon him till the morning, when the ransom was paid and he was released.
Notwithstanding, there is contradictory evidence about the gang's specific place, one named the Black Stump and the other location named Dog Rocks. It may be that the Black Stump and Dog Rocks are virtually next to each other or one upon the other or the same place as noted:
At about daybreak the bushrangers, having arranged for the disposal of Burke's body, went off with Keightley to the Black Stump at the Dog Rocks; arise that gave a long view of the Bathurst Road.
However, many small hills surround the property that fit the description (I was there in 2019) of the places named the Black Stump or Dog Rocks. However, over time, their significance and importance as local landmarks have been lost. Much of what has been recorded as to the bushrangers' actual location at daybreak while holding Keightley and awaiting Dr Pechey's return is pure conjecture. Therefore, it would be prudent for the gang under the circumstances to remain close to the home, within a few hundred yards at most, as Dr Peachy had limited knowledge of the local landscape. Consequently, the payment most probably occurred near the homestead. It must be noted as well that upon the gang's arrival they told Keightley that;
The day before the occurrence took place which we have just described, Sub-inspector Davidson with some troopers were encamped near Mr. Keightley's house, and the bushrangers told Mr. Keightley that they had been watching them through the night, and mentioned several little incidents that had transpired, in proof of their assertion. Mr. Davidson, it appears, declined to accept the accommodation proffered by Mr. Keightley, preferring to sleep out with his men, and Mr. Keightley was told of what happened during it visit he had paid the party, and also that they (the bushrangers) had been watching both him and the neighbourhood the whole day through.
Dr Pechey said; "I went to look at Burke's body, and saw that the bowels were protruding from the abdomen; I also saw blood coming from his mouth and nostrils; there was a wound in the head, and one of the bushrangers said Burke had shot his brains out. The shot must have been fired close - I should think within a yard or so..." This type of stomach wound is consistent with a discharge of Leadshot/Buckshot, not Birdshot, remembering that Keightley stated he fired around the door frame. At 6' 3in and Burke 5' 6in, Keightley, blindly, would have fired towards the head, not abdomen of Burke. Dr Rowland also stated that he removed nine lead balls from Burke. Therefore, it is most probable that Hall, at near the same height as Burke, most probably startled, shot the young man accidentally being within a yard of the young man at that time of night. The damage would have been enough to blow out Burke's intestines at one yard and stove his shirt into the wound. |
Rough height difference between Keightley and Burke. |
In his narration to Charles White, Vane, to add more confusion, expressed that Gilbert was the guilty party. As throughout his conversation with White, Vane never places Ben Hall in a bad light; therefore, Hall's possible complicity in shooting Vane's mate is passed over. As a result, Gilbert was often Vane's focus for a backhander. Accordingly, from the evidence, there appeared to be much animosity between Gilbert and Burke and Vane as Vane had had a stand-up fistfight earlier with Gilbert. Although championing himself as the victor over Gilbert, however, Gilbert could handle himself against all comers. No doubt Gilbert may have had in truth the better of Vane, leaving him with severe bruising and black eyes. Nevertheless, Vane contends that Gilbert was the perpetrator of Burke's death as before their arrival, some chaff passed between Burke and Gilbert:
The close examination swirling around the Keightley's brought one of the few statements from Dr Pechey, but only in defence of his cousin Caroline. She had been accused of varnishing her efforts following the surrender of her husband and Pechey. He also confirms Mrs Baldock's intercedence after Vane dropped him with a pistol blow:
Rolf Bolderwood. The pseudonym of Thomas Alexander Browne. c. 1891. |
Mural at Binalong depicting a new reward of £4000 for the remaining four. 2018. My Photo. |
'Empire' 27th October 1863. |
The reward for the remaining four. Courtesy NLA. |
Tindal Diary Entries; 1853, July 29. — Baitman has arrived, leaving Keightley to follow by next vessel. 1853, August 11. — Blacks have been spearing our cattle here, and I only returned last night from the pursuit. We surprised two camps with the remains of beef in each. It was Keightley's first service; we were camped out eight nights. He is a lively, amusing fellow. I prefer him to Baitman, but they’re both too old. (C. G. Tindal, from Ramornie). 1853, October 20 (from Fred Tindal, at Koreelah). — 'The unexpected arrival here of K. and B. prevented my finishing my letter. They created an immense commotion here, the former especially, bullying the shearers in English, Scotch, and Irish by turns, till he was voted fit to travel anywhere. 1854, January 3. — Private races have come off at Eatonsville (Mylne's), opposite Ramornie, at which Keightley was the principal winner. The new chums certainly make the place (Ramornie) very noisy and gay, but I don't think they work very hard. Keightley's room is hung with a profusion of his father's watercolour sketches and knick-knacks of great variety. 1854, January 31. — Baitman and Keightley are now called Jack and Jill. I don't think Charles gets much work out of either of them. Jill (Keightley) is more particularly celebrated for buying and selling horses, mixing punch and telling facetious stories. Jack (Baitman) is fond of a comfortable armchair. (F. C. Tindal). 1854, March 7. — Keightley, who is the more prominent of the two, is very clever and entertaining, what is termed 'good company,’ yet he is not a favourite altogether. He shows too much fondness for making money by games and sharp bets, etc., which is not pleasant, even to lookers-on. I dare say he will make a good enough settler whenever he has work of his own to attend to. Baitman, alias Jack, is devoted to the armchair. 1854, May 28. — Keightley has just started for Ipswich races. Both K. and B. are too old to do any good for themselves or to be of much service, but K. is the better of the two. 1854, September 8. — In my last, I told you both Keightley and Baitman left us. The former has a small Government appointment, the latter intends sailing for England immediately. 1854, September 24. — Keightley is a clerk in Sydney. 1854, December 8. — Keightley is here low on leave of absence from his Rifle Corps duties. He is still connected with the Emigration Office in some way. 1854, December 10. — Writing in a noisy, room, Keightley and Charlie Porter detailing adventures. Keightley says he is on sick leave, but I have an idea he has been in some scrape in Sydney. Ramornie same date. — Keightley, who is here on a visit with C. E. Porter, has just returned from fishing. They frequently bring in from six to 14 dozen perch and fresh-water herrings. Keightley gives out that he is to be married in six weeks, but he is so given to joking that we do not know if this is so or not. He is in the Emigration Office, also a com. in the Rifles. All are employed writing letters, Keightley upon one to a Miss Palmer at Sydney, to whom he tries to persuade us he is engaged.
Henry McCrummin Keightley passed away on the Saturday 8th January 1887; DEATH OF MR. KEIGHTLEY.- "The death is announced, at Sale, on Saturday last; of Mr. H. M. Keightley, for the past four years stipendiary magistrate at Albury. For some time past, the deceased gentleman had been a sufferer from Bright's disease, and it was during a tour to the Gippsland Lakes, undertaken for the benefit of his failing health, that the symptoms as summed a fatal character. On Thursday Mr. Keightley was obliged to take to his bed; on Saturday his illness had assumed such a character that Mrs. Keightley was hastily summoned by wire, and on the same night the end came. Mrs. Keightley, accompanied by one of her four sons; arrived in Sale on Monday, on which date the funeral took place privately, in the local cemetery." Upon the Commissioners death and his long service in public office, the government allocated £1000 to Mrs Keightley in the recognition of his services. On June 22nd 1855 sadly Charles' brother Frederick Tindal drowned while fording the Clarence River at Smith's Falls.
Reward notes and their numbers paid by Dr Pechey to Ben Hall. |
However, contrary to the coachman's view, the separation was no doubt O'Meally departing with Vane, Hall and Gilbert heading to their planned rendezvous. Here Vane would take his leave from the gang, telling O'Meally he wished to see his father. O'Meally offered no objection saying they would wait at the appointed rendezvous site. Vane stated:
Donald Cheshire's Return of Prisoners Tried at Different Courts 1864. |
Donald Cheshire and the shopping list for the gang & receipts in his possession when arrested. Photo of Cheshire c. 1890's. Penzig © |
Vane to be kept separate from Cheshire. New South Wales, Australia, Sheriff's Papers, 1829-1879. |
For John Vane, it was the end of the road. The feelings between Vane and the other three had become unsettled since Burke's death as he struggled with losing his close mate. There was talk of a dispute between Vane and the others over the £500 paid for Burkes death and in the dividing up of the money Burke's share was set aside for his family, but Vane was excluded. On one report stated:
Vane & Cheshire separated at Darlinghurst Gaol. As well as Frank Gardiner.
New South Wales, Australia,
Sheriff's Papers, 1829-1879. |
Meanwhile on 28th October as Hall retreated into the wilds of Eugowra another bushranger was commencing his run. He was Fred Ward who, in due course, would become known as Captain Thunderbolt. Ward, originally from Windsor, made the New England region of NSW his district from Tamworth to Murrurundi. One of Ward's first forays was noted in The Sydney Morning Herald' Monday 2nd November 1863. The small entry also remembers Hall's link to Murrurundi:
However, the gangs' success in September against the three troopers at Marsh's Farm. Saw the communique's on the matter between Superintendent Morrisset and the government made public. These telegrams were released to the press on the 7th November 1863 to appease the continued public's dissatisfaction with their police force's prowess. These police questions centered around effort and needed answers for their unpardonable actions! (The to and fro may be viewed through the attached link. The telegrams note the firepower at that time, which had fallen into the hands of the gang.)
While the police dealt with their rough conditions, Ben Hall still had many settlers prepared to offer aid and comfort throughout the district. Such as Agnes Newell (sister of Dan Charters) of nearby Bandon, who had a hotel from which Hall and Co could take some R&R as well as Tom Higgins at 'The Dog and Duck' hotel near Forbes. (Higgins mended Hall's broken leg when a youth.) This support for Hall in defiance of the local police's efforts was highlighted when a correspondent attempted to fall in with the three bushrangers by throwing cash around the Eugowra/Forbes districts' shanty's in an attempt to be 'Bailed-Up' by the boys. Although he was unsuccessful, his article exposes the depth of local knowledge of the inhabitants regarding Hall, Gilbert and O'Meally's movements and protection:
Vane Retires. Courtesy NLA. |
The attached link is a map that covers the area during John Vane's membership in the gang. It was meticulously constructed by Craig Bratby, author of John Vane; Bushranger. Vane was an active member from August 1863 to November 1863.
Publican Licences 1853-1899. |
Superintendent Chatfield departed Robinson's, heading in Cargo's direction, also known as Davy's Plains Run. Cargo was principally a farming community with sporadic gold mining, situated 20 miles from Orange, and the locals were known to be sympathetic to Hall.
However, as luck would have it, after leaving the town, the police came across the three bushrangers in the company of another person whom the lawmen thought was part of the troupe. On sighting, the troopers put the spurs to their horses. Hall seeing the troopers galloping towards him took to flight. In the panic, the stranger's horse also bolted, giving an impression of partnership. However, instead of fleeing, the rider attempted to pull up his panicked horse as Hall and Co. melded into the bush. As the police pounced upon the man, the bushrangers halted a short distance off and observed the scene.
Consequently, in the chase, the unknown rider became a live target. To save himself, he called out, "For God's sake, don't shoot me," throwing up his hands. The troopers adrenaline-charged descended ferociously upon the rider and, without hesitation, fired away as they galloped towards him. In a rush to clobber the unknown, the accompanying black tracker Albert soon identified the man as Henry Hurkett, a local.
Henry Hurkett was a farmer and assisted at the families 'Miners Arms' hotel/shanty at Cargo. For the remote settlers, it was a period when every shilling counted to every inhabitant. As such, many publicans and prominent settlers often turned a blind eye to the needs of the bushrangers. Consequently, those beneficiaries of remuneration for a warm bed and hot meal and information regarding police movements enjoyed the notoriety of the bushrangers friendship. The few shillings went a long way! Hurkett may well have been one who, on that basis, was undoubtedly friendly with the three rogues.
Furthermore, Hurkett was well known about the Canowindra district with a reputedly sound reputation amongst the populace. However, that reputation may well have been more nudge-nudge-wink-wink. He was also well known to the police and brushed with the ruthless Sir Frederick Pottinger earlier. However, for Hurkett, his presence in-company with Hall, he passed off, after almost dying, as not fraternisation but a hold-up and said the bushrangers had stuck him up and taken £2 12s 6d from him.
Not satisfied, the police pumped up, maintained their suspicions clapping Hurkett in handcuffs. As Hurkett was suffering ill-treatment in the barrage, the three bushrangers casually retreated up a hill on foot, leading their horses, occasionally turning to watch the proceedings. For details, see the link below;
NSW Police Gazette 9th May 1866. |
There were three brothers Hurkett they were Henry, Charles and Thomas. All three would spend considerable time in various NSW Gaol's for various offences, predominately cattle stealing.
Note: In 1869 Henry would be sought by police over cattle stealing crimes and bolt to Hay NSW under an assumed name of James Wood. NSW Police Gazette, 1869, page 143. In 1871 Hurkett would be convicted and sent to Berrima gaol for two years hard labour. However, he was paroled in November 1872.
However, while Henry Hurkett was fumbling around handcuffed. Subsequently, after covering some forty miles with night falling, the police rode towards Mr Icely's 'Bangaroo Station' to stop for the night. Consequently, when passing a nearby settler's hut, they were seen by a small mixed-race child, who alerted the occupants in the cabin of their approach. The child calls out, "there's some men coming."
Icely's Bangaroo Station. Bailliere's New South Wales Gazetteer and Road Guide 1866. |
Chatfield became the fall guy for the NSW government regarding the Canowindra siege. Causing embarrassment over failing to capture the bushrangers. Chatfield's inability to act as the bushrangers returned to the district and continued to rob unabated culminated in the Superintendent's dismissal from his position in February 1864. In his defence, Superintendent Chatfields communicated his efforts to the Inspector-General of police and the hardships hunting Ben Hall:
Ben Hall, Gilbert and O'Meally escaping from their close shave camped close to Toogong. Toogong had two hotels, the 'Toogong' and 'Travellers Rest', a Post office and was inhabited by farmworkers. The town's population in 1863-20. One of those locals was Ellen Chandler, a passenger on the coach where Cst Havilland had died following the Eugowra Gold Robbery in June 1862 and with blood-covered hands, Ellen helped prop the dead constable up in his seat. It was reported that while camped, Hall and Gilbert had a falling out whereby it was said the two almost came to pistol shots:
However, the exact cause of the scuffle is unknown. As the bushrangers rested and the angst between Hall and Gilbert settled. A local wrote that the police were often more dastardly than bushrangers when seeking information and repeatedly harassed even children when parents were absent. 'Goulburn Herald' Wednesday 18th November 1863:
David Henry Campbell. (1829-1885) Private Source. |
When Ben Hall seized the town of Canowindra in early October 1863, news reached David Campbell whereby the squatter organised a party of neighbours to take the field in search of Ben Hall:
Campbell's marriage. 19th Feb 1856. |
Amelia Campbell 1835-1870. Private Source. Never before published. |
Contemporary illustration of Hall approaching Goimbla. Courtesy NLA. |
However, in not wanting to let stand the threat of David Campbell's desire to finish them off. Ben Hall, Gilbert and O'Meally approached Goimbla Station in the early evening of Thursday 19th November 1863, arriving from Murga along Mandagery (Eugowra) Creek. The trio, unobserved, made their way up to the homestead.
Goimbla was a 12,800-acre property rated to hold 640 head of cattle with one of the district's finest homes. The house walls were pisé (rammed earth) with a shingle roof, long verandah, and a garden enclosed by a picket fence. The property included a yard with a water-well, 3-stall stable with a loft. Fowl and pig houses. Men's huts and every requisite for a first-class head-station. Woolshed 50 x 15 with drafting yards and pens attached. Two cultivation paddocks of 8 and 5 acres as well as a grass paddock of 150 acres. Stock and milking yards, eight sheep station huts, with large yards. All overshadowed by a large mountain.
David Campbell relaxed after the evening meal as his wife and their maid Miss Mary Taylor settled their three children down for the night. Thomas b.1857, David b.1860 and two-year-old Percy b.1861. Also present was David's brother William Campbell who retired to his bedroom.
David Campbell sat in the lounge room, enjoying the quiet. The only sounds filtering in the house were the children fusing and boisterous as they prepared for bed. A silence descended in the home. The night sounds of the bush insects were all that flowed through the house. As the old grandfather clock chimed a bell marking 8.45 pm, Campbell suddenly became alerted as a noise of unfamiliarity caught his ear. Footsteps on the verandah. Earlier, fearing some reprisal from Ben Hall, which had been passed on to him. Campbell had prepared and placed against the fireplace two double-barrelled shotguns ready loaded and other arms at various places in the house.
Arising, Campbell picked up one of the shotguns moving to the passage near the backdoor, whereby at the end, he saw a man standing there who immediately fired twice, one round entering the wall on the right of where Campbell stood the other, the left. Campbell instantly returned fire from his gun but was ineffective. Simultaneously, the stranger retreated as a volley of shots crashed into the house front shattering some windows and embedding into the front door frame.
Campbell knew his moment had come.
After leaving the horses hobbled some distance from the homestead, Ben Hall with his two companions made his way through an oat field to a picket fence beside one of the outbuildings listening for life inside the home. Then, all quiet, Ben Hall brazenly walked to the back of the house, shotgun in hand, the same gun that had earlier by his hand mortally wounded Micky Burke, entered via an open backdoor into the rear passage. An occupant with a weapon in hand suddenly appeared, and Hall fired. The other person fired as well, the shots missing. Hall retreated to the back of the house as Gilbert and O'Meally discharged their revolvers into the home's front. As Hall stood on the back verandah, another man emerged on the porch from the back door. Ben Hall fired again, having reloaded hitting the man in the chest who staggered and collapsed. Unknowing if the man was dead or alive, Hall quickly retreated to the front yard re-joining Gilbert and O'Meally.
Goimbla Homestead. c. 1930. |
Sitting in his bedroom, William Campbell was startled by the sound of gunfire echoing through the house, ending the quiet solitude of the evening. Subsequently, he rushed from his bedroom and headed for the dining room, then well-lit by a strong kerosene lamp when at that moment, gunshots smashed through the front windows. Fearing the worst "Bushrangers", William made for the back porch where on exiting and near his bedroom window noticed a man standing in the shadow who raised his weapon and fired two shots hitting William in his chest, four wounds in all. Darkness enveloped William as he stumbled from the impact and collapsed beside the rear steps. Coming too moments later, William crawled bloodied out through the back gate. Fortunately, the slugs had not penetrated too deep. Nevertheless, he lay bleeding in a field of oats behind the house at the gate for some time.
Amelia Campbell was in the act of putting her three children to bed with help from her maid Mary Taylor when suddenly the terrifying sound of gunfire erupted. Amelia told Mary to watch the children making her way to the dining room to join her husband and defend their home. The couple joined after David had fired at the intruder and together moved to a bedroom at the end of the passage adjacent to the children's rooms, then altered to various positions to confuse their enemies' fire.
Amelia made for the dining room without a word spoken, passing the front windows already shattered when more gunfire erupted, whereby some fragments of wood from the bullets slightly grazed her as she retrieved a powder flask and bullets. On returning to her husband's side, shots rang out again, peppering the walls. Once again, by her husband's side, she commenced reloading the discharged shotgun.
O'Meally and Gilbert crouched by the front fence saw shadows passing the windows fired, not knowing whether they reflected male or female. Mary Taylor secured the children, and the cook hid himself under a table in the kitchen. Campbell would later praise Mary's calmness. Mary Taylor was a native-born Australian from Tumut. Campbell, in complementary terms, said how cheerful and composed Mary was and whereby at half-past nine, thirty minutes into the battle, Mary brought a tray— with the glasses of refreshment—as usual to the Campbell's. Campbell later mused that he couldn't help laughing as the situation was so severe that their lives hung in the balance.
Amelia Campbell 1835-1870. |
Hall, Gilbert and O'Meally in failing to dislodge their quarry by the barrage of shots. Hall called out, "If you don't immediately surrender, we will burn your place down." The demand was met with Campbell's response calling back, "Come on-I'm ready for you." Hall then replied, "Oh, is that it!"
As the bushrangers waited, Amelia had unknowingly left the house, covering a distance of some 150 yds to recruit the farmhands holed up in their quarters for support. Arriving, Amelia could not convince the men to support her husband. Distressed, she commenced making her way back to the house when suddenly flames from the adjoining barn and stable licked the night sky. Amelia's presence in the yard had brought her under the aim of Gilbert's gun, who later commented:
He could have shot Mrs Campbell if he had wanted to, as he was planted in a bush close by which she passed on her way to the gardener's hut.
Mary Taylor, without fear, went to assist David Campbell in Amelia's absence.
In her rush back to the house, Amelia, without realising two of the gang Hall and O'Meally had made their way to the barn and stables, stacked with fresh-cut hay and many bales of wool, the bushrangers set fire to the buildings. As the fire took hold, Amelia had returned to the house. Seeing the flames, she clutched her throat in fear and, with the assistance of the maid, again ventured out as the fires took hold to clear the ground about the house strewn with harvested hay and a dray loaded standing between the burning stable and the rear of the house. If caught on fire, it would catch on to the back verandah and the house, ensuring their current position would become untenable.
Together, Amelia and Mary courageously covered the dray with hay by a tarp, saving the house from destruction. Amelia later commented:
I was in such deadly fear of its catching at this point that I rushed out and succeeded in getting the road cleared with the assistance of the maid.
The fire's intensity turned night into day, where the roof of the fired buildings collapsed sparks like fireflies bellowing into the night sky.
As the fire raged in the stables, Campbell's favourite horse Highflyer became trapped and engulfed in flames. The fire's heat increased, whereby the terrified animal raced and to and fro, desperately seeking a way of escape. The family heard its kicks for freedom and the animal's heart-rending cries inside the house as Campbell ground his teeth in despair. Helpless, Campbell shouted to the bushrangers to let it go, but they ignored him instead of calling out taunts and jeers as the fire took hold. Finally, Campbell again called for mercy, yelling, "I will have one of you for poor Highflyer," then, suddenly, the horse's terrified whinnying died out as it was roasted in flames. Soon after, all went quiet for some thirty minutes.
The flames roaring Hall, Gilbert and O'Meally placed themselves behind the paling fence at the front of the house some 40 yds distant. The bushrangers' position was behind thick pine stakes, pointed and driven into the ground affording good cover. The house saved from incineration Mary Taylor returned to the children who hid under their beds. The eldest Thomas comforted the youngest Percy as random gunfire reverberated through the house, hitting various walls, doors, picture frames, and the children's bedroom wall as stray bullets hit just above the boy's beds. Campbell, all the time undaunted, returned fire with fire. Time marched on, with Hall occasionally calling for Campbell to give up. Campbell did not reply.
William Campbell recovering his senses and seeing the flames engulfing the outbuildings decided to head to Eugowra and assistance, staggered off. William, at 2 am, arrived delirious at Hanbury Clements Station, Eugowra, with gunshots in his chest and covered with blood. Mr Clements, in the dim light of the lamp, extracted the bullets, later producing a leaded slug which had been removed from William Campbell's chest during a testimonial gathering for the Campbell's. Clements sent a runner into Eugowra to alert the police.
The flames from the barn burned brightly, enabling Campbell to have a good view of the surroundings. In the lull, Campbell and Amelia placed themselves between two parallel walls, which formed a passage between the house and the kitchen. Watching for movement, Amelia pointed out one of the bushrangers heads with a cabbage-tree hat occasionally pop up, peering over the fence, looking at the burning buildings. Alerted, Campbell shifted for a better look at the corner of the house. Which fortunately was cast into shadow by the burning buildings at the opposite end. Kneeling Campbell brought his gun to his shoulder aimed deliberately at a spot level with the throat as the man once more rose from behind the fence. Campbell fired. The crack of the gun boomed in the night air.
The Death of John O'Meally. By Patrick William Marony 1858-1939 |
Mural at Binalong. Hall & Gilbert kneeling over a dead O'Meally. 2018. |
Hall and Gilbert dragged O'Meally a few yards into the adjacent oat field and near a tree stripped off O'Meally's jewellery which would later be returned to O'Meally's sister Ellen 'Kate' O'Meally (1845-1908). The two then approached the worker's hut, cursing and swearing profusely, stating that they would have their revenge. Their angry voices carrying on the night where Mary Taylor heard one of them, Gilbert said he regretted not shooting the woman. However, Hall turned to him, telling him to "hold his tongue and mind what he was about." Then, returning to O'Meally's lifeless body for one last look, the pair made back to their horse's and departed Goimbla.
The sound of the grandfather clock clunked loudly as every second ticked along. The bush sounds once more drifted on the night air, joined by the faint crackling of the outbuildings as they collapsed, sending more embers into the dark sky and the charred bloated remains of 'Highflyer', swollen to nearly double its natural size, lay inside the crumbling enclosure. Listening intently, David Campbell cautiously emerged from his home alert for any sudden occurrence, approached the spot where he believed his shot had taken effect. Reaching the scene at the paling fence Campbell was surprised to find a carbine and cabbage-tree hat but nobody, thinking that the gunshot may have wounded the bushranger. The hour had passed eleven-thirty in the evening, and the two hour battle for life and limb had ended. Unsure, he returned to the house to await daybreak.
Amelia Campbell. |
NSW Police Gazette 2nd December 1863. |
Plaque Forbes Cemetery. |
In the heat of a November day, the bloodied body whose decay had set in from the heat and O'Meally's inquest completed. The fast-turning putrid body was thrown unceremoniously in a hole near Mandagery Creek (Eugowra) coffinless. However, O'Meally's body would be exhumed by the family after an application to the court and consequently placed reputedly in an unmarked grave at Forbes close to or alongside John "Warrigal" Walsh and where later Ben Hall would be laid:
Henry Knight. NSW Police Gazette 4th November 1863. |
The death of O'Meally rekindled the memory of John 'Warrigal' Walsh and the cruelty of Pottinger, who held the lad of 16 in custody and the confines of the Forbes lock-up brought about his death. 'The Argus' 12 December 1863:
The crowd dispersed, O'Meally was exhumed from the banks of Mandagery (Eugowra) Creek by his father and brother Patrick for reburial at Forbes. At Goimbla, Mr Campbell, the settlers hero, received the government's warm good wishes for the actions in disposing of one of the men who had held the state to ransom for three years. The reward for O'Meally was £1,000. After identification, David Campbell received the reward and a letter of appreciation from the Colonial Secretary:
When the gawkers were gone a final word on the Battle of Goimbla noted Davidson's apprehension:
Having loitered near Goimbla following their mate's death, the two bushrangers were next heard of on Saturday 21st November 1863, two days after the Goimbla disaster crossing the Lachlan River at the Kirkpatrick and Twaddell's toll bridge half a mile from Forbes. The toll keeper brought the two men to a halt demanding the required payment. The two attempted not to draw attention to themselves, paid the amount due, and proceeded to Forbes. Within minutes a party of police rode up to the bridge identifying themselves as troopers from Goimbla. The police inquired if he knew the two men who passed moments earlier as they believed them to be Hall and Gilbert, whom they were pursuing but had been unable to overtake. 'Empire' 1st December 1863, Lachlan correspondent Bathurst Times:
The police had lost the scent. Meanwhile, Hall and Gilbert cautiously sought refuge at Forbes and soon relayed the death of O'Meally to their touts and harbourers; 'The Sydney Morning Herald' Tuesday 1st December 1863:
While in Forbes, Ben Hall visited the editor of the 'Miner' Mr H.P. Williamson arriving at three in the morning on 23rd November 1863 for an interview. The contents of which have not been revealed. For Hall to visit Mr Williamson demonstrates a friendship of some type possibly due to Williamson's position as Secretary of the Forbes Racing Club; 'Sydney Mail' 24th November 1863. FORBES. Monday, 4 p.m.
However, Hall and Gilbert's shock at the loss of O'Meally left Forbes and retired to the familiar grounds of their old haunt, the Burrowa district. They as well sought out the O'Meally's, presenting their dead comrade's jewellery to O'Meally's sister, Ellen, aged 17. Ellen herself was a feisty young lass who in late 1862 led the NSW police a merry chase, over hill and dale, riding like the wind dressed as a boy resembling her brothers. To confound the police Ellen and her friend Elizabeth Mayhew was also similarly attired. On reaching home, the two girls changed into their dresses, as the fooled police led by trooper Clark became the butt of many a joke. So great was their humiliation of the law that a song appeared in the girl's honour called 'THE MAIDS OF MARENGO'.
Birth of Ambrose Stonham, 1867. Son of Alfred and Mahalah Stonham. |
Mahalah Stonham. Penzig. |
Arriving in the confines of Burrowa, Hall and Gilbert returned to the road and the rich pickings of the tracks within the gold district. 'The Burrangong Star' ran this headline that Hall and Gilbert were in their old quarters again highlighting the pairs resurgence in the district:
However, on the outskirts of Burrowa, a family known as Coffey owned a blacksmith and general store with a school attached on the road, passing a creek of the same name. Coffey immigrated to NSW in 1841 from Ireland onboard the 'Pearl' as a free single male occupation blacksmith. In 1842 Coffey married Honora Ryan, another immigrant from Ireland and the pair produced ten children. The store was well-known to police as a retreat of rogues and vagabonds linked to Hall and Gilbert. Coffey's were as well a source of converting stolen cheques to cash for Gilbert and Hall. As such, it was a safe harbour. However, in the last days of November or thereabouts, Hall and Gilbert allegedly conducted several robberies, including the purported robbery of the Coffey's themselves at home.
Coffey was arrested with some Keightley ransom money paid by Hall for lodgings. |
Coffey's fake robbery was attributed to Hall. Gilbert was in effect an attempt to recover the cost of a spring cart recently purchased by Coffey for £35 from Mr Aaron Steenbohm, a Hawker paid for out of the Keightley ransom money. Coffey got word to Hall and Gilbert to rob Mr Aaron Steenbohm, who had arrived at the Coffey's 27th November 1863, and recover his funds. Thereby, Coffey could claim the spring cart payment to Steenbohm as lost and, in the process, deflect any subsequent connection to the ransom money. For Coffey, it was a win-win. For Steenbhom, it was a lose-lose. The fact that Coffey was a harbourer and close friend of the bushrangers was highlighted in Mrs Steenbohm later evidence where she commented on Ben Hall reprimanding Gilbert for spilling the beans:
Honora (Nora) Coffey. NSW Police Gazette December 1863. |
NSW Police Gazette 12th Dec 1863. |
Furthermore, rumours indicated that Hall and Gilbert, while canvassing Burrowa, had got wind of the possibility that the recent compensation to be paid by the government to the Chinese miners routed at Lambing Flat after the 1861 riots said to be about £4,000 was to pass through Burrowa en-route to the Flat:
The whole of the affair at Coffey's hinged on the recovery of the five-pound notes from Keightley's ransom, whereas happened with Donald Cheshire, the Coffey's faced possible incarceration. Soon after, the facade of the robbery Hall and Gilbert to protect one of the few who would give them safe harbour denied ever being present when the Steenbohm's were robbed. The headline read GILBERT AND HIS MATE.- The Bathurst Times says:
Hall and Gilbert remained in the confines of the district surrounding Binalong, Bowning, Burrowa. Spending possibly some nights with Susan Prior. On the 21st November, Hall was seen camped at The Marengo Gap;
NSW Police Gazette. 16th December 1863. |
Newspapers were inundated with new outrages against those travelling the roads. A few days after the Coffey occurrence on Saturday, December 5th, Hall and Gilbert held up the Binalong to Yass mail five miles from Burrowa on the Binalong road. Ben Hall and Gilbert walked out of the scrub adjacent to the road and waited patiently for the approaching coach. A passenger Mr Handley who had just completed an engagement with Mr Scott, of Burrowa, as a miller, and was proceeding to Sydney, observed the pair as "being exceedingly clean and well dressed."
As the coach approached, they waved the driver down and ordered him to pull up, Gilbert presenting a revolver at the time, with Hall mounted resting a double-barrelled gun across his knee. Gilbert, who appeared throughout the robbery, to have acted with some authority over his companion. Ordered the Whip to a spot 300yds off the road where four other persons were sitting on the ground. Three mailbags were thrown out. Hall took one, and Gilbert searched the other two. Ripping open the bags, they examined each letter's contents, taking what notes and cheques were found. One of the letters contained a cheque where Gilbert asked Handley if he could cash it for him:
On coming to one that contained a cheque for £37, asked Handley if he could give them change for it. On being told that he could not, Gilbert said he supposed they would have to go into Yass and cash them themselves.
Hall appeared rather disgusted at the useless bounty which would be difficult to cash.
As such, Ben Hall contemplated destroying the mail. Mr Handley interjected, requesting him not to do so, as it would be useless destruction of property Gilbert joined in, placating Hall. Hall threw the cheques down with the remark, "If I thought it would do the bastards an injury, I would burn the lot." One of the other four captives asked if he might go now, and Gilbert said, "Yes, you may all go except the mailman" The four men left. Handley remained to continue in the coach with the mail. At one stage, as the letters were opened, Hall came across a piece of wedding cake. Hall looked at it very wistfully and was half inclined to eat it but at last threw it down, "No, damn it; it may be a trap." Gilbert also found a letter in a black-bordered envelope this he put carefully on one side, without touching it, expressing his intention always to pay due respect to death.
During the activities, Mr Handley asked Gilbert about a stolen watch, asking Gilbert if he remembered taking a gold watch from Murphy some time previously. He answered that he did. Mr Handley then said, "Are you aware that the watch belonged to Mrs Scott, of Burrowa, and that Murphy was only fetching it out to her from the Flat." Gilbert replied that he was not aware that if he had known it to be hers, he would not have taken it. He also said that if Mr Handley were so inclined, he would give it to him to return to Mrs Scott. Handley expressed his will to do so, and Gilbert took it off a gold chain, adorned with four or five others worn around his neck, handing it to Handley. Subsequently, the watch was given to the mailman by Handley. Arriving at Binalong, the mailman handed the watch over to the police.
The two bushrangers laughed and chatted while they were opening the letters. Gilbert remarked that it would give the newspapers something to talk about again and show them that he and his mate were still game enough to stick up the mails whenever they wanted money. Searching the newspapers, Gilbert read one that contained the latest account of John Vane giving himself up—giving their opinion of the cowardice of their former companion in terms that were by no means complimentary. Handley commented to Gilbert that he could inform him further of Vanes situation, stating:
NSW Police Gazette December 16th, 1863. |
A sad epitaph from the Binalong mail robbery was a letter of particular significance brought to the newspapers attention regarding a young hardworking wood splitter, employed on the 20,000 acres Calabash Station, who in the finest traditions of taking care of his invalided mother 200 miles away in Sydney. Falling victim to the callous work of the two bushrangers. From the S.M.H 18th December 1863, ran a heading A HARD CASE:
Mr John J Garry Mylora Station, Binalong. c. 1900. Never before published. |
In the wake of the Binalong hold-up. 'The Yass Courier' commented on the personal appearance of the two bushrangers prompting this observation and the audacity of their actions:
Following the Handley incident of the 5th December, a few days later on the 8th, the coach from Forbes via Young to Yass was trundling along when Hall and Gilbert again emerged from the scrub at twilight held it up as the mail cart came into view. A woman was riding along with the mailcart on horseback called on to stand. However, showing as much courage as Mrs Campbell at Goimbla, the unknown lady set her horses head and galloped off whereby Gilbert with a chuckle called "Oh, let her go." Yass Courier Saturday 12th December 1863, led with this story STICKING UP OF THE FORBES MAIL YASS. Thursday, 11.30. A.M:
They kept the mailman for about an hour and a half in custody. He represents them to be exceedingly gentlemanly-looking men, well dressed; they had plenty of gold chains ornamenting their persons, and, to use his own words, Gilbert's neck-tie was tied with as much neatness as that of any swell. Amongst the articles taken from the mail bags was a gold brooch containing a photograph likeness. Several letters were torn up; but strange to say that one, not registered which contained £5 was left untouched by the bushrangers. The mailman states, that while they were searching the bags, Hall told Gilbert that he had got £7 in cash, a gold watch, two rings, and a locket. Gilbert said he had either £26 or £27. One of the rings was subsequently returned to the mailman. They then rode away.
The current activities of Hall and Gilbert drew this summary in the 'Sydney Mail' 12th December 1863, noting that if the police did not step up to the task, then no doubt private citizens such as Campbell and Keightley would continue to benefit in the large rewards:
There can be no doubt that families such as the Kelly's and Coffey's and many others in the area of Burrowa, Binalong and Bowning were providing shelter for the two bushrangers. Another person and long-time close friend of Ben Hall, Elen Maguire Hall's former sister in law, lived within the district and would be arrested soon for receiving a stolen watch from the Binalong mail robbery of the 9th December. There can be no doubt that Elen was harbouring Ben Hall and knew Susan Prior intimately.
Hall and Gilbert were believed connected to the robbery of one Henry Morgan proprietor of the 'Burrangong Star' and his wife travelling to Burrowa along the Bowning-Binalong road on the 16th December 1863. Morgan was a shrewd newspaperman. Having been held up reputedly by the two infamous bushrangers Hall and Gilbert in company with two other lowlifes George Lynham and Michael Corcoran. However, all was not as it seemed, whereby the whole Morgan affair appeared exaggerated or a case of mistaken identity over the perpetrators. The confrontation ran as front-page headlines in Morgan's Lambing Flat paper. What follows are circumstances of robberies and persons identified as Ben Hall but are, in fact, completely without foundation.
NSW Police Gazette 18th November 1863. |
John Southgate. NSW Police Gazette, January 1864. |
NSW Police Gazette, 23rd December 1863. Neither Hall nor Gilbert. |
NSW Police Gazette 1864. |
No comments:
Post a Comment