This webpage, "The Ben Hall Gang: Outlaws of the Australian Bush," will take you on a journey into the lives of these men, their exploits, and the society they rebelled against. We will explore the circumstances that led Ben Hall, a once well-respected squatter, to become an outlaw. We will delve into his alliances with other infamous bushrangers like John Vane, the lone survivor, Fred Lowry and John Dunn a young man termed the Terror of the Colony, and how together they set New South Wales' western districts ablaze with their criminal activities and murder between 1861-1865.
We will also meet the other members of the gang, each with their own stories and motivations. Men like John O'Meally, a "murderous-looking scoundrel" who was born into wealth and idleness, and who would become one of the most feared members of the gang.
Drawing from eyewitness accounts, government documents, historical newspapers, and police records, we will reconstruct the gang's bushranging activities, their daring robberies, their clashes with the law, and their eventual downfall.
"The Ben Hall Gang: Outlaws of the Australian Bush" is not just a tale of crime and punishment. It is a window into a tumultuous period in Australian history, a time when the discovery of gold brought wealth, migration, and lawlessness to the colonies. It is a story of men who chose to live outside the law, their reasons for doing so, and the impact of their actions on Australian society.
So, join us as we journey into the bush, following the tracks of Ben Hall and his gang, exploring their lives, their crimes, and their legacy. (All related historical articles incorporated into the narrative are coloured. Reproduced as originally published.)
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Patrick O'Meally's Indent 1832. Note Malley. |

After serving four years of his sentence, Patrick Malley—now known as O'Meally—was granted a Ticket of Leave in November 1836, followed by a Certificate of Freedom in February 1839. A year later, at the age of 41, he married 20-year-old Julia Downey in Galgong, a settlement nestled between Mudgee and Dunedoo in New South Wales. The couple would go on to have ten children, the eldest being John O'Meally, born in 1840.
The change in Patrick’s surname from Malley to O'Meally remains undocumented, though such alterations were not uncommon among ex-convicts seeking fresh starts or pursuing business opportunities in new districts. In 1848, when John was just eight years old, Patrick entered a partnership with his brother-in-law, John Daley, leasing a substantial property known as Arramagong Station.
John Daley, who had been convicted in Limerick, Ireland in 1825, arrived in New South Wales aboard the Sir Godfrey Webster in 1826 and was granted a Ticket of Leave in 1834. Married to Julia Downey’s sister, Daley fathered nine children—one of whom was Patrick “Patsy” Daley, John O’Meally’s first cousin and eventual partner in crime.
Together, Patrick O'Meally and John Daley began establishing their station, a sprawling 26,000-acre property located at the base of the Weddin Mountains, east of the range and bisected by the road from Lambing Flat to Forbes. The land could support up to 800 head of cattle. Their formal occupation of the station was noted in the Government Gazette in September 1848.
92. Maley Patrick. Name of the run, Arramagong. Estimated run, twenty-six thousand eight hundred and eighty acres. Estimated grazing capabilities eight hundred cattle. -Bounded on the north by the Weddin Mountains; south by White's creek until it meets Burramunda Troy boundary; east by Whites Creek and a marked tree line running north and south from the Tygong Creek one mile of Watt's sheep station at the Black waterhole; west by the Black waterhole.¹
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An estimated layout of Arramagong Station. Google Earth. |
In the midst of establishing Arramagong Station, a heartrending tragedy struck the O'Meally family in 1849. James, John O'Meally's two-year-old brother, wandered off into the dense bush surrounding the station—a moment that would haunt the family forever. Despite what must have been frantic searches and the desperate efforts of the local community, James was never found. No trace of him was ever recovered. The prevailing belief, grim as it was, held that after succumbing to starvation, the child's remains were likely devoured by native dogs.
This devastating event cast a long shadow over the early days of the station, starkly contrasting with the hope and ambition that had accompanied Patrick O'Meally’s new beginning. It also reflects the harsh realities of rural life in 19th-century Australia—a land of both promise and peril. The incident underscores the vulnerability of settlers, especially children, in an environment as untamed and unforgiving as the Australian bush.
The boundaries of Arramagong Station extended along the lower eastern escarpment of the Weddin Range, a striking feature of the landscape that would later be described in a newspaper article written in late 1863:
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License, The Weddin Mount Inn, 1860. |
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John O'Meally's nephew John O'Meally, son of Patrick O'Meally. 1876-1965. Private Source. |
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NSW Police Gazette 6th August 1862. |
As a consequence, along with Ben Hall and others, O'Meally was held at Forbes 'Yass Courier' September 1862:
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John O'Meally's Bathurst Gaol Entry in September 1862. |
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John O'Meally's bail and conditions, 1st November 1862, O'Meally failed to appear and would never see the inside of a court again. |
The events and witness testimony can be read in the accompanying link below.
Empire
26th February 1863
Murder of Mr Cirkel
https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/60523339?searchTerm=%22Cirkel%22%20Clarke
A man named Clarke under circumstances which warranted them in believing that he was one of the murderers. At the time of his apprehension he was riding a horse which had been stolen on the previous day from Spring Creek, and which his captors were able to identify. Clarke, seeing that the case was so strong against him, made a confession to Captain Battye, to the effect that the murder of Mr. Cirkel had been committed by Gardiner, Gilbert, Meally, and himself, and that it was Meally who actually fired the fatal shot.
The tall man asked him to go and sit in the corner with those already there. He answered, "What for?" A struggle then ensued between the tall robber and him and there is little doubt that Mr. Cirkel who was a strong, powerfully built, and very determined man, would have overpowered the other, had not the stout robber behind the bar called out to him according to the report of one witness to the scene "Blow his bloody brains out," and to another's-"Shoot the bugger." The tall ruffian immediately fired, and shot the unfortunate gentleman dead. The deceased never spoke afterwards—death was instantaneous. The diabolical ruffians, after committing the murder, rushed out of the house, mounted their horses, and fled, and up to the present time no tidings have been heard of them.
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NSW Police Gazette February 1863. |

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Ben Hall c. 1862 Coloured by me. |
In March 1863, a dramatic encounter unfolded in the Australian bush, involving prominent bushrangers John O'Meally, Ben Hall, and Patsy Daley. Their target on this fateful day was none other than a police Inspector, marking a bold and brazen challenge to the law enforcement of the time.
Inspector Norton, accompanied by the black tracker Billy Dargin, was en route to a rendezvous with other troopers near Wheogo when they spotted three riders approaching. The riders were quickly identified as O'Meally, Hall, and Daley. The bushrangers wasted no time in confronting the lawmen, demanding Norton to 'bail up.' What ensued was a tense and fierce gunfight, with O'Meally, Hall, and Daley discharging between fifteen to eighteen shots at the police duo. Norton, not one to yield easily, returned fire with his pistol.
In the midst of the chaos, Billy Dargin, the skilled and resourceful tracker, managed to evade capture. He skillfully navigated the bush, moving from tree to tree, and eventually made his way to the Pinnacle Police station on foot to summon reinforcements.
Meanwhile, Inspector Norton, outnumbered and outgunned, found himself a prisoner of the bushrangers. For several hours, he endured their company, facing their chastisements and taunts. Eventually, in a surprising turn of events, the bushrangers released Norton, allowing him to walk free.
This encounter was a significant event, demonstrating the daring and audacity of O'Meally, Hall, and Daley. It also highlighted the risks and dangers faced by law enforcement officers like Inspector Norton and Billy Dargin in their pursuit of such notorious outlaws. The incident, with its dramatic gunfight and the subsequent capture and release of Inspector Norton, added yet another thrilling chapter to the legends of O'Meally, Hall, and Daley, and their ongoing defiance of the colonial police force.Below is Norton's own words on those events from the 'Sydney Morning Herald' 9th March, 1863;
I was proceeding through the neighbourhood of Wheogo, accompanied by a black tracker, each of us leading a horse; about 9 o'clock I saw two men riding, about 500 yards before us, one of whom had a led horse, and the other a gun on his thigh; I beckoned to the tracker, who was on the hill opposite, and he came down; on nearing the men, they made off; we followed them for some distance into the scrub and got off, and then fired on them; we then returned to our horses, to pick up our led horses, and, on preparing to start, saw them again watching us; we followed them again, and fired on them, when, finding our horses unable to overtake them, we returned to some huts, and remained there for twenty minutes or half an hour; seeing no more of them, I thought it advisable to go to the police station to get some men, who were to have met us in the neighbourhood, to follow them; about three or four miles from those huts, the black fellow called out that there were three men coming up behind us; they were so near that I could hear them; I could hear them shouting, "Bail-up," evidently with the intention of stopping us; the black fellow passed me and left his led horse; I dropped mine also. and turned round, and, on seeing me do so, the tracker stood at about fifty yards distance.
The three men were scattered at about 100 yards apart, one on each side of the road, and one near the road; the man on the left side advanced within eighty yards of me, and then commenced firing; the man on the left charged and fired a double-barrelled gun; I cannot swear to the man on the right firing his rifle, but he fired a revolver; the man I supposed to be O'Maley took up his position about eighty yards from me; Hall and the prisoner a little farther off; O'Meally cried out, "Throw up your arms, repeatedly; they then commenced firing with revolvers; we fired several return shots; they might have fired fifteen or eighteen shots; my ammunition was then expended, and O'Meally with Hall rode up to me; the latter presented a revolver at me, while O'Meally and Daley ran after the black-fellow, and fired after him; after a few minutes, Hall rode up to me, and said that they had nothing against me, and that I might go; Hall spoke of a trooper named Hollister, who had threatened to shoot him, and that he would return the compliment when he got hold of him; Hall returned me a revolver which he said was no good to him; he spoke of Sir Frederick Pottinger; how Sir Frederick had brought him (Hall) several times into Forbes, and had him remanded from time to time, until really the magistrates were inclined to believe that there was some charge against him, and those with him; that it was his opinion that Sir Frederick detained them till he could make up a case; Hall referred also to the case of young Walsh who was then suffering in the lock-up, as he(Hall) had suffered before; I asked for my horse, and he said that I could take them; but he inquired if there was anything particular in the swag on one of them; I told him there was nothing of any consequence; the three detained a Government revolver, a Government carbine which the black-fellow had dropped, a Government saddle and bridle, and the horse on which the black-fellow rode, remarking that they would shoot the horse, and so teach people not to lend horses to policemen; the man who I supposed to be O'Meally, said to me, "you had better not give our description when you return to town; “they then rode round, and picked up their discharged arms, and cleared off; I cannot swear positively that the prisoner is one of the men; I never saw O'Meally but once before, and the prisoner never but on that occasion; I could not have been close to the prisoner more than three or four minutes; Hall was the one who was in conversation with me, and whom I would swear positively to; the names were given to me by the black-fellow as Hall, Daley, and O'Meally; O'Meally was dressed differently to the prisoner, the hat is exactly like what I have seen Daley wear." When Norton’s brush with the bushrangers is reported in the newspapers, it creates a sensation throughout the colony.
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John Oxley Norton. (1829-1880) First time published. Private Source. |
Meanwhile, the infamous bushranging trio of John O'Meally, Ben Hall, and John Gilbert had asserted their dominance over the Lachlan roads and surrounding countryside. Their reputation was built on their ability to traverse vast distances, skillfully evading the persistent pursuit of the New South Wales police. Travellers navigating between towns often encountered these bushrangers and were typically subjected to armed robbery. The trio had a penchant for seizing personal items such as boots or coats from their victims.
In response to the escalating threat posed by these outlaws, some citizens adopted defensive strategies reminiscent of the circling of wagons in old Western films. A notable incident occurred near Strickland's 'Bundaburra' station outside Forbes. Here, travellers prepared to defend themselves against a potential attack. However, upon encountering the prepared citizens, O'Meally, Hall, and Gilbert, unlike their confrontation with Inspector Norton, chose to engage in mere pleasantries, evidently dissuaded by the travellers' readiness for conflict. This episode highlights the unpredictable nature of these bushrangers and the climate of fear and uncertainty they instilled in the hearts of those living in rural New South Wales during this tumultuous period: 'The Border Post' 1863:
The bold robbery of a police inspector by John O'Meally and his accomplices quickly became the talk of the region, stirring up considerable public sensation. In the wake of this audacious act, O'Meally, alongside fellow bushranger John Gilbert, reassembled with a new addition to their gang - O'Meally's younger brother, Patsy O'Meally. Together, the trio set out on a new venture, one that would further etch their names in the annals of bushranging lore.
Their next escapade took them to Bribery Station, the homestead of the Howell family, where an event of joyful celebration was unfolding. Unbeknownst to the Howell family, their wedding party, rejoicing in the union of a sister and daughter to their respective spouses, was about to receive uninvited guests. In a brazen display of audacity, the bushrangers arrived at the station, dismounted their horses, and seamlessly integrated themselves into the festivities.
This intrusion by O'Meally, Gilbert, and Patsy O'Meally was not just a stark violation of social norms but also a daring challenge to the boundaries of lawful society. Their presence at the wedding party, uninvited and unexpected, serves as a testament to the fearless nature of these outlaws and their disregard for the conventions of the time. This incident, occurring amid the already heightened tensions following the inspector's robbery, only added to the infamy and intrigue surrounding these bushrangers: 'Mount Alexander Mail' Tuesday 19th May 1863:![]() |
John Gilbert. Coloured by me. |
By mid-July 1863, the pair ventured into the Carcoar district, a terrain unfamiliar to them, located some 70 miles away. Their arrival in this new territory was marked by a bold attempt to rob a bank in broad daylight, a feat believed to be one of the first of its kind in a New South Wales country location. Prior to this audacious endeavor, O'Meally made contact with John Vane, a known acquaintance and recent fugitive from the law, who was soon joined by his associate, Micky Burke.
Vane and Burke's initial foray into crime in this region involved the theft of valuable horses from the Icely's Coombing Park farm, an episode marred by Burke's shooting of the groom, inflicting serious injuries. Following several encounters with the police, Vane and Burke eventually allied themselves with Ben Hall. Meanwhile, O'Meally and Gilbert, unfamiliar with the Carcoar district, relied heavily on Vane's local knowledge and resources, including fresh horses. Vane, leading the way, assisted them in planning the daring bank robbery in Carcoar.
Vane's memoirs later recounted his interactions with O'Meally and Gilbert, noting his prior acquaintance with O'Meally. Despite the collaborative planning, it was only Gilbert and O'Meally who executed the attempted bank robbery, as well as a subsequent robbery at the store of Stanley Hosie in Caloola. However, the press writers were in error in one important detail. They said Hall was with Gilbert, but at that time, Hall was in the Young district. These events highlight the intricate web of alliances and rivalries within the bushranger community, as well as the audacious nature of their criminal activitiesO'Meally introduced me to his companion, and in the course of conversation, I learned that they intended doing a little bushranging on that side of the country on their own account. In answer to their inquiries I gave them full information about the Mountain Run and Trunkey Creek Diggings.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pzaTI-Ljn4E
Area frequented by John Vane, O'Meally and Gilbert while in the Carcoar surrounds.
Filmed by Craig Bratby.
The Carcoar Chronicle
BANK HOLD-UP
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Carcoar Bank attempted robbery as well as Mr Hosie's store robbery Caloola. ( should read 30th July 1863, not 22nd) |
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Former Carcoar Commercial Bank, first building on the left. c. 1863. Courtesy Carcoar Historical Society. |
Following the unsuccessful robbery attempt in Carcoar, John O'Meally and John Gilbert shifted their focus to the small hamlet of Caloola. Their target was the general store owned by Stanley Hosie, a pivotal establishment in the area, catering to travelers journeying to and from the goldfields of Trunkey and Tuena.
The store, a hub for miners and travelers, presented a lucrative opportunity for the bushrangers. O'Meally and Gilbert, known for their daring and relentless pursuit of wealth, saw an opening in targeting such a critical point in the supply chain of the goldfields. The store's significance in the local economy made it an attractive target, potentially holding not just supplies but also cash and valuable items from the many who passed through seeking their fortune in the goldfields.
Their decision to rob Hosie's store was indicative of the bushrangers' strategy to exploit the vulnerabilities of communities centered around the gold rush. This move, while part of a string of bold and high-profile crimes, also underscored the duo's adaptability and cunning in selecting targets that would yield the most reward for their risky endeavors. The raid on Hosie's store in Caloola thus represents another chapter in the storied and often tumultuous careers of O'Meally and Gilbert The 'Bathurst Times' says:In the early days of August 1863, the bushranging gang, led by John Gilbert, John O'Meally, and John Vane, faced a significant challenge. Three of their bush telegraphs, crucial for relaying information within the gang, were apprehended by the authorities. Among them was Micky Burke's cousin and a close associate of John Vane. Demonstrating loyalty and support to these telegraphs was imperative for the gang to ensure the continued flow of vital information from their network.
As fate would have it, the coach carrying the arrested telegraphs neared the five-mile waterholes outside Blayney, NSW. Gilbert, O'Meally, and Vane saw an opportunity for a daring rescue. The attempt, however, revealed a disparity in commitment; Vane's efforts paled in comparison to the more seasoned bushrangers, Gilbert and John O'Meally. This rescue operation might have been a serendipitous chance rather than a premeditated plan, as suggested by the positioning of a dray that narrowed the road. Upon encountering the police on the coach, with one officer on horseback, a surprised O'Meally exclaimed, "There is a bloody lot of traps," leading to a fierce confrontation.
This period also witnessed another notable incident involving Gilbert. Hours before the attack on the Carcoar coach, Gilbert intercepted a horse team led by Mr. M'George. During this encounter, O'Meally shared an anecdote about a recent brush with death, revealing how a bullet, after striking the pocket watch he was wearing, had been stopped, sparing him from serious harm. This incident underscored not only the dangers that the bushrangers routinely faced but also their brazen attitude towards such perils. The episode with Mr. M'George, coupled with the attempted rescue of their associates, paints a vivid picture of the daring and often perilous lives led by these notorious figures. 'Sydney Morning Herald', 12th January, 1864; John M'George said:As the three bushrangers attacked the coach, it was only through sheer providence that murder was not committed. Luckily, a police constable named Sutton escaped with his life after bravely confronting the bushrangers and was shot by O'Meally. (See article below.)
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Superintendent Morrissett c. 1860. |
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NSW Police Gazette, August 1863. |
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Frederick Sutton. 1835-1916. Private Source. |
Wounded constable Sutton he came under the care of Dr Machattie, who described the seriousness of the gunshot wound in August 1863; Dr Machattie said:
Nevertheless, on the morning of the 30th August 1863, as a new day dawned, John O'Meally and John Vane, on the evening before, held up and robbed 'Demondrille Station' in company with Ben Hall Gilbert, and Burke. Separated arriving at a hut of harbourers, the Tootle's. The two bushrangers, after some aperitifs, bunked down for the night. When day broke in what would become a fateful day for John O'Meally, four troopers and Mr Edmonds, Demondrille Station manager, arrived at Tootle's hut after information of O'Meally's presence reached them at the newly established police station at Murrumburrah. As the police approached without attracting observation toward the cabin, barking of dogs sounded alarm catching Vane and O'Meally by surprise. Therefore, like the scene from the end of the movie Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, John Vane and John O'Meally cornered, burst out the front door, firing rapidly at the troopers and effected their escape. In the gun battle, Constable Houghey was shot in the knee and including three police horses. John Vane later describes the scene:
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Alexander MacKay. 1815-1890. 'Wallendbeen' Penzig. |
James Brown deposed: I am a bullock-driver, in the employ of Mr. Mackey of Wallendbeen; yesterday (Sunday) morning about half-past eleven o'clock two men came to my hut, which lies a little way off the road leading from Murrumhurrah to Cootamundry, and told my wife to get them something to eat, which she did; when I came in they demanded my hat, which I gave them, on seeing that they were armed with revolvers; they then demanded my boots, but they would not fit them; they tried two pairs, aud they were both too small; one of the men was about to cut the boots when the other said, "dont, we'll get plenty up at Mackay's;" at this moment two men rode along the road a short distance off; they said, "We'll go and stop them, and get a saddle from them;"
I observed when they came they had two horses but only one saddle; a rug and surcingle was on the other horse; they then left my hut (having taken only my hat) in pursuit of the two men; I did not see them go up to the parties, very soon after they went away out of my sight I heard the report of firearms, which was such a noise as a revolver would cause; there were about five or six reports, as near as I can remember; I then saw two men, the one galloping after the other and firing at him; I did not go up till sent for by Mr. Mackay, when I saw Mr. Barnes, the storekeeper of Murrumburrah, carried upon a sheet of bark by four men; he seemed to be quite dead; I did not see the bushrangers after I last saw them in pursuit of the man; they asked me, when at my hut, if I had a saddle, and I told them "no;" they also asked me about the horses in the paddock, if they were good ones, to which I replied, that I did not know; they also asked me if Mackay had a good saddle, and said, "he was sure to have a banging one;" about an hour and a half afterwards three mounted police and a black tracker came to Wallendbeen; I immediately started off to Wombat to acquaint the police there and send information to the coroner of what had occurred, by order of my master, Mr. Mackay.²²
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My Photo. |
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Barnes family arrival in 1841. |
The Yass Courier
Wed 9th Sep 1863
THE MURDER OF MR. JOHN BARNES OF MURRUMBURRAH
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A contemporary illustration of the death of John Barnes. c. 1939. Courtesy NLA. |
John Bernard Hanlon, assistant storekeeper, in the employ of Mr. Barnes junior, at Cootamundry, deposed On Sunday about half-past ten in the morning, I was riding with Mr. Barnes from Murrumburrah to Cootamundry; when opposite Mr. Mackay's stockyard fence I saw horses standing at the door of a hut near the dam, and said to Mr. Barnes, it looked suspicious to see them there; shortly after Johnny Meally or O'Maley, whom I knew and instantly recognised, galloped up to us and said to me; "I know you, you ---- "at the same time his comrade covered me with a revolver, and said, "Bail up you ---- ----- too;" Maley said, "Is that a good horse," alluding to Barnes's, to which Barnes did not reply; he then said "get off, 1 want that horse, saddle, and bridle;" Mr. Barnes then said, "Is that what you mean?" O'Maley said " You ---- , if you stir, I'll put daylight through vou; "Mr. Barnes turned away and galloped off, towards Mr. Mackay's house; O'Meally fired at him after he had got away about fifteen yards, and went after him in full gallop; he tired again as soon as he had time to cock the revolver; they got out of my sight, and I heard three more shots near to Mr. Mackay's house; the other man stood over me with his revolver cocked, and ordered me to dismount, which I did; when I got off my horse, he said, " If you stir an inch, I'll do the same to you;" he ordered me to come up to Mr. Mackay's and he turned the other way, leading my horse with him, and said, "For being quiet I'll give you your horse, saddle and bridle directly;" during this time I saw Mr. Barnes galloping down the hill; he sat loosely on his horse as if wounded, and was followed closely by O'Maley, who shouted out, "Will you stop now, you ---?" They again got out of my sight and I heard more shots fired— three or four; O'Maley came towards me, and I asked him where Mr. Barnes was; he said, "He is down in the gully." I said, "Oh, you have shot poor Mr. Barnes; "He said, "No, he fell off against a tree;" on going down to look at him I found him lying on his back and his horse gone; Mr. Barnes was not dead then, but unable to speak; he drew a heavy sigh and died; O'Maley was then up at the store, and the other man was gone I could identify both the men perfectly well; O'Maley stuck up the store, in which I am employed, on the 15th May last; he was very black and dirty on Sunday, and looked different to what he did when he stuck up the store; he was then very smart and clean; neither Mr. Barnes nor myself had any arms or money on us; a ball passed through the brim of Mr. Barnes's hat, but missed his head. -Yass Courier 9 Sep 1863.
The last to give his evidence was Wallenbeen squatter Mr MacKay who deposed.
Alexander Mackay, a squatter, residing at Wallendbeen, deposed: On Sunday morning (31st August), about half past eleven o'clock, I heard the report of firearms close to my house; I went to the back of the house and heard a second report; shortly after a horseman galloped into the yard, followed by another man, about twelve yards behind him; I thought the first man was a bushranger and the other a policeman; on crossing the yard I heard him shout out "Stand you ---- ;" this was between the two gateways in the yard behind the house, and they are eighty feet apart; the revolver of the man in pursuit went off at least three times; on passing the second gateway I recognised the man who fled as Mr. Barnes, storekeeper, of Murrumburrah; I called to him to stop, but he did not comply, nor speak; his reins were quite loose at the time, and he seemed to sit loose in the saddle; he then galloped towards the stockyard, about 500 yards from the house; after getting near to the stockyard he returned towards the house, but he fell from his horse; Barnes's man said, Barnes was killed by O'Maley; I asked him, if he identified O'Maley, and he said, "Yes ; I then went with him to see Barnes, but only got about fifty yards, when I was stopped by the man who pursued Barnes, and he indentified him; he asked me my name, and I told him Mackay; he asked me if I had a store, and I said, " Yes," I asked him if Mr. Barnes was dead, and he said, "I don't think he is; he struck against a tree;'' I said, " I'll go down and see," but he said, "no, I want boots, and a coat and hat for my mate, because he lost them last night in a skirmish with the police; "I said, "here is the store key, I must go and see Barnes;" he said, "no. you must go with me;" I then asked him to allow Barnes's man to go and see after his master, to which he assented; he then got the things he wanted out of the store, and asked me if I had good horses; I said, "no, the bushrangers have taken the best ones;" he said "Yes," and that he had my race horse "Chance;" he told me his name was O'Maley; Barnes's man returned and said, he could not find his master, and O'Maley directed him where to find him; we started off to the spot, and I saw Barnes lying dead; O'Maley said, "I am very sorry for him; it was his own fault; he ought to have stood, and he would not have been shot;" Barnes was then carried up to my house; the bushrangers took Mr. Barnes' horse, saddle and bridle. I sent information to the police as soon as I could; I did not examine his clothes to see if he had any money on him, nor do I know if he was robbed after he fell from his horse dead; I have seen his person since he was undressed, and I observed three distinct bullet wounds, and also a severe cut on his right temple, any of which, I think, might have caused his death; the wound on his temple was caused by his falling from the horse and coming in contact with a stump, on which I found hair; his lip was also slightly wounded, probably when he fell; I said to the bushranger, when first he came up, "I hope you have not shot poor Barnes; "he said, " who is he ?" and I told him; when I stood with O'Maley looking at the body of deceased, his mate stood at a little distance off; I could identify the man, who called himself O'Maley, he was a man about five feet ten inches in hight, dark hair, with a good deal of colour in his face. -Yass Courier 9 Sept 1863.
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John Bernard Hanlon b. 1839 d. 24 DEC 1887 Never before Published Private Source. |
However, as O'Meally ran riot, time and the law caught up with O'Meally's family. As far as the police were concerned, the O'Meally's home was a general rendezvous for bushrangers and rogues. Thus, despite a two-month notice to vacate the sold Arramagong Station, Jack's father Patrick O'Meally would finally be kicked dragged off by the police. Moreover, since mid-1862, the O'Meally's had continued to illegally squat on the station. For the past year, the family held on despite the current owner's wishes. Therefore, under the Lands Act of April 1861, the O'Meally's faced the same punishment previously dealt out to Ben Hall. The police burned them out. 'Sydney Morning Herald', 14th September 1863:
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O'Meally's Description, June 1863. |
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Stanley Hosie 1872. |
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Illustration of Loudon hold-up, Grubbenbong Station. Courtesy NLA. |
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William Rothery. Courtesy NLA. |
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Cliefden. c. 1900 Courtesy NLA. |
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Painting by Patrick William Marony (1858-1939) Courtesy NLA. |
Consequently, at the pleadings of Mrs Keightley and maid, Mrs Baldock Ben Hall and John Gilbert restrained O'Meally and Vane. However, throughout his captivity and unfortunately for Keightley, he would be toyed with and taunted by Vane and O'Meally. Simultaneously, Keightley's wife and Dr Pechey rushed to Bathurst to secure the agreed-upon ransom sum of £500 for Burke's life, equal to the Government bounty Keightley would receive for the lifeless body of Burke.
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The layout of O'Meally and the bushrangers attack at Dunns Plains 23, 24, 25th October 1863. |
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Mural at Binalong depicting a new reward of £4000 for the remaining four. |
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Goimbla Homestead c. 1937. |
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William Farrand. Courtesy NLA |
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Death of John O'Meally, by Patrick William Marony 1858-1939 |
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Mural at Binalong, Hall & Gilbert kneeling over a dead O'Meally. 2018. |
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Amelia Campbell 1835-1870. Private source. |
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Mrs Campbell Coffee Urn Presentation. 19th March 1864. |
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Pocket watch presented to David Campbell, 1863. Courtesy NSW State Library. |
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David Henry Campbell. (1829-1885) Private Source. |
(COPY)
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After O'Meally's death, a curiosity emerged. |
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This Plaque is at the Forbes Cemetery. |
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John Vane 1880. |
It was no long step to a sticking-up event by which a solitary Chinaman, travelling along a road leading to Bathurst, found himself the poorer by a £5 note and two ounces of gold-dust, and a very short one to the "bailing-up" of a public-house in the neighborhood of the Fish River. Although this affair was more or less intended as a "lark," the publican gave information to the police, and a warrant was issued for the arrest of Vane and his companions. Soon afterwards he barely escaped capture by the police, and after one or two further adventures of a similar sort, found himself in a position of being "wanted," which left him no alternative but that of adopting a bushranging career in earnest. In the course of a month or two he fell in with Gilbert and O'Meally, and from that time became a real bushranger."
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The NSW Police Gazette report and warrant for John Vane. This warrant was issued on 3rd May 1863, which sent John Vane to the bush and eventually joined Gilbert and O'Meally. |
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Comus II stable, Coombing Park. Courtesy Craig Bratby |
(Vane, during his conversations with his biographer Charles White denies involvement at Coombing Park and states it was another in company with Burke. Furthermore, in Vane's reminiscence, he writes himself out of many of the atrocities he was proven to be directly involved with.)
As a result of the horse taking and shooting of the stable hand at Icely's, Burke and Vane had begun the exploits that would lead to many a highway robbery and gunfight with the police as well as the sticking-up of stores, coaches, and for Vane, an accessory to murder and would cost Burke his life. However, in July 1863, John Gilbert and John O’Meally, members of Hall's gang sought fresh horses and new districts to operate in, arrived in the Carcoar district and sent the word out amongst the locals that Vane's local expertise was required. O'Meally and Vane had known each other earlier while Vane was stock keeping at the Weddin Mountains and had a fine reputation for handling high spirited horses. Subsequently, the two met with Vane at one of his camps at Millpost Creek, resulting in plans for an attack on the Carcoar bank. On 30th July 1863, the idea came into action. Vane's job was to provide logistics for the raid. However, he did not participate. Gilbert and O’Meally rode into Carcoar and performed one of the first daylight bank robberies in the colony of NSW.
A short video of the Millpost Creek area often used by Vane, Ben Hall, Gilbert & Co.
Filmed by Craig Bratby.
Frederick Sutton. Private Source. |
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Demondrille Station. |
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The roster of NSW Police wounded 1862-1867. |
Consequently, O'Meally levelled his drawn revolver at the fast retreating shopkeeper and fired some shots which found their mark in the back of the defenceless man. Despite being hit several times and lolling in the saddle, Barnes held on. The chase covered some distance with O'Meally still firing and yelling imprecations as the wounded man's horse entered Wallendbeen homestead. Tragically, Mr Barnes, with blood flowing freely from his body, collapsed from his horse and striking his head on an obstacle on the ground. Within moments he was heard by those nearby to sigh a long breath or death rattle as poor Mr Barnes entered the next world. Meanwhile, as the gunfire rang out, John Vane remained covering Hanlon without robbing him. Subsequently, at Barnes death, Vane became an accomplice, including Burke's wounding the stable groom, German Charley at Icely's station, Coombing Park. The difference this time was that the gunfire resulted in the death of the victim. At the inquest the eyewitness Mr Hanlon stated:
Another report of the 22nd September affair:
After the capture of the three troopers, Vane and the other bushrangers the next day arrived at the store of Stanley Hosie at Caloola, whom Vane and Burke knew well. However, this did not prevent Vane from robbing the storekeeper of a considerable amount of goods and participated in shooting horses held in a stockyard. In December 1863, Hosie would give evidence at Vane's trial regarding the events of that day. Below is a recorded version of Hosie's evidence;
Eventually, they rode away, taking with them the horses, saddles, and bridles, belonging to Messrs. Machattie and Battye; saying they would leave the horses where they would be found as soon as they were better suited. Shortly after the foregoing occurrence, another man was stuck up and robbed by the same persons in the same neighbourhood, but they only took from him a few shillings. Mr Machattie had to walk several miles before he could procure another horse, after which he rode into Bathurst and gave information to the police.
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The attack on Mr Keightley. Courtesy NLA. |
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Dunns Plains attack in which Micky Burke was fatally wounded and Vane assaulted Dr Pechey, 23, 24, 25th October 1863. |
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Letter separating the two men. Note also Vane was to be kept apart from Frank Gardiner. New South Wales, Australia, Sheriff's Papers, 1829-1879 |
It has also transpired that this worthy visited the shop of Mr Pedrotta, the gunsmith, and Mr Craig, the saddler, and, at each place, succeeded in passing some of the money extorted for the ransom of the gallant commissioner. As a result, Cheshire would be convicted and sentenced to five years on the roads and was released in 1868. However, later while Darlinghurst and John Vane were incarcerated, the two men would be formally kept apart. Whether this was due to animosity on Cheshire's behalf due to Vane lagging him for the money from Keightley's is more than likely.
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'Surrender' |
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Fr. Tim McCarthy. c. 1870's. Courtesy NLA. |
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Bathurst Court with Gaol in the background where John Vane was sentenced in 1863. |
When Vane was sentenced this advertisement appeared in the Sydney newspapers:
Vane's court appearance and trial were published in the 'The Sydney Morning Herald' Friday 15th April 1864: see link below.
Friday 15th April 1864
TRIAL OF VANE THE BUSHRANGER.
https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/13097035?browse=ndp%3Abrowse%2Ftitle%2FS%2Ftitle%2F35%2F1864%2F04%2F15%2Fpage%2F1476975%2Farticle%2F13097035
The Sydney Morning Herald
Wednesday 20th April 1864
BATHURST CIRCUIT COURT
Sentence on Vane
https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/13084542?browse=ndp%3Abrowse%2Ftitle%2FS%2Ftitle%2F35%2F1864%2F04%2F20%2Fpage%2F1477003%2Farticle%2F13084542
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John Vane, Entrance Book Bathurst Gaol November 1863. |
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John Vane, Return of Prisoners Cockatoo Island 1866. |
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John Vane, Return of Prisoners Darlinghurst 1867. |
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John Vane, released March 1870 Darlinghurst Gaol. |
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Released |
Soon after his release for sheep-stealing, Vane was arrested again on suspicion of robbery. However, he was released when evidence revealed no involvement. Accordingly, his notoriety as a member of Ben Hall's gang, although only over a short period, kept Vane in the police spotlight. However, for all his protestations and his claims that his incarceration for bushranging, he had learnt the ills of his former ways amounted to nonsense when in May 1880, John Vane was arrested once more for sheep stealing. The age-old saying a 'Leopard Never Changes its Spots' rang true for a Bona Fide villain who through sheer luck had only been associated with blood on his hands:
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John Vane prison record 1880. |
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John Vane and James Burke at Bathurst Gaol 1880. |
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Sheep stealing 1880. |
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John Vane released in September 1884. |
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John Vane c. 1898. |
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Jane Vane c. 1912. |
"Micky" was uneducated, however, being reared in the bush as with his contemporaries he was an excellent horseman and bushman:
The bushranger Micky Burke was known in the district in which he conducted operations as 'True Blue' by reason or the fact that he usually went about dressed in a suit of blue coloured tweed. He was a neighbour and mate of Johnny Vane and they had both lived in the Carcoar district, to the south of Mount Macquarie.¹
The youth, Burke, was a native of the colony, and was reared at the Dam Station, belonging to Mr. Walt the ex-MP for Carcoar. From his childhood, he was shepherding for that gentleman.
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The Burke's arrival in NSW 1838, as well as the brother of Burke's father and his family. |
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Michael Burke's father's reward offer for the stolen horse, note, Daniel Charters senior also had a horse stolen at Carcoar. |
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Comus II's stable, Coombing Park. Courtesy Craig Bratby. |
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Superintendent Morrisset c. 1860 |
A letter from Mr. F. Rothery to his uncle, Mr. Icely, J.P, dated Bathurst, 3rd instant, gives the particulars of the daring robbery by bushrangers of that gentleman's stables, at Coombing, near Carcoar, on the previous day. The following are extracts;
"I am sure you will be very surprised when you hear that the Coombing stable was robbed yesterday evening. Mr. Icely had been down to Stoke in the afternoon, and returned a short time after dark, and, putting his horse in the back stable, came down to the house. Mr Morrisset and T Lawson happened to be present, and we had not been at dinner more than half an hour when Edward came in and said that he heard two shots in the direction of the stable.
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Thomas Rothery Icely. 1832-1918. Private Source. |
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NSW Police Gazette October 1863. |
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'Clifden' c. 1900. Courtesy NLA. |
On Saturday, at half-past three o'clock, p. m., Mr Rothery, Junior, rode into town, stating that about two hours previously, Gilbert and four other bushrangers had taken their quiet departure from Clifden about 15 miles from Carcoar. He stated, that at eleven o'clock that morning, he saw Gilbert, Ben Hall, O'Meally, Vane, and Burke, riding up to the house, when he gave the alarm to his father, who ordered the door to be closed and fastened. This done, Mr Rothery and his two sons armed themselves with fowling pieces and revolvers—the cook and ostler being shortly afterwards admitted by the window. The cook was armed with a carving knife and toasting fork, and the ostler with a stable fork and a sickle. By the time these arrangements were completed, the bushrangers came up to the front of the house, when the young men wanted to fire, but their father ordered them not, directing them to plant the firearms and open the door. The bushrangers accordingly entered and took immediate possession of the premises, so that the pluck of these three gentlemen exploded instead of their powder. The ostler and cook were despatched to their several departments—the one to feed the bushrangers' horses, and the other to cook dinner for them; of which, when ready, they partook with excellent appetites. They ordered a bottle of brandy and champagne, which was brought them without delay, when Gilbert, filling glasses round, proposed the health of Mr Rothery, J P., and his sons, the latter of whom, he said, he hoped shortly to see gazetted as sub-inspectors; believing, as he did, that they possessed as much pluck as most of them. Mr. Rothery, J.P., in a neat speech, returned thanks for himself and sons, and assured them that he felt deeply the compliment they had paid him and was not able to express all he felt, but would represent to the Government the flattering opinion they held of his own and his sons' pluck, as no doubt they would be considered better authorities on such matters than Captain McLerie. After a few more compliments, they inquired of Mr R. what horses he had, and being shown them they tried the animals and selected three, which they took with two new saddles and bridles. It was now two o'clock, and they took their departure, stating that they were bound for Canowindra. As there was no police in town, Mr Rothery returned by himself, being advised to keep the back "slums" in his way back.
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Canowindra township. c. 1860's |
This morning, the mail coach arrived without the mail bags. It appears from the account given by the coachman that he was bailed up by Gilbert and party, about fourteen miles from Carcoar, and ordered to turn out the bags. Every letter was opened but of this, I will give you full particulars next mail.⁵
After the dare by young Machattie, that the bushrangers didn't have the pluck to enter Bathurst, the gang took up the challenge appearing on the Saturday evening of the 3rd of October 1863, titled: THE BUSHRANGERS IN BATHURST.
The Canowindra raid was the first time in Australian history that a town was captured and sacked by bushrangers, as follows headlined:
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Sketch of Keightley and Dr. Peachey observing the gangs arrival. By Percy Lindsey. Truth 1935. |
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This is the back door of the Keightley home peppered with the bullets fired by the Gang. This historical piece can be seen at the Bathurst Historical Museum. (My Photo's 2019.) |
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Very rare photograph of Dunns Plains Homestead. c. 1920's Courtesy NLA. |
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c. 1880's. Courtesy NLA. |
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A woodcut of Mrs Keightley imploring Ben Hall "..save his life!" Courtesy NLA. |
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NSW Police Gazette November 1863. List of banknote No's from reward paid to Ben Hall. |
We have said O'Meally was absent, and Mrs. Keightley, fearing least 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. Peachey'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 told 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 committed they must possess considerable wealth, Gilbert replied that with all their depredations, they had not as much as would keep them a week.
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Henry Rotton. M.L.A. Father of Caroline Keightley. c. 1870's Courtesy Penzig.© |
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A dramatization of Mrs Keightley and Dr. Peachey's Buggy ride for the £500. |
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The layout of the attack at Dunns Plains 23, 24, 25th October 1863. |
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Bridget Burke, Micky's younger sister. c. 1900's. |
Subsequently, at the arraignment of John Vane at Bathurst in December 1863, Dr. Peachey was again asked to give evidence on Burke's death and said:
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Edward Brady. Located Burke's body near Carcoar, after fallen from a cart. |
The irony in the death of Mickey Burke was that had the attack and the consequences of Burke dying been two days later, Mr Keightley would have been entitled to £1000, as the reward for the gang had doubled. Reported, REWARD FOR THE APPREHENSION OF BURKE:
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Micky Burke headstone. |
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Portrait of Dr. Pechey |
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Caroline Keightley |
At the inquest into young Mickey Burke's death this was stated as to the shots fired at the time;
There was some suspicion in the press as to whether or not Keightley fired the fatal shot, as reported in the 'Clarence and Richmond Examiner and New England Advertiser', 8th December 1863, when raised at Vanes court appearance after his capture:
Henry McCrummin Keightley passed away on the Saturday 8th January 1887; DEATH OF MR. KEIGHTLEY.
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Painting by Patrick Marony depicting Mrs Keightley and Mrs Baldock pleading for the life of her husband. Courtesy of the NLA (Pic-an2292621) |
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Streetscape County Monaghan. c. 1800's |
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James Mount Tasmania 1842. Registers of the employment of probation pass holders, 1848-1857 |
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James Gordon alias Mount Indent |
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James Mount alias Gordon transfer to Cockatoo Island 1842 |
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James Mount alias Gordon, Mount had a variety of alias' both First and Surname. Mount had been released in 1862. In 1856 then used the alias of James Gordon thereafter. |
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James Mount absconded as a Ticket of Leave holder in June 1864, and was soon after bushranging with Ben Hall. |
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On the 20th July 1864, Mount's Ticket-of-Leave was cancelled. |
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The famous shootout at the Bang Bang Hotel (above) |
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Newspaper report of Ben Hall's Break-up with Gordon and Dunleavy (above) |
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Mount's capture October 1864 |
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James Mount Court Appearance (above) |
The 'Bathurst Times' reported the arrest of James 'The Old Man' Mount at a hotel near the Murrumbidgee at Gellenbagh. As reported titled: CAPTURE OF BEN HALL'S' MATE.
The 'Bathurst Times' reported Mount's next court appearance as:
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James Mount alias Gordon, Entrance book Bathurst Gaol November 1864. |
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Dunleavey and Gordon, Quarter Sessions and sentence 1865. Note Micky Burke's cousin James Burke also sentenced. |
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James Mount alias Gordon, Return of prisoners record April 1869, note the death of James Dunleavy. |
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DATE OF ADMISSION/PHOTO:16 Dec 1879, GAOL: Wagga Wagga, GAOL LOCATION: Wagga Wagga, New South Wales, Australia, RECORD TYPE: Photograph Description Book. The information contained in this book is incorrect as has been previously noted. Gordon was Mount's alias. The ship 'Christina' made one trip in 1840, and carried one Irishman Mr. W. Rollands convicted in S.A. and transferred to NSW. Once more the authorities took for granted the identity and personnel details provided by the felon. Mount's identity is unquestionable due to his tattoo's recorded both in 1836 and 1879.
James Mount alias Gordon released in 1881. |
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James Mount alias Gordon, back at Parramatta Gaol May 1885. James Mount alias Gordon released in 1887 Aged 70 yrs. |
("a bad character in the neighbourhood")
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Patsy Daley 1874 |
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William Hollister. c. 1870's. Courtesy R.A.H.S. |
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Hollister's diary contact with Hall and Daley. Courtesy R.A.H.S. |
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Inspector Norton c. 1880. Private Source. |
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Sir Frederick Pottinger. |
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Hollister diary entry, March 1863. Courtesy R.A.H.S |
THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 24th;-Patrick Daley pleaded guilty, to the charge of feloniously assaulting one Myers Solomon, at Wombat, on the 21st February last. Prisoner was remanded for sentence.
FRIDAY SEPTEMBER 25TH;-Patrick Daley, who had pleaded guilty on Thursday to a charge of robbery under arms, and had been convicted on the same day of another charge of a similar nature, for which he had been sentenced to ten years hard labour on the roads, was now sentenced to fifteen years hard labour on the roads, the first year in irons; this sentence to commence at the same time as the former one.
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Daley at Goulburn Gaol, 28th April 1863 |
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Daley was also thought to have been involved with the murder of a German hotelier Mr Cirkell in February 1863, but the witnesses could not identify him. |
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Patsy Daley's Sentence (Note above: Cummings who was Fred Lowry's cohort and Jamieson lost his family fortune.) |
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Daley's transfer to Maitland Gaol, 23rd Sept 1863 Note; Cummings to Parramatta Gaol. |
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Patsy Daley's Maitland Gaol Entry Log 25th Sept 1863. |
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Maitland Gaol Entry log 1863 |
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Daley at Cockatoo Island August 1864, punishment. |
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Cockatoo Island 1864. |
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Patsy Daley at Darlinghurst Gaol with Francis Christie alias Gardiner 1867. |
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Patsy Daley's release 23rd Sept 1873 |
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Daley's conduct reported in 1865 at Darlinghurst Gaol. |
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Patrick Daley 1873. |
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Hunt St, Wrightville NSW c. 1910 |
Correspondence read was of minor importance. The Inspector of Nuisances' report showed that five new cess-pits had been sunk, and six new closets erected. Certain ratepayers had neglected to comply with his notice in regard to the sinking of cess-pits. Ald Buckland was of the opinion that the Inspector should use the powers conferred upon him, and prosecute the defaulters. Alderman Buckland thought that the Inspector of Nuisances' report was very unsatisfactory, and he moved that he be instructed to proceed against persons neglecting to comply with the by-laws. This was seconded by Ald. Daley, and carried.
Daley also was a participant in various sports, mainly shooting wherein 1902 Patsy's past prowess as a bushranger won some money this time shooting at targets, not police inspectors or trackers:
In 1912 Patsy Daley became ill and was reported in the 'Cobar Herald' of travelling to Sydney for medical help:
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One of Daley's hotels |
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Obituary 5th May 1914. Courtesy NLA. |
Death of P. B. Daley.
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Daley's Grave at Rookwood, NSW. |
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Sir Thomas Jamison,
by an unknown artist.
(1753-1811)
State Library of New South Wales,
GPO 1 - 18963.
|
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Sir John Jamison (1776-1844) |
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William Jamison c. 1862. |
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Representation only |
Born at Kelso, near Bathurst, in 1843, Dunleavy was the younger son of James and Johanna Dunleavy. His mother, Johanna Cleary, had arrived in the colony two years earlier aboard the Alfred, a free immigrant from County Tipperary, accompanied by her cousin Bridget. She married soon after her arrival, but was widowed young; her husband’s death in 1845 left her with two small boys, Patrick and James. The family possessed Tinpot Station on the Lachlan River, where Dunleavy’s intelligence and good conduct earned him quiet respect among neighbours.
“A smart young fellow,” the Bathurst Times later recorded, “of fair complexion and gentle appearance, nothing in his countenance betrayed the daring bushranger.” Yet, by his twentieth year, Dunleavy had cast in his lot with Hall’s gang — a fateful step that would bind his name to one of the most infamous chapters of the colonial frontier.
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James Dunleavy's mother's arrival on 19th January 1841, free on the 'Alfred' as Johanna Cleary from Tipperary, Ireland. |
Following her husband’s death in 1845, Johanna Dunleavy remarried at Carcoar the following year. Her new husband, William — known locally as John — Hadcroft, was a Lancashire man and former convict, transported to New South Wales aboard the Dunvegan Castle, which arrived in the colony on 30 March 1830. Sentenced to seven years for burglary, Hadcroft had by the 1840s earned a modest reputation as a working settler, though rumours later hinted that he may have turned again to less lawful pursuits, dabbling in cattle and horse theft in the years around 1845.
Johanna and William’s union produced several children, beginning with a son, Joseph, born in 1848 — a half-brother to young James — followed by four daughters. Yet the family’s fortunes remained fragile. In August 1858, Hadcroft died at the age of forty-eight, leaving Johanna a widow for the second time, with children to raise and a small pastoral property to manage on the margins of the Lachlan district.
Their property, Tinpot Station, lay between Gooloogong and Grenfell, near the meandering bends of the Lachlan River. The run, spanning some 50,000 acres, was capable of carrying fifteen thousand sheep and a few hundred head of cattle. By the time James reached manhood, the station was home to roughly 2,100 sheep and 130 young cattle, together with a comfortable four-roomed cottage, a kitchen and garden, two-stall stables, a woolshed, and a pair of small cultivation paddocks. From this homestead, life for the Dunleavy and Hadcroft children revolved around the quiet rhythms of the district — droving, shearing, and church on Sundays — yet it was also a region increasingly marked by lawlessness.
For the Lachlan country, in those years, was thick with rumour and rebellion. The gold rushes had drawn men of every stripe, and the bush beyond Forbes was fast becoming a refuge for the desperate and the daring. Among those whose names echoed through the gullies were the O’Meallys — a family notorious for their entanglements with bushranging. In 1871, James’s half-sister Mary Hadcroft married Patrick O’Meally, brother to the infamous John O’Meally, who had ridden with Ben Hall and John Gilbert until he was shot dead at Goimbla Station in November 1863. Mary bore Patrick five children before dying young in 1879, perhaps in childbirth — a grim reminder of the hard fates that often followed such lives.
The friendship between the Hall and Dunleavy-Hadcroft families was no secret. According to John Maguire, a contemporary of the outlaws, Hall found one of his earliest refuges at Tinpot Station:
“Hall’s first retreat in his outlawry was Tinpot Station, between Grenfell and the Lachlan. This place was owned by a widow, who had three daughters. With all of these people Hall had been on the friendliest of terms for years. They sympathised keenly with him in his troubles, as they had admired him in his prosperous days. Ben took up a position of vantage on a high hill near the Tinpot homestead, from which he could see a great distance and notice the approach of any enemy. The widow and her daughters, in the kindest manner possible, kept him supplied with all the food he wanted whilst he sojourned there. The girls used to carry provisions to him every night, and often afterwards, when occasion compelled him to seek safety in the same sanctuary, these excellent friends saw to it that he wanted for neither food, drink, nor intelligence of his enemies.”²
Such recollections, though softened by time and sentiment, reveal the bonds of loyalty and sympathy that crisscrossed the Lachlan frontier. For the Dunleavys and the Hadcrofts, friendship with Ben Hall was not merely acquaintance — it was kinship born of shared hardship, geography, and perhaps a quiet defiance of colonial authority. It was within this web of connection that young James Dunleavy, by turns impressionable and adventurous, found his way toward Hall’s outlaw band.
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Bailliere's New South Wales 1866 Gazetteer and Road Guide. |
The close friendship between Ben Hall and the Dunleavy–Hadcroft family fostered an intimacy that would prove fateful. Hall was often a welcome figure at Tinpot Station, where he found not only shelter but sympathy. For young James Dunleavy, still in his teens, the bushranger’s charisma was irresistible. What began as small favours — errands run, messages passed, perhaps the quiet delivery of supplies — gradually drew him deeper into Hall’s confidence.
Locals whispered that Dunleavy had become Hall’s “bush telegraph,” carrying word between sympathisers along the Lachlan and beyond. It was a dangerous role, but one that carried a certain prestige among the settlers who half-admired Hall’s defiance of authority. Dunleavy later confided to a friend:
“Hall and his mate,” he said, “had trusted him, and were still trusting him in the matter; and if he had wanted to refuse the job, the proper time to do it was at first, when it was proposed to him, and not now, when it should have been completed.”³
The line between loyalty and outlawry had been crossed.
Before long, Dunleavy made his decision known, reportedly declaring that “he would join Hall and Jim, as there was plenty of amusement and a good deal of money to be got out of that business.”
Thus, the young man from Tinpot — once the diligent schoolboy of Bathurst — entered the most perilous game of all.
The widesread news of Ben Hall's former confedeate John Vane's sentencing appeared to have little effect on Dunleavy's decision to step out side the bounds of an ordered society:
The bushranger Vane, lately sentenced to fifteen years at Cockatoo, arrived in Sydney on the 22nd instant having been brought down from Bathurst in charge of a strong party of police under the command sub-inspector Roberts. A large number of persons, assembled at the terminus for the purpose of seeing this unhappy young man, who has gained such, an unenviable notoriety in the annals of crime.
Regardless, Dunleavy joined forces with Ben Hall and James Mount. Mount was a grizzled veteran of crime known throughout the district as “The Old Man.” Mount, a ticket-of-leave absconder from the Mudgee district, had worked as a roustabout near Cowra when Hall summoned him to the field. Mount alo went under the names of Gordon and Slaven. By early 1864, Hall was rebuilding his gang after the deaths and dispersal of earlier comrades — O’Meally shot dead at Goimbla, Gilbert ill and in hiding. The vacancy in the ranks was filled by two men at opposite ends of experience: Mount, the seasoned hand, and Dunleavy, the novice.
Hall’s presence near Tinpot in mid-1864 sealed Dunleavy’s fate. His mother, Johanna, had long aided Hall with supplies and shelter — no doubt for a small stipend, but also out of neighbourly loyalty and pity. Yet when she learned that her own son had joined the gang, her grief was overwhelming. She implored him to abandon the outlaws and flee the district before the police closed in. Her pleas went unheeded. The excitement, the promise of easy money, and perhaps the thrill of belonging to something larger than himself held him fast.
Years later, traces of that friendship still surfaced in local memory. A story printed in The Sun in 1916 recalled the curious fate of one of Hall’s revolvers — a silver-plated pistol stolen from a Mrs. Cropper of Yamma Station in 1865.
“When Ben stole a flash, silver-plated weapon from Mrs. Cropper, of Yamma, he offered his old and trusty pistol to Mr. Pat Dunleavy, a Forbes district resident, but Dunleavy would have nothing to do with it. Why the bushranger was so anxious to discard the revolver he had carried so long is remarkable, but is probably accounted for by the fact that Hall, who had a love for showy goods, was pinning his faith in the weapon he stole from Mrs. Cropper.”
The anecdote, perhaps apocryphal, nevertheless captures the strange entanglement of respect and regret that shadowed the Dunleavy family for years after. For James’s elder brother Patrick to be offered a weapon so closely associated with Hall was both an honour and a curse — a relic of friendship with a man the law branded a criminal.
By mid-1864, James Dunleavy was no longer merely a friend to Ben Hall. He was one of his men — and the die, as they say, was cast.
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NSW Police Gazette 31st August 1864. |
The excitement and glamour of bushranging soon gave way to its grim realities. For James Dunleavy, the thrill of the chase and the comradeship of the campfire faded quickly beneath the smoke of gunfire and the sting of hunger. In the short months he rode with Ben Hall and James Mount, he took part in gun battles, robberies, and countless close escapes. In one encounter with police he was shot through the wrist — a wound that never properly healed and served as a brutal reminder of what his new life truly meant. Disillusioned and weary, Dunleavy would not last long in the field.
He began his brief but notorious bushranging career at the end of May 1864, joining Ben Hall and the veteran outlaw James Mount. Only days before, Hall himself had been engaged in the infamous Bang Bang Hotel battle at Koorawatha, a fierce exchange of gunfire that left the countryside ringing with rumours. On 20 May 1864, Hall, his sometime ally John Gilbert, and Mount had descended on the township to steal several high-bred racehorses — Dick Turpin, Duke of Athol, Hollyhock, and Bergamot — all under police escort.
The attempted theft erupted into a running gunfight. Trooper Scott’s bullet blew Hall’s cabbage-tree hat clean from his head, and though the bushrangers loosed twenty-five rounds, the police fire proved far more accurate. Beaten back, Hall and Mount retreated toward the Lachlan, seeking safety at Tinpot Station — while Gilbert vanished once more into the bush. Some accounts later suggested that a young horse-thief named Daniel Ryan had been mistaken for Gilbert.
The Sydney Morning Herald reported on 7 June 1864:
“Ben Hall and two others paid him another visit and demanded dinner for themselves and provender for their horses… Gilbert was not one of the party. The fellow who has been mistaken for him, and who is now in company with Hall, is said to be a youngster called Ryan, who is ‘wanted’ by the police for horse-stealing in the Burrowa district.”
Ryan was a close friend of John Dunn — soon to become one of the colony’s most feared bushrangers — and both were already wanted for horse theft.
On 4 June 1864, Dunleavy took part in his first recorded hold-up: the robbery of Mr. J. Roberts’s Young to Yass coach at Emu Flat, six miles beyond Binalong. The Goulburn Herald, reprinted in Bell’s Life in Sydney and Sporting Chronicle, described the scene vividly:
“On last Saturday afternoon Mr. Roberts’ coach… was stopped by Ben Hall and two of his confederates… The driver and passengers were ordered to alight, a command they appear to have obeyed with much alacrity… Curran, on seeing the bushrangers approach, slipped his albert-chain and watch, but was less fortunate in concealing twenty-one £1 notes, which Hall compelled him to hand over… From the driver they took a meerschaum pipe and gave him a common black one in exchange, Hall promising to return the meerschaum in a few days. On examining Miller's watch and finding it to be a silver Geneva, it was returned as not worth taking. The coach was detained for several hours. A man named Kelly happened to pass by on horseback and was stopped, but nothing of value was found upon him. He was permitted to depart with the coach. A team passing by on its way to Lambing Flat was also detained, and several of the cases broken open, Hall and his companions helping themselves freely to such articles as suited them. The rifling of the dray had not ended on the coach leaving. Shortly after the coach to Yass was permitted to start, it passed a Mr. Barnes, who was driving a carriage to Illalong. He was told the bushrangers were ahead, and advised to turn back to Bowning; but he proceeded on his way, and rumour states that he received very rough treatment from the scoundrels. The companions of Hall are described—one as quite a young man (not thought to be Gilbert), and the other as a very tall elderly person. It is supposed the latter at one time resided in Goulburn, and he is reported to be a 'ticket-of-leave' man.”
The hold-up lasted several hours. A dray passing toward Lambing Flat was detained and ransacked, and later a Mr. Barnes, overseer to the Patterson brothers, encountered the gang and suffered Hall’s wrath. Barnes was accused of giving information to police; he was stripped naked, tied to a tree, and whipped before being released.
Hall, angered by what he called the “unfair play” of the police at Bang Bang, swore vengeance. Witnesses later recalled him declaring:
“That in future he would lay in wait for policemen and shoot them without hesitation… He complained of not having received fair play at Bang Bang, one of the police having deliberately rested his rifle, aimed, and fired at him, and added that he had a very narrow escape.”
Hall dismissed reports that his hat had been pierced by a bullet: “It was not true,” he said, “that the bullet pierced my cabbage-tree hat.”
By now, Dunleavy was fully entangled in the bushranging life. Alongside Hall and Mount, he lay in ambush near the road from Binalong to Yass, intending to intercept the police-escorted mail coach that same evening. As one newspaper put it, “he also stated his intention to shoot the police who escorted the mail… and rob the mail. This threat, so far as the attempt went, he carried out.”
Meanwhile, rumours swept through Goulburn that Ben Hall was dead — his body allegedly discovered in the bush. The story soon proved false. Hall had indeed collided with a tree while pursued by police, losing his horse and his hat in the confusion, but had escaped capture by climbing into the branches above his pursuers’ heads.
“Hall’s horse ran him against a tree,” the papers reported, “and before he could recover himself and regain his horse he observed the police approaching. He therefore climbed up a tree, from which he saw the police pick up his hat and ride off with his horse, double-barrelled gun, etc.”
Uninjured, Hall stole another mount and continued his campaign — now with James Dunleavy riding in his shadow.
For Dunleavy, what had begun as adventure was hardening into something darker: a life of sleepless nights, empty saddlebags, and the constant terror of discovery. Within weeks, the boy from Tinpot would be forced to confront the full cost of his allegiance — and to decide whether to live as a fugitive or to face the law.
So far as we have been able to ascertain, the following is the case ;—Ben Hall's horse ran him against a tree, and unseated him, and before he could properly recover himself and regain his horse he observed the police approaching. He therefore abandoned the idea of recovering the animal, and climbed up a tree, when he saw the police pick up his hat and ride off with his horse, double-barrelled gun, &c. Hall, who was not injured by coming into collision with the tree, subsequently selected a horse, saddle, and bridle from one of the neighbouring stations, and is now again fully prepared to pursue the course of life he has adopted.
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Fred Lowry dead. Goulburn Hospital September 1863. |
The first clear account of Dunleavy’s baptism by gunfire appeared not long after the Emu Flat coach robbery. A report in the Freeman’s Journal of Wednesday, 1 June 1864, cast new light on what had transpired that week:
“Roberts’ coach from Young to Yass was stuck-up by Ben Hall and two of his gang on Saturday evening, and after robbing the passengers they declared it to be their intention to attack the Binalong mail. Before they could carry their design into execution, however, the two troopers who escorted the mail discovered their whereabouts by means of a fire the rascals had lit in the bush. Several shots were exchanged by the police and bushrangers, the latter of whom beat a retreat, not however before one of them, supposed to be Ben Hall, was wounded by King, one of the troopers. The Yass police were in pursuit as soon as they received information of the circumstance. They found Hall’s horse, saddle, and bridle, double-barrelled gun, and hat, with Lowry’s likeness in it, which had been abandoned in escaping from the troopers.”
The “Lowry” mentioned was Fred Lowry, a notorious bushranger and one-time ally of Hall’s. After escaping from Bathurst Gaol in February 1863, Lowry had joined Hall and John Gilbert in a string of audacious robberies before fleeing the Lachlan following the murder of a miner named McBride. Later that year, Lowry turned up at Cooks Vale Creek near Vardy’s Inn, where Senior Sergeant Stephenson confronted him. The ensuing gunfight left Lowry mortally wounded. As he lay dying from a throat wound, he uttered the words that would echo through bushranging folklore: “Tell ’em I died game.”
Those words — defiant, fatalistic — might well have been directed at Ben Hall and the circle of men who followed him into legend.
In the firefight near Binalong, Dunleavy experienced his own initiation into that brutal brotherhood. The troopers escorting the mail spotted the glow of a campfire off the track and rode toward it.
“They were challenged as to who they were,” the papers reported, “and on replying ‘Police,’ several shots were fired at them. They returned the fire, and the robbers immediately mounted their horses and galloped off. The mail driver, some distance behind, saw the exchange and, fearing ambush, unloosed the horses from the cart, placed the mailbags on one, mounted the other, and rode into Yass safely.”
The bushrangers’ mounts — Teddington, Harkaway, and Troubadour — had been stolen only days earlier from the stables of the Burrangong Station Hotel. It was a reckless encounter, fought more out of instinct than strategy, and for the young Dunleavy it was the beginning of the end.
Meanwhile, the law was closing in elsewhere. Word reached the Lachlan that Frank Gardiner, the man who had once been Ben Hall’s mentor and perhaps the founding spirit of the new breed of bushrangers, had been captured at Apis Creek in Queensland. After years of evasion, Gardiner was again arraigned in Sydney on charges of highway robbery.
“Gardiner has been remanded for a week,” reported the press. “A second charge of highway robbery is pending against him.”
Gardiner’s downfall was a warning the younger bushrangers could not afford to ignore. Yet, for Dunleavy, already wounded and in too deep to retreat, it came too late. The brief exhilaration of the bushranging life was giving way to its true face — exhaustion, pursuit, and the inescapable reach of the law.
The precise moment of James Dunleavy’s wounding is uncertain, though the surviving reports from late May and early June 1864 leave little doubt that it occurred during the running exchange of gunfire that followed the attempted robbery of the Binalong mail. In the aftermath of the Emu Flat coach hold-up, Ben Hall, James Mount, and their youthful recruit had camped near the road, intending to intercept the evening mail from Binalong to Yass. Their fire in the scrub betrayed them.
As the Freeman’s Journal reported on 1 June 1864:
“Before they could carry their design into execution, however, the two troopers who escorted the mail discovered their whereabouts by means of a fire the rascals had lit in the bush. Several shots were exchanged by the police and bushrangers, the latter of whom beat a retreat, not however before one of them, supposed to be Ben Hall, was wounded by King, one of the troopers.”
In the confusion of gun smoke and darkness, Trooper King’s bullet struck home. Whether the wounded man was Hall or Dunleavy remains uncertain — contemporary journalists, relying on rumour, named Hall, but later accounts suggest that it was in fact Dunleavy who suffered the injury. Family tradition and retrospective commentary describe the wound as a severe shot through the wrist — enough to cripple his hand and set the path to end his brief experiment with bushranging.
For Dunleavy, the glamour of the game had vanished. What had begun as adventure was now a grim battle for survival, and the young man who had once carried messages for Hall was at last beginning to count the cost of the outlaw’s life.
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NSW Police Gazette June 1864. |
The Sydney Morning Herald reported the incident in brief but telling words:
“Ben Hall and his two mates stuck up Mr. Clements’ station, about ten miles from Currajong. They took £2 in cash, a quantity of firearms, and two horses. After feasting and yarning for a couple of hours, they departed.”
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Reputed photo of Pearce's store, Canowindra. c. 1860's |
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Rothery's Cleifden Homestead. c. 1900. |
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NSW Police Gazette July 1864. |
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King's Plains, Halfway House c. 1870's Penzig |
Furthermore, on leaving the hotel, on the following day, the three bushrangers remained in its vicinity robbing several travellers, one named Patterson, who had in tow a horse fitted with a side-saddle. The saddle was returned, and the horse was taken leaving the gentleman to slog it towards Bathurst on foot finally arriving worst for wear at Evans Plains. The gang then hit some local homes looking for food and new mounts where not even a man of the cloth was exempt:
It is highly probable that the brush with death—and the constant threat of it—pushed James Dunleavy toward quitting the game. The wrist wound that never properly healed turned every mount, every reload, into a test of endurance; courage becomes calculation when your gun-hand falters. Without the steadying presence of Hall or the hard example of Mount beside him, the campfire bravado thinned, replaced by long hours and longer doubts. In that space, a mother’s counsel carried farther than any bushranger’s boast.
By August, the pattern reads like a decision made in stages: fewer sightings, no confirmed rides with Hall or Mount, and a young man testing the path back—away from the quarrel of firearms and toward surrender. Meanwhile, public scrutiny had intensified. Law-abiding settlers, weary of the raids, began voicing their frustration. One correspondent wrote of those who sheltered Hall’s gang and the uneasy “safety” they offered. Many petitioned the government to extend telegraph lines into their towns, desperate for faster reporting and protection.
BEN HALL AND HIS GANG
(From the Correspondent of the Yass Courier, July 2, 1864)“The bushranging seesaw still continues to oscillate up and down the Lachlan and its affluents. The gang has evidently only one theatre of action, which, the observation of a good map will show, may be compared to an isosceles triangle—Marengo being its centre, Yass the apex, and Bathurst and Forbes the extremities of its base; and until the ruffian leader is either pistolled or captured, the respectable inhabitants of this particular line of country will never be free from periodical attack.
“... Hall is sufficiently cunning to know that, were he to forsake the abovementioned line of country, his successful career as a bushranger would not last a month. For his harbourers are his sheet-anchor, divided into active and passive:
Active harbourer—generally an ‘old hand,’ who under the cloak of free selection manages the robbers’ commissariat and ‘fencing’ department, while his stripling, horse-riding sons act as scouts and ‘telegraphs.’
Passive harbourer—a well-to-do farmer or squatter who, on the principle that self-preservation is nature’s first law, has no objection to quietly assist the banditti with rations, temporary horseflesh, or occasional shelter, on the condition that his own person and property are held inviolate.”
— Freeman’s Journal, July 2, 1864
As Dunleavy contemplated his future, he and his two companions never lingered in one place, covering fifty or sixty miles a day to evade pursuit. Hall, however, knew the district intimately. During hard times he returned to familiar ground near Forbes, to stations whose owners continued to turn a blind eye to his presence. Bundaburra Station was one such refuge—its owners, the Stricklands, were a pioneering family of the district, and it was there in the mid-1850s that Hall’s broken leg had once been mended.
While camped at Bundaburra, the three bushrangers were startled by the cry: “Stand, in the Queen’s name!”—troopers had surprised them and seized their horses. A gunfight ensued as the bushrangers darted from tree to tree, finally abandoning their equipment in a desperate flight. As the police closed in, their shots found their mark: both Hall and Dunleavy were seriously wounded.
The Sydney Morning Herald, Wednesday, 24 August 1864:
“Another fight is reported between Ben Hall, the ‘old man,’ and young Dunleavy on one side, and three Bogolong troopers on the other, in one of Strickland’s paddocks, ten miles from Bundaburra... Hall was believed to be wounded in the shoulder as he dropped his rifle, which, together with the horses and accoutrements of the robbers, is now in possession of the police.”
The Sydney Mail, 3 September 1864, added:
“The history of bushranging as regards these districts has consisted of late in flying fights between the ruffianly freebooters and the police, in all of which, although the latter have had the best of it, the villains have made good their escape... Hall was wounded in the muscle of the arm, and Dunleavy in the wrist. Both sides fired from behind trees, obtaining what is technically termed a ‘pop’ whenever opportunity offered.”
After the fight, Hall, Dunleavy, and the “old man” made their way to another of Hall’s acquaintances, William Gibson, who owned several stations in the district.
The Goulburn Herald, 27 August 1864:
“On Friday week, Ben Hall, young Dunleavy, and their companion called at a station belonging to Mrs. Gibson, seventeen miles from Strickland’s paddocks, the scene of their late encounter with the police. Mr. W. Gibson, who was in bed at the time, awoke to find Dunleavy standing guard over him... They stated they had been pressed by the police and were in want of horses... Hall declared he was wounded in the fleshy part of the arm and Dunleavy in the wrist and shoulder... After selecting three horses, saddles, and bridles, they went away without touching anything else.”
Word of Hall’s presence at Gibson’s spread quickly, reaching police headquarters and infuriating the Inspector-General. Orders were sent to the Forbes district commander, Sir Frederick Pottinger, demanding immediate action against the suspected harbourer. Pottinger, however, took a more measured view—replying to Sydney with an explanation of Gibson’s difficult circumstances.
The memo in Sir Frederick own hand is illustrated below.![]() |
This letter was handwritten by Sir Frederick Pottinger to the Inspector-General of police Captain McLerie on the 9th September 1864. The content describes the situation at William Gibson's home in detail. Pottinger as well states the plight of other well-known squatters subject at times to Hall's visits. |
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W.B. Dalley 1831-1888. |
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A newspaper report of Hall and Dunleavy's wounding
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James Dunleavy Bathurst Gaol entrance book November 1864 Dunleavy and Gordan, Quarter Session sentence 1865 Note James Burke cousin of Micky Burke sentenced. |
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James Dunleavy Darlinghurst Gaol April 1865 |
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James Dunleavy Return of Prisoners Darlinghurst Gaol December 1866 |
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Coroner's Report of Dunleavy's death 20th October 1868 at Darlinghurst Gaol |
For over four years, between 1861 and 1865, the bushranger Ben Hall roamed the western and south-western districts of New South Wales, conducting a series of daring robberies in the company of a motley band of outlaws. Among those who joined his ranks was a seasoned criminal whose bushranging career had begun years earlier, in the mid 1850s — Thomas Frederick (Fred) Lowry.
In the year 1858, Lowry was arrested for horse stealing and sentenced to five years’ imprisonment, serving time in several New South Wales gaols, including the notorious Cockatoo Island.
Over time, Lowry’s name became synonymous with armed robbery, attempted murder, and murder. Yet on his Darlinghurst Gaol release papers in 1862, he recorded his native place as Windsor, strongly suggesting that he had been born there c. 1835.
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Bathurst Free Press, 24th July 1858. |
There has long been speculation surrounding Fred Lowry’s true identity. The mystery came to light in dramatic fashion as he lay dying from a gunshot wound to the throat, inflicted by Senior Sergeant Stephenson. As blood filled his lungs and his life ebbed away, Lowry spoke clearly to the attending physician, Dr. Waugh, declaring,
“My name is Thomas Frederick Lowry.”
Why he made such a deliberate and emphatic statement in his final moments remains uncertain. Perhaps it was a deathbed confession — a final attempt to set the record straight, or to spare his sister the shame of confusion over his name.
Archival records show that Lowry was in the habit of adopting several aliases, as was common among criminals of the 1800s. In 1858, he was incarcerated under the name Frederick McGregor, and at other times went by Samuel Barber. These shifting identities made tracing his movements difficult for police and later historians alike. Yet in the end, facing death, Lowry chose to reclaim his true name.
Achival records reveal that Fred Lowry's parents were James and Ellen (née Jackson) Lowry, were both former convicts who had served sentences on Norfolk Island. During their imprisonment there, they had a daughter, Elizabeth, born c. 1830. Following Fred’s birth in c. 1835, the couple had another son, James, born in c. 1838.
Upon release, the Lowry's settled near Seven Hills, west of Sydney, where James Sr. became a small farmer known for his fierce and uncompromising temperament. There is no record of other siblings besides Elizabeth and James.
In 1853, Fred’s sister Elizabeth Lowry married Frederick Elliot at Bathurst, and the couple later settled there. After the marriage, Fred joined his sister and brother-in-law, becoming well known throughout the Bathurst and Abercrombie districts.
By the mid-1850s, Fred Lowry had earned a reputation as an excellent stockman, fine horseman, and skilled horse-breaker. He was employed in 1855 at Macquarie Plains, between Bathurst and Oberon, and quickly became a familiar figure throughout the region.
Physically, he was an imposing man — six foot two, raw-boned, with long arms, fair hair, and a freckled, sandy complexion. His gait was described as awkward, his features angular, and his expression often distant, as if forever weighing his next move.
But despite his abilities and strength of character, Lowry’s associations soon darkened. He fell in with local criminal elements, notably John Foley, whose friendship would draw him further into the lawless underworld of the western plains — a path from which he would never return.
Lowry was described in contemporary police notices as:
“Height, six feet two inches; raw-boned and of awkward build; very long arms; long, light-coloured hair; small beard; small head; small and angular features; walks with an awkward gait.”
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NSW Reports of Crime for Thomas Lowry. |
In 1855, Fred Lowry first appeared in official police records — not yet as a hardened bushranger, but as a young man wanted for absconding from employment. Listed under the name Thomas Lowry, he was reported to have deserted the service of Joseph West, of James Park, Macquarie Plains, where he had been engaged as a horse-breaker. Prior to that, he had been formally employed by a Mr. Canter of Sydney.
A reward of £2 was offered for his apprehension. The wanted notice described him as:
“Height, six feet; sandy complexion; freckled; light brown, long hair.”
It was a modest beginning to a criminal career that would, within a decade, make the name Fred Lowry feared across the western districts of New South Wales.
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Sarah Cowell 1845. |
Pursued by the law and determined to avoid capture, Lowry adopted the alias “Frederick McGregor” around 1855. At this time, he also formed a close romantic attachment with a woman ten years his senior, known as Sarah McGregor.
Sarah’s real name, however, was Sarah Cowell. Born in 1825, she had arrived in Sydney from Tasmania aboard the Waterlilly on 12 May 1845, travelling as a free settler in the company of her husband Joseph Cowell and their two daughters, Mary-Ann and Elizabeth.
Around 1849, Sarah deserted her husband in Sydney. That same year she was arrested under the name “Sarah McGregor” for assaulting a woman named Margaret Clarke, though the charge was later dismissed.
By reputation, Sarah was an attractive and spirited woman, known for her temper and independence. She and Lowry — then a youth of eighteen — travelled together to the Bathurst district, where they lived under assumed names:
“Frederick McGregor, alias Thomas Lowry, alias Samuel Barber; and Sarah McGregor, alias Cowell.”
Together, they began a life on the margins — one that would soon draw them into the rugged ranges and outlaw camps of the Weddin Mountains.
During this period, there is strong speculation that Lowry became acquainted with several of the notorious young men of the Weddin district, including John and Patrick O’Meally, and the quiet, well-regarded stockman Ben Hall, who in 1855 was employed at Wheogo Station.
There can be little doubt that, as Lowry began lifting horses of fine quality, certain local settlers and station hands — including those later drawn into bushranging — benefited from his activities. Evidence suggests that Hall and Lowry developed a close friendship during these years, a connection that would later resurface when both men took to the bush as outlaws.
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NSW Police Gazette 1858 for Thomas Lowry. |
In June 1858, Thomas Lowry surfaced at Wagga Wagga, working as a horse-breaker under the alias Samuel Barber. While there, he stole two horses belonging to John Lupton, who subsequently offered a reward of £50 for their recovery.
Only a month later, Lowry and his companion Sarah McGregor (née Cowell) were arrested in the Weddin Mountains for stealing horses from Oma Station, near Forbes.
At the time, Ben Hall — later to become one of the colony’s most renowned bushrangers — was employed as a stockman at Wheogo Station, not far from Oma, and was frequently present at local musters. It is during this period that many believe Lowry and Hall first became acquainted.
The connection between the two men seems supported by later evidence. In 1864, when Ben Hall was surprised and forced to flee from pursuing troopers, he abandoned his horse, saddle, bridle, double-barrelled gun, and hat. Inside the hat was found a portrait of Fred Lowry.
“They found Hall's horse, saddle, and bridle, double-barrelled gun, and hat, with Lowry's likeness in it, which had been abandoned in escaping from the troopers.”
This discovery strongly suggests that Hall and Lowry were well acquainted long before Lowry joined the ranks of the bushrangers in the early 1860s.
A long-held belief that Lowry met Frank Gardiner while serving time on Cockatoo Island has since been disproved. Records show that Gardiner was released in December 1859, whereas Lowry did not commence his servitude there until March 1860, having been transferred from Darlinghurst Gaol. It appears therefore that the two men never met during their imprisonments, and that Gardiner — by all accounts a solitary and distrustful figure — had few close companions.
The Weddin Mountains arrest confirmed that Lowry and Sarah had long been in contact with many of the local settlers and families of the district — among them the O’Meallys, Walshes, Taylors, Jamiesons, Halls, and Maguires — names later to become notorious in the chronicles of bushranging. These settlers were frequently on the lookout for quality horses, and the legitimacy of their “purchases” was often conveniently overlooked.
Lowry and Sarah were reported to have been living rough in the Weddin ranges, taking shelter at a spot known as “The Black Fellows’ Ladder”, a former hideout of the 1840s bushrangers Whitton and Scotchy.
The Bathurst Free Press and Mining Journal of Saturday, 31 July 1858, recorded:
“We lately adverted in our columns to the capture of a young man named Lowry, a notorious horse-stealer on the Widdin Mountains, who was brought down to Bathurst last week under escort, together with a young woman, who has been cohabiting with him for some time past.”
While being escorted to Bathurst, the pair were lodged overnight at King’s Plains lock-up. During the night, the gaol’s keeper, James Leonard, attempted to sexually assault Sarah as she slept in her cell. The commotion awoke Lowry.
The Bathurst Free Press described the event in vivid detail:
“Lowry was awoke from his slumbers by sounds familiar to his ear, and immediately detected the voice of his chere amie expostulating with some person in very violent tones. He immediately discovered the cause of this disturbance in the person of the lock-up keeper, availing himself of the temporary absence of his wife, who was attending a sick friend, had entered the cell of the female prisoner, and had made improper overtures to her, which she indignantly repulsed. It subsequently appeared that he repeated this abominable conduct at a later hour of the night, but with no better success.”
During the subsequent hearing, evidence was presented describing Lowry and Sarah as husband and wife:
“The prosecutrix, with her husband, were being escorted down to Bathurst in custody to take their trial at the present Quarter Sessions, on a charge of horse-stealing.”
The charges against James Leonard were eventually heard at Bathurst, where he was found Not Guilty and discharged with an admonishment.
Although charged under the alias Frederick McGregor, newspapers of the day frequently referred to the prisoner as Lowry, suggesting that by this time he was already widely recognised for his involvement in stock theft.
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Fred McGregor/Lowry. NSW Sheriffs Papers 1857-1862 for Frederick McGregor. |
The arrest demonstrated that Lowry and the Weddin district were no strangers to one another. By the late 1850s, he had established a network for horse-stealing stretching between the Weddin Mountains and the Murrumbidgee–Wagga Wagga districts. Through a series of intermediaries, Lowry operated a simple but profitable system — steal at one end and sell at the other, then repeat the trade in reverse.
His reputation had become so notorious that his exploits drew detailed attention in the Bathurst Free Press and Mining Journal of Wednesday, 28 July 1858, which reported his activities and eventual capture with Sarah McGregor under the headline:
CAPTURE OF LOWRY, THE LACHLAN HORSE-STEALER
“For some considerable time the inhabitants of the Lachlan had been kept in a state of continued alarm through the presence of a gang of horse-stealers, who had their headquarters in some of the dells of the Weddin Mountains. Lowry, it would appear, was their travelling agent or man of business, for he had established an overland trade with the Murrumbidgee, where he had a ‘pal’ who was in the habit of disposing of all the Lachlan horses in that district, and furnished Lowry with a mob of Murrumbidgee horses which he could easily dispose of in the Lachlan country. This mutual exchange, no doubt, was rather a profitable speculation for these modern Turpins.”
“Information of their whereabouts reached Mr. Watt, J.P., our Resident Magistrate, who lost no time in reporting the circumstance to the police at Cowra; but from some cause or other it would appear that the police had instructions from headquarters to remain in barracks till further orders were received.”
“Now, we think that when the Lachlan police get reliable information, particularly from the resident magistrate, they ought to act upon it with the greatest promptitude, without awaiting any orders from their commanding officer. However, a second information was given to the troopers at Cowra, who at once came to Mr. Watt’s place and from thence proceeded to the residence of Mr. J. G. Wood, Brundah, where a strong party were organised to go in pursuit of these merchants in horse-flesh. It was arranged that two parties be formed — Mr. Watt and a trooper taking charge of one detachment, and Mr. J. B. Wood and Corporal Higgs of the other.”
“Everything being arranged for the best, both parties set out on their perilous expedition, and after scouring the country for five or six days without any trace of the objects of their pursuit, they were about to give up the chase, when Mr. Wood said he knew a place called ‘The Black Fellows’ Ladder,’ which used to be a favourite stronghold of the notorious Scotchy and Whitton of bushranging notoriety. Mr. Wood was right in his conjecture, for the moment the party came in sight of the Ladder, Lowry broke cover and started off at full speed, but was hotly pursued by the party and repeatedly called upon to surrender. He seemed to disregard such orders, whereupon Mr. D. Mylecharane sent a peremptory message in the shape of a discharge from a revolver, which soon made him strike his colours, and Corporal Higgs lost no time in safely securing him.”
“At the time of his arrest he was in company with a lady of questionable repute, well known for her equestrian feats in the Widdin country; she had charge of the travelling baggage of the male prisoner. Both prisoners reached Cowra this evening about five o’clock en route for Carcoar.”
“[These personages are now safely lodged in Bathurst Gaol. — Ed. B.F.P.] Cowra, July 17th, 1858.”
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Frederick McGregor, released Darlinghurst, 5th Jan 1862. |
In 1862, Thomas Frederick “Fred” Lowry had served his sentence for horse stealing, endured the brutal confines of Cockatoo Island and Darlinghurst, and once again found himself at liberty. Yet the straight path of honest labour held no attraction for him. The restless young man who had ridden rough stock through the Abercrombie and Weddin ranges returned to familiar haunts — and to old habits. Within months of his release, the colonial authorities once more had cause to remember his name.
Records show that a warrant was issued in 1862 for Lowry’s arrest on yet another charge of horse stealing, this time in the districts of the western Lachlan. Rather than submit to capture, Lowry vanished into the bush — a fugitive by his own choosing. From that point forward, he lived the life of a bushranger.
It was during this same year that the first whispers of Lowry’s name began to circulate in connection with a series of bold armed robberies that unsettled the settled districts of rugged west of New South Wales. On 14 September 1862, the mail contractor William Weston was held up at a place known as the Black Swamp, two miles from Wilson’s Inn on the Cassilis–Mudgee road. The robbers took his horse, mail-bags, and saddlery. During the fray, the crêpe mask of one of the men slipped, revealing a familiar face — Fred Lowry, or so Weston later swore.
A week later, on 20 September 1862, Lowry and two associates — believed to include John Foley, another notorious character of the western districts — struck again. This time the victims were a party of settlers at Wilpingong station, near Reedy Creek north of Rylstone. The bushrangers made off with £29 in notes, a cheque, and two silver hunting watches, leaving behind frightened witnesses and a rising panic that the lawless days of the 1840s had returned.
Lowry’s audacity only grew. On 2 October 1862, a general store on the Fish River belonging to William Todd was raided and robbed of some £50 in cash and goods. The police suspected the same gang, naming Foley and a man “answering the description of Lowry” among the culprits.
By the close of 1862, Lowry’s name had become a byword for bushranging across the colony’s western plains. Newspapers described him as “a daring and reckless outlaw, well mounted and always armed,” a man equally at home in the saddle or in a gunfight. He was frequently seen in the company of John Foley, and the pair were believed to have established camps in the rough country along the Abercrombie and Weddin ranges — country Lowry knew like the back of his hand.
While much of the detail from this period rests upon newspaper reports and rumour, there can be little doubt that 1862 marked the beginning of Lowry’s full career as a bushranger. The old horse-thief and former prisoner had now crossed the line from petty crime to open bushranging.
By year’s end, as his notoriety spread, troopers were in pursuit from the Lachlan to the Murrumbidgee. Yet Lowry always slipped the noose — aided, perhaps, by local sympathisers who admired his boldness, or by those who profited from the sale of his stolen horses. He was fast becoming one of the most hunted men in the colony, and his path would soon intersect once more with the rising figure of Ben Hall, setting the stage for the violent period to come.
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Thomas and Catherine Vardy. c. 1860's. Courtesy of Crookwell Gazette. |
Furthermore, among the rogues who moved within Lowry’s orbit was Thomas Vardy — spelt “Fardy” upon his Certificate of Freedom (1841) — a man described by contemporaries as one of the wiliest and shadiest characters ever to grace the southern districts. Vardy had arrived in the colony in 1833 aboard the Pamelia (2), a native of Wexford, England, and by the late 1850s had established himself as a publican, holding a licence for the Limerick Races Inn at Cook’s Vale Creek, some twelve miles from Binda.
Vardy’s inn was more than a traveller’s stop — it was a haven for horse thieves, fences, and bushrangers, a place where Lowry would often find shelter in the years that followed. The innkeeper’s reputation for dishonesty was well-known throughout the district; if he was not directly the perpetrator of a theft, he was invariably the receiver and disposer of stolen goods. His name became further blackened in 1860, when he was accused of participating in or facilitating a major robbery at his own establishment — a case that drew considerable attention in the colonial press.
Extensive Robbery of Jewellery, &c., Near Binda — Intelligence was received on Friday evening of an extensive robbery of jewellery and other property at Mr. Thomas Vardy’s, Limerick Races Inn, Cook’s Vale Creek, about twelve miles from Binda, on Sunday morning last. It appears that a travelling jeweller, named Morris Newman, was stopping at Vardy’s, and went to bed about one o’clock on Sunday morning; he had two boxes containing jewellery, &c., beneath his bed. The lock on his bedroom door being broken, he was unable to fasten it. About four o’clock he was aroused by hearing a man in his room; he asked what brought him there, to which the intruder replied, “Where is Mearnes?” and then left. Shortly afterwards, Newman looked beneath his bed and found that his boxes were gone. The property stolen comprised watches, rings, brooches, lockets, guards, precious stones, purses, meerschaum pipes, knives, and other articles, amounting in value to about £180.
Though no direct charge was sustained against Vardy, suspicion clung to him. His inn became synonymous with shady dealings and soon took on the air of a den for bushrangers and their sympathisers. It was here, amidst the smoky parlours and back rooms of the Limerick Races Inn, that Fred Lowry would later find refuge, planning robberies and recovering from his exploits in the bush.
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Reputed site of Vardy's Limerick Races Inn, Cook's Vale Creek. Courtesy Crookwell Gazette. |
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Frederick McGregor alias Fred Lowry and Sarah McGregor Bathurst Gaol July 1858. Sarah McGregor should read Cowell and arrived in NSW via ship 'Waterlilly' in 1845. |
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Incarcerated as under the alias of Frederick McGregor, however, note Fred Lowry. Gaol entry to Cockatoo Island 1858. Parramatta Gaol Description and Entrance Books, 1858 for Frederick McGregor, also known as Fred Lowry, note description and native place Windsor. |
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Lowry's Cockatoo Island to Darlinghurst March 1861 |
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NSW Police Gazette, 1863. |
Rather than lying low, Foley took to the bush — and before long was riding in company with Lowry. On 2 October 1862, the pair held up the store of William Todd at the Fish River, making off with a substantial haul of £60 in gold and cash. Reports soon surfaced that they had been joined in the robbery by two other men, one of whom was later identified as John Cosgrove.
On 8 October, police tracked the gang through the rugged bush country. A desperate pursuit ensued, during which shots were exchanged. Constable Wright, one of the pursuers, succeeded in subduing Cosgrove after a fierce struggle, striking him with the butt of his revolver. Cosgrove was taken into custody, tried, and later sentenced to five years on the roads, though he would not live to serve his term in full — dying in Goulburn Gaol in 1866. Descriptions of him in official records note a small man, five feet two inches in height, with dark hair, whiskers, and blue eyes.
Lowry and Foley, however, remained at large, and before the year was out struck again. On 24 December 1862, the two men rode up to the store of Stephen Alexander at Mountain Run, near Trunkey Creek, intending to rob it. Their attempt, however, met with unexpected resistance.
Robbers Defeated — Mr. Stephen Alexander, a storekeeper in the Mountain Run locality, called at our office on Monday last and gave us the following information. On Wednesday, the 24th ultimo, two armed men came to his store and inquired at the kitchen door for tobacco. They were directed to go round to the shop. On coming to the store door, one of them returned to the kitchen and presented a revolver in each hand at Mrs. Alexander and her brother. The man who entered the store said he wanted a pound of tobacco, and Mr. Alexander stopped to supply him, when the robber immediately covered him with a revolver and said, “Don’t move.” Mr. Alexander fortunately had a loaded revolver at hand under the counter, which he immediately seized and fired at the robber, who discharged his own weapon in return. Neither shot, however, did any damage, and both men soon after made their escape.
— Bathurst Free Press, 31 December 1862.
Though foiled, the attack demonstrated the increasing boldness and violence of Lowry’s operations. By the following year, the law’s attention had turned not only to the bushrangers themselves but to those who aided and sheltered them.
In September 1863, two brothers, Robert and Henry Hogan, were arrested and charged with harbouring Lowry in the aftermath of the attempted robbery at Alexander’s store. The Hogans were stepsons of Thomas Vardy, Lowry’s close friend and confidant, and were alleged to have provided refuge to the bushranger at Cook’s Vale Creek, where Vardy’s Limerick Races Inn served as a known meeting place for outlaws.
Harbouring a Felon — Robert Hogan and Henry Hogan were arraigned on an information setting forth that, on 24 December last, one Thomas Frederick Lowry, at Trunkey Creek, did shoot at one Stephen Alexander; and that afterwards, on 24 July, the said Robert and Henry Hogan, knowing the said felony to have been committed, did maintain and harbour the said Lowry. Applications were made for the prisoners’ discharge on their own recognisances, it being stated they were freeholders in their own right. Mr. Isaacs opposed the discharge. His Honour, upon reading the depositions, admitted them to bail — £200 each, with a surety of £100, provided by their stepfather, Thomas Vardy.
The case drew significant attention, for it highlighted the network of sympathisers that surrounded Lowry — innkeepers, horse traders, and petty thieves — who ensured he remained one step ahead of the constabulary. His alliances across the Abercrombie, Trunkey, and Weddin districts gave him both protection and intelligence. Yet his notoriety was also growing rapidly, and before long, Lowry’s reckless ambition would drive him into open confrontation with the public — and his eventual downfall.

On New Year’s Day, 1863, Fred Lowry and his companion John Foley made a reckless bid for infamy. The pair descended upon a race meeting at Brisbane Valley, near the head of the Fish River, where more than a hundred settlers and stockmen had gathered for the holiday sports. As the races wound down and the crowd dispersed toward evening, Lowry and Foley — each armed with a revolver in hand — rode boldly into the gathering and ordered the assembled men to stand still and hand over their valuables.
Most obeyed in stunned silence. But one man, a young and spirited local named Foran, refused. When Lowry raised his revolver, Foran defied him, declaring he was not afraid, and rushed at the bushranger. Lowry fired, the ball striking Foran in the chest and passing through one lung. Despite the wound, Foran grappled with his assailant and wrestled him to the ground, holding him fast until others rushed to assist. Foley, seeing his companion subdued, leapt to his horse and escaped, leaving Lowry in the hands of an enraged crowd.
Lowry’s shot had struck Mr. Foran full in the chest, the bullet penetrating one lung, then deflecting toward his spine, where it lodged dangerously close to the vertebrae. Though gravely wounded, Foran showed remarkable courage and endurance.
Onlookers quickly improvised a stretcher, and under the supervision of Dr. Eaton, who had been present at the race meeting, the young man was hurriedly conveyed to Bathurst. There, he was placed under the care of Dr. Machattie, one of the colony’s most respected surgeons. For several days his life hung in the balance, but against expectation — and to the admiration of all who knew him — Foran eventually recovered.
His survival ensured that the charge against Lowry would stand as “shooting with intent to kill,” rather than murder, but it also further cemented Lowry’s reputation as a cold and reckless desperado.
Shooting with Intent to Kill. — Yesterday, Frederick Lowry was brought before the Bench, charged with shooting with intent to kill a young man named Foran.
The prisoner was in the first instance taken before Foran, at McDonald’s Public House, where, in the presence of Dr. Palmer, P.M., and other magistrates, the wounded man’s deposition was taken. Lowry was then removed to the courthouse, where, before a full bench and a great number of spectators, several other witnesses were examined.
From the evidence it appeared that on the 1st instant, a number of persons were congregated upon a racecourse near McGuirk’s, at Brisbane Valley. Toward evening, after the sports were concluded, a man named Allen saw the prisoner, with a revolver in each hand, driving a number of men before him toward the house. The prisoner ordered Allen to go before him, but Allen refused, saying he was not afraid of his revolvers. Lowry then pointed one of the weapons at him and struck him on the cheek; one barrel was discharged, and the ball, missing its mark, struck a horse tied to a fence, wounding it in the hip.
Some person then called out that “Old George” was shot, and Foran, who was in the house at the time, came out and rushed towards the prisoner. Lowry called out for him to stand back, and fired point blank. Foran succeeded in grappling with the bushranger, and a desperate struggle followed until others came to his aid and effectually secured Lowry.
The prisoner made no defence, merely stating that he knew nothing of the affair. Foran remained in a precarious state, the course of the ball having not yet been traced, though it was believed to remain lodged within his body. — Bathurst Free Press, January 1863.
Lowry’s capture caused a sensation throughout the western districts. For years, his name had been whispered in connection with horse stealing and robbery; now he stood openly accused of attempted murder before the colonial courts. He was conveyed under heavy guard to Bathurst Gaol, where he awaited trial.
Despite the violent charge against him, Fred Lowry’s conduct in Bathurst Gaol was reported as exemplary. He appeared contrite, even devoutly religious, attending prayers and showing every outward sign of repentance. Yet beneath this pious exterior, Lowry was plotting one of the most daring prison breaks in colonial history.
On the afternoon of 13 February 1863, Lowry and several fellow prisoners — Woodhart, Mortimer, Saunders, and Pollett (or Pollard) — escaped from Bathurst Gaol in a manner so audacious it stunned the colony. The Goulburn Herald of 17 February 1863 reported the event in detail:
The Escape of the Prisoners from Bathurst Gaol. — The Free Press of the 14th supplies additional particulars of this event, noticed in our telegraphic dispatch of Saturday. It says —
“The prisoners, who were in the exercise yard, became possessed of a pickaxe, which must have been conveyed to them through a drain communicating with the outer yard, by one or more of the road party. The men in the inner yard appear to have congregated in one corner, and while one or two were engaged in removing the bricks from the outer wall by means of the pickaxe, they were sheltered by the others from the gaze of the warder, who was stationed on a platform at the opposite end of the yard.
A hole was made in the wall, from eighteen inches to two feet square, through which the prisoners made their escape. The alarm was first given by Mr. H. Blunden, who was crossing the square and observed a gap in the gaol wall. He saw two men get through, but, thinking the bricklayers were at work, took little notice until one of the men passed him, saying, ‘Don’t say anything about it, old fellow.’ His suspicions were then aroused, and he ran to the gate of the gaol to give the alarm.
In the meantime, before he could return to the hole, three other prisoners had made good their escape. The report spread quickly through the town. Mr. Joseph West, jun., J.P., hearing it, saw one of the men running, mounted the first horse he found, and soon headed the fugitive, who was captured near Mr. John Dargin’s residence in William Street. A second prisoner was quickly taken in Piper Street, while mounted police scoured the surrounding countryside. By two o’clock, a third prisoner had been captured about seven miles from Bathurst, between White Rock and Macquarie Plains.”
The list of escapees was as follows:
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Lowry, awaiting trial for shooting Foran at Brisbane Valley with intent to murder.
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Woodhart, convicted at the last Quarter Sessions for horse stealing (five years on the roads).
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Mortimer, sentenced to three years for forgery.
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Saunders, committed on a charge of horse stealing.
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Pollett or Pollard, committed from Sofala on three separate charges of larceny.
By the following day, three of the five fugitives had been recaptured, but Lowry and Woodhart remained at large.
The incident sent shockwaves through Bathurst. The newspapers of the time condemned the gaol’s lax security, while townsfolk marvelled at Lowry’s cool-headed escape. Once again, he had slipped through the fingers of justice — and now, free in the open bush, the reformed prisoner cast off all pretence of repentance.
Within weeks, Lowry was back to his old trade, and before long, he would join forces with Ben Hall and the Gardiner circle of bushrangers, marking the beginning of the most notorious phase of his criminal career.
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John Foley c. 1873 |
Following his dramatic escape from Bathurst Gaol, the newspapers were soon alive with speculation about Fred Lowry’s fate. Weeks passed with no confirmed sighting, and some believed the once-notorious bushranger had at last turned from his old ways.
The Freeman’s Journal of 1863 gave voice to this hopeful view, recording that Lowry — described as “of gaol-breaking notoriety” — had shown deep penitence before his flight:
“Lowrie, of gaol-breaking notoriety, has not been heard of since; and it is confidently believed that his future career will be different from his past. He, too, like Ross, became a convert in the gaol under Father D’Arcy’s care; and a day or two previous to his escape he was baptized and received into the Church. From the moment of his conversion he was most penitent, and expressed unfeigned regret for his past career, which he attributed to the notorious Gardiner. The fact that he is so long at large without committing crime causes many to hope that he will carry out his strong resolutions against wrongdoing.”
It was a touching sentiment — but, as colonial observers often remarked, a criminal is never penitent until he is caught. For all his newfound faith, Lowry’s nature soon reasserted itself. The quiet talk of reformation gave way to reports of fresh outrages in the western districts.
Before long, the fugitive was seen once more in his old haunts about the Weddin Mountains, moving under cover of the dense scrub and narrow gullies he knew so well. His reappearance was confirmed when, not long after his escape, a traveller was bailed up and robbed on the Marengo Road:
Sticking-Up on the Marengo Road. — On Tuesday, a man was stuck up and robbed of 12s 6d on the Marengo Road by a bushranger dressed in a poncho, supposed, by his height (about 6 ft 2 in), to be Frederick Lowry, who escaped from Bathurst Gaol on the 15th of last month, for whose apprehension the Government has offered a reward of £100.
Lowry’s brief flirtation with faith was at an end. The fugitive who had knelt for baptism in Father D’Arcy’s chapel now took to the bush once more, armed and dangerous, his conscience as fugitive as his body. Within weeks, he would be sighted in company with Ben Hall — the beginning of the gang, whose violent exploits would soon echo across the colony.
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NSW Police Gazette, March 1863. |
Following his escape from Bathurst Gaol and brief wanderings through the western districts, Fred Lowry soon found himself once again drawn toward the Lachlan district, the old stamping ground of his youth and his former associates.
En route, Lowry, lacking even a firearm, demonstrated both his desperation and audacity by robbing the public-house of Mr. Cornelius Hewitt at Grabben Gullen, armed only with a knife. The robbery was successful — Lowry securing at last a revolver, though in his haste he abandoned his swag. When examined, the bundle was found to contain only a few personal items and, curiously, a Catholic prayer book — a poignant relic of the “converted” bushranger’s short-lived repentance. (See Right.)
Before long, Lowry re-established contact with the most feared bushrangers of the time — Ben Hall, John Gilbert, and John O’Meally — whose depredations across the Lachlan, Weddin, and Burrangong districts had by now become a standing menace to the colony. To these men, Lowry was no stranger; he had known them in earlier years, and his reappearance was welcomed. Thus began his final, fatal association — one that would bind his name inseparably to the Hall–Gilbert gang, and to the bloodshed that followed in their wake.
After his bold escape from Bathurst in February 1863, Fred Lowry wasted little time before re-emerging in the orbit of the Hall–Gilbert gang. By mid-1863, the gang’s depredations had extended well beyond the Lachlan and Weddin ranges into the Cootamundra / Cootamundry district, and Lowry rode among them.
One of the more concrete records of their activity in that region appears in the New South Wales Police Gazette, 27 May 1863, which notes:
“At 6 a.m. on the 16th instant, Mr. Barnes’ store, at Cootamundry, was forcibly entered by two armed men … a large quantity of blankets to the value of £90 was taken.”
Though the Gazette names only John O’Meally and John Gilbert, local histories and bushranger lore uniformly place Fred Lowry in that party, riding with Hall’s gang during the southern run. Hall’s own operations in the Cootamundra region are well attested: police correspondence from April 1863 reports his whereabouts between Murrumburrah, Jugiong, and Cootamundra, raiding stores and holding up travellers.
Lowry’s presence in that corridor was advantageous. The Cootamundra–Lambing Flat route lay between goldfields and rural holdings, offering plentiful opportunities for theft, stagecoach ambush, and supply raids. The gang used this stretch to straddle both the southern districts and their more established bases further north.
Within weeks of the Barnes store raid, further reports associated Hall’s gang with robberies in the Cootamundry area and nearby roads. For example, the “Ben Hall” research site preserves mention of Hurley’s station store at Cootamundry being among the targets, along with nearby roadside hold-ups. While these reports don’t always name Lowry explicitly, his continued presence in Hall’s inner circle makes it likely he rode in many of those southern raids.
Beyond direct robberies, the gang used the region as a supply line and staging ground. Pack horses, stolen goods, and gang movements often passed through that corridor. The local settlers and storekeepers lived in fear of nightly raids, and police patrols were stretched thin trying to cover a wide territory.
In sum, while the historical record is cautious about assigning each robbery to Lowry, we can confidently place him in the Cootamundra corridor by mid-1863, operating under Hall’s leadership, participating in store raids such as Barnes’s, and striking fear along the roads between Lambing Flat and Cootamundra.
Lowry quickly proved himself an active and dangerous recruit. The gang embarked on a series of armed robberies, culminating in one of the most cold-blooded murders of the bushranging era — that of a miner named McBride, near Burrangong.
According to contemporary accounts, the crime shocked even a colony grown accustomed to violence. The Sydney Morning Herald and Bathurst Free Press reported that in a gunfight between McBride and the bushrangers, Lowry was believed to have fired the fatal shot, the bullet striking McBride in the chest and killing him almost instantly.
The news ignited fury among the mining community, as recorded in a private letter from Young, dated June 24th:
“An intense feeling prevails here respecting the murder of M’Bride, by Gilbert and Lowry. He was a miner, and the miners are organising a party to take the bush after the ruffians. I am afraid, if they catch them, they will stand a poor chance of being tried by a jury. A petition to Parliament is being prepared, bringing the present police system under their notice. The miners have been advised to ask Government for arms and rations, so as to give any effort to capture them an orderly and constitutional appearance, as any body going out without some such authority partakes too much of the character of a vigilance committee. If Mr. Cowper is wise he will grant what is asked of him.”
Not long after the fatal encounter at Burrangong, reports emerged of John Gilbert boasting in a hotel near Young, brandishing McBride’s revolver as a trophy of bushranging bravado. According to contemporary accounts, Gilbert was overheard telling onlookers that the firearm had been taken in fair fight and that McBride’s appearance had misled him into thinking he was a policeman.
Local newspapers noted that McBride had often styled himself “in the manner of a trooper out of uniform” — with a revolver at his belt, Bedford cord trousers, and polished riding boots. Gilbert’s defense, offered freely in public, was that he had believed McBride to be a law officer in disguise and acted accordingly
A day or two after the shooting, John Gilbert was reportedly “carousing” at a hotel a few miles from Young and was boldly showing a ‘handsome revolver’ he had taken from McBride. It was explained that McBride, from whom the revolver was taken, ‘always adopted the style and costume of a trooper out of uniform … and so Gilbert had mistaken him for a policeman.
This incident deepened the chilling audacity of Lowry’s new alliance with Hall and Gilbert. Not only had Lowry likely pulled the lethal trigger, but Gilbert’s open presentation of McBride’s revolver — coupled with the claim of mistaken identity — was a provocative statement, intended to muddy the waters of guilt and shift blame.
Public outrage reached such a pitch that talk of a vigilante force swept through the Burrangong diggings. Government officials, fearing a second Eureka-style uprising, hastily reinforced the police detachments at Lambing Flat and Weddin.
Lowry’s descent from penitent prisoner to ruthless killer was now complete. The man once baptised under Father D’Arcy’s care had rejoined the underworld with renewed ferocity — and within months, his name would headline the colony’s most infamous mail-coach robbery.
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Thomas Frederick Lowry AI enhanced. |
However, the murder of McBride at Burrangong brought renewed pressure from the authorities and local vigilance groups. Realising that the district was becoming too perilous to remain in, Lowry “shot through” from the Burrangong area, riding swiftly back toward his old haunts in the Abercrombie and Carcoar region — a landscape of rugged gullies and thick timber well known to him from his earlier criminal career.
It was during this flight southward that Lowry again made himself notorious. Near Carcoar, he and several companions stuck up a group of travellers, among them a police trooper, Sergeant Charles Higgs, who happened to be stationed at Carcoar. According to later reports, the bushrangers made it known that Higgs had long been the particular object of their vengeance.
Lowry told the assembled men that they “wanted him” — meaning Sergeant Higgs — and that had he appeared that day, they were fully prepared to administer fifty lashes, having brought with them the necessary ropes and straps. The reason for this vendetta was personal: it was Sergeant Higgs who, some six years earlier, had arrested and presented Lowry for horse stealing, a charge that led to his conviction and imprisonment.
The episode was described in vivid terms by the colonial press:
“Lowry stated that they wanted him, and expected that he would return that day; if so, they would give him fifty lashes, which they were prepared to do, as they showed that they had the appliances with them, namely rope, &c. It appears that Higgs presented Lowry for horse stealing, some six years since… I nearly omitted to mention that within five minutes of the scoundrels leaving the place, Sergeant Higgs was on the very ground where the ten had been bailed up, and was congratulated by the ‘council of ten’ that he had not made his appearance sooner. No doubt if he had, he would have found it much easier to walk home than to have ridden.”
The encounter reveals both Lowry’s personal vindictiveness and the brazen spirit with which he now roamed the countryside. When word of the outrage reached town, the police magistrate acted with prompt energy; but Sergeant Higgs himself, upon learning of the near miss, mounted a fresh horse and rode out in pursuit, remaining in the saddle through the night.
Whether out of cunning or sheer good fortune, Lowry once again evaded capture. His escape from the Carcoar pursuit would soon carry him northwards, where he resumed his bushranging in earnest — leading directly to the notorious Mudgee Mail Coach robbery that cemented his place in colonial outlaw legend.
Mudgee Mail Coach Robbery
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Henry Kater, Australian Joint Stock Bank. M.L.A. 1889 c. 1875 |
On the cold winter morning of Monday, 13th July 1863, Fred Lowry and John Foley executed one of the most audacious bushranging robberies in New South Wales history — the hold-up of the Mudgee Mail Coach near Bowenfels, on the western slopes of the Blue Mountains.
The coach had left Mudgee the previous night at ten o’clock, carrying the mails for Sydney and a single passenger, Mr. Henry Kater, Manager of the Mudgee branch of the Australian Joint Stock Bank. Kater bore a most valuable charge — £5,700 in old bank notes, carefully wrapped in paper, then canvas, then oilcloth, tied securely to his carpetbag and stowed in the front boot of the coach.
At dawn the following day, the coach laboured up a steep incline known locally as “The Big Hill”, some sixteen miles from Bowenfels. With the team straining against the harness, the driver called to his passengers — Kater and Mrs. Smith, the wife of an innkeeper who had joined the coach earlier that morning — to walk and ease the load. As they trudged up the slope, two mounted men appeared descending from the opposite rise. Their movements were casual, but purposeful.
As the riders drew level, one seized the horses’ reins, while the other — tall, confident, and well-spoken — levelled a revolver at Kater’s head.
Kater instinctively reached for his own weapon concealed in his coat, but the bushranger snapped, “Hold up your arms or I’ll shoot you dead!” Realising resistance was hopeless, Kater obeyed as the coach was ordered off the road into the scrub.
There, under the gum shadows, the smaller of the two robbers rifled through Kater’s pockets, relieving him of his revolver, gold watch and chain, pin, and pocket-book. Kater later described both men as cleanly dressed and well-spoken, wearing black coats and gold chains, more resembling settlers or squatters than common bush thieves. Neither wore disguise.
One horse bore a brand that appeared to read T.E. or T.F. — a tantalising clue later noted by police. The bushrangers, seemingly in high spirits, mocked their victim as they worked. “We’ll strip you of everything,” one laughed, “for daring to feel for your pistol. Thought you’d come Robert Lowe over us, did you?”
When the outlaws discovered the mailbags and bank parcels, Kater warned them the notes were old, obsolete, and en route to Sydney to be destroyed. One of the men grinned and replied, “Never mind — we can make a bonfire of them.”
Before leaving, the taller bushranger lifted his coat to reveal seven revolvers fastened across his belt, then tucked Kater’s weapon beside them. “Now I have eight,” he said with satisfaction.
Despite their bravado, the pair adhered to the rough bushranger’s code — they refused to rob Mrs. Smith, who carried between one and two hundred pounds, saying curtly, “We never molest women.”
Having secured their haul, the bushrangers ordered the coachman and passengers to unharness the horses and destroy the reins, before driving the animals deep into the scrub to prevent pursuit. Then, mounting up, the pair galloped away through the stringybark ranges, disappearing towards the west.
Mr. Kater and Mrs. Smith made their way on foot to Hartley, where Kater gave immediate notice to Inspector Norton, who, within the hour, was in the saddle with four mounted troopers in hot pursuit. On her journey to town, Mrs. Smith again encountered the bushrangers — this time accompanied by a third man, believed to be one of Lowry’s old confederates. They asked which way Kater had gone before riding off once more into the wilderness.
The news of the robbery spread through the colony like wildfire. The Sydney Morning Herald carried a full account on 15 July 1863, its columns filled with the particulars of the outrage and the serial numbers of the stolen notes, for which payment was immediately stopped by all banks.
ROBBERY OF THE MUDGEE MAIL.- A Serious and extensive robbery was committed on Monday morning last, involving the loss of upwards £5000 bank notes. It appears that the above mail left Mudgee on Sunday night at ten o'clock, having only one passenger, Mr. Kater, the accountant of the Mudgee branch of the Joint Stock Bank. This gentleman had in charge the notes above mentioned. These were carefully tied in a bundle, first in paper, then in canvas, and outside in oilcloth, attached by string to his carpet bag; the whole being stowed away in the front boot of the coach. Mrs. Smith, wife of an innkeeper on the road, got into the conveyance on the Monday morning. About half-past eleven o'clock, as usual, the two passengers were walking up the steep hill, generally known as the Big Hill, distant sixteen miles from Bowenfels. Two men on horseback were observed to be coming down the hill, and stopped when opposite the mail. One of them stopped the horses, the other approached Mr. Kater, without dismounting, and presented a revolver at his head. Mr. Kater having a revolver within his coat pocket immediately commenced unbuttoning, the robber seeing this told him to hold up his arms or he would shoot him dead. The bushrangers then commanded the coachman to lead the horses into the bush, where any person passing on the road would not observe what was going on. The smaller man of the two (the other still holding the pistol as before described) rifled the pockets of Mr. Kater, taking his revolver, gold watch, chain, pin, pocket-book, &c.
During this process he had ample opportunity of noticing the men. He says they were not common looking men, but pretty well dressed, in black coats, having the appearance of settlers, or squatters. They wore gold chains, were not disguised, and the horses were not first rate. One of the latter had a brand like T. E. or T. F. They conversed freely, telling Kater they would strip him of all he had, because he dared to feel for his pistol, and wished to come "Robert Lowe" over them. Having taken from him all his personalities, excepting his clothes, they took the mail bags and the bank parcels from the coach. Mr. Kater told them the notes would be useless, as they were old, and were being taken to Sydney to be destroyed. One of them said, " Never mind, we can make a bonfire of them. "If Kater saw Inspector Norton, he was to ask him if his spurs were getting rusty, and whether he intended to catch them.
When taking the revolver, one of the rascals lifted up his coat and exhibited seven revolvers putting the other in his belt, he said, "Now I have eight." Mrs. Smith, the female passenger, had between one and two hundred pounds upon her, but they said they never molested women. Having secured their booty, the scoundrels made the coachman and Mr. Kater take out the horses, destroy the harness, and then they drove them into the bush. The bushrangers then rode off in an opposite direction. Mr. Kater made his way to Hartley. and gave information to Inspector Norton, who immediately, with four mounted police, rode off in pursuit. It appears that Mrs. Smith, on the road to Hartley, met the bushrangers again, and this time they were accompanied by a third man. They enquired the way Kater had taken. The bank notes are those of the various banks in the city, and some of the other colonies. The particular numbers appear in an advertisement in another column, and it is to be noticed that the payment of all these notes is stopped.
The sheer scale of the crime — £5,700 in stolen currency — shocked colonial society. Never before had a mail robbery of such magnitude been committed in New South Wales. Rewards were swiftly offered, and Lowry’s name was again whispered across the settlements of the west.
From that moment, Fred Lowry became the most wanted man in the colony. His partnership with Foley had reached its zenith — and his fate, already shadowed by violence, was fast approaching its bloody end.
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Sub-Inspector James Stephenson. c 1863. |
According to Charles White, in his History of Australian Bushranging, Vol. II (p. 140), an intriguing incident followed the Mudgee Mail robbery. Mrs. Smith, the innkeeper’s wife who had been spared during the hold-up, later declared that although her savings had been taken, she was astonished upon meeting the bushrangers again to have her money returned. The act, attributed by Larry Cummins, one of Lowry’s later confederates, to Lowry himself, suggested a peculiar and inconsistent moral streak — a rough chivalry that occasionally flashed through the outlaw’s darker nature.
When called as a witness, Mrs. Smith subsequently failed to identify either Lowry or Foley, a circumstance which helped both men elude immediate capture. Yet by mid-August 1863, Lowry’s luck had all but run its course.
For several weeks after the Mudgee outrage, the gang moved restlessly across the southern tablelands, drifting once more toward familiar country — the old haunts of Cook’s Vale Creek and the Abercrombie. There, among sympathetic settlers and shady acquaintances, Lowry sought shelter. One such friend was Thomas Vardy, proprietor of the Limerick Races Hotel, a rough public house situated on Cook’s Vale Creek about fifty miles north of Goulburn. Vardy, long known to police as a fence and harbourer of thieves, had been a friend of Lowry’s since the early days, and his inn had more than once served as a refuge for outlaws.
Late in August, Senior Sergeant Stephenson, stationed at Goulburn, received word that Lowry was lying low at Vardy’s. Wasting no time, Stephenson mustered a small party — Trooper Herbert and Detectives Camphin and Saunderson — and set out at once for the notorious hotel.
It was the early morning of Saturday, 29th August 1863, when the party arrived. The men approached quietly, dismounting some distance from the inn. Camphin took position at the front entrance, while one constable moved to the rear. Stephenson, accompanied by Detective Saunderson, advanced cautiously to the door.
Inside, the innkeeper Vardy appeared, bleary-eyed and anxious. Stephenson demanded to know if there were any strangers lodging on the premises. Vardy hesitated, then admitted that there were, indicating the room where Lowry and another accomplice Larry Cummins lay asleep. The sergeant stepped forward and called upon them to surrender. Receiving no reply, he forced at the door — whereupon a shot rang out, fired from within.
The original doorknob from
Lowrys room in
which can clearly be
seen the indent of Stephenson's first fired bullet. (Penzig)
The next moment, the door burst open and Lowry appeared, revolvers blazing,
one in each hand. Stephenson returned fire. The two men exchanged
several shots at close range, where a shot from Stephenson struck the
door knob when another one from the sergeant’s revolver struck
Lowry in the throat, bringing him down.
The wounded bushranger dropped both weapons and fell heavily against the doorway. Stephenson seized him as he struggled, still trying to reach for another pistol, but the sergeant held him fast until Trooper Herbert rushed to assist. Lowry was then dragged into the yard, handcuffed, and laid upon the ground, bleeding profusely.
Stephenson and Saunderson re-entered the room, where they found Larry Cummins cowering beneath the bed. Unlike his companion, Cummins offered no resistance and surrendered at once.
The following deposition by Senior Sergeant Stephenson was taken shortly after the encounter and entered into the record of the subsequent inquest:
“On the morning of the 29th instant, having received information that Frederick Lowry and Lawrence Cummins were at the house of Thomas Vardy, I proceeded with Trooper Herbert and Detectives Camphin and Saunderson to the premises known as the Limerick Races Hotel. On arrival, I placed my men in position, and demanded of the landlord if any strangers were within. He replied that there were, and indicated the room wherein they lay. I called upon the inmates to surrender, but receiving no answer, I forced the door, when a shot was fired from inside. Immediately thereafter, the door was thrown open, and a man whom I recognized as Frederick Lowry appeared, armed with two pistols, which he discharged in my direction. I returned fire, and after two or three shots, the man staggered and fell. I then seized him and secured the prisoner. On searching the room, I found another man, Lawrence Cummins, concealed beneath the bed. He gave himself up without resistance.”
Lowry’s wound was mortal. He lingered for a short time in great agony, but when questioned, refused to name his accomplices or make any statement beyond the now-famous last words:
“Tell ’em I died game.”
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Detective William Camphin. |
When Lowry was examined, it was found that he was bleeding internally. Though mortally wounded, he rallied long enough to speak with Detective William Camphin, one of the troopers escorting him. He asked Camphin to pray for him, and to inform his brother-in-law, a man named Elliot, that he had “died game.” Lowry died at six o’clock in the morning on 30 August 1863, aged twenty-seven. In his pockets were found £164 of the stolen Mudgee Mail money.
With that, Frederick Lowry, the tall, dark-haired bushranger once described as “a handsome and gentlemanly scoundrel”, expired on the timber floor of nearby Woodhouseleigh Station while being transported to Bathurst — the last echo of a life spent between swagger and sin, charm and violence.
Detective Camphin later gave the following deposition concerning Lowry’s final hours:
“I am employed in the Goulburn district; I have seen the body; it is that of the person arrested by Senior Sergeant Stephenson; I accompanied deceased to Goulburn, and was with him a few minutes before he died; he asked for a priest; I said have you anything to say; he said that he had a good deal, which he would say to the priest; I said that there was no possibility of getting one till we reached Goulburn; he then asked if I would do him a favor; I said that if it did not interfere with my duty I would; he then told me that he had a brother-in-law named Elliott in the employ of a person named Cummins living on the Lachlan, and he wished me to let him know that he had died game; he said that he had always said that he would not be taken alive but would fight for it; he said that the reason why he fought so was that he knew he should be hung if taken, that he didn't like to die a coward; I said I was very near you when you broke out of Bathurst jail; he asked my name; I told him; I was at Bathurst when the prisoners broke out of jail, and I saw two men, one of whom was Mortimer and the other said to be Lowry, running away; I got my horse, went in pursuit, and captured Mortimer; I asked and deceased answered some questions with respect to the course he had taken on the occasion of his making his escape; he asked me to stay with him, but I had to attend to the other prisoners; as he wanted prayers read to him I asked the other prisoners if they would read to him; they all said they could not read; I asked what prayers he would have; he said he was a Roman Catholic; we then all knelt down and I read the Catholic prayers; in my conversation with him I always called him Lowry; he always answered to it; I was present when he told Dr. Waugh that his name was Lowry; I read the Catholic litany for departing souls, and deceased sometimes repeated the responses; in height and appearance deceased resembled the man I saw running away on the occasion of my capturing Mortimer, but I did not see that man's face; I have no doubt that the deceased was Lowry.”
Thus ended the life of Thomas Frederick Lowry, bushranger, fugitive, and outlaw. His final words—“Tell ’em I died game”—became part of the rough creed of the bushranging fraternity, encapsulating the defiant spirit that marked so many of those who chose to live, and die, outside the law
Authors Note: Lowry's sister Elizebeth at the time of his death resided in Forbes where her husband Frederick Elliott was a merchant and died in 1906 with an estate valued at £ 5000. Elizabeths death date is unrecorded possibly 1924 at Grenfell. Together they produced nine children.

At the inquest into Lowry’s death, it was stated that as he lay dying, he gave his name as Thomas Frederick Lowry. Yet the question of his true identity soon became the subject of speculation and confusion.
Such contradictions were not uncommon. Bushrangers frequently adopted aliases or altered ages and origins to obscure their pasts, protect family members, or evade connection to prior crimes. As the Goulburn Herald reported on Wednesday, 2 September 1863, doubts about Lowry’s identity were raised even at the inquest:
“He appears to have been a very tall young man, measuring six feet two inches, and probably weighing thirteen stone, well made, with small hands and feet, white skin, small moustache, and a particularly well-developed chest. Taken altogether he was physically a very fine man. He is described as having been twenty-seven years of age; and although he must have led a life of mingled dissipation and hardship, he did not appear to be any older.
Some doubt was expressed as to the body being that of Lowry, the bushranger; Mr. Horsford, the jailer, who had known Lowry at Cockatoo Island, where he was undergoing a sentence under the name of Frederick McGregor, considered that the hair was much darker than that of the man he had known, and that he was much stouter, and was of opinion that deceased was not Lowry, though he was not able to speak positively. Mr. Fogg, a settler at the Narrawa, and his wife came into town on Monday and saw the body, which they declared was not that of Lowry; but it seemed that they had not seen Lowry for three years; and although called at the inquest, they did not attend.
On the other hand, the Rev. H. H. Gaud, who had seen Lowry some twelve months back, believed that deceased was he, as did also Mr. Moses Baird, who, however, had not seen Lowry for seven or eight years. The evidence taken at the inquest is all in favor of the view of deceased being identical with Lowry; and it is quite certain that he was the man who robbed the Goulburn mail on the 2nd July last, Mr. Futter, Captain Morphy, and the coachman, Michael Curran, having positively identified him, and Captain Morphy's watch having been found in his possession. There is every reason also to believe that he is the man who in conjunction with Foley robbed the Mudgee mail of several thousand pounds worth of bank notes some days after the robbery of the Goulburn mail. Foley and Lowry it may be remembered escaped together from Bathurst jail on the 13th February last.”
Whatever his true origins, the man who died at Goulburn that morning was beyond doubt the bushranger responsible for the recent mail robberies. His final words—“Tell ’em I died game”—became emblematic of the bushranger ethos: defiant, fatalistic, and unrepentant.
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Woodhouseleigh Station Homestead, Lowry died in building on the far left. |
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S.M.H. 31st August, 1863. |
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Thomas Vardy Publican License 1860. |
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Recognition of those involved in Lowry's death. |
Lowry's accomplice in the Mudgee Mail robbery, John Foley faced court and was sentenced as reported in the 'Goulburn Herald' 9th September 1863:

Previous to his conviction, Michael Dunn was recorded as a Chandler Tallow Boy indentured to The Tallow Chandlers, a City of London Livery Company that administered oils, ointments, lubricants, and fat-based preservatives to manage candle making using tallow (animal fats). Moreover, with the arrival of the Gas Light in the mid 1800's followed by the advent of electricity in 1900s Tallow boys switched to producing soap. In applying for a Ticket-of-Leave, Michael Dunn married a native of the colony Margaret Kelly, aged 23, in February 1846 at Yass. Under the law, they were required to apply for a 'Convicts Application to Marry.' It was granted before their nuptials.
John Dunn developed a reputation as a horse-breaker in the local districts and often engaged as a partime jockey, where he had ridden home several well-known bush racers. Dunn's prowess in the saddle had undoubtedly attracted the attention of Hall and Gilbert, whose passion for horse racing brought them into contact with the talented rider as they attended many local meets. Dunn's knowledge of the finest thoroughbreds and where they were stabled no doubt interested the two bushrangers who enticed Dunn to join their ranks. However, even at 5ft 8, Dunn's jockeying ability would not be unusual at country meetings. In some cases, top-flight horse owners rode their own entries regardless of the weight on the horse's back.
In April of 1864 at the Yass races this was recorded of a horse Dunn was known to race for its owner Mr Davoren, 'Ringleader':
Before long, Dunn was riding alongside Hall and Gilbert. However, on hearing the news of his son's descent into full-on crime, Dunn's father, Michael, rode in search of him in the hope of rescuing him from bushranging. Unfortunately, his horse died from overexertion. Consequently, he was compelled to return home and failed in his search. The colt had bolted. Dunn was a mild-looking young native, having a particularly soft pleasing voice.
The 'The Newcastle Chronicle and Hunter River District News', November 1864, highlighted the circumstance that led John Dunn to become a member of Ben Hall's gang:
On being interrogated, young Kennedy said he wanted to find out where the Erlington pound was situated, as a racer had been stolen from him after the Murrumburrah races by — (mentioning another youth who has shown strong indications for hose-stealing), and that he had found out from the Government Gazette that it was in the pound. After making sundry inquiries, he obtained the requisite information, and the two hope full's departed on their journey. It appears that the horse was released by Kennedy, and he with Dunn returned towards home. On reaching Gunning, Dunn left his companion, and rode in the direction of Pudman Creek, where he fell in with another youth named Ryan, whose brother has been long the dread of this part of the country as one of the most expert and successful of horse stealers, but whose reign is drawing, or has drawn to a close. Shortly after this they stuck up and robbed some drays on the Pudman, and were subsequently apprehended and taken to Burrowa, where they were committed for trial at the Yass General Sessions. Strange to say, that although the charge was robbery under arms, the sapient justice accepted bail for their appearance to take their trial.
When the sessions came on, Dunn and Ryan were called on their bail. The latter appeared, but as Dunn was absent the Crown Prosecutor applied for a postponement of the trial, consenting to take fresh bail for Ryan, and at the same time applied to the judge to entreat Dunn's recognizances and issue a bench warrant for his apprehension. All this was done. I have very good reason for believing that Dunn was in Yass at the time of the application was made, and that so soon as he heard that a warrant had been issued he mounted his horse and joined Ben Hall and Dunleavy (Gilbert was not with Hall at the time), who were only a short distance from town. See now the consequence of Mr. Burrowa Justice's folly-in granting bail. Ryan knew he would not be put on his trial without Dunn, and therefore surrendered, and I shall be most egregiously mistaken if ever he shows his nose voluntarily before Judge Meymott again.
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The pending court appearance of John Dunn and Daniel Ryan, it was from this event that Dunn fled justice and joined Ben Hall and John Gilbert. |
However, in June of 1864, Ben Hall, with Mount and Gilbert, in an attempt to procure some fine racehorses being guarded by two troopers at the Bang Bang Hotel Koorawatha, met their match and failed to obtain the horses after a gunfight that came close to ending Hall's life as a shot from a trooper took Hall's hat from his head. The next day Hall called upon an Innkeeper demanding a meal be prepared. In his company was Daniel Ryan. During the conversation, Hall declared that the newspaper's version stated that the range between shots was eighty yards, whereby Hall said closer to fifty and remarked that removing his hat by a bullet "was not so bad". On leaving, Hall and company made for the direction of Lambing Flat. Hall and his two partners Gilbert having returned to the fray, and Mount had entrenched themselves in the Burrowa district. There is no doubt that their use of local hoods such as Ryan and Dunn, amongst others, in telegraphing valuable information and supplies, along with horse racing, was the introduction to Hall and associates. 'The Sydney Morning Herald' Tuesday 7th June 1864:
Daniel Ryan, unlike Dunn, never took the complete step into bushranging and would become a fringe dweller in the escapades of Hall, Gilbert and Dunn. Most notably, the Araluen Gold Robbery attempt in 1865. Ryan's participation is widely believed. However, Thomas Clarke, another hoodlum to take up Ben Hall's reins upon his death, was considered the fourth man present. Ryan would be arrested for his suspected part but was released due to lack of evidence. Although those who held hostages before the raid had a good look at the bushrangers, Thomas Clarke was not implicated by them. Ryan's close association with Dunn casts light on his probable involvement.
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Dunn and Ryan, NSW Police Gazette 1864. |
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Death of Sergeant Parry. |
However, in the Southern parts of New South Wales, another murderous bushranger was continuing to lead the troopers a merry chase as well. Daniel 'Mad Dog' Morgan. Furthermore, the press were quick to draw a parallel between the two camps, as reported in the case of the shooting death of Sgt Parry. Below is the link regarding the murder of Sergeant Parry as well as shooting with intent to kill Insp O'Neil outside Jugiong on 16th November 1864 as follows;
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Contemporary drawing rarely published of the death of Sgt Parry, from the 'The Australian News for Home Readers', Sat 24 Dec 1864 titled; STICKING UP OF THE GUNDAGAI MAIL. |
In the fallout of Parry's death, the magistrate Mr Rose brought about the end of Const Roach's career who at the time of the encounter was in the mail coach and prevented by Rose from interfering whereby Roach took to his heels in the act of self-preservation. However, this action led to his dismissal from the police force:
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Edmund Parry, Police Employment record. |
FURTHER OUTRAGES BY BEN HALL AND HIS GANG
Below is the account of Morriss' court testimony and the case against Christina McKinnon and Ellen Monks as accessories in the burning down of his General Store. See link below.
FEMALE BUSHRANGERS
Kimberley's Inn with Nelson monument at right. c. 1900's. |
Before their appearance in the town, the three bushrangers during the 26th January held sway over the road leading to Collector from Goulburn. For the last few days, Hall, Gilbert and Dunn were loitering around Rose's Lagoon, some five miles from Collector. Between the morning and mid-afternoon, everyone travelling along the road (Today's Federal Hwy) was waylaid. As each person was penned they were relieved of any valuables, including various amounts from half-a-crown to £11 12s, two watches were stolen, one horse, saddle and bridle. By two o'clock the gathered group resembled a country sports meeting made up of a collection of men, women, children, carts, drays, horses, and a couple of bullock teams. The robbers broke open cases, took a little clothing, and a double-barrel gun. They drank bottled porter and gave some to the people. As the afternoon wore on, Ben Hall instructed a couple of his prisoners to make tea for the captives. Preparations were well underway with the aroma of burning gum-leaves drifting blue into the afternoon heat, when Dunn, who was on watch saw a trooper, coming from the Goulburn direction and announced: "Here's a blasted trap." "If it's only one," suggested Gilbert, "we'll face him." The three bushrangers stood a moment gazing through the white haze of heat toward the approaching trooper. However, behind the closing trooper came a carriage, and after that, another trooper. The carriage carried Judge Meymott on his way to Yass, via Collector. "There's more of them," commented Hall. However, to avoid trouble, he added, "Let's be off!" promptly mounting, the three bushrangers rode off, galloping across the road and up the hill toward the dense bush as the Judge arrived at where the throng of prisoners milled about. 'Empire' 31st January 1865:
The judge had got only about a hundred yards further when Mr. F. Hoare, of Gundaroo, who was coming to town, was stopped by Gilbert, Hall and Dunn. They searched him and took three half sovereigns which were being sent to this office in payment of an account. Mr. Hoare had a cheque and some silver in his portemonnaie which they look at but returned. They also looked at his watch, but gave it back to him. They told him they intended to visit Collector in tho evening, and therefore should be compelled to detain him.
The bushrangers now took possession of the road, stopping and detaining all who passed. Among them wore three horse-teams and nine bullock-teams. Altogether about thirty persons were stopped. The bushrangers broke open many of the cafes and helped themselves to some articles of clothing, of which they appeared to be in want. Gilbert expressed a great wish to secure a pair of boots; but here he failed. On one of the drays they found a new double-barrelled fowling-piece, belonging to Mr. Ranyard, of Gundaroo; and Gilbert loaded this and took it with him. The bushrangers broke open a case or two of bottled porter and drank some, giving freely to everybody who liked to partake or it.
Among the persons detained was a young man on horseback, named William Macauley. Whether his horse was restive, as he stated to the bushrangers, or whether he meant to escape, as was suspected, we have not heard: but the animal made some movement. Dunn, who was keeping guard at the time, immediately fired from his revolver, and the ball slightly wounded Macauley's horse in the neck. As Macauley made no further movement no additional violence was offered. Among the last persons robbed were Messrs. Kershaw, Pearce and Cook, young men employed as assistants at the stores of Messrs. Davies, Alexander, and Co. They took from Mr. Kershaw a gold watch and £1 in money ; from Mr. Pearce, a silver watch and chain, the horse he was riding (belonging to Mr. John Lawler), and his saddle and bridle; from Mr. Cook they took a half-crown. From a man of Mr. Kimberley's, who was on his way to Goulburn, the bushrangers took £11, which had been entrusted to him to pay an account in Goulburn.
About seven o'clock the bushrangers allowed the persons they had robbed to go their ways, while they themselves proceeded to Collector, where they called at Mr. Kimberley's public-house, which they ransacked, taking three guns, some boots, and other articles. The guns were subsequently recovered, having apparently been dropped by the bushrangers in their haste to get away.
In order to render intelligible what follows, we must now return to the time when the judge passed along the road. Mr. Voss, J.P., was travelling to Wollogorang, and saw the judge's carriage pass by, and also saw the bushrangers stopping some of the travellers. He hastened after the judge, and on overtaking him and communicating with the police, it was arranged that directly they had arrived at Collector, the police should go with Mr. Voss in search of the bushrangers. At Collector there were found to be three constables. One-the lockup keeper, Samuel Nelson-remained behind; the other two, with the judge's escort and Mr. Voss, started in search of the bushrangers, Mr. Voss and two of the policemen going to Wollogorang, while the others went to Rose's Lagoon.
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Dunn shoots Nelson. Smith's Weekly November 1922. C.H. Hunt. |
Reputed couch at Kimberley's Hotel on which Const Nelson's body was laid after his murder by John Dunn. Held at NSW Police Academy
Penzig.
|
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Constable Samuel Nelson. |
After the three galloped out of the town it was reported that Ben Hall's fury had not receded with The Kid:
When news reached Goulburn, the Superintendent of police fired off a telegram to the Inspector General McLerie highlighting Nelson's death. There has been much written regarding the shooting, however, in this telegram the superintendent reports that after Nelson fell from the first shot, Dunn walked up and fired point-blank at the dying Nelson;
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Nelson |
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Widow, Elizabeth Nelson and Grandson. c. 1900. Private Source. |
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Reward Notice 1864. |
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The Goulburn Chronicle 4th February 1865. |
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The four Faithful brothers. |
FURTHER BUSHRANGING
HALL, GILBERT, AND DUNN IN THE BRAIDWOOD DISTRICT.
Remaining in the Goulburn district, the bushrangers sought refuge at a harbourers home named Byrnes. The police gained information about the gang's presence and in an attempt to capture the three men set about a raid to effect their seizure. As the police positioned themselves two were sleeping in a barn at Mutbilly and Hall reputedly just outside the hut. Discovered Gilbert fired and Trooper Pye dived for cover as Wiles was wounded in the knee. However, it was thought Ben Hall was shot in the arm as the gang fled on foot. Newspaper report below.
BUSHRANGING
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William Davis. c. 1863 Gilbert, acquired Davis' Tranter revolving rifle at Geary's Gap. Penzig |
The robbery at Geary's Gap, Gilbert stole his longed for revolving rifle from a Mr. Davis on the 9th March 1865. The newspaper article below;
Monday, 13th March 1865.
HALL'S GANG AT LAKE GEORGE
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The carving, photo c. 1937 |
Monday, 8th May 1865.
THE BUSHRANGERS AT YAMMA.
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Morgan Dead. April 1865. |
Yamma Station. |
On the 13th May 1865, eight days after the bullet-riddled body of Ben Hall lay dead and buried, John Dunn and John Gilbert were in the process of clearing out of the Lachlan, pushed hard on knocked up horses which they soon replaced. They were next reported near Murrumburrah:
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Felons Apprehension Act, 1865 |
"I'd loike a few words wud the sargint, If ye please, Mishter King."
"Ah! Well, he'll be in presently. Mean while, make yourself at home, If I can't be of any use to you."
"Well, yo moight be able tor giv me some information."
"I will if I can. What is the trouble, John" "Well, I kem to ask if there's any truth in what Paddy Ryan's been afther tellln' me about me gran'son Johnnie bein' outlaw'd, Misther King."
"Well, I am sorry, for your sake, that it is, old man. We received, the noticess yesterday, and one is posted up outside there."
"How much is put on 'em?"
"One thousand pounds, alive or dead. Five hundred goes to the person who will give information that will lead to the capture of any one of them, and the remainder to the person who shoots or captures either of them."
"By Gor! the Guvermint manes business."
"Yes, the murder of poor Constable Nelson, the father of nine children, was unnecessary and cold-blooded.
"Whist a moment," said John, interrupting me. "Spose any wun gev the information, an' they wasn't captured or kilt, wud they git anything?"
"Not a penny."
"I see! " answered John, somewhat disappointed. "I thought-"
"Why! what did you suppose they would for?"
"Well now, I'll tell you, and"-lowering his voice-''mind it's a saycret 'twixt you and me; but Jannie moight be comin' ter see me some day. He's very fond of the ould woman. Sure the Divvel himself- can't save his neck, and if five hindred pounds is to be med out ov 'im, the sooner the betther, 'fore he shoots some wan else."
It now dawned on me that John had something up his sleeve, so I took up another role.
"Quite right, John! Quite right! I always knew you as a decent, honest man, and I am glad to find you are no sympathiser with your grandson's doings, and see here, old man, If ever you give me any information, it will be safe and sacred, and so will your share of the reward; here's my hand on it."He took my hand and wrung it until I winced, saying, "I belave yer a man ov yer word, Mishter King," then sitting down beside him I again ventured "I suppose you have no idea when they are likely to pay you this visit?"
He grinned, and, shutting his eye, said, "By Gor, they moight come to-night."
"Oh, that he damned," I exclaimed, jumping off my chair.
"But I say they moight," he answered, with significant emphasis.
"Go easy, man sit down till we make a plan."
I again sat down, and he continued.
"Ye see, If it wus to git wind that I towld ye anything, an' they wus to get away, by Gor they'd cum an' shoot me loike a dog. So yez must be careful not to, miss yer game, shoot straight if ye does shoot, or don't shoot at all at all."
"John! You would make a better general than Fosbery," said I, approvingly.
"Well, now, hold yer whisht a minnt thin ye ken have yer say. They'll be at my place fur sartin to-night."
"They wur there lasht noight, and the auld woman is gettln' a good feed fur 'um ready for to-noight, and I've got a keg ov rum in the bag outside.
The above conversation is written as to how John Kelly spoke. Kelly devised a signal for the troopers to have his grandson captured or killed, all this was done on the understanding of anonymity. The two bushrangers now legally declared 'Outlaws' arrived again for the night and early on the morning of Saturday 13th May 1865;
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Woodcut of Dunn's escape at Binalong. |
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Ellen Jullian 1825-1924. Private Source. |
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Letter to Goulburn Gaol regarding the expected surrender of Hall, Gilbert & Dunn. New South Wales, Australia, Sheriff's Papers, 1829-1879 for John Dunn. |
The reward for Gilbert's capture has been divided as follows:
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John Dunn, Goal entry book January 1866, note Dunn was educated. |
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John Dunn, Criminal Courts record trial date 9th January 1866. |
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John Dunn, Darlinghurst Gaol Entrance book, 3rd February 1866. |
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NSW Police Gazette, 6th December 1865. |
Authors Note: Joseph Burford would be charged under the 'Felons Apprehension Act', and faced trial for his harbouring Dunn and giving false information to the police, and be sent down on the 26th March 1866, for six months to be served at Maitland Gaol, where he was released in August 1866. Another harbourer John Walton at whose home Dunn was at was also charged with the offence, For this crime, a reward was paid to the arresting police. Walton received two years at Bathurst Gaol at hard labour.
Dunn survived for another few weeks and was finally captured in January 1866. (see article below) Following his capture Mr. Arthur Willmott, J.P. described to his relatives in England his conversation with John Dunn during his removal to Coonamble goal. Extract Dated; 13th March 1866;
Thursday, 18th January 1866
CAPTURE OF DUNN, THE BUSHRANGER
https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/63242347?browse=ndp%3Abrowse%2Ftitle%2FE%2Ftitle%2F67%2F1866%2F01%2F18%2Fpage%2F5693979%2Farticle%2F63242347
DUNN, THE BUSHRANGER
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Dunn's recapture near Dubbo Gaol. |
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A newspaper portrait of John Dunn. |
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McHale Recognition for Dunn Capture. |
DUNN AND HIS MEDICAL ATTENDANT
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Reward distribution for Dunn capture. |
John Dunn still suffering from gunshot wounds was under police escort from Bathurst to Penrith and then bordered a train for the trip to Sydney. However, before the trip, Dr Busby at Bathurst gaol assisted Dr Palmer extracted a bullet from Dunn's back. Without any aesthetic, the doctor probed; 'The Sydney Morning Herald' Friday 26th January 1866:
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Newtown Railway Station. c. 1890's Courtesy NLA |
John Dunn was finally incarcerated at Darlinghurst Gaol; he was formally brought before a judge and charged over the death of Constable Nelson. His initial arraignment was noted in the paper were Dunn when asked of his heath and stated he was weak; "Then there is the case of Dunn; he was brought up before the Chief Justice late yesterday afternoon, and the following is a report of what took place on the occasion:—
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Illustrated Sydney News, Friday 16th February 1866. |
Dunn was returned to Darlinghurst to await his rendezvous with death, and the reward for Dunn's capture was gazetted and divided thus;
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John's final letter to his father, penned for him by one of the priests. (see text below) |
A letter was written on Dunn's behalf as he awaits execution.
Darlinghurst Gaol, Sydney, 2nd March 1866.
My dear Father
I received your very welcome second letter a few days ago - I say welcome although it conveyed to me the death of my sister. I can sincerely condole with you on this bereavement coming too at such a time, but you will remember that I never sway my little sister and therefore it is why I state that any letter form you under my circumstances is welcome.
I have not yet heard what day is fixed for my execution but it cannot be far off as I was told by Father Dwyer last evening that he had an interview with the Prime Minister and that the law is to take its course.
Under the circumstances it will be advisable for you to come down with my brother without delay - Mother knows how gratified I would be to see her before I die, but don't let her come. It is best not. I can bid her goodbye to you for her, and send her a keepsake by you also. So reason with her about it and persuade her to remain at home.
I have no more to say in this letter. As soon as I hear of "the day" I will let you know.
With love to all believe me dear father, your affectionate Son,
John Dunn
EXECUTION OF JOHN DUNN
https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/60597278?browse=ndp%3Abrowse%2Ftitle%2FE%2Ftitle%2F67%2F1866%2F03%2F20%2Fpage%2F5697796%2Farticle%2F60597278
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The drop Darlinghurst Gaol. |
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The Morgue: Following Dunn's execution at Darlinghurst Gaol, his body was held here prior to being claimed by his Godmother, Mrs Pickard. |
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A Guinea coin = 21 Shillings or $84 today. |
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John Dunn's Death Certificate |
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Dunn's father's Ticket-of Leave & Conditional Pardon. |
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John Coleman headstone, the son of Margaret Monks and Richard Coleman. |
#-Reference notes and source material can be accessed on the EndNote page except where book, author or newspaper title are named. Publications referred to can be found on the Links Page. For any research assistance no charge, contact is on the Home Page under Contact details or Email to benhallbushranger@gmail.com. For an enhanced view of photographs, click right mouse button and select 'open in new tab'.
What a great site !!
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ReplyDeletewonderful long story of history happens with ben hall's gangs..Excellent intersting. I am searching of ben hall's way his time at majors creek mountain, where my great great grandfather arrived on march 1862, he work the goldgigger around at araluen, He name is Henry Braden he from cavan, ireland.
ReplyDeleteMy great grandparents(Mccarthy) were the first owners of the Jugiong hotel. I have a letter ( family heirloom) apparently authenticated by the Mitchell Library that says that my ancestors harboured John Dunn for a time however I am uncertain of the time frame, also interesting to note that my great grandfather police inspector Eather rode with the assassin Constable Walker who supposedly shot dead Thunderbolt at Kentucky ck.My ancestor gained promotion over Walker and family legend has it that the reason Walker blew his own brains out was because of the angst this caused.
ReplyDeleteHi, Your G Grandparents ran a sly grog (illegal) shop at Jugiong and were well known to police as shrewd and shady characters. As far as John Dunn goes I have no doubt that there may have been an association, as well as with Hall and Gilbert and O'Meally. For more contact me direct thru the email benhallbushranger@gmail.com Mark Matthews
ReplyDeleteMy GG Grandfather was Constable Henry Hall 301 Binalong Henry arrived NSW 1854 joined the NSW Police 1857-1875 Henry wed Ellen Maloney Henry Died 1893 Binalong.
ReplyDelete