In the annals of Australian bushranging history, few events have captured the public imagination like the audacious Eugowra Gold Escort robbery of June 1862. Orchestrated by the notorious Frank Gardiner, the heist was carried out by a band of men who would soon become infamous in their own right. Their actions cemented their place in the legend of the bushrangers.
When Gardiner set his sights on the gold escort, he enlisted John Bow, Alex Fordyce, Henry Manns, and Daniel Charters, alongside Ben Hall, John O’Meally, and John Gilbert. Together, they staged an ambush near Eugowra Rocks, seizing more than £14,000 worth of gold and cash—a staggering fortune in its day. Each man was said to have received a share of around 300 ounces of gold and £335 in cash.
This page explores not only the crime itself but also the lives of the men who carried it out. It follows their paths from the social and economic conditions that drove them to rebellion, through their moment of triumph at Eugowra, to the violent consequences that followed—including the grim fate of Henry Manns. In doing so, it sheds light on how these men came to embody both the romance and brutality of Australia’s bushranging era, as well as the lasting impact their actions had on colonial society.
(All related articles incorporated into the narrative are coloured and transcribed as published.) |
| John Bow Prison Release, 1874. |
His father, Martin Bow, was a hardworking farmer who tended a modest plot in Penrith. The family’s resilience was tested by tragedy—first with the untimely passing of John’s mother in 1851, and then, seven years later, with Martin’s own death in 1858. In the wake of these losses, John found solace and steadfast support in his sister, Margaret Holburid (née Bow), who became his closest companion in an uncertain world.
In 1857, while herding cattle from the Blue Mountains, Bow found himself on the wrong side of the law. He was arrested on suspicion of cattle stealing—an accusation that would alter the course of his life. He was not alone in this misfortune; alongside him stood two brothers, John and Patrick Walsh, and a man named Michael Driscoll. For the young stockman, the path ahead was shifting, pulling him away from his respectable beginnings and into the shadows of uncertainty.
Bow’s arrest stemmed from a dispute over a single animal, originally owned by Mrs. Maryanne Hyndes. The bovine had somehow become part of a herd of 82 cattle, all under Bow’s watch. When the police intervened, they singled out Bow and his associate, Michael Driscoll, as the prime suspects in what appeared to be a case of theft.
What may have been an innocent mix-up quickly turned into a serious accusation, casting Bow in an undesirable spotlight. The incident marked a turning point in his early career, threatening to redefine his future as a stockman.
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| William Costello, Half brother. 1833-1921. Private Source. |
In another twist of fate, Bow once again found himself on the wrong side of the law in 1858—this time accused of stealing a mare and her foal. He wasn’t alone; his half-brother, William Costello, faced the same charge after voluntarily surrendering to the police.
Bow was apprehended near Cheshire’s and transported to Bathurst, where he was formally accused of horse stealing. The Cheshire family—relatives of the bushranger John Vane—were unintentionally drawn into the legal turmoil. Now facing serious accusations, Bow braced himself for the fight ahead, preparing his defense and ready to plead his case.
Costello was acquitted, and Bow was set free.
Life at the station took a dramatic turn in 1860 with the discovery of gold at nearby Lambing Flat. The rush disrupted the region, and Bow soon gained notoriety for his associations with those who regularly communicated with the infamous bushranger, Frank Gardiner.
Over the next three years, Bow drifted between various stations in the Burrowa district, working primarily as a roustabout. But his increasing ties to Gardiner’s gang led him down a dangerous path—one that often ended in prison sentences or, worse, the gallows. His reputation darkened further when he was reputedly employed as a bush telegraph, passing along vital information about travellers carrying valuables and relaying confidential intelligence on NSW police movements. There is no doubt that at this time Bow also came into contact with John Gilbert and John O'Meally.
Yet, despite his growing involvement in criminal activities, Bow continued working as a stockman, primarily at John Nowlan’s Wentworth Gully Station. The stark contrast between his lawful trade and his unlawful dealings only deepened the complexity of his character, leaving his true loyalties shrouded in uncertainty.
John Bow’s unusual role as a bush telegraph proved highly profitable. The easy money he earned from aiding the bushrangers funded raucous celebrations in shanties and dance halls across the goldfields. At John Nowlan’s station, where Bow was employed, notorious figures such as Frank Gardiner, John Charters, and Ben Hall were frequent visitors. Like many young men of his time, Bow took pride in flaunting his wealth—dressing flamboyantly and spending lavishly. But his indulgences soon attracted the unwanted attention of local law enforcement.
Meanwhile, Frank Gardiner was formulating a bold plan to escape the relentless pursuit of the NSW police. His vision was simple: secure a fortune large enough to disappear with his beloved, Catherine Brown, and start a new life far from the law’s reach. Aware of the vast quantities of gold moving along the Queen’s highways, Gardiner shared his audacious scheme with his most trusted associates, John Gilbert and John O’Meally.
To execute the plan, they needed more men. John Maguire, co-owner of Sandy Creek Station with his brother-in-law Ben Hall, was quickly drawn into the conspiracy. Though Bow remained a peripheral figure in Gardiner’s gang, he was invited to take part in what would become one of the most infamous heists in Australian history—the robbery of the Forbes Gold Escort. Recognising the chance for quick riches, Bow readily accepted, stepping into the shadows of legend.
It was with Gardiner that the idea of taking the escort originated and took a fortnight to prepare for the attack. For some months before Gilbert and O'Meally were Gardiner's constant companions, and they had been talking about it together. They were getting full of the petty bailing-up business, and wanted to make a grand haul and then quit the country. |
| Escort Rock, Eugowra. My Photo. |
On the afternoon of June 15, 1862, the grand scheme was set into motion in the small hamlet of Eugowra. Situated along the road to the Forbes gold diggings, Eugowra’s landscape—dotted with massive granite boulders—offered the perfect cover for an ambush. For this daring operation, Frank Gardiner had assembled a trusted team, including six young accomplices—among them, John Bow.
In the days leading up to the heist, a confident Tom Richards, a close associate of John Maguire, was present when Gardiner arrived at Sandy Creek to strategize with the would-be robbers. But in the aftermath of the raid, greed proved stronger than loyalty. Tempted by the promise of a £1000 reward, Richards turned informant. Armed with inside knowledge, he sought out Sir Frederick Pottinger, a local police officer, and revealed Bow’s role in the robbery—betraying him and the rest of the gang.
The peaceful echo of Fagan’s voice was shattered by the sharp crack of gunfire. Bullets ripped through the air, slamming into the gold escort coach with violent force, splintering wood and kicking up dust. The unsuspecting policemen, including Sergeant Condell, were caught in the hailstorm, some sustaining injuries as chaos erupted around them.
The thunderous gunfire spooked the horses, sending them into a wild frenzy. Panicked and uncontrollable, they bolted, dragging the coach before it finally capsized in a cloud of dust and splintered debris.
Outgunned and overwhelmed, the troopers managed to claw their way free from the wreckage and retreat into the nearby scrub. Bloodied and disoriented, they stumbled upon Mr. Hanbury Clement’s farm a short distance away. Hearing the commotion, Clement rushed to investigate, finding the shaken policemen and offering them aid.
Meanwhile, Gardiner, Bow, and their gang swarmed the overturned coach, their shouts of triumph cutting through the fading gunsmoke and echoes of gunfire. They ransacked the vehicle with practised efficiency, hauling away a staggering bounty—over £14,000 in gold (2,700 oz) and cash, a sum worth approximately $7,830,000 today (14/02/25 where gold is at $2,918.00 per ounce).
Covering nearly sixty miles, the gang retreated to the safety of their hideout on Wheogo Hill, conveniently close to Ben Hall’s property at Sandy Creek. There, atop the hill and the cover of the rugged bushland, the spoils were divided. John Bow walked away with a hefty share—300 ounces of gold ($870,000) and £335 in cash.
With their fortunes secured, Hall, O’Meally, and Manns left the hideout, slipping back into the wilderness. Gardiner, Gilbert, Fordyce, Charters, and Bow remained at the camp, momentarily safe from pursuit, basking in the afterglow of their audacious heist.
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| Bow's original charge - a capital offence |
As they prepared to leave Wheogo, Gardiner sent John Walsh to John Maguire’s home for more saddlebags to handle the weight of gold. But Walsh—nicknamed the Warrigal—returned in a panic, his face drained of colour. He had run straight into the police lead by Sgt Sanderson, as they were leaving Maguire’s house.
Realising they had been compromised, Bow and the remaining bushrangers scattered in all directions, the lawmen closing in fast. Their frantic escape turned chaotic, and in the mayhem, the gang lost their pack horse—laden with 1,500 ounces of gold, a fortune belonging to Gardiner, Fordyce, and Charters. Gardiner called to each man, "Go your own roads, and look after yourselves." As the fugitives melted into the bush,
With his black tracker in the lead Sergeant Sanderson and his men seized the abandoned packhorse, reclaiming its precious golden cargo.
In the aftermath, Bow was captured by Sir Frederick Pottinger—not for his role in the gold escort robbery, but on the lesser charge of horse stealing. Yet once in custody, the truth became clear. The law had no intention of letting him slip away. Bow was soon informed that his arrest was about far more than stolen horses—he was now a prime suspect in the infamous Escort Robbery: As stated here:
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| John Bow's entrance record Bathurst 1862 |
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| Extracts from the Empire February 1863 of Dan Charter's Damning Evidence (above) |
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| At Darlinghurst Gaol for trial |
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| McGuire, Bow, Fordyce and another implicated in the Escort Robbery, Healey through his supply of bullet moulds to Ben Hall and others before the robbery. Note John Maguire was blind in his right eye. |
As John Bow was taken to Sydney to face trial under the Special Commission into Bushranging, he found himself alongside Alex Fordyce, John Maguire, and Henry Manns. All of them were to face the shocking treachery of Daniel Charters. Charters had agreed to become an informer, turning Queen's evidence for a free pardon. He testified that Bow was not merely a fringe accomplice but was in Gardiner's direct company when Charters himself was recruited. Not stopping there, Charters added a chilling detail to his testimony: Bow was armed. This revelation painted Bow not as a mere bystander, but as an active participant in the gold escort activities. |
| Bow's arrival in Sydney 26th Jan 1863. |
At the time of Bow's sentence, and with the help of influential citizens, set about gathering petitions to help save Bow from the gallows. This was achieved with nearly 15,000 signatures which were presented to the Executive (the Government) on behalf of John Bow and Henry Manns:
In a fascinating revelation, Vane's biography suggests a different narrative surrounding the aftermath of the Eugowra robbery. According to Vane, Daniel Charters and John Bow had a confrontation over the division of their spoils. While it was publicly reported that Charters lost his share along with Gardiner when the police seized the pack-horse, leading Gardiner to compensate him with £50, Vane offers a different account of events:
Supported by Dr Lang M.P., famously known as the 'Stormy Petrel', and other sympathizers, Margaret penned a plea to the Governor, imploring mercy for her brother John Bow.
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| John Bow death warrant. New South Wales, Australia, Sheriff's Papers, 1829-1879 for John Bow. |
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| John Bow's and Henry Manns execution date Darlinghurst Gaol. New South Wales, Australia, Sheriff's Papers, 1829-1879 for John Bow. |
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| John Bow death sentence was computed following the petitions. New South Wales, Australia, Sheriff's Papers, 1829-1879 for John Bow. |
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| Stone Cutters Yard Darlinghurst Gaol, where John Bow was employed. John Vane worked under Bow's supervision. Illustrated Sydney News Friday 16th November 1866: I discovered that Bow was one of the gaol stone-cutters, and as each stone-cutter was allowed an assistant (or 'bullock,' as he was called in the yard), I applied to Mr. Telfor the overseer of the stone works, for permission to serve as Bow's 'bullock,' which request he readily granted." |
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| John Bow, Darlinghurst 1866. |
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| John Bow's Conditional Pardon approval in September 1873. |
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| The Armidale Express and New England General Advertiser Friday 5th June 1874. |
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| Bow, Fordyce and Gardiner release 1874. |
Not content to just rehabilitate his own life, he was eager to contribute to the community's development. Bow, in 1889, became a crucial figure among the residents of Cargelligo, taking the lead in the establishment of the local racecourse. His transformation into a model citizen was complete, illustrating that even those who have strayed can find their way back and contribute meaningfully to society.
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| NSW Government Gazette records John Bow's address and the transfer of sheep brands into his name. |
John Bow's final years were marked by tranquillity and respectability. He breathed his last on March 5th, 1895, at the age of 52. He lived a bachelor's life and found his final resting place in the Catholic section of the Lake Cargellico Cemetery. In the time leading up to his death, he added to his property holdings, acquiring a 154-acre selection near Hillston, which was officially gazetted a year after his passing.In a testament to his transformation and contribution to his community, it was noted in the local history of the Catholic Church at Lake Cargellico that John Bow had generously provided the necessary funds for the establishment of the first Catholic Church. His estate, valued at £1,640 (equivalent to $136,000 today), further underscored his successful life as a farmer.
Remembered fondly by the local residents, Mr K.W MacRae, a contemporary of Bow, had this to say about him:
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| John Bow was released in 1874. |
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| John Bow, Land Purchase Hillston, NSW. |
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| John Bow's prison file on his release from Darlinghurst Gaol. |
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| John Bow |
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| John Bow's Grave |
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| John Bow's Will. Penzig. |
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| Alexander Fordyce, prison portrait c. 1873. |
By the late 1850s, Fordyce had arrived in the Lachlan district. He found employment as a horse-breaker and carpenter. Striking up a friendship with the O'Meally family, began working on the expansive Arramagong Station located at the base of the Weddin Mountains in New South Wales.
Fordyce was not tall, standing at 5 feet 6 inches, with dark brown hair and striking grey eyes and could read and write. He bore a mark of his early life as a horse-breaker in the form of a broken right leg that induced a limp.
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| NSW Camden Census 1828 |
During his employment with the O'Meally family, Fordyce's path crossed with a notorious figure of the time - Frank Gardiner, who was also known as 'The Darkie'. Gardiner was a frequent visitor to O'Meally's hotel and his bushranging activities were well-known drawing young John O'Meally into his sphere. Though Fordyce was not a central figure in bushranging exploits, he was reputed to have hovered on the periphery, familiar with Gardiner and his dealings.
The O'Meally family, especially the sons of Patrick O'Meally Sr. - John and Patrick, had their own brushes with the law, often intertwined with Gardiner's notorious escapades in the Weddin Mountains area.
A significant incident occurred in 1861, when Gardiner committed a high-profile robbery. He targeted two merchants from Lambing Flat, Horseington and Hewitt, making off with over £1000. In the aftermath, Fordyce found himself playing a crucial role in the case. He provided an alibi for one of the suspects arrested in connection with the robbery - Downey, a cousin of the O'Meallys. Thanks to Fordyce's alibi, Downey was released, though it was later proven that he had indeed been involved in the heist. This incident drew Fordyce deeper into the complicated web of relations and activities surrounding the infamous bushrangers. (See article below.)
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| Fordyce alibi for Downey, a 1st cousin of John and Patrick O'Meally. |
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| Image of the Escort Coach c. 1917. Courtesy Dick Adams. |
The robbery was executed flawlessly. The gang successfully made off with the gold 2700 oz and £3,700 pounds in cash, retreating to Wheogo Hill, some 60 miles away. Upon rriving they divided their ill-gotten gains equally among themselves. However, not all was harmonious within the group.
Gardiner was irate with Fordyce, who, in a bout of overindulgence, had become inebriated before the ambush on the gold escort. This resulted in Fordyce being unable to fire his weapon during the heist. An angry Gardiner expressed his displeasure, hinting at potential consequences for Fordyce's conduct by,
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| View from the bushrangers camp on Wheogo Hill toward Weddin Mountains. Courtesy Peter C Smith. |
While the gang was camped out on Wheogo Hill, close to Ben Hall's home, Gardiner decided to send John Walsh, the brother of his lover Kitty Brown, also known as 'Warrigal', to Hall's residence to fetch some saddlebags.
However, fate intervened in the form of Sgt. Charles Sanderson and his police force who happened to be present at Hall's home. They spotted 'Warrigal' Walsh, and swiftly began a pursuit that led them to the bushrangers' camp on Wheogo Hill.
Thanks to 'Warrigal' Walsh's timely warning, Gardiner was alerted to the approaching police. In the ensuing chaos, the remaining gold from the escort heist, belonging to Gardiner, Charters, and Fordyce, was hurriedly packed onto a pack horse. In the panic the trio then made a hasty escape towards the Weddin Mountains, located about 18 miles away.
Years later, upon his retirement in 1903, Charles Sanderson gave his account of the events in an article for 'Old Times' published in May 1903. He detailed his independent search for the notorious gang, separate from Sir Frederick Pottinger, his journey to Ben Hall's home, and the climactic chase that concluded with the police securing the packhorse. His recounting provided a personal and vivid perspective on the relentless pursuit of law enforcement in the face of audacious bushranging activities.
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| Alexander Fordyce's entrance record Bathurst 1862 |
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| Fordyce arraigned at Bathurst 1862, John O'Meally would get bail for £100. |
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| Sent to Sydney. |
At his trial, Fordyce was described as elderly. (See article right.)
Daniel Charters, who had once been a part of their daring escapades, turned primary informer against the gang. He became the main source of evidence presented by the Crown in the case regarding the escort robbery.
However, on their retreat back to Wheogo, after the successful heist, the gang made a pit stop near Eugowra. This pause allowed them to transfer the stolen gold from the boxes into the saddlebags, and also to reload their weapons, preparing for any potential pursuit or conflict.
The news of their sentencing sent ripples through the colony, marking a sombre end to their notorious exploits. The Empire newspaper captured the poignant moment when Fordyce received the grim news. It was a testament to the harsh reality of their brush with bushranging, bringing the curtain down on a chapter marked by a heist, audacious escape, and relentless pursuit by the law. The impending execution underscored the stark consequences of their chosen paths, ending the tale of Fordyce and his companions in a manner as dramatic as their notorious careers.
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| S.A. Register, August 1874 |
These petitions, driven by a spirit of humanity and mercy, were presented to the government. In response to the public outcry, the authorities decided to commute the death sentences of Fordyce and Bow to life imprisonment, with a particularly harsh stipulation of spending the first three years in irons.
Fordyce was dispatched to Berrima Gaol, where he would serve a decade-long sentence before his release in 1874. Coincidentally, Bow and Gardiner also regained their freedom in the same year, emerging from Darlinghurst Gaol. Gardiner, however, only served time exclusively for his attacks on Horssington and Hewitt in 1862, and the wounding of Middleton and Hosie at Fogg's farm in 1861. His involvement and leadership in the Eugowra Gold Escort Robbery went unpunished.
Of the entire gang, Henry Manns was the only one to face the ultimate punishment for the Eugowra Gold Escort Robbery. His execution was carried out under distressing circumstances, serving as a grim reminder of the ultimate consequence of their outlaw lifestyle.
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| New South Wales, Australia, Sheriff's Papers, 1829-1879 for Alexander Fordyce. Darlinghurst Gaol. |
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| Alexander Fordyce leg irons were removed from his right leg. Darlinghurst Gaol. New South Wales, Australia, Sheriff's Papers, 1829-1879 for Alexander Fordyce. |
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| Alex Fordyce Berrima Gaol record 1867 |
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| Berrima Gaol, 1868. |
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| Alex Fordyce, Berrima Gaol Cells |
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| The Armidale Express and New England General Advertiser Friday 5th June 1874. |
In 1877, a journalist embarked on an investigation into the alleged cruelties within the prison system during the 1860s. As part of this inquiry, an interview was conducted with Alexander Fordyce, who had firsthand experience of the harsh realities of prison life, particularly concerning the infamous 1863 mutinies at Berrima Gaol.
Fordyce revealed that he had not participated in these mutinies, offering an interesting perspective on the punitive measures enforced within the prison. Despite having been a prisoner himself, Fordyce upheld the belief that the severe punishment meted out was justifiable for the more hardened or "devil" prisoners, as he termed them.
His viewpoint highlighted the complexity of the prison environment, where the lines between perpetrators and victims often blurred, leading to a tangled web of morals and ethics. Fordyce's insights provided valuable context for the journalist's investigation into the dark underbelly of the prison system in the 1860s. (See article below.)
NB:
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| Alex Fordyce parents Application to Marry in 1827. |
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| Fordyce and Bow's admission to prison 1863 |
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| Alexander Fordyce prison papers 1873. |
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| Fordyce, Bow and Gardiner's discharge from prison 1874 |
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| Caricature of Henry Manns around the time of his death. |
A month after the success of the
gold robbery, Manns, John Gilbert and his brother Charles were on their way to
Victoria, with their share of the booty. Just having lost sight of Merool
Station, Sir Frederick Pottinger, Detective Patrick Lyons and a court clerk Mr. After an unsuccessful search for the escort robbers, Richard Mitchell, who was returning from Hay, met three noticeably well-dressed young men with boots,
spurs, and new cabbage-tree hats. Pottinger asked John Gilbert for a receipt for
his “good” horse. Pretending to search his pocket for the receipt,
Gilbert “as quick as lightning” put the spurs to his horse and escaped.
Pottinger and Mitchell drew their revolvers, handcuffing Manns and Charles
Gilbert and proceeded to Merool Station.  |
| Site of the rescue of Manns, near Temora. My Photo, 2020. |
THE LATE ESCORT ROBBERY.—CAPTURE OF TWO OF THE GANG.—THEIR SUBSEQUENT RESCUE.
https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/13231636?searchTerm=Late%20Escort%20Robbery
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| Sydney Morning Herald, 12th December 1862 |
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| Henry Manns Bathurst gaol entry book, December 1862 |
Many influential Sydneysiders strongly believed that the death sentence was unjustified. Ben Hall continued conducting a new wave of bushranging culminating in the capture of inspector Norton at Wheogo three weeks before Manns was due to hang. Some held a thought that the capture may have swayed the resolve of the Government to press the Governor to abandon any reprieve and to drive home Mann's own complicity in evading the law and send a message to the bushrangers:
The Empire newspaper reported Manns' reaction to his hearing the terrible news:
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| Manns' Admittance to Darlinghurst Gaol, note Manns was entered as a Protestant, he converted to the Catholic Faith just before Execution, which caused much argument after his death. |
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| Goulburn Herald, 11th March 1863 Article on Henry Manns; his age is incorrect. |
The officer to whom is deputed the duty of performing so solemn an act of retribution is surely entitled to all honour, but so far from this being the case we find that the public executioner is, and always has been, looked upon as a loathsome unclean thing, cut off from society, and certainly in most cases exiting greater feelings of aversion than the criminal whom he is paid for launching into eternity. Is there any man who would be proud to claim the hangman as a friend, to sit at his table, to live under his roof? or rather should we not shrink with horror from a wretch whose very touch would be pollution?
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| Gallows at Darlinghurst |
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| Execution |
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| Darlinghurst Gaol Morgue: Following Manns execution at Darlinghurst Gaol, his body was held here before being claimed by his family. |
He declined to exercise the prerogative of mercy in this case, as he had done in that of Bow; as, to his mind, there were marked distinctions in the two cases. He would, however, lay the petition before the Executive Council, which was to meet at 4 o'clock that afternoon. You would hardly believe the amount of excitement that existed during that afternoon. Almost all persons - men, those who would have hanged all the prisoners - agreed that the selection of this young man as the single victim was unjustifiable. By-and-bye it was said that one or two members of the ministry had stated their determination to vote for a reprieve. This was the general impression at about 4 o'clock. At that time, I went up to the gaol. Poor Manns was just going into his cell. He knew that great exertions were being made for him, and had some hope, but he was resigned to die. He told his mother his chief grief was for her, and if they hung him next morning, they would hang the least guilty of the whole party. This, I believe to be the fact. I shall never forget that afternoon.
Following Henry Manns' execution, his Mother through a supporter, Mr. Plunkett, expressed her appreciation of the sympathy and the comfort of those who tried through petitions to save her son, published in the 'Empire' on the 30th March 1863 as follows;
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| Freeman Journal, Wednesday, April 8th 1863. |
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| New South Wales, Australia, Sheriff's Papers, 1829-1879 for Henry Manns. 26th March 1863. |
Note: The death of Henry Manns and its manner was still causing debate in the NSW parliament well after Henry Manns' demise. The evidence of Daniel Charters was still being brought into question by many members of the house. One parliamentarian, in particular, a Mr. Harpur was constantly attacking the Cowper government over the speed in which the executive through the Governor had approved the execution of Manns when they had granted clemency for Bow and Fordyce. In Parliament on the 21st August 1863, during the debate on the failure of the new Police Act, Mr. Harpur made this sensational statement, as follows on an unpublished element of the execution of young Manns, taken from the 'Empire' of that date:
Father Tim McCarthy had a long career in the bush towns on the Western Districts of NSW and was well acquainted with Ben Hall, John Gilbert and was responsible for John Vane and young Dunleavy's surrender. In the 1930s, an article appeared on Fr. McCarthy's life and his noble work, along with this extract on the execution of Henry Manns taken from the 'Freeman Journal':
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| Henry Manns Death Certificate. |
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Daniel Charters, this
photo
was most
probably taken at
Mrs Reed's
photographic
gallery Forbes
in 1862.
|
Daniel Charters was born in County Antrim, Ireland, in 1837, the son of Daniel and Jane Chartres. The family surname, originally French in origin, was anglicised from Chartres to Charters after their arrival in the colonies. Seeking new opportunities, the family migrated to New South Wales as assisted settlers aboard the Isabella, landing in Sydney on 18 October 1840, when young Daniel was only three years old.
For the first five years in Sydney, the Charters family worked to establish themselves, and during this time Daniel attended school for about a year. In 1845, when Daniel was eight, the family left the city for the inland settlement of Carcoar, NSW, a district then growing in importance as grazing and farming pushed west. There, the family hired a tutor to continue his education—an unusual advantage in a colony where literacy was not always assured.
By his late teens, Daniel Charters had grown into a skilled bushman and stockman, well-versed in the demands of the land. Described as tall, stoutly built, fair-haired and blue-eyed, he quickly earned a reputation as a competent rider and cattleman, able to hold his own in the rugged conditions of the Lachlan and Carcoar districts.
Charters’ early life and background came into public record years later when he gave evidence as Crown informant during the Special Commission into the Eugowra Gold Escort Robbery of June 15, 1862, and on bushranging more broadly, in February 1863. Charters' testimony trace's not only the trajectory of his youth but also the formative experiences that drew him into the orbit of men like Benjamin Hall and Frank Gardiner—connections that would ultimately entangle him in one of the most notorious crimes of colonial Australia. Sydney Morning Herald 26th February 1863:
"I was born in the north of Ireland. I first lived in Sydney; at seven or eight years of age I went to the country; I have lived since in the Bathurst and Burrowa districts; My father is dead about three years (actually five years), but my mother is living, I have four sisters but no brother. One of my sisters is living with my mother, one is living at the Pinnacle, another lives on the Lachlan, and another at Carcoar. They are all residing in the two districts I have named. My business is that of a stock-owner, looking after my own and my sister's cattle. I have never been employed as stock-keeper by anyone, and have never in my life received wages from any person. My sister's station at the Pinnacle is a large one. She has a good many people employed there and has about 2000 head of cattle. I have about 500 or 600 head of my own. I can read and write, but not very well. I was at school for twelve months in Sydney, and have since been taught by a private master at my father's and my brother-in-law's. There is a place of worship at Carcoar, and my mother's place is near there. When I was there, I attended worship regularly every Sunday, when it was fine. As a child, I was taught my prayers. I believe in God firmly and sincerely. I believe that the Almighty knows all that crosses in my mind, and will reward me or otherwise, as I speak the truth.” |
| Charters' Family arrival in 1840. |
By the mid-1850s, Daniel Charters had formed a close friendship with a young and well-regarded stockman named Benjamin Hall, who was working in the country between Carcoar and Forbes. The two became inseparable companions, often seen riding together at musters, dances, and local gatherings. Both were highly skilled bushmen, born to the saddle, and reputed to ride like the wind. Their friendship would later become pivotal in the unfolding saga of bushranging in the Lachlan district.
Charters himself cut a striking figure. He stood about six feet tall, of stout build, with a fresh complexion, light brown hair, and blue eyes. Unlike many men of the bush, he was literate, able to read and write—a skill that would later serve him both in court and in navigating colonial bureaucracy.
The Charters family had prospered since leaving Ireland. By the 1850s they had amassed extensive landholdings around Carcoar, Kings Plains, and Bogolong (near present-day Grenfell). Several of Daniel’s sisters were also significant figures in the district, holding property and publican licenses for inns and shanties scattered across the Lachlan. The most notorious of these was at Pinnacle Station, run by his sister Margaret Fheely, a haunt for stockmen, drovers, and, eventually, bushrangers. Another sister, Agnes Newell, ran a hotel at Bandon, New South Wales, which likewise became a meeting place for the rougher element of the district. Daniel and his close friend Ben Hall frequented both establishments, cementing their ties to the broader community.
Despite their prosperity, tragedy touched the Charters family. Daniel’s father, Daniel Charters Sr., met an untimely end when he fell from his horse while returning home intoxicated from a night out in Carcoar. His death not only marked a personal loss but left young Daniel and his siblings to carry forward the family’s growing reputation and responsibilities in the district.
'Bathurst Free Press and Mining Journal' on the 3rd March 1858; |
| Daniel Charters' father's Inquest record. |
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| Daniel Charters Land purchases 1856-1861. |
By the mid-1850s, Daniel Charters was not only socially well connected but also increasingly prosperous in his own right. Records indicate that in 1856 he purchased his first property, and by 1858 he had become a wealthy young grazier. In addition to holdings spread across several locations, Charters possessed more than 500 head of cattle, a formidable herd for a man barely into his twenties. With cattle prices at market ranging from £7 to £10 per head, his stock alone represented a substantial fortune, marking him as one of the more affluent young settlers of the Lachlan district.
In 1860, Charters’ close friend Benjamin Hall secured a lease on Sandy Creek, a station near present-day Grenfell. This would become the hub of their activities. Charters not only worked alongside Hall but also agisted many of his own cattle and horses on the property. The two young men poured their energy into making the run thrive, combining their stockwork skills with their natural bushmanship. Sandy Creek was not merely a grazing lease—it was a gathering place, where friends and family converged, and where alliances were forged that would later entangle both men in events far larger than their pastoral ambitions.
Reflecting on these years during his testimony before the Special Commission of 1863, Charters admitted the depth of his association with Hall:
“I have known Ben Hall for six or seven years; I used to be at his place when I was gathering cattle for myself and for my sister.”
Theirs was a bond that extended beyond business. Both men were fixtures at district musters, where hundreds of head of cattle were rounded up across the plains, and at the boisterous bush dances that followed, where music, liquor, and youthful bravado filled the night. The friendship between Charters and Hall was well known, and their names were often spoken together in the settlements between Carcoar, Forbes, and the Lachlan.
At this point, Charters was still the portrait of success: well-dressed, wealthy, confident, and riding the crest of prosperity alongside his closest friend. But on the horizon loomed the lure of easy gold and the shadow of Frank Gardiner—forces that would soon draw both Charters and Hall into the most audacious crime of their age.
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| The Charter's residence Carcoar, reputed birthplace of Henry Hall, now Fern Hill. c. 1970's. Courtesy, Carcoar Historical Society. |
Though Daniel Charters and Benjamin Hall were respected young stockmen, their names began to surface in legal disputes during the early 1860s, hinting at the blurred line they often walked between honest pastoralism and questionable dealings.
In 1860, both men were summoned to appear at the Burrowa court over a matter concerning the ownership and payment of a horse. The case revolved around whether the animal in question had been properly purchased or merely “trialed”—ridden on approval with an expectation of later payment. Such arrangements were common in the bush, but they left ample room for suspicion, particularly when horses disappeared or changed hands without full documentation.
Charters was central to the dispute, but his close friend Ben Hall appeared as his witness, offering testimony in his defence. The matter implicated both men, though no conviction was recorded. The incident was telling: while not outright theft, it was close enough to raise eyebrows, and it foreshadowed the darker associations both would carry in the years ahead.
For Charters, this brush with the law was minor, but it underscored how fragile reputations could become in a district where horses and cattle were both livelihood and currency. For Hall, it was one of the first occasions where his name was publicly tied to questionable dealings—a thread that, once pulled, would unravel into outright bushranging. In court Charters stated;
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| Frank Gardiner 1874. |
Yet, as Hall’s domestic life unfolded, both he and Charters were also moving in circles that would draw them into the underworld of the Lachlan. Like many settlers and stockmen of the district, Charters was acquainted with Frank Gardiner, the man who would soon become infamous as the so-called “King of the Road.” Gardiner was no stranger to the inns and shanties of the Lachlan; Charters recalled later that Gardiner was often to be seen at O’Meally’s Weddin Mount Inn and at the Pinnacle Station public house, both of which Gardiner used as convenient lairs.
At this time, such connections were casual and not yet damning. The bush public houses were natural meeting points for stockmen, drovers, teamsters, and travellers alike. But with the discovery of gold at Lambing Flat in 1860, and the influx of thousands into the Lachlan, Gardiner’s ambitions swelled beyond petty cattle-duffing. For Charters and Hall, who were already wealthy young stockmen but lived in the thick of this new gold-rush society, acquaintance with Gardiner was the first step toward a deeper entanglement—one that would culminate in the audacious gold escort robbery at Eugowra in 1862. Charters recalled in 1863;
When Daniel Charters gave evidence before the Special Commission in 1863, he spoke of knowing Frank Gardiner, the man the newspapers had already crowned the “King of the Road.” Charters claimed Gardiner was a familiar presence at O’Meally’s Weddin Mount Inn and at the Pinnacle Station public house, both well-known bush haunts.
Yet his statement was, in truth, something of an exaggeration. Gardiner’s movements are traceable, and they leave little room for such a long-standing intimacy. In the 1850s, Gardiner was far from the Lachlan district: imprisoned at Pentridge, Melbourne, in 1850, and after arriving in New South Wales around 1852, he was incarcerated once more, this time on Cockatoo Island (1854–1859).
It was only after his release in 1859, and more decisively with his appearance at the Lambing Flat goldfield in 1860, that Gardiner entered the world Charters and Hall inhabited. There, amidst the rush and chaos of the new diggings, Gardiner undoubtedly made the acquaintance of Ben Hall, John Maguire, and Daniel Charters. The meetings were more recent and more situational than Charters later implied, but they were real enough—and fateful.
By 1860 Gardiner had wearied of the butcher’s trade and petty duffing. In the booming and lawless atmosphere of Lambing Flat, he began turning his ambitions toward the road, where gold-laden escorts and merchants offered far greater rewards than stolen cattle. In the same environment, Hall and Charters—both young men of means, but restless and increasingly tied to Gardiner’s social circle—found themselves drawn into his orbit.
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| Ben Hall |
The Pinnacle Station, situated near the Weddin Mountains, became one of the most pivotal landmarks in the bushranging history of the Lachlan. It was owned by Rodger Feehily, who had married Daniel Charters’ older sister, Margaret. Feehily, more than sixteen years her senior, died in 1859, leaving Margaret a widow with a vast cattle property to oversee.
Rather than folding under the burden, Margaret Feehily managed the estate with determination, running it in partnership with her younger brother Daniel. Their enterprise was not confined to cattle; the property also included a licensed public house, the Pinnacle Hotel, which became a notorious gathering point in the district.
What might have begun as a convenient stopping place for travellers and stockmen soon took on a more infamous reputation. The Pinnacle Hotel became a regular haunt for the men who would later be recognised as the Weddin Mountains gang. Figures such as the O’Meally brothers, John Gilbert, John Bow, Ben Hall, and others directly involved in theft, cattle duffing, and armed robbery were frequently in attendance. The atmosphere of the place was equal parts convivial and conspiratorial: liquor, horses, money, and rumours of easy gold mixed freely in its rooms.
For Daniel Charters, the Pinnacle Hotel tied his family directly to the underworld networks forming around Frank Gardiner and his circle. Though at this stage Charters was still a wealthy and respected young cattleman, the influence of his sister’s establishment—and the company it attracted—placed him ever closer to the edges of legitimacy. The Pinnacle, with its blend of pastoral enterprise and outlaw camaraderie, was one of the crucibles from which the Eugowra conspiracy would later emerge.
The following extract details an earlier police confrontation involving Frank Gardiner at Margaret Feehily’s Pinnacle Station in February 1862:
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| Frank Gardiner and John Gilbert |
By 1862, the atmosphere of the Lachlan was electric. Gold fever gripped the colony, and the roads to and from Forbes were thick with escorts carrying thousands of pounds in gold and banknotes. Among the men who dreamed of seizing it was Frank Gardiner, whose restless ambition had turned from cattle duffing to highway robbery on a grand scale.
Gardiner began to hatch what would become one of the boldest robberies in colonial history: the Forbes Gold Escort hold-up. Planning sessions took place at the homes of Ben Hall and his brother-in-law John Maguire, both deeply enmeshed in Gardiner’s schemes. It was in these gatherings that Hall, ever the strategist, brought his closest friend Daniel Charters into the fold.
Hall knew the country intimately. He had ridden its gullies, camped along its creeks, and watched the movements of the police and the gold escorts. To Gardiner, Hall offered the most critical insight: the choice of site. Hall proposed that the gang stage the robbery at Eugowra Rocks, a narrow, twisting defile on the road east of Forbes. With its giant boulders, steep sides, and ambush points, it was an ideal place to halt a heavily laden escort and block its flight.
For Charters, the decision to join was pivotal. A wealthy young cattleman with land and stock, he had little material need for robbery. Yet the combination of friendship, loyalty, bravado, and perhaps the lure of quick riches drew him in. He would later recall Gardiner’s plan with a mixture of awe and misgiving.
When the band gathered—Gardiner, Hall, John Gilbert, John O’Meally, John Bow, Alex Fordyce, Henry Manns, and Charters—they set in motion what would be remembered as the most audacious bushranger attack of the gold-rush era. McGuire wrote:
The rocks at Eugowra were unfamiliar to Frank Gardiner, but Ben Hall knew them well—thanks to Daniel Charters.
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| Eugowra Rock today; Gardiner's viewpoint as the the coach would have approached The hold-up site. |
Unlike many of his associates, Charters was not in financial distress. He was already a wealthy man, with valuable landholdings and a substantial herd of cattle. His future prospects were bright. Hall, on the other hand, was on a downward slide. After an earlier brush with the law in April 1862, he was widely believed to have fallen in with Gardiner—likely driven by desperation and the collapse of his marriage. (See Ben Hall page for more details.)
On June 13, 1862, the fledgling gang held their final meeting at John Maguire’s home at Sandy Creek. Before the robbery, Hall and Charters departed for Forbes to acquire weapons and equipment. At the second Escort trial, a Mr. William Baldwin later testified:
"I am a storekeeper. I was living at Forbes in June last. My store was opposite the 'Harp of Erin' public house kept by Mr Patrick Gallen. I remember one Friday evening, 13 June, and on that evening, I remember selling two double-barrelled guns to two young men. I noticed one of them; the other kept near the door, and I did not notice him so fully. They did not pay me in cash, but they went away and sold the gold came back and paid me in cash. They also brought an American hatchet or tomahawk, and some other things were sold them by the shopman. This was between 6 and 8 o'clock in the evening..."Authors Note: Eugowra Rocks, located near the main road from Forbes to Orange, provided perfect cover for an ambush. When I visited in 2013, standing atop those rocks in the silence, it was easy to imagine the crack of gunfire and the raucous yells of Gardiner’s men.
In the days leading up to the great crime, the gang gathered supplies. On their way to the ambush site, they stopped at Mr. Green’s station, “Uar,” outside Forbes, where they robbed the homestead store of fodder and food. When Green later gave evidence at the second Escort trial, he described the scene of violation:
“I am a grazier living at the Uar station. It is about seventeen or twenty miles from Mr. Cropper’s place. In June last I kept a store. About 12 June I was away from home—I was away from 11th to 16th. When I came home, I found that the house had been robbed. I missed some oats, amongst other things, about a bag and a half. Bags and all were taken. I also missed one case of lobsters, about two dozen tins, less two or three I had taken out of the case myself…”
The stolen oats were destined for the bushrangers’ horses, the tins of lobster for their own use. With these, the gang pressed on under the guidance of Daniel Charters and Ben Hall, led them toward their chosen ground: Eugowra Rocks.
On the morning of 15 June 1862, the bushrangers reached the Rocks. The narrow pass was ideal. Sheer stone outcrops flanked the road, creating a natural funnel where the Forbes Gold Escort coach—laden with thousands of pounds in gold and banknotes—would have little room to manoeuvre.
Frank Gardiner surveyed the scene with care, pacing out the range from the Rocks to the road where the coach would pass. He planned to block the track with wagons, then unleash the ambush at close quarters. Around midday, two bullock drays appeared, and Gardiner bailed them up without hesitation, ordering them across the road to form an obstacle. The trap was set.
As the gang prepared to meet the approaching coach, tension grew. One of the men suggested that someone should be sent to mind the horses, hidden just over a rise from the Rocks. It was at this moment that Charters stepped forward. Whether from nerves, calculation, or a genuine wish to avoid the bloodshed, he volunteered for the task. Gardiner eyed him and, with characteristic bluntness, replied:
“Very well, you go; you’re bl—dy frightened of your life, and you’re the best to go.”
So it was that, when the fateful moment arrived, Daniel Charters was absent from the firing line. While Gardiner, Hall, O’Meally, Gilbert, Bow, Fordyce, and Manns stood ready to unleash one of the most daring ambushes in Australian colonial history, Charters sat apart, tending the horses that would carry the gang to freedom.
This seemingly minor role—on the margins of the great crime—would later prove pivotal. It gave Charters a threadbare excuse with which to distance himself from the violence, and it placed him in a position where he could turn informant without the full weight of blood on his hands.
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| Extract of Daniel Charter's statement of events of the robbery (above). |
“I heard several discharges of weapons firing, and shortly after the men returned with gold-boxes, some rifles, and a cloak; the gold was placed on the horses…”
When the smoke cleared, the gang had achieved what would be remembered as the most audacious crime of its age. The Forbes Gold Escort had been halted and overpowered, its treasure seized. Gardiner himself remarked grimly to Charters upon returning:
“It was a very narrow escape…”
The gang wasted no time in making off with their plunder. Avoiding Eugowra itself, they rode for Bandon Hotel, kept by James Newell, Charters’ brother-in-law. There they found food and drink, replenishing themselves before pressing on. At the later court hearings, James Newell testified:
“I am a publican at Bandon; remember hearing of the escort robbery; I remember people being brought up at Forbes for the escort robbery; I sell preserved fish, in tins, such as sardines, oysters, &c.; I did sell such articles about this time…”
It was a telling fragment of evidence, placing the gang’s presence squarely in his house and confirming the network of inns and relatives that gave them cover.
From Bandon, Charters once again assumed the role of guide. Under Gardiner’s instructions, he led the party across rough country, taking a deliberately zigzag course to confuse the Aboriginal trackers who were sure to follow their trail. Gardiner was explicit:
“Go as crooked as you can, so as to bother the trackers.”
After sixty hard miles, they arrived at Wheogo Mountain, a lonely hill not far from Ben Hall’s station, Sandy Creek. It was here that the treasure was divided. Packed in boxes and bags, the gold and banknotes were shared out equally among the men. When the division was complete, Hall, O’Meally, and Manns departed, each taking their portion into the bush.
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As the gold was being packed on Wheogo Mountain, Frank Gardiner faced a practical dilemma. The gang had seized more than they could comfortably carry. Additional saddlebags were needed. Gardiner’s solution was to send John Walsh, the younger brother of his lover Catherine Brown, to nearby Sandy Creek, barely a mile and a half away, to fetch what was required.
Later, at the Escort trials, Daniel Charters who was rumoured to be the man spotted by Sgt Sanderson at Sandy Creek would insist that it was not himself that was seen but John Gilbert who rode out on the errand—a convenient reshaping of events that downplayed his own proximity to the police and perhaps shielded the youth who by then was in custody.
The truth, however, seems less forgiving. Walsh—not Gilbert, not Charters—was the one who saw the approaching mounted troopers. Spurring his horse, he galloped back toward Wheogo Hill to sound the alarm.
John Maguire, in his later account, sought also to protect young Walsh, instead painting Charters as the rider who bolted:
“The police sighted him, and, looking as it did, rather suspicious, they started in pursuit. I witnessed part of the pursuit as they passed my house. Charters had a lead of a few hundred yards and was mounted on a splendid animal. However, the police kept him in sight till the foot of the mountain was reached...”
Maguire continued that Charters, breathless but still ahead of his pursuers, shouted the warning that shattered the gang’s brief moment of triumph:
“Here come the police, boys!”
Within minutes, the law descended on Wheogo. The robbers scattered into the scrub, leaving the mountain behind them. However, this was false testimony as Maguire shielded John Walsh, his brother-in-law, from any scrutiny and after the comments regarding his wife Ellen and Charters affair did all he can to stitch Charters up.
To further muddy the waters, Thomas Richards, a man of dubious repute who later tried unsuccessfully to profit as an informer, testified that he had seen Charters leaving Maguire’s place on the Monday after the robbery:
“I saw a man running away; he and Maguire had apparently been talking together; I went up to Maguire and asked if the man who was running away was not Charters. Maguire said it was...”
Richards hoped his words would win him a portion of the government reward. Instead, his testimony was dismissed as self-serving and unreliable.
The episode—whether Charters bolted from Sandy Creek, whether it was Walsh, or whether the truth lay somewhere between—illustrates the enduring fog surrounding his role at Eugowra. At every step, conflicting accounts would shield him, implicate him, or excuse him, depending on who was telling the story.
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| "Here come the police, boys!" |
“Every man for himself!” he shouted, as the camp dissolved into chaos. The bushrangers mounted in haste, scattering through the scrub. The chase swept across twenty miles of rough country, the robbers weaving toward the looming barrier of the Weddin Mountains.
Trooper Bradshaw later described the desperate pursuit:
“The pack-horse fell. Gardiner looked behind, and found the police not far away. He uttered a curse, dug his spurs into his horse, lost the prize, and narrowly escaped being captured himself...”
The disaster was complete. Gardiner had bolted with young John Walsh, leaving others to fend for themselves. In the confusion, the laden packhorse—the very creature burdened with much of the gold—was abandoned to the troopers. Sergeant Sanderson, though convinced he had never come closer than five miles to the fleeing men, reported that they had ample time to strip the animal. Yet when it was recovered, much of the treasure remained, along with a share that had been apportioned to Daniel Charters.
The loss weighed heavily. Gardiner, shaken for the first time in his outlaw career, confessed bitterly to Charters that he had made a “bad job of it.” By way of compensation for the fortune that had slipped from their grasp, he handed Charters a pitiful £50 and a single gold nugget—a hollow prize compared to the 300 ounces of gold and £435 that ought to have been Charters’ rightful share.
The grand dream of an easy fortune had collapsed into mistrust and disappointment. For Charters, this bitter shortfall would prove decisive. Where his comrades saw only renewed defiance, he began to weigh the value of loyalty against the promise of freedom. It was the first step on the path that would make him the infamous informer of the Eugowra Gold Escort affair.
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| Bathurst Free Press Report, 28th June 1862 Recapture of the gold and police pursuit. John Warrigal Walsh was the rider who leapt the creek. |
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| Wheogo Hill. Courtesy Peter C Smith. |
The failure to secure the full spoils of the Eugowra raid had not gone unnoticed. Sanderson was highly praised for much of the golds recovery where the success of the spoils only fell into the hands of Hall, Gilbert, Bow, Manns and O'Meally. The police, though outwitted at Wheogo Hill, pressed on with mounting suspicion. Their persistence bore fruit in the winter of 1862.
On 29th July 1862, Sir Frederick Pottinger descended upon Sandy Creek Station, Ben Hall’s property near Wheogo. There he arrested the men suspected of complicity in the gold escort affair: Daniel Charters, his closest friend Ben Hall, Hall’s brother-in-law John Maguire, Hall’s brother William, and Catherine Brown's husband John Brown. The arrests were a decisive moment, for they struck not only at Gardiner’s circle but at the respectable front of stockmen and settlers who had mingled with the underworld of the bush.
Charters, hauled before the bench at Forbes, was remanded alongside his companions. The order was made at the insistence of Sir Frederick Pottinger, the hard-driving police inspector determined to break the Lachlan gangs. Behind the bars of Forbes lock-up, Charters now found himself forced to reckon with the consequences of his involvement.
For Charters, the arrest was a shock that struck deep—he had believed his minor role in the affair, if concealed, would shield him from the gallows. Charters a wealthy cattleman and scion of a respected family, the very idea of imprisonment was an intolerable stain.
And so began the slow turn of the screw, as Charters, caught between loyalty to his companions and the promise of liberty, and immunity faced a decision that would alter not only his own life but the fate of the bushrangers themselves.
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| Charters and Hall's Arrest Report. During this period Charters made his decision to turn Queen's evidence. |
While confined at Forbes, the arrested men carried themselves with a strange confidence. John Maguire, in his later memoirs, recalled overhearing Ben Hall reassure his fellow prisoner and friend:
“They haven’t found anything on us, and they can do nothing to us…”
But Sir Frederick Pottinger had other ideas. At the conspirators’ bail hearing, he stunned the court with a calculated remark:
“I protest against bail being taken for the appearance of any of the prisoners, excepting against the prisoner Daniel Charters, of whom I have nothing to say…”
The implication was clear. Charters was being singled out, his path to freedom laid open while the others remained shackled by suspicion.
In late August 1862, Charters was indeed released—bailed on his own recognisance for £500, supported by two sureties of £250 each. One surety came from his devoted sister, the other from his brother-in-law, publican James Newell of Bandon. In today’s terms, it was the equivalent of nearly $85,000—a sum that underscored the wealth and influence of the Charters family.
For the men left behind in the lock-up, the scene was unforgettable. Maguire later wrote:
“Sir Frederick then came and took Charters away. On his return Charters told us he was going to get bail whilst we could not. I watched Ben’s countenance, and noticed that he looked a bit upset when Charters got his freedom…”
The release of Charters shook Hall deeply. To him, it was the first sign that his closest friend might not weather the storm with the same resolve. For Charters, walking free while his companions languished marked the beginning of a slow, fateful slide toward betrayal.
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| Charters' Bail Granted (The amount set demonstrates the wealth at his disposal.) |
During the preliminary hearings that followed the arrests, Daniel Charters held firm. Out of loyalty to his close friend Ben Hall, and out of sheer terror of the fiery and violent John O’Meally, he steadfastly denied that they had taken part in the Eugowra Escort Robbery. His silence and insistence on their innocence proved decisive. With no witness willing to implicate them, Hall and O’Meally were eventually released on bail—O’Meally being held in Bathurst, while Hall returned uneasily to the Lachlan.
But Charters’ own freedom weighed heavily upon him. The police knew he had been there; his conscience knew it too. More pressing still were the fears gnawing at him: the drop of the gallows, the whispers that O’Meally would seek vengeance, and the knowledge that a free pardon was being dangled before him if only he would speak.
While still on bail, Charters visited the Forbes Police Station, where he was brought before Sir Frederick Pottinger in the company of Sergeant Sanderson. It was there, after considerable persuasion—not only from Pottinger, but also from his sisters, who feared for the family’s standing—that Charters made his fateful choice. He offered to turn approver: to testify for the Crown, implicating his former companions in the hold-up of the gold escort.
From that moment, Charters was marked. To the authorities, he became their star witness—the insider who could unravel the tangled web of the robbery. But to the bushrangers of the Lachlan, he would forever be remembered as the man who broke under the weight of fear and temptation, and sold his comrades for his own survival. Charters stated;
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| Sir Frederick Pottinger |
With Sir Frederick Pottinger’s assurance of safety, Daniel Charters finally broke his silence. He provided testimony implicating a number of men in the Eugowra Escort Robbery—but conspicuously omitted the names of his closest friend Ben Hall and the feared firebrand John O’Meally. To shield them, he conjured two fictitious figures, Charlie and Billy, inserting them into the tale as stand-ins for those he could not bring himself to betray.
The others were not so fortunate. In his sworn statements, Charters named Frank Gardiner, John Gilbert, Henry Manns, Alex Fordyce, and John Bow. He sketched for the Crown every detail of the robbery, the preparations, and the distribution of the gold—yet carefully distanced himself from any active role. Under oath, he claimed he had not witnessed the shooting, and when pressed on the involvement of Hall’s brother-in-law John Maguire, he neither confirmed nor denied his presence, sliding into evasions that protected his wider circle.
This act of betrayal under oath would mark Charters for life. The label of Approver—the Crown’s polite term for an informer—was in colonial society almost a death sentence of its own. Respectable or not, a man who turned on his companions was despised across the breadth of the bush. The Lachlan Times gave voice to the colony’s sentiment when it warned:
“You could expect that Daniel Charters, the approver, upon whose evidence the convictions for the escort robbery will be obtained, will not settle down again on the Lachlan for many a long day. The position of an informer is not generally an enviable one; but in this case, we fancy it will be treble so, if ever he shows himself among his old friends...”
Armed with Charters’ evidence, the police quickly moved. Fordyce and Bow were arrested first. Then, in late August 1862, on the strength of his testimony, authorities again took into custody Ben Hall, William Hall, and John Brown. Yet despite the Crown’s efforts, there remained no solid evidence to tie these men to the robbery. Within weeks, Hall, Brown, and Walsh—together with O’Meally and his father Patrick O’Meally—were released from the lockups of Forbes and Bathurst, leaving the authorities with only a partial victory.
Charters, meanwhile, had crossed a line from which there was no return. He had traded honour for survival, and though he escaped the gallows, his name was forever blackened on the Lachlan.
(Walsh would later be arrested and die in Forbes Gaol at the age of 17.)
Charters became the principal witness for the Crown and was transported to Bathurst for the next court sitting, along with John Bow, John Maguire, and Alex Fordyce. Shortly after their arrival, John O'Meally was released on bail.
To protect Charters, the hearings in Bathurst were conducted behind closed doors. During his testimony, he further implicated Maguire, accusing him of supplying goods to the gang. The court found sufficient evidence to proceed to trial, and all but O'Meally were remanded at Bathurst Gaol.
In December 1862, Henry Manns—who had previously escaped custody—was recaptured by Sir Frederick Pottinger and lodged at Bathurst. The following month, in January 1863, the four prisoners were transferred to Sydney for trial. This proceeding would become known as the Special Commission, encompassing not only their cases but also those of several other felons.
The list of cases was reported in 'Bell’s Life in Sydney and Sporting Chronicle' January 1863;Alexander Ross and Charles Ross (not related) were both convicted of the wounding of a Mr. Stephens of Caloola, and both were hanged. Another interesting person to be charged was John Healy, at whose place the escort gang prepared and loaded the guns for the heist and who also had been involved with Frank Gardiner as reported in 'The Maitland Mercury and Hunter River General Advertiser', January 1863;
The 'Special Commission' trial for the escort four was set for 2nd February 1863 and was the hottest ticket in town for the entertainment starved populace. The prisoners were arraigned in court on the 3rd February 1863 and presided over by Justice Wise. Also attending were some of Sydney's elite in the form of politicians and celebrities of the day to see and hear of the daring deeds of the wild colonial boys. "Not Guilty" was the cry of the accused, and the courtroom hushed over as Daniel Charters was called to give evidence. At the commencement of the proceedings, an observer wrote of Daniel Charters;
Charters was the one who sat the filled courtroom onto the edge of their seats as Charters commenced to drop the defendants in it upon his appearance. Charters commenced his testimony which was long and laborious and as history has proved was full of misleading falsehoods, extracts of his testimony follow, Charters stated;
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| 'Fire' |
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| Darlinghurst Gaol |
On the third day of the Special Commission, the Crown and prosecution concluded their cases, and all eyes turned to Justice Wise for his address to the jury. After his summation, the jurors retired to deliberate on a verdict for the accused.
Like the prisoners, Daniel Charters had been held in custody since his initial statements at the Bathurst Courthouse. For his safety, he was confined separately from the general prison population at Darlinghurst Gaol throughout the Sydney trial.
As dawn broke on the fourth day, crowds gathered outside the courthouse, eager for the trial’s conclusion. After breakfast, Charters and the accused were escorted through Darlinghurst Gaol’s underground tunnel to the courtroom. At precisely 9:30 AM on February 6, 1863, the jury returned. Over 1,000 spectators packed the court, waiting to hear the fate of the Escort Four.
But then, an unexpected turn of events sent shockwaves through the room. Justice Wise addressed the jury: "Have you reached a verdict?"
To the astonishment of all present, the foreman responded: "We have not agreed on a verdict, and there is not the slightest possibility of the members being likely to agree."
A murmur rippled through the courtroom. Justice Wise, after a brief statement, thanked the jury and formally discharged them. The prisoners were led back to their cells, their fate once again uncertain.
Following consultation with the Chief Justice, a retrial was scheduled to begin on February 23, 1863, this time presided over by Chief Justice Alfred Stephens. The government was determined to have its pound of flesh.
Once more, Daniel Charters took the stand as the main witness, repeating his earlier testimony. Though minor contradictions arose, the bulk of his evidence was deemed sufficient. The jury retired to deliberate, and on February 27, 1863, they returned their verdict:
Guilty—John Bow, Henry Manns, and Alex Fordyce.
Not Guilty—John Maguire.
The verdict was reported in Bell’s Life in Sydney and Sporting Chronicle.
SENTENCE OF DEATH. According to law, the prisoners were then severally asked if they had anything to say why judgment should not be pronounced upon them to die."
Alexander Fordyce said he was not guilty of wounding at the time of the robbery.
Henry Manns said he had nothing to say, only he was not guilty of the charge.
John Bow said the jury had found a verdict of guilty against an Innocent man.
The usual proclamation for silence, having been made, his Honor, addressing the prisoners, said it now became his painful duty to pass upon them the sentence of DEATH.
Daniel Charters' character was brought into question. Public opinion soon manifested in a belief that the trial of the robbers was fixed and if Charters had received his share of the proceeds, the outcome of the events might have been completely different as reported in the 'Empire'; "the excitement of the crowds congregated at the trials arose out of a common dislike to the evidence of an approver. The popular mind detests this kind of testimony, not merely because it is seldom to be relied on, nor indeed from any other reason as such, but from a sort of instinctive feeling that rushes at once to conclude that it is an augmentation of villainy. He is regarded as infinitely worse than those against whom he testifies. He is not only a thief but a traitor. His accomplices are punished through his means, but it is at the expense of a deeper dip into crime. He saves himself, but to do that probably sends his own companions in guilt to death. What is called justice is supposed to reap some advantage; but even this is only apparent, for whilst the law wreaks its vengeance on the condemned, it lets loose the greatest villain of the mob to prey upon mankind, and the imagination pictures him as drinking the blood of his accomplices. But this particular approver endeavoured to screen himself under a declaration that he was coerced into the scheme. It would have been more creditable for him not to have urged this, as he entirely failed to make it so appear. He was disappointed, not from his associates' unfairness towards himself, but from the loss of the grand booty. If he had received 22 lbs. weight of solid gold, and £3000 in notes as his share of the spoil, would he have delivered it up to the authorities and turned approver then? Of course, this is not exactly what Government cares about, but it is the popular reasoning; most men believe that it would be better for the accused to escape than the accuser to have his revenge."
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| Darlinghurst Gallows c. 1863 |
Of all the men implicated in the Eugowra Escort Robbery, only Henry Manns would ultimately pay the price with his life. On the day of his execution, he was accompanied to the scaffold by the Venerable Archdeacon McEnroe, the Venerable Archpriest Thierry, and the Reverend Father Dwyer, who sought to comfort him in his final moments. Yet what should have been a swift end was turned into a spectacle of horror. The hangman bungled the job. As the trap fell, the noose slipped forward across Manns’ face, strangling him in slow, hideous agony. His body convulsed as onlookers recoiled. In a grotesque scene, the executioner was forced to lift the body back up, reset the noose properly, and drop him a second time. Rumours later spread that the hangman had even tried to pilfer Manns’ boots before his corpse was taken down.
While Manns met his end at the gallows, Daniel Charters faced a different kind of judgment—this one in the courtroom and in the court of public opinion. Tall, striking, and with a reputation as something of a ladies’ man—often mentioned in the same breath as his closest friend Ben Hall—Charters became the focus of sensational claims during the Escort trials.
The most damaging attack came not from the Crown, but from the defence counsel, Mr. Isaacs, who sought to undermine Charters’ testimony by casting doubt on both his character and his motives. Isaacs insinuated that Charters’ evidence was clouded by jealousy, pointing to rumours of a liaison with Ellen Maguire, the wife of his fellow accused and Hall’s brother-in-law, John Maguire.
In open court, Isaacs pressed:
“Didn’t you stay at the Harp of Erin Hotel?”
Charters, visibly unsettled, replied:
“When I was liberated, I went to my brother-in-law’s, James Newell’s; I was staying at Forbes, afterwards at the European Hotel. I did not stop at the Harp of Erin. I had no particular friend with me at that time.”
The defence came back sharply:
“But you stayed at the Harp of Erin Hotel with the wife of the accused, McGuire!”
At this, the public gallery erupted in gasps and murmurs, forcing the Sheriff’s Officer to bellow for order: “Silence! Silence in the court!”
Charters, pale and flustered, attempted to defend himself:
“I will swear I did not stop at the Harp of Erin with McGuire’s wife. I have seen her at the Harp of Erin but did not stay with her. I never on any occasion said, if I could ‘lag’ McGuire, that I would then be able to sleep with his wife.”
From the dock, John Maguire gripped the rail tightly, his eyes burning with fury as the sordid accusation was laid bare before the colony. Though Maguire was acquitted, his marriage did not survive the scandal. Ellen soon separated from him, and in a cruel twist, took up residence as an illegal squatter at Sandy Creek Station, the very property Maguire and Ben Hall had lost to John Wilson.
Thus, Charters’ testimony not only condemned his companions—it also shattered friendships and marriages, leaving wreckage in its wake. Where once he and Ben Hall had been inseparable, the informer now stood alone, his name blackened by betrayal and scandal.
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| Daniel Charters c. 1861. Coloured by me. |
Even as Daniel Charters’ evidence was shaping the fates of his former companions, his own life became entangled in scandal. On 4 March 1863, while still confined in Darlinghurst Gaol, his name was once more dragged into the courts—this time not by the Crown, but by a woman of the Lachlan. The Goulburn Herald reported:
“On Wednesday Mr. Carroll, on the part of Miss Ellen Charlotte Brandon, of the Lachlan, appeared before Messrs. G. Hill, Caldwell, and Peden, and stated that he had served a summons upon Daniel Charters, at present confined in the B Division watch-house, to appear and answer a charge of affiliation preferred against him by the above-named young lady. Mr. Carroll intimated his intention of applying for a writ of habeas corpus to bring the defendant before the court on Wednesday next, for which day the hearing of the case is appointed. If it be substantiated that Charters approved Ellen Charlotte to the extent alleged, he deserves to have a Brand-on.”
The sharp pun at Charters’ expense was not lost on the readers. A week later, on 12 March, the newspapers again carried the case:
“Daniel Chartres, the approver, summoned by Ellen Charlotte Brandon, to provide support for his illegitimate child, did not appear, and the case was postponed till Wednesday next.”
But Charters was being held under government protection, his movements carefully shielded from public view. The authorities, keen to protect their star witness, kept him incognito while the press turned its attention to the fugitive Frank Gardiner. The suggestion was even made that Charters himself should be sent in pursuit:
“If the Government is particularly anxious to have this freebooter alive, let them send their late approver under a strong escort to find him, for if anyone in the colony knows Gardiner’s haunts, Flash Dan Chartres is the man; but he would want a strong escort, and even then I don’t think he would be game to visit this district, as the fate of John McGuinness must be yet vividly impressed upon his mind…”
The reference to McGuinness was pointed: believed to have been killed on Gardiner’s orders in April 1862 for cowardice, it served as a grim reminder of the fate awaiting informers.
Meanwhile, on 17 March 1863, as Ellen Brandon pursued her case in the civil courts, three prominent politicians—among them Mr. Harpur, son of Sarah Walsh (stepmother to Bridget Hall, Ellen Maguire, Catherine Brown, and John “Warrigal” Walsh)—petitioned the Executive Council to spare the lives of John Bow and Henry Manns. The petition was damning in its language. It rebuked the reliance placed on Charters’ testimony and branded him a perjurer, unworthy of belief.
Harpur himself would, in the years that followed, emerge as one of the fiercest critics of the new Police Act and of Sir Frederick Pottinger in particular. He went so far as to label Pottinger a coward under the protection of parliamentary privilege. When Pottinger demanded satisfaction outside the chamber, Harpur refused.
Thus, even as Charters clung to the government’s protection, his evidence was under siege—from the courts, from the press, and now from the floor of Parliament itself. He had escaped the dock, but the stain of informer and perjurer clung to him wherever his name was spoken.
THE CONDEMNED ESCORT ROBBERS.The following memorial has been transmitted to his Excellency the Governor in reference to the case of Manns and Bow, now under sentence of death, for the escort robbery. — "Statements connected with the escort robbery and the prisoners Manns and Bow, brought under the notice of the undersigned, which they think deserve the earnest attention of the Executive.
"1. Chartres, the approver, was not the compulsory guide he represented himself to be; but took a most active part in planning and carrying into execution the escort robbery.
"2. On the Friday night preceding the robbery, Chartres, in company with Gilbert and another, bought at least five of the guns used on that occasion: two guns and American axe, at Baldwin's; one gun at a bowling alley, Main-street, Forbes; two guns and tins of oysters at a grocer's shop, also in Main street, Forbes —two men were serving in this shop.
"3. Same night Chartres and Gilbert moulded the balls in the house of a woman named Healy. Her husband is in Cockatoo.
"4. There were five men and a boy with the teams. Immediately after the firing and while the escort and mail bags were being robbed, Chartres and Manns stood guard over the men. Why were none of these men produced at the trial?
"5. Chartres not only received his share of the gold and notes, but procured the scales (from either his sister's or Ben Hall's) with which the gold was weighed.
"6. Chartres was previously a mate of Davis, now in Cockatoo.
"7. Chartres' criminality with Maguire's wife, we understand, can be proved by Healy, now in Cockatoo; and also by a publican of the name of Cannon, on the Lachlan.
"8. Chartres was confined for a considerable time in the lock-up at Forbes, in company with Ben Hall and J. O'Mealy, when his statement was concocted; he agreeing, in consideration of the sum of £200 cash, to be paid by Hall and O'Mealy, to swear that they were not connected with the robbery, he well knowing that both of these men were actively engaged in it.
"9. This is the first offence with which John Bow has been charged, having served one master, as stockman, for six years previous to his apprehension. John Bow can neither read nor write.
"10. Henry Manns was a carrier, engaged, shortly before the escort robbery, in carrying goods to the Lachlan, when he was stopped and robbed by Gardiner, who, perceiving a degree of courage and determination in Manns, resolved, if possible, to secure him as a mate. Gilbert (who had known Manns when a boy) and Chartres were sent by Gardiner to Forbes to invite him to the camp. He at first refused to go because be had no horse; but Chartres, having brought one, took him to the camp and introduced him to the escort robbers for the first time on Saturday, the day preceding the robbery. Henry Manns can neither read nor write. This also is his first offence.
"11. We are informed that none of the first jury wished to bring in a verdict of guilty of wounding, but simply guilty of robbery.
(Signed) " RICHARD SADLEIR,
"J. BOWIE WILSON,
"JOSEPH J. HARPUR,(Son of Ben Hall's former stepmother-in-Law)
"Sydney, 16th March 1863."
The affair of Daniel Charters and Ellen Charlotte Brandon became one of the most curious sideshows to emerge from the aftermath of the Eugowra Escort Robbery. On 18 March 1863, Bell’s Life in Sydney and Sporting Chronicle reported the sensation with typical irony:
“The Central Police Court on Wednesday was crowded in the expectation of this interesting individual being introduced to his chere amie, Miss Ellen Brandon. The visitors were doomed, however, to disappointment, as the authorities, in turn, are so much enamoured of the gentleman, that they decline to submit him to the public gaze; and another postponement for a week was granted to enable Mr. Carroll to renew his application for a writ of habeas corpus.”
The court and the public longed for the spectacle of the informer dragged face-to-face with the woman claiming he had fathered her child. But the government, desperate to shield their star witness from further public scrutiny, refused to produce him.
Ten days later, the paper again returned to the case under the mocking headline:
“The Approver’s Deserted Fair One.”
Once more, the hearing collapsed due to Charters’ non-appearance. The truth was simple: Ellen Brandon was pregnant, and Charters was the father. Their relationship had been consummated in the Lachlan district around the time he became entangled in Gardiner’s grand plan. Brandon sought recognition of his paternity and financial support for the child. But Charters—kept out of reach by the government—evaded his responsibilities entirely.
For months her solicitor attempted to compel Charters’ appearance with a writ of habeas corpus, but even this proved futile. The Crown was not about to expose their approver to the jeers of the public or the attacks of his enemies. Reports circulated that he had been quietly returned to the Lachlan under police escort, but in truth, he was being hidden in plain sight.
By this time, Charters had been placed under a primitive form of witness protection, sequestered by the New South Wales police and employed at the Longbottom Stockade on the Parramatta River. Situated near today’s Concord Oval, the stockade had long been a penal outpost, housing convicts and later reformatory inmates. Charters was lodged there as a horse-breaker, his once-proud standing as a wealthy grazier reduced to anonymity under guard.
Meanwhile, Ellen Brandon bore the child alone. On 10 March 1864, her infant son Henry William Brandon died at just twelve months old. A year later, she married Captain Sheppard Giles, a shipmaster in the intercolonial trade, and her life moved on.
For Charters, however, there was no such redemption. His reputation had been ruined, his family name tarnished, and his freedom mortgaged to the Crown. Hidden at Longbottom, cut off from his old companions and despised by the district, he faded from the stage of public notoriety into something more pitiable: the forgotten informer, remembered only when his name was spat as a curse.
By mid-1863, the whereabouts of Daniel Charters had become the subject of fevered speculation. Whispers circulated through the Lachlan district and Sydney alike: was the notorious approver now on the government payroll? Was he serving as a policeman in disguise, protected in exchange for his betrayal?
The rumours grew so insistent that they reached the floor of the New South Wales Parliament. On 18 August 1863, the matter was raised in the Legislative Assembly by James Martin, then Leader of the Opposition and a future three-time Premier of the colony. Martin sought to press the government on what he called “the acknowledged difficulties of the country in the matter of police arrangements”, and he used Charters as his case in point.
According to the Sydney Morning Herald report the following day, Martin declared:
“One of the robbers had turned approver (Charters), and had since the trial been employed, as it was believed by many, in the police.”
This drew an immediate rebuttal from Premier Charles Cowper, who denied outright that Charters had joined the force:
“The man Charters had not been one of the police. The hon. member was mistaken.”
But Martin pressed harder, insisting he had credible evidence that Charters had been seen working with the constabulary at Longbottom Stockade near Concord.
“He had been associated with the police and was seen connected with the force in some way at Longbottom. He had there given out that he was a policeman.”
At this, another member, Mr. Lucas, interjected to clarify the government’s official position:
“He was employed in breaking-in horses for them.”
Martin seized on this admission, arguing that the government could not conceal what was plain to see:
“It was evident that the man had been, since the trial of the escort robbers, associated with the police. That was not to be denied.”
The exchange confirmed what many already suspected—that Charters had indeed been sheltered by the government, hidden in semi-official employment at Longbottom Stockade. While Cowper’s ministry tried to quibble over the semantics of whether horse-breaking constituted “police work,” the reality was undeniable: Charters was being protected and maintained at public expense.
For the opposition, this was further proof of the government’s weakness in managing law and order. For the public, it was confirmation that the despised informer had escaped the fate of his fellow bushrangers, preserved not by merit but by convenience.
Charters’ position was precarious: detested in the bush, distrusted in Sydney, and now debated in Parliament. The government could hide him from Ellen Brandon’s summons, but they could not shield him from the stigma of betrayal—or from the fact that, in saving his neck, they had tethered his future to their own political embarrassment.
After the storm of 1862–63, Daniel Charters faded from public view. The government had achieved its purpose—his testimony had secured convictions at the Escort trials, and his role as Crown approver, while deeply tainted, had been pivotal in breaking Gardiner’s network. Once the Commission was concluded and the trials finalised, Charters was effectively discarded.
For a time, he remained at Longbottom Stockade, employed as a horse-breaker under police supervision. This arrangement provided him a measure of protection from the reprisals many feared would befall him if he reappeared openly in the Lachlan. It also spared the government the embarrassment of parading him in court while other suits—such as Ellen Brandon’s bid for child support—were pressed against him. Yet the arrangement could not last forever. By late 1863 or early 1864, his presence at Longbottom ceased to be mentioned, and he slipped back into rural obscurity.
Charters’ return to civilian life was not without difficulty. Having betrayed his companions, his name was a byword for treachery in the west. He could never again move with ease in the company of men who had once been his peers. Records suggest he drifted back towards Grenfell and the Lachlan, often living on the margins of respectability.
Court notices hint at later troubles: he was charged in the district over debts and minor disputes, though nothing approaching the infamy of his bushranging years. Unlike the bold figure of the 1850s—landowner, cattleman, and companion of Ben Hall—he emerged in later life as a diminished man, his prosperity eroded and his reputation destroyed.
By the 1870s and 1880s, Charters had sunk into near-anonymity. Once counted among the rising men of Carcoar, he was now tolerated, but never trusted, in the Lachlan. Accounts suggest he lived quietly in the Grenfell district, never regaining the wealth or standing his family had once enjoyed. His sisters, who had once been prominent publicans and landholders, also saw their fortunes shift with the changing times, leaving Charters without the protective shield of their influence.
The stigma of being “the approver” clung to him until the end. Even decades later, newspaper references to the Escort Robbery would sometimes resurface his name, reminding readers that Charters had been the Crown’s man who “saved his own skin” at the expense of his comrades.
In his final years, Charters lived in quiet obscurity around Grenfell, a shadow of the young stockman who had once been Ben Hall’s inseparable mate. He carried with him the infamy of betrayal, his name permanently linked to the bloody affair at Eugowra and the scaffold of Henry Manns.
Daniel Charters died in the Grenfell district in 1919, aged in his early eighties. His passing attracted little attention. Unlike Hall, whose violent end gave rise to folk legend, or Gardiner, whose exile to America was shrouded in myth, Charters slipped from history almost unnoticed. No ballad-maker sang of him, no sympathetic chronicler sought to redeem his name.
In the grand tapestry of the bushranging era, Charters occupies an awkward place. To his companions, he was a Judas figure whose evidence condemned them; to the authorities, he was a useful but embarrassing tool, hidden away once his purpose was served. His trajectory—rising from wealthy young stockman to despised informer—stands in stark contrast to the romanticised legends of Ben Hall, Frank Gardiner, or John Gilbert.
Where Hall’s defiance was sung as heroism, and Gardiner’s cunning as roguish charm, Charters was remembered only for betrayal. His life became the cautionary tale of the bushranging age: that while bravery or brutality could carve out a legend, treachery guaranteed only obscurity.
Despite the deep stain of his role as an approver, Daniel Charters managed to rebuild a semblance of respectability in the years after his withdrawal from the colonial spotlight. On 6 July 1871, at Bathurst, he married Emmeline “Emily” Ada Boss, a woman some twenty years his junior. Emily was the daughter of Joseph Boss, a local Bathurst saddler, and her marriage to Charters suggested either a remarkable willingness to look past his notoriety, or perhaps the fact that, by then, his past was already being quietly forgotten outside the Lachlan.
Together, Daniel and Emily would have eight children, born between the 1870s and 1890s. The family eventually settled in the Grenfell district, where Charters took up farming and stock work in relative obscurity. His children grew up free from the infamy of his past, many going on to marry and establish their own families in New South Wales.
In the census and parish records of the 1880s and 1890s, Charters appears simply as a farmer or labourer—an unremarkable man by outward appearance, worlds away from the figure who once rode with Hall and Gardiner. For a man once entangled in the most daring gold robbery of the age, this turn toward anonymity must have been both a relief and a reminder of the reputation he could never wholly escape.
The bushranging age produced many figures who loomed large in colonial memory. Some were feared, others admired, and a few were even mourned. Ben Hall, shot down in a hail of bullets in 1865, became the symbol of resistance to authority; his name was sung in ballads and whispered in reverence across the Lachlan. Frank Gardiner, transported into exile, was remembered with a certain grim fascination, his escape from New South Wales adding to his legend. John Gilbert and John O’Meally met violent deaths that, if not heroic, were at least consistent with their daring reputations.
But Daniel Charters? His name entered the record in a different register—one that spoke not of gallantry or defiance, but of betrayal. The newspapers of the time branded him simply “the Approver,” a word heavy with disdain. Even when mentioned decades later, the epithet clung to him like a curse, for in the colonial imagination, there was no redemption for an informer.
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Daniel Charters c. 1910 |
By the time of his death in 1919, Charters was an old man whose past was all but forgotten, save for those who recalled the whispers of the Escort trial. He slipped away in Grenfell without fanfare, unremarked upon in a district that once knew him as a rising young squatter, as Ben Hall’s mate, as a man of promise. In life, he had stood at the very edge of legend, a companion to Hall and Gardiner; in death, he became a footnote, overshadowed by the very men he once rode beside.
And so the story of Daniel Charters ends not in violence, but in silence. His legacy is not the defiance of the bushranger or the honour of the lawman, but the cold stigma of the informer. Where others of his generation found a place in folklore, his reward was obscurity—the fate of the man who betrayed the road.
#-Reference notes and source material can be accessed on the EndNote page except where the 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 the right mouse button and select 'open in new tab'.
Henry Manns is my Great gr gr Uncle
ReplyDeleteWilliam Manns,Peter Alexender Manns,Eric Manns, My mum Carol Manns, Me ��
Happy Reading Everone
I'm interested in any information about the bushranger Johnny Piesley (Peisley) including his parents, siblings, date of birth.
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