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The Charters' former home, now Fern Hill. c. 1970's. Reputed birthplace of Henry Hall. Courtesy Carcoar Historical Society. |
Under
relentless pursuit by law enforcement, Ben Hall found himself
increasingly cornered. The police, indefatigable in their efforts,
persistently searched his favoured hideouts in the Weddin and
Pinnacle mountains. This unyielding pressure forced Hall to abandon
his familiar refuge around Lambing Flat. Despite mounting political
unrest in the New South Wales legislature over his criminal exploits
and intensified police pressure, Hall remained impervious to both the
political and law enforcement challenges. In September 1863, Hall
fled Lambing Flat and moved to the Carcoar region, 70 miles
northeast, seeking a new stronghold.
Before
his life of crime, Hall enjoyed simpler times in Carcoar, often
sharing those moments with his close friend, Daniel Charters.
However, their friendship suffered a severe blow when Charters turned
informer following the Eugowra Gold Robbery in June 1862. The rift
deepened when Charters became a key prosecution witness during the
Sydney escort trials in February 1863.
However,
in August 1859, Hall's personal life also took a significant turn.
His wife, Bridget, gave birth to their only son, Henry, at the home
of Daniel Charters' mother in Carcoar. This event added another layer
of complexity to Hall's ties with Charters (for more details, see
Henry's birth certificate in Ben
Hall, Part One).
Despite
these personal upheavals, Hall maintained relationships with old
friends from his peaceful days in Carcoar. Their loyalty remained
steadfast, and they often provided him sanctuary as his bushranging
activities intensified. As Hall asserted his presence in the Carcoar
district, his violent escapades came to the forefront. Newspapers and
police gazettes detailed his ruthless attacks on storekeepers,
settlers, and travelers across New South Wales’ Western districts,
painting him as a fearsome bushranger. These accounts elevated Hall
to public enemy number one, and the media amplified his notoriety,
turning him into a figure of celebrity akin to his mentor, Frank
Gardiner.
The authorities, however, adapted their strategies to combat Hall and his gang. Led by Sir Frederick Pottinger, police officers abandoned their recognisable uniforms and disguised themselves in attire typical of bushmen, stockmen, or miners. This cunning approach blurred the line between ally and adversary, introducing an element of uncertainty that helped undermine the gang's operations.
These
relentless police efforts in time began to shift the dynamic in
favour of law enforcement. Isolated locals, once intimidated by
Hall's gang, gained renewed confidence as they saw the police closing
in on the bushrangers. This period marked a pinnacle in Hall’s
infamous career, signaling a more brazen and ruthless period in his
reign as one of Australia’s most notorious bushrangers.
In addition to their relentless pursuit, the authorities intensified their scrutiny of those suspected of harbouring sympathies for Hall. Rigorous inspections and a series of unannounced visits disrupted his ability to find undisturbed refuge, tightening the net of surveillance around him. This growing pressure added an air of constant tension to Hall's already precarious existence as a bushranger.
Despite these mounting challenges, some supporters remained steadfast in their loyalty. Chief among them were his brother William, a gold miner at the Pinnacle Range, and the loyal Charters family in Carcoar. Their unwavering support provided Hall with fleeting moments of safety and a semblance of refuge amidst the escalating threat.
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Henry Hall. c. 1895. Penzig. |
Hall’s ability to continually evade capture ensured that his activities remained a frequent subject of government debate. Parliamentary discussions were often dominated by concerns over the perceived inefficiency of the police force and the staggering costs associated with their efforts to apprehend him. In the year ending 1863, policing expenses totaled £257,000—equivalent to $21,588,000 today (with £1 equating to $84). This immense financial burden weighed heavily on the citizens of New South Wales, whose population was only about 350,000.
Many parliamentarians found these costs untenable and expressed their discontent by relentlessly questioning Colonial Secretary Charles Cowper about the apparent inability of the police to apprehend Hall. The loudest criticisms came from representatives of districts plagued by Hall’s gang, as they faced mounting pressure from their constituents. These legislators not only contended with the fear and frustration of their citizens but also with the risk of losing their parliamentary seats due to the unchecked lawlessness.
The saga of Ben Hall was not merely a tale of outlawry—it was a political storm that stirred the highest levels of government, exposing the vulnerabilities of law enforcement and the strain it placed on the colony’s resources.
'Sydney Morning Herald' 1st October 1863:Amid the mounting parliamentary uproar, Ben Hall remained undeterred, continuing his reign over the Queen’s roads with bold defiance. Venturing into the Carcoar district, Hall, alongside Gilbert and Burke, launched a series of audacious raids. Even as spring brought inclement weather, their activities persisted undiminished. If anything, the adverse conditions hindered the beleaguered police far more than the bushrangers, further complicating their relentless pursuit.
Newspapers of the time reported that the only ones seemingly thriving under such inhospitable conditions were Hall, Gilbert, Burke, and their network of informants. In stark contrast to the frustration and impotence felt by law enforcement, this infamous trio appeared to revel in their outlawry, unfazed by the elements or the escalating public and governmental outcry. Hall’s story became one of unrelenting audacity and bravado, his exploits a source of both intrigue and fear for the citizens who lived under the shadow of his reign and a growing embarrassment for the authorities who struggled to bring him to justice.
Many of these individuals were miners, either strapped for cash or fleeing from past misdeeds. Driven by desperation or lawlessness, some turned to sporadic acts of robbery and, in more extreme cases, even murder. Crime became an ever-present threat, a shadow that loomed over the goldfields and surrounds, though it was not always the work of the infamous Ben Hall. Nevertheless, his name had become synonymous with lawlessness, a symbol of the disorder that gripped the gold districts. As his notoriety grew, so too did the infamy attached to his name, whether deserved or not.
Domestic workers were among the most common culprits. Often placed in positions of trust, they had access to their employers' cash and, driven by desperation or greed, succumbed to the lure of crime. Charles Sanderson, the "Hero of Wheogo," documented numerous instances of such thefts, shedding light on the broader scope of lawlessness.
While Hall’s infamous exploits continued to dominate public attention, Sanderson’s observations highlighted an important truth: crime during these turbulent times extended well beyond the actions of one man or his gang. The gold-rush era fostered an atmosphere of widespread disorder, where opportunism and lawlessness thrived. Charles Sanderson.
While Ben Hall and his permanent gang members, John Gilbert and John O'Meally, were the most prominent figures in the public consciousness, many others also wielded six-guns across the goldfields of New South Wales. Among them were the Druitts, Corcorans, Lynhams, Seary brothers, Cummings brothers, and Foleys. Some of these rogues occasionally rode with Hall himself, reflecting the expansive and fluid nature of the bushranging fraternity.
At the same time, other demographic groups found themselves entangled in this lawless world, notably the much-maligned Chinese gold diggers. Since the riots at Lambing Flat in 1861, the Chinese community had endured relentless assaults and slurs from their European counterparts. Although the government eventually quelled the violence and jailed prominent anti-Chinese agitators like William Spicer, Charles Stewart, and Dougal Cameron—leaders of the infamous "Roll-up" campaign to expel the Chinese from the Flat—anti-Chinese sentiment continued to simmer across the goldfields of New South Wales and Victoria.
This pervasive hostility forced the Chinese community to work in old, abandoned areas of the goldfields, where they were marginalised and left vulnerable. Isolated and defenseless, they became frequent targets of robbery, physical violence, and, in the most extreme cases, murder. This grim reality underscored the broader state of lawlessness that defined the era, extending far beyond the infamous exploits of Ben Hall and his gang.
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John Ward 1835-1865. |
Amid the tumult of the era, one individual emerged from the relative invisibility of the Chinese community in the lawless saga of New South Wales. A Chinese miner named Sam Poo took a path rarely travelled by his compatriots, embracing a life of crime. In February 1865, he began his brief but infamous career as a bushranger, robbing travelers along the trail between Mudgee and Gulgong. Armed with impressive bushcraft, Poo managed to evade authorities for several months, carving out a defiant and exceptional place in a world dominated by European outlaws.
However, Poo’s time as a bushranger was short-lived. He was eventually tracked down by police trooper John Ward, leading to a dramatic chase and gunfight. The confrontation ended when Poo delivered a fatal shotgun blast to Ward’s groin. Gravely injured, Ward was transported to Birrawa Station—formerly known as "Billaroy"—near Dunedoo, where he succumbed to his injuries. The station became the site of his final resting place.
The death of Trooper Ward marked the beginning of the end for Sam Poo. A few months later, he was captured and brought to justice. Found guilty of his crimes, Poo was sentenced to death and met his fate on December 19, 1865, at the gallows of Bathurst Gaol. His story stands as a stark reminder of the multifaceted nature of the era, illustrating that the paths leading to lawlessness were not confined to any one background or community.
In the districts of Rockley, Carcoar, and Mount Macquarie, Ben Hall, John Gilbert, and Micky Burke firmly entrenched their operations. Meanwhile, after being ostracised over the murder of John Barnes, John O'Meally and John Vane maintained a stronghold in the Weddin/Burrangong district.
Before long, the two outlaws—now actively hunted—sought refuge elsewhere. According to John Vane’s autobiography, they arrived in the Carcoar region on September 21, 1863, searching for their former compatriots.
Vane’s memoirs also reveal a notable lull in criminal activity involving Hall, Gilbert, O'Meally, and himself. Between September 1 and September 22, 1863, neither O'Meally nor Vane was implicated in any robberies alongside Hall and Gilbert. This period offers an intriguing glimpse into the lives of bushrangers, highlighting their mobility, independence, and the sporadic nature of their crimes—at times operating together, yet often separated for days or even weeks.
While Ben Hall roamed freely, terrorising the Carcoar district, law enforcement maintained their vigilance, scouring the Weddin Mountains in the hopes of capturing the elusive bushranger. One day, during what seemed to be a routine patrol, a troupe of mounted troopers fell victim to a juvenile prank.
A group of audacious boys, native to the Weddin Mountains—possibly younger members of the O'Meally family—devised an elaborate ruse. Emulating the very bushrangers the troopers sought, the boys provoked a chase. The prospect of apprehending the notorious outlaws, coupled with the tempting reward, spurred the troopers into an eager pursuit.
For eight grueling miles, the chase continued relentlessly. The troopers, certain they were closing in on their quarry, were elated at the thought of capturing the infamous bushrangers. However, their excitement quickly turned to dismay when they discovered the truth—what they had been chasing was not hardened criminals but a band of mischievous boys.
Bitterly disappointed and far from amused, the troopers vented their frustration on the pranksters. What had started as a harmless jest ended with a harsh reprimand, a sobering reminder of the seriousness and danger of the troopers' mission. The incident, though minor in the grand scheme of events, highlighted the tense and unpredictable nature of life in the bushranging era.
S.M.H. 3rd October 1863:On September 19th, O'Meally and Vane broke their solitude and set out to rejoin their companions in Carcoar. Their journey was a formidable one, spanning 70 miles of rugged and varied terrain. The trek, which took several days, stood as a testament to their determination, endurance, and unwavering commitment to their lawless brotherhood.
In his writings, Vane provides a vivid recollection of their expedition:
The encampment Vane referred to was likely located about a mile south of the southern end of what is now known as Carcoar Dam, nestled within the protective slopes of Mount Macquarie. Notably, the coach robbery he mentioned was carried out by Gilbert, Hall, and Burke.
Allowing us a continued insight into their escapades, Vane's narrative goes on:
The messenger returned with encouraging news about Ben Hall. However, an amusing case of mistaken identity added an unexpected twist. Vane recounted how he and O'Meally unwittingly stumbled upon Ben Hall's camp, mistakenly believing it to be a police encampment. At the same time, Hall's group had similarly misidentified Vane and O'Meally as police officers, now disguised in bushman’s attire—a tactic cleverly introduced by Sir Frederick Pottinger.
Once the confusion was cleared, the two groups shared a laugh over the harmless misunderstanding. The five bushrangers—Vane, O'Meally, Gilbert, Burke, and Hall—ultimately reunited in camaraderie. Their shared experiences and defiance against the law served as the glue that bound this band of outlaws together in their lawless pursuits.
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Cowra Mail Robbery, NSW Police Gazette September 1863. Note, Description of the 2nd perpetrator matches that of Ben Hall. |
Before their reunion, a bold mail coach robbery took place just outside Blayney on Saturday, September 19, 1863. Historically, it has been assumed that John Gilbert, John O'Meally, and Micky Burke were responsible for the heist, with some accounts also implicating John Vane.
However, a reexamination of historical records suggests that O'Meally and Vane were not involved in this particular robbery. Recent research indicates that the two bushrangers were still en route from the Weddin Mountains at the time. Diaries, memoirs, and other contemporary documents leading up to September 19, 1863, provide evidence supporting this timeline.
Instead, responsibility for the robbery appears to rest with John Gilbert, Ben Hall, and Micky Burke. This conclusion is further corroborated by descriptions of the robbers published in the New South Wales Police Gazette (September 1863), which specifically notes Burke’s use of a face covering, further implicating him.
A linked newspaper article provides detailed accounts of the robbery, including the targeting of the mail coach and its passengers, among them Mr. Garland (a trooper) and former magistrate Mr. Beardmore. Significantly, Beardmore was the very magistrate who had issued the 1861 arrest warrant for Frank Gardiner—and during the robbery, he was already being detained by Burke.
One key correction to the historical narrative involves the destruction of a police carbine during the incident. While this act has often been attributed to John O'Meally, evidence from Vane’s writings confirms that it was, in fact, Johnny Gilbert who destroyed the weapon. Vane also corroborates that this robbery took place during his estrangement from the gang, definitively excluding both himself and O'Meally from the crime.
The encounter with Mr. Garland warrants particular attention. He proved to be an especially reluctant victim, prompting Gilbert to threaten to "blow the gentleman's brains out" if he did not hand over his money quickly. However, Hall managed to intervene, calming Gilbert and defusing the tense situation.
Later that evening, at a location known as Flood’s Mount, the three bushrangers found themselves engaged in stealing horses when they were confronted and questioned about their identities. Thinking quickly, they claimed to be 'policemen.' To further bolster their deception, they added that their supposed patrol was led by a man named Sanderson.
Cheshire was a relative of John Vane.
Charles Sanderson, as previously mentioned, was a steadfast and diligent officer of the law, serving at the Forbes police station. Known to Ben Hall for his role in the recovery of the Eugowra gold in 1862, Sanderson’s name was frequently mentioned by Hall when questioned about who was “in charge.” John Vane, however, had no involvement in these particular encounters. (The Cheshires, referenced here, were relatives of Vane.)
In Charles White’s posthumously published John Vane account, John Vane: Bushranger—narrated by Vane himself and released in 1906—there is no mention of the Cowra Mail robbery. Instead, Vane recounts later events, such as Marsh’s Farm and the Stanley Hosie raid at Caloola. Given the success of the Cowra Mail robbery, and Vane’s known inclination to boast about his exploits, this omission suggests the gang frequently sought to obscure their identities during robberies. They often impersonated police officers, claimed to be different gang members, or even suggested that Frank Gardiner was watching from a distance to mislead their victims.
One consistent detail, however, emerged from victims’ descriptions—the recognisable physical presence of Ben Hall. Regularly noted for his relatively short stature, Hall stood at approximately 5 feet 6 to 7 inches and had a stout, almost overweight build, weighing around 190 pounds (13½ stone), as recorded in police gazettes. In contrast, the other gang members were described as taller and leaner, further distinguishing Hall’s profile from the rest.
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NSW Police Gazette 30th September 1863. |
After a brief respite in a secluded bush camp, the reinvigorated gang of five bushrangers resumed their exploits along the Queen’s roads. On September 22, 1863, they roamed the bushland around Mount Macquarie. Meanwhile, three New South Wales troopers—Turnbull (Trumble), Evenden, and Cromie—patrolled the same region, determined to track down the elusive outlaws.
Failing to find any trace of the bushrangers near Number One, Caloola, and Trunkey, the troopers began their return journey to Carcoar. Along the way, they stopped at the farm of Mr. and Mrs. Marsh, who lived there with their five children. Mrs. Marsh, expecting their sixth child, welcomed the troopers into their home. Nestled in the foothills of Mount Macquarie, southeast of Carcoar, the farm provided the weary men with a place to rest, resupply, and gather any local intelligence on recent bushranger activity.
Mr. Marsh offered a crucial piece of information: he had recently spotted a saddled horse nearby, which he suspected belonged to the notorious bushranger Micky Burke, a man he knew well. Acting on this lead, Trooper Cromie and Mr. Marsh set out to investigate, hoping to recover the horse. To their shock, they soon came face to face with the very outlaws they had been pursuing.
'Golden Age' of October 1863,On Tuesday afternoon three troopers left the Long Swamp on route for Carcoar, and called at George Marsh's farm, distant about 8 miles, where they had. some refreshment, and were informed by Mr Marsh that he had seen a horse, with saddle and bridle on, and he believed that it had got away from the bushrangers who were in the neighbourhood, and he offered to go with one of them to get the horse. After being out about half an hour, the two troopers at the house heard two shots fired a short distance from the place, and went in the direction of the reports when they met two mounted men who ordered them to stand. Only one of them had taken the precaution to carry his rifle with him, and he was told that if he attempted to fire he would get his b--- brains blown out and, that they would go to the place, where Marsh and the other trooper were handcuffed to a tree, and shoot them. As a matter of course, the trooper gave up his rifle and revolver. The two bushrangers were then joined by three more of their gang, and after liberating Marsh and the captive trooper, they went into the house and had something to eat and then secured the three revolvers, three rifles, and all other traps belonging to the police. The gang are O'Meally, Gilbert, Burke, Vane, and Ben Hall. When the troopers first saw them they thought they were some of the Carcoar police, having carbines at their side, with buckets to hold the muzzles in. They informed the troopers that they would like to fall in with McLerie and his men, for they would strip and handcuff them to trees for the night, having handcuffs with them for the purpose.
The unfortunate incident that led Superintendent Morrissett to accuse the three troopers of "Neglect of Duty" proved to be a costly blunder for the police force. During their encounter with the bushrangers, the gang managed to seize a cache of valuable and potent weaponry from the unsuspecting officers. This loss was not taken lightly and was meticulously documented:
Four breech-loading carbines, and four revolvers, and all the holsters, straps, breastplates, and other lumber that make up the total of a trooper's accoutrements.
In December 1863, the full extent of the dire situation faced by Mr. Marsh and Trooper Cromie was revealed in a courtroom. Mr. Marsh recounted the harrowing confrontation with the bushranger gang, emphasizing that his wife—six months pregnant at the time—was also present during the gang’s acts of intimidation.
Tragically, the child Mrs. Marsh was carrying, Eleanor’s daughter Alice, was born in March 1864 but passed away in 1875, a somber footnote to an already grim tale.
(For more comprehensive details, refer to the link provided below.)![]() |
A contemporary view of the capture of the troopers by Ben Hall. Courtesy NLA. |
The episode at Marsh’s farm starkly highlighted the inadequate state of law enforcement in New South Wales. Public reaction was one of bewilderment and disgust as three capable troopers allowed themselves to be easily apprehended by the very bushrangers they were tasked with pursuing. Their ineptitude not only provided the bushrangers with a morale boost but also handed them a significant arsenal of high-powered weapons.
The troopers’ unexpected display of incompetence delivered a serious blow to the reputation of both the police force and the government. Their startling claim that they had “never expected to be called upon to pursue bushrangers” further underscored the lack of preparedness and resolve within the force. This admission painted a damning picture of a police service seemingly devoid of bravery, decisiveness, and the determination to uphold its sworn duties.
Public dissatisfaction with this alarming situation was vividly captured in a letter to the Bathurst Times by a resident of Carcoar. The writer expressed deep frustration and incredulity, voicing the collective outrage of a public that felt increasingly abandoned in the face of rising lawlessness.
This debacle emboldened the bushrangers, who,
invigorated by their success at Marsh’s farm, continued their
campaign of robbery and intimidation with little resistance. With the
police force and government appearing powerless to contain the chaos,
public trust and confidence eroded further. A palpable sense of
apprehension gripped the citizens of New South Wales, as the
situation spiraled increasingly out of control. Below is one comment made in a sarcastic light of the failure of the NSW troopers.
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NSW Police Gazette for Daley and Jameison sentences. |
The sentencing of Daley and Jameison dealt a significant blow to the gang, removing two experienced and capable members from their ranks. However, it likely also fueled the gang’s resentment toward law enforcement, intensifying their rebellion and defiance. As tensions in New South Wales grew, the situation became increasingly volatile. On one side was an emboldened gang of bushrangers, and on the other, an increasingly frustrated and fearful public.
This fraught dynamic set the stage for future
confrontations and conflicts in the years ahead, culminating most
notably in the infamous pursuits of the Kelly gang during the 1870s.
Mr. Marsh’s observations offer valuable insight into the tactics employed by Ben Hall and his gang to outmaneuver law enforcement and deceive unsuspecting citizens. By outfitting their horses and attire to resemble those of New South Wales mounted troopers, the bushrangers effectively disguised their identities and intentions. This clever ruse allowed them to approach their targets unchallenged, exploiting the trust placed in law enforcement’s uniform and authority.
Ironically, this strategy mirrored the police’s own methods, as officers often dressed as stockmen to blend in and avoid detection. By assuming the guise of troopers, the bushrangers gained a significant advantage, moving freely among settlements and executing their plans with remarkable precision.
Marsh’s claim of prior acquaintance with John Gilbert further suggests that Gilbert’s past connections may have aided the gang’s ability to integrate into local communities and evade capture. These factors highlight the bushrangers’ cunning and adaptability, which played a crucial role in their sustained success and growing notoriety.
However, such deceptive tactics also deepened fear and mistrust within the community. With bushrangers impersonating police and police disguising themselves as civilians, ordinary citizens struggled to distinguish friend from foe. This blurring of identities likely intensified the prevailing atmosphere of anxiety and suspicion, further exacerbating the social unrest of the time.
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NSW Police Gazette September 1863. |
In the quiet, unassuming village of Caloola, east of Carcoar, storekeeper Stanley Hosie was tending to his business when five bushrangers suddenly appeared at his shop door. Led by Ben Hall, the gang swiftly began ransacking the store, seizing a variety of goods to add to their growing stockpile. This was not Hosie’s first encounter with the outlaws—just weeks earlier, in August, John Gilbert and John O'Meally had robbed his store following the failed Carcoar Bank robbery.
Determined to defend his property, Hosie reacted swiftly, seizing his double-barreled gun in an attempt to confront the intruders. However, his assessment of the threat proved fatally flawed. Believing he was dealing with only two men, he was unaware that three additional bushrangers were stationed outside, strategically positioned to secure the area and provide reinforcement if needed.
This level of tactical coordination was a hallmark of Ben Hall’s gang, whose carefully planned and precisely executed operations often left their victims unprepared and overpowered. Their ability to outmaneuver and overwhelm their targets played a crucial role in their sustained success and growing notoriety.
Despite Hosie’s courageous stand, he quickly found himself outnumbered and outgunned, forced to abandon any hope of resistance.
Incidents like this underscored the dangerous and unpredictable conditions faced by shopkeepers, travelers, and settlers in bushranger-infested regions. While preparedness was essential, as Mr. Hosie learned, even the most valiant efforts could falter against such formidable and determined adversaries.
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Mr Larnach c. 1860. Private Source. Never before published. |
In the quiet, unassuming village of Caloola, east of Carcoar, storekeeper Stanley Hosie was tending to his business when five bushrangers suddenly appeared at his shop door. Led by Ben Hall, the gang swiftly began ransacking the store, seizing a variety of goods to add to their growing stockpile. This was not Hosie’s first encounter with the outlaws—just weeks earlier, in August, John Gilbert and John O'Meally had robbed his store following the failed Carcoar Bank robbery.
Determined to defend his property, Hosie reacted swiftly, seizing his double-barreled gun in an attempt to confront the intruders. However, his assessment of the threat proved fatally flawed. Believing he was dealing with only two men, he was unaware that three additional bushrangers were stationed outside, strategically positioned to secure the area and provide reinforcement if needed.
This level of tactical coordination was a hallmark of Ben Hall’s gang, whose carefully planned and precisely executed operations often left their victims unprepared and overpowered. Their ability to outmaneuver and overwhelm their targets played a crucial role in their sustained success and growing notoriety.
Despite Hosie’s courageous stand, he quickly found himself outnumbered and outgunned, forced to abandon any hope of resistance.
Incidents like this underscored the dangerous and unpredictable conditions faced by shopkeepers, travelers, and settlers in bushranger-infested regions. While preparedness was essential, as Mr. Hosie learned, even the most valiant efforts could falter against such formidable and determined adversaries.
'The Courier' Monday 5th October 1863:![]() |
Stanley Hosie. c. 1872. Kindly provided by Brenda Simmons. |
The unfortunate Mr. Hosie was swiftly overpowered, his double-barreled gun no match for the five hardened bushrangers. Wasting no time, they shackled him with the very handcuffs they had taken from the hapless police the previous day. His brave but futile attempt to defend his store ended almost as soon as it began, leaving him bound and helpless.
With ruthless efficiency, the bushrangers turned their attention to George Garrett’s blacksmith shop. Garrett and his assistant, caught off guard and outnumbered, met the same fate as Hosie. The gang quickly subdued them, shackling the two men before moving on to their next target. Their rampage continued at the shop of local shoemaker Robert Knott, who was likewise overpowered and dragged back to Hosie’s store. There, he joined the blacksmiths and Hosie as a captive of the audacious gang.
With their prisoners securely restrained, the bushrangers methodically looted Hosie’s store, taking whatever they pleased. The captives, powerless to intervene, could only watch in despair as their livelihoods were dismantled before their eyes.
A correspondent for the Bathurst Times later chronicled the raid in vivid detail, capturing both the bushrangers’ brazen confidence and the devastation they left in their wake.
'Empire', on Tuesday 8th December 1863; Stanley Hosie being duly sworn stated:![]() |
Hosie's store Hill End. Hosie standing middle. c. 1872. Courtesy NLA. |
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Emily Hosie c. 1862. Kindly provided by Brenda Simmons |
The bushrangers' callous and reckless actions extended beyond their human victims to helpless animals. During their rampage, they reportedly fired upon Mr. Larnach's horses with cruel indifference, inflicting severe injuries. While some accounts suggest the animals were merely wounded, the extent of their suffering ultimately necessitated euthanasia, compounding the anguish of an already harrowing ordeal.
The gang’s audacity and utter disregard for the law were further demonstrated when they brazenly seized any animals they fancied, including Hosie’s own horse. This blatant theft, combined with their senseless acts of cruelty, fueled growing frustration within the community over the authorities’ inability to rein in the bushrangers’ unchecked violence.
The horrifying events at Hosie’s store stood as a stark testament to the gang’s ruthlessness and destructive force. Their actions deepened public resentment and fear, fostering an atmosphere of anxiety and desperation as local communities braced for the next inevitable attack. The bushrangers’ reign of terror painted an increasingly grim picture of lawlessness and disorder, further eroding confidence in the strength and effectiveness of law enforcement.
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Mr John Loudon c. 1863. Penzig |
With cunning intelligence and audacious tactics, the bushrangers devised an ingenious plan to catch their targets off guard. Disguised in police uniforms they had previously captured, they approached Grubbenbong Station under the cover of night. The station belonged to Mr. John Loudon, a newly appointed Magistrate of the Colony.
Unbeknownst to the bushrangers, several troopers were stationed there, oblivious to the impending threat. Using intelligence gathered from intercepted telegraphs, the gang swiftly rounded up the station hands and confined them in the station’s store. With the workers secured, they turned their attention to the homestead, where the unsuspecting police were lodging.
Leading the deception, Ben Hall—renowned for his audacity and cunning—knocked on the homestead’s back door, startling Mrs. Loudon. When she inquired about the late-night visitor, Hall, still disguised as a police officer, coolly responded, “Police.” Upon hearing the exchange, Mr. Loudon demanded the officer’s name. Without hesitation, Hall continued the ruse, confidently identifying himself as “Sanderson”—a known figure in the police force.
This calculated act of deception exemplified the bushrangers’ bold strategies and their ability to manipulate situations to their advantage. It also underscored the growing threat they posed—not only to law enforcement but to the broader community, as they continued to operate with alarming confidence and impunity.
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Thomas Kirkpatrick brother of Helen Loudon. 1810 - 1895. Kindly provided by Val Kinghorne. |
Sensing something amiss, the Loudons retreated into their bedroom, where Mr. Loudon kept a loaded shotgun. However, unbeknownst to him, a guest, Mr. Wilson, had used the weapon earlier that day to shoot a feral cat, leaving it unloaded. As the back door remained firmly shut, the bushrangers grew increasingly aggressive, shouting, “Open the door, or we’ll shoot!” and threatening to fire through the door or burn the house down.
With their demands ignored, Gilbert, Hall, and Vane forced their way through the back door, advancing into the passageway. Shots rang out as they fired through the bedroom door, behind which Mr. and Mrs. Loudon had barricaded themselves. Simultaneously, Hall and Gilbert stormed down the passage toward the bedroom while O’Meally and Burke broke in through the front door, brandishing their weapons at Kirkpatrick and Wilson. “We’ll blow your brains out if you resist!” they threatened, swiftly subduing the occupants.
Once inside, all five bushrangers converged on the bedroom door, forcing it open and securing the Loudons. Mrs. Loudon and the other women in the house were escorted to the main room, where they were given chairs. Remarkably, despite their fearsome reputation, the bushrangers refrained from harming the women.
In the ensuing chaos, the candles and lamps were extinguished, plunging the house into darkness. Disoriented, Mr. Loudon instinctively pushed aside a figure near him—only to realize he was face to face with John O’Meally. Pressing a revolver against Loudon’s cheek, O’Meally coldly warned, “I’ll put this through you if you resist.”
Despite the tension and gunfire, no one was injured—likely due to the absence of troopers, which may have averted a more violent confrontation. Disappointed by their failure to capture any police officers, the bushrangers lingered at the property for nearly four hours. In a surreal twist, John Vane entertained the party by playing the piano, an oddly genteel moment amid an otherwise harrowing ordeal.
Finally, around two o’clock in the morning, the gang departed, leaving behind shaken but unharmed occupants—another chilling reminder of their unchecked reign of terror.
‘Sydney Morning Herald’, 28th September 1863:During John Vane's December 1863 trial at Bathurst for bushranging, Loudon was called as a witness. Loudon's describes how well armed the gang were—carrying both revolvers and carbines. Stating the bushrangers opened fire indiscriminately without any concern for those in the house. The 'Illawarra Mercury' Friday 11th December 1863:
Loudon's overseer Mr Charles Young had arrived from Scotland in 1860 with his wife Elizabeth onboard the ship 'Telegraph' and commenced work for his kinfolk, Mr Loudon. In later life, Mr Young recounted how he attempted to fetch the police but was thwarted by Burke with a gun held to his head:
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Mrs Helen Loudon c. 1863. Penzig |
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Melbourne Punch, 22nd October 1863. A depiction of Ben Hall & Co.'s evening at Loudon's. Note the papers use of satire with the artist name. Courtesy NLA. |
Although Bates portrays the evening at Grubbenbong Station as somewhat festive, Loudon would have been acutely aware of the need to maintain propriety. With the bushrangers present, he would have been careful not to give the impression of willingly entertaining Ben Hall and his gang.
A letter written in 1908 by one of the women held hostage at Grubbenbong Station offers a rare and unique perspective on the bushrangers and their interactions with their captives. The writer—possibly Thomas Kirkpatrick’s daughter and the niece of Helen Loudon—reflects on the incident and the lasting impression the bushrangers left on her.
The letter suggests that by this time, Ben Hall had firmly established himself as the gang’s leader. His strong command and assertive demeanor were evident, likely key factors in the gang’s ability to successfully carry out their criminal activities. His authority over the group was unmistakable and played a crucial role in their effectiveness as outlaws.
Interestingly, the writer also notes that John Gilbert, another prominent gang member, managed to charm at least one of the captives—herself. Known for his quick wit, engaging storytelling, and striking appearance, Gilbert left a lasting impression on the young woman, despite the circumstances. His charisma appeared to momentarily humanize him in the eyes of his captives, illustrating his ability to manipulate and influence those around him.
This firsthand account provides a fascinating glimpse into the complex interpersonal dynamics between the bushrangers and their victims. While their actions were undeniably criminal and violent, their ability to foster layered, even memorable interactions with their captives adds depth to their historical portrayal. However, it is also clear that fear remained a dominant force in these encounters, serving as a powerful motivator for compliance and submission.
'Sydney Sportsman' August 1908:![]() |
A Dambrod Board. A game of Draughts. |
They had just put a pair o' handcuffs on my brother James and the overseer, out in the store, that they had taken from two o' the police at the back o' the mount that day, and sent them walkin' into Carcoar without their boots, the villains! Ben Hall said, 'Goodnight, Mrs Loudon, we're the police.' 'No,' said I, 'I dinna think ye're the police, ye're the bushrangers,' wl' that he laughed. 'Bail up, then,' said he. I let the door slam and came back. 'Loudon Loudon, the bushrangers are here, get your gun, man, get your gun.' Loudon ran into the bedroom to get it, and I followed him in. Wilson came in to say he had had it out to shoot a native cat and had left it in the store. Man! It was a pity. Burke and Vane stood on the verandah in front of the window, in the moonlight, it was a grand shot. With that Hall was calling out to us to come out, and Gilbert put his carbine up and fired shot after shot through the door.
One bullet smashed my mirror, and another splintered a drawer. Wicked destruction, I called it. Some had to go out, and they handcuffed Loudon and Wilson together and sat them on two chairs by the window. Then they said they were hungry, so my niece and I got them some supper, and put it on the table. 'There ye' are,' I said, 'and I'm sorry to say that for the 'first time in my house I canna' say yo're welcome to it.' And I must say the poor fellows were hungry. When the table was cleared, and they had turned the place fair inside out, looking for money, Burke lay down and put his dirty boots upon my sofa, and went to sleep. I told Ben Hall the little wretch would sell him yet. There's none of the breed was any good says I. Hall said if he had any suspicion, he would shoot him like a dog. And sure enough, he did, about three weeks after. Don't tell me Keightley shot him. Hall did it himself, I'm sure. But I was real sorry for Gilbert. I talked to him a long time that night. He told me he was sick of the life, and if he could get away from the country he would. But he said, 'there's not one of my mates who would stick at putting a bullet in me if he heard me say what I am telling you,' Poor boy! I used to pray for him every night till I heard that Dunn's grandfather had sold the pair to the police, and Johnny Gilbert was shot." But space is running out. This sketch of the bushrangers' visit to Grubbenbong is a picture of Helen Loudon. And Helen Loudon is but one of a regiment.
Aside from Mrs Loudon's thrilling encounter, J. Ward Harrison went on with this tribute to our valiant women of yesteryear:
However, there is corroboration, to validate Mrs. Loudon's claim.
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Cliefden c., 1900. Courtesy NLA. |
The bushrangers’ strategy remained consistent as they moved on to their next target: Mr. William Montague Rothery’s Cliefden estate. Situated near Limestone Creek, just five miles north of Woodstock, the 2,500-acre property was renowned for its highly prized thoroughbred horses. Aware of the value of his livestock and the ever-present threat of horse thieves, Rothery had installed an elaborate alarm system—one that would trigger a bell if the stable doors were opened, alerting those nearby to potential theft.
Undeterred, Ben Hall and his gang arrived at Cliefden around eleven in the morning. True to form, they first rounded up the estate’s staff, securing them to prevent any interference. With control of the property firmly in hand, they then indulged in a lavish midday feast, helping themselves to Rothery’s provisions, including champagne. Only after satisfying their appetites did they turn their attention to the estate’s prized thoroughbreds, selecting from among the finest horses for their own use.
This brazen raid once again underscored the audacity and sheer confidence of Ben Hall and his gang. Despite Rothery’s security measures, they executed their operation with remarkable ease and efficiency. Their ability to carry out such high-risk heists without consequence highlighted not only their resourcefulness and adaptability but also the glaring challenges faced by law enforcement in bringing them to justice.
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William Rothery Courtesy NLA |
These accounts underscore the public spectacle and sensationalism that surrounded Ben Hall and his gang. Their daring exploits, brazen confidence, and seeming invincibility were frequently splashed across the pages of colonial newspapers, further cementing their notoriety. Burke’s boastful recounting of their triumphs—particularly the successful ambush and capture of the three troopers at Marsh’s Farm—added yet another layer of audacity to their public image.
What stands out in these narratives is not just the gang’s criminal activities, but their uncanny ability to revel in luxury while on their lawless spree. Their indulgence in William Rothery’s fine dining and champagne, even as they carried out their operations, adds a unique dimension to their outlaw persona. This suggests that their motivations extended beyond mere theft and violence; they sought excitement, thrill, and perhaps even a sense of social status that their otherwise ordinary lives could never provide.
However, their brazen behavior also deepened public fear and outrage. With each new raid and escalating act of defiance, it became increasingly clear that the bushrangers were evolving into a formidable force, one that law enforcement struggled to contain. This growing crisis painted a grim picture of law and order in the colony, amplifying public demands for stronger action against the outlaws.
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John Stinson 1850-1921. Private Source. Never before published. |
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Canowindra from Blue Jacket Lookout, 2016. My photograph. |
Henry Gibson’s surprise self-representation at his trial added yet another twist to the ongoing saga of outlaws and law enforcement. His claim that he had merely acted as the manager of Sandy Creek Station—a property once owned by Ben Hall—was a far-fetched assertion, given that Hall had lost ownership of the station nearly a year earlier. Nevertheless, Gibson skillfully wove this narrative into a plausible defense, portraying his association with Hall as professional rather than criminal.
However, the continued presence of Gibson, Hall’s former lover Susan Prior, and William and Ann Hall on the Sandy Creek property—even after Hall no longer owned it—suggests more than mere coincidence. Their residency implied a level of complicity and support for the outlaw’s activities. The police, led by Sir Frederick Pottinger, had already made their stance clear by burning down the station home, a symbolic act intended to sever Hall’s ties to the property and his associates. Yet, despite this, Hall and his network remained undeterred.
Gibson’s acquittal on the charge of ‘Shooting with Intent’ was a significant setback for law enforcement, further exposing the complex web of relationships and loyalties that underpinned Hall’s operations. The trial underscored the reality that Hall and his gang were not merely isolated criminals but rather figures supported by a network of sympathisers willing to defy the law and risk their own freedom to protect them. This, coupled with the growing public perception of police ineffectiveness, only emboldened the bushrangers, fueling their increasing boldness and audacity in the face of colonial authority.
‘Sydney Mail’, 19th September 1863:![]() |
After Gibson's May 1863 release, Sir Frederick Pottinger re-arrested Gibson, and he was held over until the Victorian Police bona fides could be ascertained. |
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Gibson Acquitted, NSW Police Gazette, September 1863. |
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Gibson held for transfer to Melbourne Victoria September 1863. |
This description of Canowindra as a place one could "blink, and you would miss it" reflects the sleepy tranquillity that often characterises such rural settlements. It would have been easy for outsiders to overlook Canowindra's strategic importance, but for people like Ben Hall and his bushranger gang, it presented an opportune setting for their operations.
Knowing that the troopers stationed there were out in the bush, they saw a window of opportunity to continue their bold streak of raids without fear of immediate interference from the mounted troopers. The telegraphs, their informants, had once again proven to be a reliable source of information for the gang, enabling them to stay one step ahead of the authorities. It goes to show the network and level of organisation they had established to support their bushranging activities. Evening News 1895:
Canowindra, with its modest charm, turned out to be an ideal base for Hall and his gang to carry on their audacious escapades. Upon reaching the settlement, they would have been met with the hallmark features of a typical rural township of the era: a handful of buildings that included a general store, a blacksmith's forge, and likely a couple of pubs, all nestled amidst the vast, untamed expanse of the Australian bush.
The gang’s arrival in Canowindra heralded another chapter in their infamous saga. Though modest in appearance, the town was on the brink of becoming the stage for the daring exploits of one of Australia’s most notorious bushranger gangs.
However, beyond the stolen store goods, they seemed primarily interested in seeking shelter and respite from their usual fugitive lifestyle. Rather than resorting to violence or threats, the bushrangers sought temporary camaraderie with their captives, turning the event into an odd sort of celebration.
This unusual conduct, characterised by a mix of audacity and bonhomie, might have further mystified the townsfolk. For some, it might have even humanised the gang members, who, despite their criminal activities, displayed a certain degree of charm and charisma.
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William Robinson owner of the Travellers Rest Hotel, situated on the Cowra side of the Belubula River 12th July 1862. For Lease. |
In an unexpected turn of events, the bushrangers orchestrated an evening of entertainment, with festivities including music and dance. Forcing the townspeople into this strange celebration, the outlaws footed the bill for the revelry, ironically using the spoils they had taken from their victims.
Despite being conducted under duress, this unusual show of goodwill has created an atmosphere of relative merriment amongst the town's folk. Reports of the incident described it as a jovial gathering, transforming the otherwise fearful encounter into a strange and paradoxical event. Even as they committed criminal acts, they displayed camaraderie and joviality that challenged societal norms and expectations.
While it's essential to remember that these actions were still within the context of their lawless activities, the bushrangers' actions during this event painted a more nuanced picture of their personalities. They were criminals, undoubtedly, but they were also individuals capable of warmth and generosity, albeit in their unique and unconventional way. 'Empire', 6th October 1863:
After the tea-things were cleared away, Gilbert very politely asked one of the young ladies to play him a tune on the piano. Some short time after, a dance was proposed, and commenced about nine o'clock, and continued till daylight next morning (Monday). Constable Sykes being amongst the company, it was proposed by Ben Hall that he (Sykes) should act as M.C. and that Burke and O'Meally should receive any company that might arrive during the evening. The company, we are informed, numbered eighteen at 12 o'clock, and the numbers were not augmented after that hour. Gilbert and his companions called and paid for all they drank during the night, and the night's amusement is spoken of as one of the jolliest affairs that has ever taken place in that small town-not a low or improper word being spoken by the gang. Gilbert kept the crowd in roars of laughter, at intervals, during the night, by giving an account of the police, whom he designated as a lot of cowards and said when he left Rothery's he mentioned where he was going so that it might be intimated to the police; knowing full well that they would not reach Canowindra until they (the bushrangers) had left. He said they never came till a day or two after. How fully borne out is this assertion, I will presently show. However, to finish my narrative: The bushrangers left Robinson's at five o'clock, and retired to a paddock opposite, where they had two hours' sleep, and left Canowindra unmolested at eight o'clock.
In the aftermath of the night's festivities, it was reported that O'Meally, who had many friends and relatives throughout the district, paid some of them a celebrity visit:
Shortly after the festivities at Canowindra, a resident's letter to relatives characterised the bushrangers appearance stating that Ben Hall was the leader as all requests were differed to him:
While Ben Hall evaded the law, Sub-Inspector George McPherson McLerie, the son of the Inspector-General of Police, Captain John M'Lerie, had a near-fatal encounter on September 27th. While on patrol in search of the notorious gang. Attempting to cross the flooded Five Mile Creek near Carcoar his horse flounded whereby he narrowly avoided drowning.
The near drowning underscored the dangerous conditions that law enforcement had to contend with in their pursuit of the bushrangers. Apart from the risks of confronting these armed and often desperate criminals, the natural environment often presents significant challenges.
McLerie's brush with death would have been a sobering reminder for all involved in the search for Hall and its potential dangers. It also demonstrated the commitment and determination of the authorities in their pursuit of justice.
As the sun rose after the night’s revelry at Robinson’s Hotel, news began to emerge about the gang’s movements following their departure from Canowindra. It was revealed that the bushrangers had split up: O’Meally and Gilbert lingered near the town, while Ben Hall, Burke, and John Vane ventured off in search of fresh horses.
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Crossing the Belubula. Contemporary Illustration by Frank Dunne, Smiths Weekly. 1935. Courtesy NLA. |
Upon nearing their earlier crossing point, they were alarmed to find the river now in full flood. To their surprise, they spotted Gilbert and O’Meally on the opposite bank. The two men shouted warnings that a group of troopers had camped nearby, trapped by the rising waters on their side of the river. With no way to avoid detection, Hall and his companions debated their next move. They ultimately resolved to brave the flood and swim across.
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Thomas Icely's Bangaroo Station,raided by Hall Vane and Burke. |
Stripping naked and bundling their firearms into their clothing, the men prepared for the treacherous crossing. Ben Hall, ever the bold leader, was the first to act, plunging his horse into the churning waters without hesitation.
Vane, desperately clinging onto his panicked horse, found himself struggling to maintain control. The duo was rapidly swept downstream by the river's relentless pull. The bushranger's desperate shouts were lost amidst the roar of the flood, creating a scene of frenzied chaos. It was a stark contrast to Hall's determined crossing, and the danger Vane found himself in became alarmingly clear to his watching comrades on the other bank.
Despite the desperate struggle and danger, Vane's resolve did not falter. Mustering all his strength, he tried to right his faltering mount and guide it through the perilous waters, hoping to emerge safely on the other side as Ben Hall did.
Burke's rescue attempt was successful, and he was able to bring the horse back to safety. The horse was saved from a watery grave but on the wrong side of the banks. However, the river's relentless currents had washed away Vane's saddle in the chaotic struggle. Along with the saddle, valuable possessions including £19 in banknotes, two revolvers, and other personal items were irretrievably lost to the river's depths.
Despite the harrowing experience, crossing the river was no longer a feasible option given the rapidly increasing water levels. Burke with the saved horse were caught on the Cowra side of the Belubula Creek. Vane narrated:
A Correspondent wrote of the river affair. Freeman's Journal Wednesday 7th October 1863:
Sullivan had been sympathetic to the bushrangers, having punted them across the river on other occasions. He was a man that Hall trusted to pass on the offer of a duel to the camped NSW police. Crossing the swollen river, Sullivan fronted at the camp of the pursuing troopers and relayed Ben Hall's challenge. To facilitate the proposed duel, Sullivan offered to ferry the police over to the bushrangers side. However, Sullivan's keenness in offering to help raised suspicion amongst the police. Who suddenly realised that Sullivan might be a Charon with a more sinister motive and hastily declined the offer.
Furthermore, the newspapers continued commenting on the ease with which the bushrangers robbed uninterrupted and editorialised the widespread belief that the gang had the police's measure; 'Bathurst Times', 30th September 1863:
The family homestead of John O'Meally, one of the bushrangers, was incinerated, an event that was covered in Bell's Life in Sydney and Sporting Chronicle. The piece exhibited a surprising degree of sympathy towards Ben Hall and sharply criticised the actions of the police, which appeared to be condoned by the NSW government. The event was detailed in the publication's issue of Saturday, 26th September 1863:
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Portrait of Joseph Harpur. Courtesy of Harpur Critical Archive. |
Despite this, the above article is trying to garner some sympathy for Hall from readers. By painting a picture of Hall's background that might elicit both pity and a somewhat perverse admiration of his current actions, the author capitalises on the surge in Hall's notoriety driven by media coverage of alleged injustices by authorities against him. However, this perspective is far from the truth.
Hall voluntarily gave up his property in September 1862, and his home was burned down on March 14, 1863, under the 'Crown Lands Occupation Act of 1861', to prevent it from continuing to serve as a base for bushrangers. Nevertheless, Joseph Jehoshaphat Harpur, a member of the New South Wales Parliament who likely knew Ben Hall personally through his mother, Sarah Walsh nee Harpur nee Chidley, often defended the affected settlers and, to an extent, the bushrangers. His stance drew significant criticism, and Harpur was quick to call out the police for their heavy-handed treatment of the settlers who found themselves in the spotlight:
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The Bushrangers. Courtesy NLA |
In response to these mounting outrages, newspapers continued to publish severe editorials about the bushrangers' escapades. The editors were indignant over the seeming ease with which the attacks were carried out, and they demanded answers from the New South Wales Legislative Assembly. They questioned why the NSW police seemed reluctant or unable to successfully confront the bushrangers, despite the significant resources deployed to do so.
The editorials insinuated that if the police conduct at George Marsh's Farm was a suitable gauge, then the public had seriously overestimated the NSW Police's abilities, leadership, and the government's legislative power to apprehend the bushrangers. These public discussions created a palpable sense of frustration and demand for accountability. (See article below.)
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NSW Police Gazette 7th October 1863. |
Good information has just been received that the bushrangers were seen camped about fifteen miles from Bathurst three hours since. These scoundrels have been within twenty-five miles of this town, committing all kinds of depredations, during the last week, and it is firmly believed that the police, from their dilatory and sluggish proceedings, are afraid of them.
Where were they! The police, that is?
However, the activities had many of the districts asking just that! Where were the police! The question of the polices' inability to corral the gang following the Canowindra party brought severe criticism from the 'Sydney Morning Herald', 7th October 1863 expressing disdain at the response to the gang's Canowindra, Rothery and Loudon outrages:
It is proved beyond a doubt, that when the bushrangers left Mr Rothery's they kept the road the whole distance, meeting carriers and others. The police could have heard, and no doubt did hear, from the teamsters camped on the road, that the bushrangers had passed in the direction of Canowindra, and they're failing to reach that place goes to prove what Gilbert said about them that they have not "the pluck" to meet them. This, however, is not the opinion of Gilbert only, but the police believe the same thing. Certainly, these five troopers should be called to account by Mr Morrisett, who to a certain extent, is held responsible for the conduct or misconduct of his men. Then again we hear that a magistrate and his stockman were going into Canowindra about ten o'clock on Saturday evening when he heard that the bushrangers were at Johnson's Inn. Much to his praise, he rode to the first police station, Cowra, about eighteen miles off, reaching there about twelve o dock, and found two troopers in the barracks. He informed them of what was going on at Canowindra and directed them to proceed there, but they refused to go, saying "two were of no use" Consequently, they could be seen the next morning turning out with polished boots, calculating, it is presumed, when the aberrants would be up so that they might fill in their pay. Such is the state of the police system, that these same two troopers are sent down with, and to deliver, Mr Icely's horse while the mail coach comes down unprotected.
Their frequenting of local establishments further evidenced their brazenness. Even as the local law enforcement ramped up their patrols and the newspapers continuously issued reports about their misdeeds, the gang seemed to taunt them by hiding in plain sight. They would often frequent local pubs, engaging in conversations with locals and gathering information. For some, there was a secret thrill in having a drink with the notorious outlaws. For others, the presence of the bushrangers was a terrifying ordeal, not knowing when or where they might strike next.
The gang’s affinity for strategic planning and their intimate knowledge of the terrain made it incredibly difficult for the police to make any significant headway. Officers often found themselves chasing shadows, arriving at reported sighting locations only to find the gang had long since moved on. Furthermore, Ben Hall's innate ability to charm and persuade meant that he often received tips from sympathisers about police movements and planned raids.
All these factors combined made the bushrangers a formidable force. While they revelled in their reputation and the fame it brought, it was their meticulous planning, intimate knowledge of the region, and the complacency of the police force that allowed them to remain at large for as long as they did.
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Dr Richard Machattie, father of 'Dosh.' Private Source. |
Challenging the very man who held him at gunpoint, Dosh threw down a gauntlet, proposing a running race or even a bare-knuckle boxing bout. The audacity of the challenge elicited a chuckle from Ben Hall, who, perhaps recognising the spirit of the young man before him, declined with an air of amused indifference.
But Dosh, and his companion Bertie, were not easily dissuaded. They decided that if they couldn't challenge the bushrangers physically, they would challenge their bravado. With a mischievous glint in their eyes, the duo dared Ben Hall and his gang to undertake a feat that would prove their real mettle - to target Bathurst, the very heart of the western capital. It was a dare that encapsulated the spirit of youthful rebellion and resilience, even when faced with Australia's most notorious outlaws. 'Empire’, Tuesday, 6th October 1863:
Interestingly, within the camaraderie of the gang, nicknames emerged that provided hints about personalities and appearances. For instance, the moniker "Toad" was affectionately used for their comrade Burke. This playful nickname speculates that the long-circulated hand-drawn portrait of Burke might be more generous than accurate.
In the twilight years of the 19th century, an older and undoubtedly wiser Richard 'Dosh' Machattie sat with a friend, the weight of years evident in his eyes, but a hint of youthful mischief still present. As they settled into comfortable chairs, Dosh began to reminisce about a day from his youth, a day that had left an indelible mark on his memory.
He recounted the unexpected and tense encounter with the infamous bushrangers, Ben Hall and John Vane. As he delved into the story, his friend could picture a younger Dosh, filled with bravado, alongside his close friend, Charles 'Bertie' Battye. The two, though sons of esteemed members of the Bathurst community, were, on that day, at the mercy of two of Australia's most notorious outlaws.
The afternoon's events were etched into Dosh's memory – the surprise of being 'bailed up', the audacity to challenge Ben Hall, and the adrenaline that came with it. With every word, his friend could sense the palpable tension of that standoff, the audacious spirit of the young men, and the amused reactions of the bushrangers.
Through Dosh's recollections, that fateful day from decades past came alive once more, offering a firsthand glimpse into a time when legends roamed the Australian bush, and everyday encounters could turn into stories told for generations.
Some of these parliamentarians' seats of power were hanging by a thread. The system of compulsory voting was still decades away from its 1912 inception, making every vote a battle to be won. Fearing the potential backlash from their communities, these parliamentarians were caught in a web of political survival, with many grappling with the idea of significant change.
At the forefront of this tumult was James Martin, an ambitious figure who seized upon this discord, fanning its flames. His incendiary rhetoric and pointed critiques led the charge, placing immense pressure on those in power.
Amidst this backdrop, the Premier, Mr Cowper, felt the weight of responsibility. With the public outcry mounting and his own position under scrutiny, he took a decisive step. In a move that reverberated through the corridors of power, he publicly censured the Inspector-General of Police, Captain McLerie, signalling a momentous shift in the narrative surrounding the bushranger threat:
Amidst the political unrest and public outrage of 1863, the relentless journey of the bushrangers persisted. These renegades of the wild terrains became the embodiment of rebellion and fear in the hearts of many.
As the 21st-century adage goes, politicians have often been more fluent in the art of rhetoric than in the act of meaningful change. This was as true in the 1860s as it is today. Much to the public's chagrin, obfuscation and evasion became the political norms. Yet, while politicians bickered and debated, the local press played an essential role in shaping public opinion.
H.P. Williamson's 'Lachlan Miner', dated September 30th, 1863, stood as a testament to the times. Williamson, who would later have a fateful encounter with Hall and Gilbert, used his platform to shed light on the trials faced by a beleaguered police force, perpetually at odds with the wily bushrangers. For the first time, the media, echoing the public sentiment, termed this relentless chase and elusive evasion between the lawmen and outlaws as the 'Bushranger War'. This term captured the intensity of the ongoing confrontations and painted a vivid picture of a nation grappling with its very identity and the battle for law and order:
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NSW Police Gazette, 30th September 1863. |
In a startling confrontation in September 1863, two bushrangers made the fateful decision to target Wilding's homestead. As fate would have it, the owner was not alone. Surrounded by guests, they all found themselves momentarily held at gunpoint, their fate seemingly sealed. However, the tables turned swiftly. In a sudden turn of events, one of the invaders met a violent end, falling to the combined efforts of Wilding and his guests. The second perpetrator, after a savage confrontation, was left brutally battered, teetering on the edge of life.
The identity of these two bushrangers emerged as James Murphy and Frederick Phillips, both from Lambing Flat. Their association with Ben Hall and his infamous gang remains a matter of speculation. Were they mere opportunists inspired by Hall's exploits, or did they belong to the fringe of his notorious company? The lines blurred in these tumultuous times, but Wilding's resistance against their aggression stood as a testament to the resilience of some settlers, unwilling to bow to the reign of the bushrangers. From the Queanbeyan Age and General Advertiser, Thursday, 1st October 1863:
The community of Burrowa and its neighbouring regions had long endured the terror and thievery brought about by Ben Hall and his gang. So, when news arrived of the capture of two bushrangers and the subsequent demise of one, a wave of satisfaction washed over the beleaguered townsfolk. In an era where the death of a bushranger was often met with widespread celebration, this particular incident was no exception. The feeling of jubilation was palpable.
Upon hearing of the face-off at Wilding's residence, a surge of curiosity swept through the town. People flocked to the local lockup, eager to lay eyes on the bruised and battered survivor and, in a morbid twist of the era, to view the lifeless body of his accomplice. As whispers permeated through the crowd, speculation grew that the deceased might be either Gilbert or O'Meally, two notorious names that had long haunted their nights. The identity was yet to be confirmed, but hope and rumour intertwined for the moment, offering the community a temporary respite from the shadow of fear that the bushrangers cast over them. Clarence and Richmond Examiner and New England Advertiser, Tuesday 20th October 1863:
The captured survivor was described so:
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View of Bathurst from the bushrangers perspective on Bald Hill. (Mount Panorama) Courtesy NLA. |
Bathurst, the cultural hub and the beating heart of the Western Districts has a rich history of its own. Its growth can be traced back to 1813, with the pioneering journey led by Surveyor William Evans. After successfully navigating the treacherous terrains of the Blue Mountains, Evans became the first European to cross the Great Dividing Range, finally reaching the Macquarie River, situated forty-two miles beyond Bathurst. This monumental feat was achieved despite the numerous challenges presented by the mountains. Though the renowned expedition of Blaxland, Lawson, and Wentworth had set the pace earlier in the same year, they had not managed to traverse the imposing Great Divide completely. Evans' accomplishment thus marked a turning point, forever etching Bathurst's name into history. Furthermore, Evans, after struggling across the majestic ranges, noted:
To the surveyor, it was like a glimpse of paradise after his strenuous journey over the Blue Mountains.
Established in the wake of exploration, Bathurst's origins date back to 1815, mere years after William Evans' trailblazing traversal of the Blue Mountains. The town's inception was strategically placed along the primary route connecting it to Sydney. This critical roadway, carved across the challenging terrains of the Blue Mountains, stands as a testament to the architectural vision of William Cox. With the assistance of hundreds of convicts, Cox masterminded and completed this remarkable construction by the close of 1815. Therefore, Bathurst became a testament to exploration, human tenacity, and the drive to connect new frontiers.
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Father Jerome Keating, who married Ben & Bridget as well as her sisters Ellen and Catherine Walsh. c. 1870's. Courtesy E. Penzig. |
Yet, for Ben Hall and his gang, Bathurst was more than just a repository of personal memories; it was a formidable fortress of law and order. The town functioned as the nerve centre for the NSW Western police, commanded by the adept Superintendent Morrissett. Officers like Morrissett and the tenacious Inspector Pottinger routinely patrolled its streets and surrounding regions, with their sights set on capturing the five bushrangers who had become local legends. The juxtaposition of Hall's personal history with the looming threat of law enforcement painted a picture of Bathurst that was both nostalgic and perilous.
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William Street, Bathurst. View from top of St Michael's Church looking N.E. as the Gang approached Pedrotta's shop on the right from the south c. 1880's Courtesy RAHS. |
However, the book was not without its imperfections. White's account often jumbled the sequence of events, interchanging time and place, creating a mosaic of memories rather than a linear story. Yet, the inconsistencies did not overshadow the essence of Vane's recollections, especially the events leading up to the Bathurst spectacle.
Upon rejoining their comrades - Gilbert, O'Meally, and Micky Burke - after a short hiatus, Vane and Hall were animated as they narrated their encounter with the spirited youths of Bathurst, 'Dosh' Machattie and Charles 'Bertie' Battye. With an air of amusement, they recounted the dare posed by Machattie and Battye, their audacious challenge that would set the stage for one of the most memorable events in the annals of New South Wales's bushranging history.
You are not game they called to come to Bathurst and take DeCloutt’s ‘Pacha’:
Vane stated to the group that Ben was incensed at the cheek of Battye, where Hall remarked:
We’ll show you about that.
John O’Meally, always game was ready to jump at a chance for action stated:
As the idea took root, the gang unanimously decided upon the audacious raid on Bathurst. With a glint in his eye, Vane expressed his desire to acquire one of the 'Revolving Rifles' or the 'Double-Trigger Revolvers'. He believed Pedrotta's gun shop in the town would have these sought-after firearms. Meanwhile, ever the horse aficionado, Johnny Gilbert revealed his intentions to lay claim to the thoroughbred racehorse 'Pacha'. This magnificent beast was housed at 'The Sportsman Arms', a hotel owned by his former employer, 'Dublin Jack' DeClouet.
The gang wasted no time. With meticulous attention to detail, they handpicked the finest horses from their stock for the impending expedition. On the brisk morning of October 3rd, 1863, the bushrangers set out as dawn painted the horizon. They chose a circuitous route via Newbridge, Wimbledon, and George's Plains to avoid the main thoroughfares. Eventually, they crossed the Evan's Plains and ascended to the vantage point of Bald Hill, from where the sprawling town of Bathurst lay visible. Here, amidst the embrace of nature, they decided to pause, allowing the hours to roll by as they patiently waited for evening's cover to embark on their audacious mission.
Bathurst, "a big sensation."
As the hues of twilight began to paint the skies, the bushrangers readied themselves for their audacious venture into Bathurst. Saturdays in the town were always bustling, as it was re-stocking day — a day of significance for the outlying farmers. They would ride into town to replenish their larders and indulge in a rare night of festivity and relaxation. In the year 1863, the concept of standardised trading hours had not yet been established, making the night an opportune time for extended business and revelry. Against this backdrop, the sight of five young horsemen weaving their way through the town's streets would hardly draw a second glance.
Note: Vanes book 'John Vane, Bushranger', can be accessed from the Source Page, see pages 124-132 inclusive on the Bathurst raid.
Amidst the vibrancy of a Saturday evening in Bathurst, the town hummed with life. Farmers and townsfolk alike converged in the bustling streets, filling the air with the clamour of commerce and jovial conversations. Melodies from dance halls wafted through the night, harmonising with the lively chatter of people catching up with friends or partaking in a bit of shopping. In such a lively atmosphere, no one anticipated the unexpected arrival of the bushrangers.
Emerging amongst the throng were five impeccably dressed men, each astride a magnificent horse. They ambled leisurely at first, blending seamlessly with the ebb and flow of the crowd. But as they approached the dimly lit heart of William Street, they transitioned to a confident jog, all while going almost unnoticed amidst the unsuspecting townsfolk.
Bathurst was badly lighted, I. N. Wark not having at that time descended upon the city with his gas. The shops were dimly lighted with oil and candles so that the time was well chosen—the residents were at tea, and the town at peace.
Yet, their ambitions within the jeweller's establishment were abruptly interrupted. Frances, the spirited daughter of John McMinn, let out a shrill scream of alarm upon spotting the intruders. Her cry, resounding with genuine fear, expedited the bushrangers' departure from the store.
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Charles White. 1845-1922 |
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View of Bathurst from cnr of Russell and Stewart St c. 1880's. Frank Walker, 1861-1948. |
However, as the crowd swelled and edged closer, Ben Hall fired a shot into the dark sky, perhaps feeling cornered or seeking to command some authority. The loud crack of the gunshot reverberated, pushing the awestruck crowd back, creating a makeshift pathway for the riders.
Yet, as history often demonstrates, even the best-laid plans can unravel. The events that unfolded that fateful night in Bathurst were chronicled in a series of newspaper articles that gripped the colony. In a frenzied rush, editors battled to procure the most sensational and fresh updates as they received telegrams with new information. By Sunday morning, the colony was abuzz. Homes and coffee houses were filled with astonished voices as the telegraph wires hummed with the shocking news of the audacious Bathurst raid.
A town meeting was hastily convened, drawing in concerned citizens from all walks of life. Assembled under the high ceilings of the town hall, their murmurs echoed as community leaders discussed the urgent need to fortify their community against further such attacks.
The gathering's outcome was a unanimous call to form a unit of Special Constables. This would be a force composed of local volunteers, men who knew the town and its surroundings intimately and were committed to its safety. The proposition was met with enthusiastic agreement, with many hands raised and names noted. Some among the volunteers had military or policing experience, while others were driven solely by a desire to defend their homes and loved ones.
Newspapers celebrated the town's resilient spirit the next day, splashing headlines about Bathurst's newfound defiance and determination to capture the notorious gang. The formation of the Special Constables embodied the community's collective will to resist and signalled a turning point in the 'Bushranger War' - the townspeople were no longer mere spectators; they were active participants:'The Sydney Morning Herald' reported on the 6th regarding the efforts of the townsfolk.
In the midst of the chaos and shock, the 'Bathurst Times' became a beacon of information and opinion for the local residents. The paper's fresh ink carried the emotions and tumult of a town wrestling with newfound vulnerabilities. One correspondent, whose pen was driven by a mix of anger and urgency, penned a passionate call to arms.
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Mary Mutton 1800 - 1883. Private Source. |
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NSW Police Gazette 14th October 1863. |
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Bartholomew Pedrota Penzig. |
On the 9th of October, 1863, a comprehensive account of the raid appeared in the Bathurst Chronicle. The article, filled with vivid descriptions and eyewitness accounts, offered a detailed chronology of the events. It spoke of the gang's casual stroll down William Street, the disappointment at Pedrotta's gun shop, the McMinn's jewellery store commotion, and the panic gripping the town. The article also detailed their encounters with the local residents and the sheer audacity of their actions in the heart of a major town.
However, as engrossed as the townspeople were in recounting the events of the raid, Ben Hall and his gang had not been idle. They had moved on, riding the trails and back roads, continuing their life of crime. They left a string of robberies in their wake, each adding to their notoriety and the lore that surrounded them. With each successful raid, their confidence grew, and the myth of their invincibility was further cemented.
The authorities, meanwhile, were left scrambling. The police, the posse, and countless volunteers spent days and nights on the hunt, but the gang always seemed one step ahead. The vast landscapes of New South Wales, with its sprawling plains, dense forests, and rugged hills, offered countless hideouts.
As days turned into weeks, the initial shock and fear gave way to a mix of grudging admiration for the bushrangers' audacity and a burning desire for justice. The events of that night in Bathurst became a part of local folklore. A story passed down through generations, a testament to the town's resilience and the indomitable spirit of its people.
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Pedrotta's Gun shop located in William St. It was situated next to Rachel Leed's Great Western Hotel, seen here on the right. Courtesy BDHS. |
The night of the raid was, as Vane described, "bright, clear and calm." Under the silvery sheen of the moonlight, the town of Bathurst presented a serene picture, its streets alive with the regular hustle and bustle of a Saturday evening. The unsuspecting townsfolk had no inkling that this night would be etched into their town's lore forever.
As they rode in, the gang, led by Ben Hall, was a study in contrast. On one hand, they were hardened criminals, feared and reviled. On the other, they were five young men with the audacity to challenge an establishment that seemed ill-equipped to handle them. As they made their way through the town, stopping at Pedrotta's gun shop and McMinn's jewellery store, their swagger was evident. They weren't just there to loot but to send a message.
Newspapers, always on the lookout for sensational tales, had a field day with the Bathurst raid. Each report was more extravagant than the last, with some accounts bordering on the fantastical. But Vane's detailed and unembellished account painted a picture of a gang that was more than just a band of outlaws. They were a tightly knit unit with a clear hierarchy and an unshakable bond.
Ben Hall's leadership was undisputed. Charismatic and strategic, he was the glue that held the gang together. John Gilbert, O'Meally, Vane, and Micky Burke each brought their unique strengths to the table, making the gang formidable.
But what set them apart was their audacity. They didn't just operate in the shadows; they rode into towns, in full view of everyone, taunting the police with their brazen acts. Their modus operandi was clear - it wasn't just about the loot; it was about challenging the establishment, about showing them up for their ineptitude.
In the days and weeks that followed, as the dust settled on the Bathurst raid, one thing became clear - Ben Hall's gang was not to be trifled with. They were a force to be reckoned with, and their legend was only growing. The 'Bushranger War' had truly begun.
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Howick St & William St looking southeast. St Michael's in the background. John Staines and William Matthews premises foreground. c. 1872 |
Having lit up Bathurst. As dictated to Charles White, John Vane looked back on Bathurst's events before his death in 1906 and provided an overview of the sensation that brought about the downfall of Cowper premiership's.
John Vane opened his narrative as they entered the town; "The night was bright and clear and calm." Riding first in a single file as they rode down William street, grouping closer, nudged their horses into a jog to avert any undue suspicion. Giving the appearance of five local lads in town for an evening out, tipping their hats at the ladies as they passed, they made their way towards Pedrotta's gunshop. Reining their horses outside entered, seeking the much-heralded new type of weapon, the Revolving Rifle. The gang's historic invasion commenced.
Dismounting in front of Pedrotta's Gunshop here Hall, Gilbert and Vane entered but were disappointed that Pedrotta had no 'Revolving Rifles' in stock and his quality firearms not to their liking. Without fanfare, they left promising to return another time. Re-mounting, they rode on with Gilbert spying a fruiterers shop wishing to grab some oranges dismounted and ordered two dozen but was soon called away by O'Meally to "come on quick" riding with Ben Hall reached the jewellery shop of Mr McMinn's.
At McMinn's, their much-heralded 'Lark' commenced with Ben Hall entering the store first. The family were at tea. Hall walked in, revolvers presented, ordering the family to be quiet. However, the ladies, McMinn's wife Mary and daughter Frances believing their, "last hour had come", began to scream, which startled the bushrangers, one of whom threatened to, "Blow their brains out" if they did not cease. The unrest forced a hasty retreat. However, emerging from the store, a crowd had now formed con-fuddled by the noise and uproar from the store. The bushrangers leapt into their saddles as the public became more excited by the McMinn women's continued screaming. Finally, Mr McMinn rushing to the door of his shop crying out, "Police! Bushrangers! Bushrangers! Police!"
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Charles De Clouet, son of 'Dublin Jack' 1866-1941. Private Source. |
Down William Street, they rode, five silhouettes bathed in the soft moonlight, a quintet of mischief that would soon send shockwaves throughout Bathurst. For wandering citizens at first glance, they appeared as just another group of young locals, maybe out for some revelry after a hard week's work. The deceptive calm did little to reveal their intentions.
Navigating the narrow lanes of Bathurst, the gang veered onto Piper Street. They slowed their pace as they approached the 'Sportsman Arms Hotel', a notable establishment owned by the prominent Mr DeClouet, affectionately known by locals as 'Dublin Jack'. This wasn't just any ordinary tavern – it was the abode of the famed thoroughbred 'Pacha'.
Even as the town's exhilaration reverberated through the night, the bushrangers maintained their composure. Stealthily, they bypassed the main entrance, choosing instead to enter through a back fence leading to the stables. Their target was clear: 'Pacha', the majestic steed that was the talk of Bathurst.
Within the dim confines of the stable, they encountered Mark, the hotel's Ostler. With a mix of authority and desperation, they demanded the keys to where 'Pacha' was kept. But Mark, ever loyal to his employer, revealed that only Mr DeClouet himself had the keys. The gang now found themselves facing a new dilemma in their audacious night of mischief. However, to expedite the snapping up of the horse, one of the gang, no doubt O'Meally, said:
Blow out somebodies brains; you'll soon have the keys then.
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John Vane 1880. |
As Hall approached Rachel, the intention was clear. He was after the hotel's cash box. Remarkably composed given the circumstances, Rachel, holding her youngest, made a light-hearted offer to Hall. "Would you mind holding the baby while I fetch the tin?" she jested. With a revolver in each hand, Hall chuckled, showcasing the impracticality of her request. But time was of the essence. With the money not secured, an impatient Hall was soon on edge, the pounding of distant hooves suggesting the arrival of mounted police.
Finally with the hotel's cash box emptied but their original mission unfulfilled, Gilbert's quest to secure 'Pacha' was abruptly cut short. Despite their threats and pleas, Mr DeClouet and Mark the Ostler remained steadfast in refusing to part with the keys to the prized thoroughbred's stable.
With their path forward uncertain and the approaching peril evident, the duo decided to abandon the original plan, choosing discretion over valour. They quickly rejoined their counterparts in the yard, ready to decide their next course of action.
'The Newcastle Chronicle and Hunter River District News' Wednesday 14th October 1863 recounts:
About half-an-hour after, while the townspeople were gathered in knots talking excitedly of the events we have described, a rumour began to circulate that Mr De Clouet's public-house had been visited by the gang, who had robbed the inmates, and but just left. This proved to be true, for upon inquiry it was discovered that the bushrangers on passing Piper-street, in which Mr. De Clouet's house is situated, had turned off George street and made for the rear of the premises. Here they dismounted, and tearing down two rails of the fence leading into the stable yard, four of them went to the stable door, leaving one behind in charge of their horses. Just at this moment a man named William Bromley, a horse trainer, stepping in the house, crossed the yard when he was bailed up. The ostler, Mark, almost at the same time, was coming up with a lighted lantern, and he was quickly pounced upon and asked for the keys of the stable. Mark told them the keys were kept by Mr De Clouet, and, in answer to another question, told them he did not know what money there was in the house. Leaving the two prisoners to be guarded by the others, Gilbert and (it is supposed) Ben Hall went into the house and made their way into the bar-parlour, where Mr. De Clouet and a lodger, Mr. John Hunter (a compositor engaged in our own office), were seated reading the newspapers. In a bedroom leading from the parlour, Mrs De Clouet was engaged washing and putting the children to bed.
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Woodcut of DeClouet's Sportsman Hotel Piper St, Bathurst. Penzig. |
In the night, the bushrangers' silhouettes faded from view, leaving behind a town buzzing with whispers, fears, and tales of audacity. The horse hooves of the gang rhythmically tapped, matching the elevated heartbeats of Bathurst's inhabitants. Heading down George Street, the landscape of Milltown awaited them.
Yet, in the midst of all the chaos and cunning of the night, Hall had left behind a token of information, a breadcrumb of sorts. He had a message for Machattie, an almost cheeky nod to the audacity of their raid. He informed them that the horses belonging to Machattie and young Battye were not stolen but simply relocated. The creatures were in Mrs Mutton's paddock on Vale Road, just a short distance from the town. A semblance of honour among thieves, perhaps?
As dawn's light broke the next morning, Machattie's horse was indeed found, just as Hall had promised. However, fate has its own jests. Battye's horse, while supposed to be alongside Machattie's, was absent. Someone from the town, seizing an opportunity amidst the chaos, had presumably taken Battye's horse.
The bushrangers' jest was clear in their message to John DeClouet. If not for the brazen challenge the two young men threw at them, they might never have ventured into Bathurst. But who were they to resist "having a lark" when dared? The events of that night became yet another chapter in the legendary escapades of the gang, proving that sometimes, tales are birthed not just from ambition but from sheer mischief.
It appears that they had according to a promise made to Mr Licensed Surveyor Machattie and young Battye a few days before on occasion of sticking them up in the neighbourhood of Mulgonnia, brought both the horses of the young gentlemen with the and left them in Mutton s paddock on the outskirts of the town they left word at the Sportsman's Arms that the horses would be found there remarking at the same time, that if young Machattie had not said they were not game to come into town, they would not have paid that Saturday evening visit. The whole time they stayed at this house was about 20 minutes.
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Bathurst streetscape at the time of the Ben Hall raid. Courtesy NLA. |
The gang's intent was clear: stay unnoticed and move on. But fate had other plans. They paused, hoping to remain shrouded in the darkness, a mere shadow among the many. But their counterparts, the police, too halted, sensing the presence of the very men they'd been chasing.
In that split second, their cover blown, the bushrangers tried a ploy. They leaned low, hugging their horses' necks, hoping to merge into the night and confuse the troopers. But the darkness wasn't enough to shield them. The ploy crumbled.
What followed was a burst of adrenaline. Sensing their time was running out, the gang clapped spurs into their horses, urging them into a frantic gallop. The ground beneath them seemed to tremble, descending steeply, making their escape all the more perilous.
The police wasted no time. Their revolvers found voices barking loudly into the night, sending bullets whistling past the bushrangers, each one echoing the danger the gang now faced. The chase was on, a dance of danger in the dead of night, with each side driven by its own form of justice and rebellion. John Vane declared:
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John Gilbert 1862. |
As Vane and Hall were in hot pursuit of the troopers, an unexpected sight disrupted Vane's focus: a horse galloping wildly without its rider. The silhouette of the riderless beast in the pale moonlight evoked instant dread in Vane. He surmised it must belong to Gilbert, further complicating their escape.
Determined, Vane and Hall chased the panicked horse, which, fuelled by its own fear, took a daring leap across a creek. The sight was almost cinematic - the horse, against the backdrop of the night, sailing over the shimmering waters of the stream.
Emboldened and perhaps carried away by the moment's intensity, Vane decided to mirror the horse's audacious jump. Spurring his mount, he braced himself for the leap. But Vane's attempt lacked the same grace and precision as the horse. The creek seemed to stretch wider than he had anticipated, and in a heartbeat, both he and his horse faltered. Vane was unceremoniously unseated, finding himself tumbling, disoriented, with the echoes of galloping hooves filling his ears. The waters of the creek, which had looked invitingly serene moments before, now loomed as a testament to his miscalculation. Vane un-injured commented:
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Another view from Bald Hill of Bathurst. Courtesy NLA. |
The immediate aftermath of the chase was a haze of anxiety and relief. As the gang regrouped, it was Burke who brought the startling news: Gilbert had fallen during the pursuit. But as always, hope and camaraderie shone through. Burke was adamant that Gilbert had managed to evade capture, having caught a fleeting glimpse of him fleeing on foot.
With Gilbert's safety now their paramount concern, the gang did what they always did - they looked out for one of their own. Dismounting their horses, they trawled the rugged landscape, the moonlight guiding them through the shadows. Their efforts, however, proved fruitless. Re-mounting, the weight of Gilbert's absence hung heavy on their shoulders as they pressed on towards Bald Hill.
But nothing could prepare them for the scene that would greet them upon their return to camp near Evan’s Plain. To their astonishment and relief, there was Johnny Gilbert, alive and relatively unscathed. Gilbert recounted his harrowing tale as the gang embraced their seemingly lost comrade. In the heat of the chase, sensing he couldn't outpace the relentless police, he had chosen to dismount. His horse, he claimed, had faltered at the creek, echoing Vane's own experience.
Tensions flared at Evan’s Plain. Johnny Gilbert, the audacious and brazen outlaw, was not one accustomed to ridicule or doubt, particularly from his own gang. Yet, the words thrown at him by O'Meally that evening, coupled with the mocking undertones, touched a raw nerve. There was an intense energy in the air as the two men faced off, their words like daggers in the cool night.
For almost ten minutes, the verbal clash echoed through the camp, with the other members of the gang watching in uneasy silence, unsure of how to mediate the growing hostility. Gilbert's pride was wounded; like a wounded animal, he retreated into a shell of resentment. His slouched and defeated posture was uncharacteristic for a man of his reputation.
Yet, it wasn't in Gilbert's nature to wallow in defeat. In a burst of indignation, he made an emotional appeal to the gang, offering to strike out on his own and inviting any of them to join him. But the gang's loyalty was complex. Despite the tensions, Hall, Burke, and Vane decided to stay put, further isolating Gilbert.
The camp, which moments ago was filled with the cacophony of disagreement, now settled into an uneasy quiet. Distancing himself from the main camp, Gilbert found solace in his solitude, a lone figure in the vast expanse of the bush.
Morning would reveal another twist to the tale. The horse that Gilbert had so hastily abandoned during the chase was discovered by the police, a silent testament to the harrowing events of the previous night. The Maitland Mercury and Hunter River General Advertiser, Thursday 8th October 1863:
From the intelligence gathered through their network of informers and messengers, it was clear to the gang that Bathurst had been stirred into action. The police, under pressure to capture these elusive outlaws, had mounted extensive searches, their presence growing more pronounced with each passing day. Not just the trained lawmen but even a band of enthusiastic volunteers had taken to patrolling the roads and highways, their determination fuelled by a mix of civic duty and the promise of the bounty on the bushrangers' heads.
But Ben Hall was not one to be cowed down. He thrived on the very challenge, the cat-and-mouse game with the law. It was this fearless attitude, this audacity, that set him apart. Instead of fleeing the region, he chose the Vale Road, a mere four miles from Bathurst, as his next hunting ground. This major thoroughfare, peppered with inns and stores, was ripe for the taking. And taking he did, in a series of raids executed with military precision.
For the townsfolk and the police alike, it was almost incredulous to imagine that the bushrangers were operating right under their noses while they searched the distant corners. Each successful raid was not just a treasure trove for the gang, but a slap in the face of the establishment, an establishment that seemed increasingly incapable of reigning in the renegades.
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James Martin, MLA. |
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Night raid on Bathurst. Painting by Patrick William Marony (1858-1939) |
After the dramatic events in Bathurst, the gang felt the heat of increased police vigilance. However, the precision of their informants' information ensured their hideout remained untouched and unseen. It was as if the very earth opened up to hide them from their relentless pursuers.
The gang decided to break camp with the autumn evening chill setting in. With the soft orange hue of the setting sun as their backdrop, they proceeded along the Vale Road towards Caloola. Despite the potential danger that lurked in every thicket and behind every tree, there was an air of confidence about them. Each gang member knew that they had the intelligence and skill to evade capture, which filled them with a certain arrogance.
The Vale Road, stretching ahead of them, was not just a route of escape but a path lined with opportunities. On the evening of 6th October 1863, under a clear sky that held the soft glow of a waning moon, they embarked on a series of heinous crimes. From isolated storekeepers to remote hotels, no one was spared their wrath.
The robberies weren't just for personal gain; they were a necessity. The gang had to fund an extensive network of informers and protectors. These collaborators didn't come cheap, and the gang had to maintain a steady inflow of money to ensure their loyalties. Every stolen coin, every looted item was a means to an end.
However, among their many transgressions that night, one incident stood out for its sheer cruelty. After taking everything of value at one humble dwelling, they didn't hesitate to snatch away a child's piggy bank. It was a heart-wrenching moment; the act not only robbed the child of its savings but also of its innocence.
More than any other, this act painted a vivid picture of the depths to which the gang had sunk. Their actions were not just about survival or rebellion against the establishment. They were a stark reminder of the darkness that dwells within men when unchecked by the boundaries of morality and law. Link to the events attached below.
However, Vane's account painted a different picture. He claimed his hands had borne the scars of the burning curtains, not Gilbert's. This wasn't a trivial matter of burnt hands but a significant episode that laid bare the internal dynamics of the gang. The fiery accident had led to an altercation among the gang members, with O'Meally reprimanding Gilbert, accusing him of starting the fire. If Vane's account was to be believed, it showed a clear case of misunderstanding and wrongly attributing blame within the gang.
Vane's correction of this episode is essential as it challenges the previously held narratives and shows that memory and truth could become a contested terrain even within tight-knit groups like the bushrangers.
As historians and enthusiasts pick apart Vane's version of events, the question arises: how many other tales of the bushrangers' exploits are based on misremembered events or purposeful alterations? In the murky waters of history, where facts blend seamlessly with myths, Vane's account is a stark reminder that sometimes the truth may come from the most unexpected sources.
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Publican License Henry Butler's Hen & Chickens Hotel 1860. |
It's worth noting that before setting his sights on the Hen and Chickens, Butler had managed the Carriers Arms in Bathurst for a year, from 1859 to 1860. His shift in proprietorship made for an intriguing backdrop to the gang's activities.
As dawn approached, the gang swiftly distributed their spoils among their allies and supporters. The police, in their relentless pursuit, always seemed to be a step behind, often left confounded by the gang's uncanny ability to disappear into the night. With their recent conquests behind them, the bushrangers shifted their gaze towards Caloola, ever eluding the grasp of the law. Vane narrates.
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Inspector-General of N.S.W. Police, Captain M'Lerie, c. 1863. Penzig. |
Following the bushrangers' audacious exploits in Bathurst and the consecutive robberies that had left Vale Road reeling, a correspondent from the 'Bathurst Times' took it upon himself to journey to the crime scenes. Through detailed interviews with the victims, the correspondent was able to paint a vivid tableau of the bushrangers' activities on that fateful night: the methodical manner in which they operated, the total number of stores they targeted, and an inventory of all the stolen assets.
Intriguingly, the correspondent’s report pointed out that during the later stages of their crime spree, the bushrangers were accompanied by four additional individuals, believed to be their local informants, or "bush telegraphs" as they were colloquially known. This network of informers played a pivotal role in the gang's operations, providing timely information on police movements. Such intelligence emboldened Ben Hall and his gang, allowing them to commit their crimes with an air of invincibility.
The correspondent also meticulously described how the gang transported their stolen wares: goods were fastened securely to the front of their saddles, piled so high that they almost reached the riders' waists. Some items were even seen falling off during their hasty retreat, a sight that should have offered police a viable opportunity to chase and possibly apprehend the culprits. However, for reasons that remained shrouded in mystery, Superintendent Morrisset hesitated, letting this golden chance slip through his fingers.
In a seemingly desperate attempt to manage the situation, Captain M'Lerie from Sydney arrived at the scene. Rather than pursuing the real perpetrators, he displayed a perplexing penchant for badgering the very victims of the robberies. M'Lerie's lack of empathy and dismissive attitude towards the rural populace, which he derisively termed "that class of people," only further alienated the local community.
Meanwhile, unaware or perhaps indifferent to the criticisms they had sparked, the bushrangers revelled in their newfound loot. Setting up camp not too far from the scene of their latest exploits, they celebrated their victories undisturbed by law enforcement despite widespread reports of their whereabouts. Attached link below.
In 1912, memories of Ben Hall's audacious raid along the Vale Road still lingered in the collective psyche of New South Wales, particularly for those who had witnessed it firsthand. Among those was John Harper, an elderly resident who had once plied his trade as a butcher. Harper's recollections of that October evening in 1863 weren't mere musings of a bygone era – he had been an actual participant in the unfolding drama, albeit in a tangential role.
Superintendent Morrissett, in his pursuit of the bushrangers and perhaps out of desperation to gather intelligence, had approached Harper. Recognizing him as a local, Morrissett had implored Harper to accompany the police in their search for Ben Hall and his gang. For Harper, this wasn't merely an observation from the sidelines; he was momentarily thrust into the epicenter of one of the most talked-about events of his time.
As 1912 rolled around and Harper narrated his experiences, it served as a poignant bridge between the past and the present. For the younger generation, his account offered a tangible connection to the thrilling and tumultuous days of the bushrangers. For Harper and his contemporaries, it was a nostalgic journey back to a youth marked by danger, audacity, and the legendary exploits of Ben Hall.
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NSW Police Gazette October 1863. |
Superintendent Morrisset, determined to track down the gang and their stolen treasures, eventually made a breakthrough. His relentless pursuit led him to Cheshire's hotel. And hidden away were the very goods that the gang had plundered.
The connection to Cheshire's hotel wasn't merely coincidental. The Cheshires, proprietors of the hotel, were related to none other than John Vane, one of the members of Hall's gang. This familial tie raised eyebrows and deepened the intrigue surrounding the gang's operations and their intricate network of informants, hideouts, and collaborators.
The recovery of the stolen goods was a small victory for the beleaguered police force, who often found themselves outwitted and outpaced by the bushrangers. For the public, it was yet another chapter in the fascinating and tumultuous saga of Ben Hall and his notorious band.
NSW Parliament. Bathurst aftermath.
Bathurst, a major settlement west of the Blue Mountains, represented the expanding frontiers of the British colonial enterprise in Australia. For an armed gang to strike at its heart, almost in a dare, was a slap in the face of the colonial establishment. More than just a criminal act, it was a political statement, underscoring the limitations of the government's reach and control.
The fallout was swift and politically charged. Mr Cowper, the Colonial Secretary, found himself in the eye of a storm. Parliamentarians, already critical of the government's inability to rein in the bushrangers, saw in the Bathurst raid an embodiment of their worst fears. The brazenness of the act brought to the fore calls once more for drastic measures, including an 'Outlaw' proclamation targeting Hall and his gang.
Yet, in the labyrinthine politics of the day, Cowper sought to deflect blame. He pointed fingers at the very citizens of Bathurst, suggesting their complicity and lack of support for the police. It was a risky gambit, seeking to turn public sentiment against the gang by implying broader societal complicity in their crimes.
In the larger tapestry of Australian colonial history, the Bathurst raid is but one of many such episodes, yet its implications were far-reaching. It challenged perceptions of order, questioned the government's efficacy, and highlighted the ever-present tension between the colonial authorities and the land's rugged individualists. (I have placed below one of the verbal encounters from the Parliament Hansard relating to the debate by Slippery Charley on the Bathurst raid.); 'The Empire’ Wednesday, 7th October 1863 page 3; THE BUSHRANGERS IN BATHURST. (Government Hansard)
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Mr. Cowper, five-time Colonial Secretary ( 1856-1870) Photo c. 1863. |
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NSW Police Gazette 21 October 1863. |
The idea of declaring the bushrangers as outlaws was not new, but it had never been seriously considered during the era of Hall's precursor, Frank Gardiner. Yet, Premier Cowper found himself on increasingly shaky ground with the public and the press clamouring for action in the aftermath of the Bathurst raid. The colonial administration's seeming impotence in the face of the bushranger menace made them vulnerable to political attacks.
Enter Mr Martin, QC, Cowper's arch-nemesis. Martin, a formidable political operator, saw once more a political opportunity to rally his forces and challenge Cowper's leadership regarding the Bathurst raid. The Colonial Secretary's controversial decision to blame the citizens of Bathurst for the raid only added fuel to Martin's fire.
Martin's motion of No Confidence was more than just a political tactic; it was a declaration of war against Cowper's administration. Such a motion could potentially topple the government, ushering in a new era of leadership with potentially drastic policy changes, including how the government would deal with the bushranger threat. Martin wanted Ben Hall brought to heel.
The political machinations in Sydney might have seemed a world away from the dusty roads and bush camps of the outlaws, but they were intrinsically linked. The challenges faced by Cowper's administration in quelling the bushranger menace had direct implications for the political survival of his government. The fight against the bushrangers was not just a battle for law and order; it was a battle for the very soul and future direction of the young colony of New South Wales. 'The Newcastle Chronicle and Hunter River District News’, Saturday 10th October 1863:
In the shifting sands of colonial politics and the backdrop of escalating bushranger activities, Premier Cowper faced an uphill battle to retain confidence. Stoked by humiliating episodes such as the Bathurst raid, and the detainment of armed troopers, the public outcry demanded a swift response. The delicate situation required both a show of strength and a bid to win back the trust of a disillusioned populace.
Thus, in a move aimed at showing decisive action, Cowper took to the widely-read 'Sydney Morning Herald' on the 8th of October. Announced a substantial new reward for the capture of Ben Hall's gang. This was not just an increase in the bounty; it was a message to the outlaws and their supporters that the government was stepping up its efforts and was willing to pay a premium for their apprehension.
The strategic calculation behind the decision was clear. By hiking up the reward, Cowper aimed to lure potential informants from within the inner circles of the bushrangers, perhaps even those who harboured and aided them. The idea was to create divisions, sow distrust, and tempt someone from the gang's periphery to rat them out.
Interestingly, the reward for Gilbert remained unchanged at £500, a holdover from his days riding alongside the notorious Frank Gardiner. This static figure for Gilbert, amidst an otherwise revamped reward system, perhaps indicated a recognition of his elevated status and the existing challenges in apprehending him.
The new reward announcement was as much a political move as it was a strategic one. Cowper aimed to portray an image of a government taking a hard line against criminality while simultaneously fending off political adversaries eager to exploit the situation. The stakes were high; the government's credibility, Cowper's political survival, and the safety of the colony's inhabitants hung in the balance. BATHURST. Wednesday, at 9 p.m.:
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Sir James Martin (1820-1886) |
Enter James Martin. With a sharp legal mind, honed through his defence of the Eugowra robbers just months earlier, he sensed the momentum shift. His history of challenging authority figures and his familiarity with the bushranger issue placed him in a unique position to lead the charge against Cowper's faltering leadership. Martin recognised the growing unease among country members, many of whom bore the brunt of the bushrangers' reign of terror. Their cries for more effective action were getting louder, and Martin made it his mission to amplify them.
Assembling a coalition of discontent, Martin's efforts culminated in a strategic move: a call for an adjournment vote, a clear indicator of lost confidence in the Cowper leadership. The very essence of Cowper's tenure - his approach to law enforcement and the colony's financial health - was called into question. The vast expenditure, necessitated by the ongoing bushranger threat, was proving to be a fiscal albatross, and many viewed it as a drain on the state's prosperity.
Mr Piddington, a formidable political figure and a close ally of Martin, took up the mantle in parliament. His fiery orations highlighted the government's perceived failings, from the ineffectiveness of the police force to the financial ramifications of the bushranger epidemic. Piddington's impassioned plea was not just an indictment of Cowper's policies but a clarion call for change.
With the political walls closing in, Cowper found himself in an untenable position. The weight of the bushranger issue and broader concerns about the state's direction under his leadership proved insurmountable. Recognizing the inevitable, Cowper relinquished his position, marking the end of a tumultuous chapter in New South Wales' political history. The aftershocks of the bushranger saga were being felt far and wide, and the state's leadership was its latest casualty.
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Colonial Secretary Charles Cowper. (1807-1875) |
This political stalemate presented an opportunity for Mr James Martin, a rising star and recent thorn in Cowper's side. Invited by Governor Sir John Young to step into the breach, Martin was given the task of piecing together a government from a fractured and fragmented parliament. With a keen eye for strategy, Martin assembled a minority government primarily composed of unaligned members without strong ties to the major factions of the time. This bold move signalled his intent to prioritize governance over partisanship.
On the 15th of October, 1863, with the official pomp and circumstance befitting the occasion, Martin's new ministry was sworn in. In a move that showcased his political savvy and a desire for continuity amidst change, he retained Mr Forster, Cowper's close ally, in the cabinet. This gesture was seen by many as an olive branch, an attempt to heal the wounds of past political battles and bridge divides.
With the formation of the new government, there was an immediate and pressing matter on Martin's desk: the issue of Ben Hall and his gang. Their reign of terror, audacity, and recent raids had embarrassed the previous administration significantly. Their actions were not just criminal; they symbolized the government's inability to maintain order and protect its citizens. For Martin, addressing the Ben Hall menace was more than just a matter of law enforcement; it was a test of his leadership, a chance to prove that his administration could succeed where others had failed. Ben Hall, illiterate, brought down the government.
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Hen & Chickens Hotel Vale Road 2019. My Photo's. |
The gang's audacity went beyond their brazen robberies. They set up camp in plain sight, a stone's throw away from the territories most patrolled by law enforcement. To the chagrin of the authorities, Hall seemed to have little fear of the troopers, almost making a game out of evading them. While the police, armed with their badges and rifles, combed the bush, they seemed to be always a step behind or in the wrong place, turning their pursuits into futile exercises.
But more than their heists and escapes, the gang's flamboyant disregard for convention captured the public's imagination. They didn't just hide; they celebrated. Locals would whisper tales of the gang's merry-making. There were accounts of jubilant evenings under the stars where laughter echoed, music played, and shots were fired, not in violence but in celebration, as the bushrangers demonstrated their shooting prowess.
Ben Hall's antics were not merely about the thrill of crime; they were a performance, a theatrical defiance against the establishment. By inviting locals to join in their festivities, they were sharing their spoils and building an image of themselves as folk heroes, the Robin Hoods of New South Wales. In doing so, they blurred the lines between outlaws and legends, further deepening the government's quandary. How does one battle not just criminals but myths in the making? As reported:
While Hall was seen by many as a charismatic rogue, a Robin Hood of sorts, Morgan was a different beast altogether. His very moniker, 'Mad Dog', was an embodiment of his violent and unpredictable nature. The tales of his deeds, more horror than adventure, filled the pages of the press. Morgan's exploits were not just of theft or evasion; they were tales dripping with blood and marked by sheer brutality.
The discovery of the mutilated body of one of his try-hard's, Clarke sent a shiver through all. Could it be that Morgan had really turned on one of his own? Clarke's corpse became a testament to the depths of Morgan's depravity. While the initial findings hinted at suicide, whispers soon emerged that the wounds were indeed Morgan's handiwork. To many, the idea was not far-fetched. If Morgan could unleash such brutality on strangers, what would stop him from doing the same to an associate, especially if he deemed it necessary for his survival?
In comparison to the wild ferocity of Morgan, Ben Hall's gang seemed almost genteel. With Halls charisma and panache. Hall was fearsome but not overly brutal in the vein of Mad Dog. While Morgan emerged as the face of unbridled, psychotic violence. The citizens of New South Wales were now caught in a tale of two bushrangers: one a defiant rogue, the other a bloodthirsty villain. The frontier was no longer just wild; it was becoming terrifying.
For all its audacity and bravado, Ben Hall's gang had yet to descend into the dark abyss of distrust and mutual suspicion. The line they walked was thin but held together by shared success and an often unspoken camaraderie. Their reputation was built on their collective ability to evade capture and humiliate law enforcement, not on internal betrayal or violence against one another.
But even in the strongest of groups, tensions simmered. John Gilbert and John O'Meally were prime examples. While bound by their shared exploits, the two men often found themselves at odds. O'Meally, fiery and impulsive, frequently cast aspersions on Gilbert's courage. The accusation of "lack of pluck" was not merely an affront to Gilbert's pride but a challenge to his very place in the gang. In the bushranging world, where reputation was everything, such accusations could not be taken lightly.
Such internal tensions were a stark contrast to the public persona of the gang. They were a cohesive unit to the outside world, mocking the law and living by their wits. But within the camp, the dynamics were more complicated. Egos clashed, tempers flared, and the pressure of life on the run tested the bonds of loyalty and trust.
Yet, despite these internal squabbles, the gang was not at the point of self-destruction. They had not experienced the kind of paranoia and distrust that would lead one member to turn on another, as seen with Morgan. The unity of the gang, despite its frictions, stood in stark contrast to the mad descent of 'Mad Dog' Morgan. Where Morgan's tale was one of escalating violence and paranoia, the story of Ben Hall's gang was still one of shared rebellion against the establishment.
You were afraid of the bullets which were flying about; I believe you will be shot yet when running away for you have no fight in you.
The dynamics of the gang were a complex tapestry of loyalty, ego, and the shared experience of life on the run. While Gilbert would often retreat in sulks after his altercations with O'Meally, it wasn't long before the shared camaraderie and thrill of the next venture pulled him back into the fold. The unity of the gang, however, wasn't always secure. The occasion when Gilbert knocked Vane flat with a punch was a testament to the fragile equilibrium within their ranks. Burke's questioning of Gilbert's courage didn't help matters, adding to the internal strife. Gilbert's subsequent warning to Burke – to watch his back – was a chilling reminder of the high stakes of their life of crime and the simmering tensions just beneath the surface.
While the internal dynamics of the gang played out, the larger world of bushranging in New South Wales saw the rise of other formidable figures. 'Mad Dog' Morgan, with his erratic behaviour and brutal tactics, was spreading terror in the Wagga Wagga district. Other smaller but influential gangs, led by figures like the Seerys and the Druitts, took charge of regions like Yass and Burrowra.
Yet, despite the many threats posed by these external forces and their internal skirmishes, Ben Hall's gang thrived, thanks in large part to the complicity of many settlers. This unwavering support from the local community, a sort of 'Cone of Silence', was a shield that allowed the gang to operate with a level of audacity and impunity. These settlers, driven by either admiration, fear, or a mix of both, became the lifeline for the gang, ensuring their legend grew even as the law sought to bring them down. MONDAY, OCTOBER 12, 1863:
Canowindra return, "The bushrangers, who were beginning to be quite popular."
As the vast, rolling landscapes of New South Wales unfolded before them, Ben Hall's gang made their way towards Canowindra, a town already familiar with their antics. Whispers and murmurs trailed in their wake as news of their audacious Bathurst raid sped through every corner of the colony. It wasn't just a robbery; it was a brazen challenge to authority, a defiance that had become symbolic of the bushrangers' spirit.
While Bathurst still grappled with the aftermath of the 'Big Sensation', Canowindra was set for a return of Hall and Co. Once more, they rode towards Canowindra, their journey punctuated by occasional sightings and tales of their camaraderie, painting a picture of men who still revelled in their newfound infamy despite being on the run.
Australia, still in its infancy since its establishment in 1788, had never seen anything quite like the boldness exhibited by Hall and his gang. They were a far cry from bold Jack Donahue. Their very existence was a testament to the rugged, wild nature of the sparse bush of human habitat, where rules could be bent and boundaries tested. The Bathurst raid had already cemented their place in history, but the whispers hinted at more. A sense of anticipation hung in the air – the feeling that Ben Hall's gang was just getting started and more daring feats lay just beyond the horizon.
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Reputed photo of Pierce's Canowindra General Store. c. 1860's |
But amidst this rustic array, one brick structure stood out prominently, its walls echoing the prosperity of its owner, Mr Collits—a name well recognised not just in Canowindra but in the broader district for his extensive land holdings and business ventures. Collits' leased the thriving business of Mr Pearce and Mr Hilliar, their general store a hub of activity and commerce.
However, for these businessmen, prosperity came at a cost. As the shadows of the notorious gang lengthened over Canowindra, Pearce, and Hilliar, weeks earlier deprived of valuable stock by the gang, many others would again find themselves ensnared in the outlaws' escapades. Little did they know that their enterprises would become recurrent targets for Hall and his men.
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Mr James Collits, aged 74. Courtesy NLA. |
While these establishments played pivotal roles in the community, serving both locals and travellers, there were certain customs and regulations that they had to adhere to. One of the most prominent of these customs was the practice of prominently displaying the licensee's name at the hotel's front. As a result, establishments often became colloquially known by the licensee's name, leading to the 'Canowindra Hotel' often being referred to as 'Robinson's Hotel'.
But this was not just about nomenclature. For the safety and convenience of travellers, laws of the 1800s mandated that hotels, especially those in the countryside, keep a light prominently displayed during the night. This beacon would guide weary travellers, ensuring they found solace in the comforts provided by establishments like Robinson's. Situated strategically on Gaskell Street, the light from 'Robinson's Hotel' would have been a welcoming sight for many, a symbol of safety and rest in the unpredictable wilds of the Australian countryside. (There are some conflicting views on the right spot where the bushrangers held both their jubilee's.)
Making their way towards Canowindra, with the sun gradually ascending the horizon, the five bushrangers, a quintet notorious for their audacious crimes, approached 'The Falls' station. The sprawling land, owned by Thomas Grant J.P., was a testament to his stature and influence in the region. Grant was no mere landowner; he held the title of Justice of the Peace and was well-regarded among the upper echelons of society. He was a firm believer in the rule of law, a staunch supporter of the police force, and had little sympathy for the likes of Ben Hall and his gang.
Their unanticipated visit, however, was not one of animosity. Hall, ever the tactician, sought to converse with Grant, likely wanting to gauge the atmosphere in the region and any potential threats. But it was more than mere pleasantries; the underlying tension in the conversation was palpable. With his questions about the police, Hall subtly, yet firmly, indicated that any act of treachery or assistance to the authorities would not bode well for Mr Grant or his estate.
Grant, with his strong allegiance to the law, would have been well aware of the bushrangers' brutal reputation. Any false move or perceived betrayal could have dire consequences. The exchange, though cordial on the surface, had layers of mistrust and veiled threats.
And then, as swiftly as they had arrived, the bushrangers mounted their steeds, leaving behind an atmosphere rife with tension. Their departure from 'The Falls' was but a precursor to the events that would soon unfold in Canowindra, and the entire region would once again be reminded of their presence and the challenge they posed to law and order.
Empire
Tuesday 20th October 1863
CANOWINDRA HELD BY THE BUSHRANGERS FOR THREE DAYS.
Free drinks were not the only form of entertainment provided. During the morning, various people arrived in the settlement on business from outlying homesteads. Included among these was a young woman able to play the piano. She was requested, quite politely, to favour the company with dance music, and intermittent dancing helped to pass away the morning. All prisoners were next provided with a good lunch, also at the expense of the bushrangers, who were beginning to be quite popular. By afternoon all apprehension had evaporated. The citizens decided it was not every day their town was captured by outlaws, and that the occasion ought to be celebrated with due jollity. Another teamster had arrived. He had a concertina. This made a variation to the piano for dancing, so that by evening time the whole party was able to have a really fine time, the bushrangers (generally two at a time) participating and enjoying a thoroughly sociable interlude to their usually hazardous life. Altogether, this impromptu ball was such a success that it continued till dawn, as is the habit of the bush, after which the women and children were allowed to go to the bedrooms for asleep. The men had to take what slumber they could get seated round the dining-room table, head in arms. The members of the gang seemed to be impervious to any such need.²¹
On hour later, Hall ushered all the guests onto the verandah. O'Meally was still on guard there, and the bushrangers' horse’s, fine thoroughbreds, stolen from rich squatters were tethered to the posts. Hall and Gilbert gravely thanked everyone for their attendance, paid Robinson the final reckoning for the party, and galloped off. As they rode off the three young outlaws waved gaily back at the crowd on the verandah. For nearly 60 hours they had held a whole township captive-five men against 40. They had danced with pretty women, eaten good food again, sung songs and laughed with other people-a change from the grim hide-and-seek they played with the police in the ranges.²² Nevertheless, for the unfortunate constable Charles Sykes this was the second time Ben Hall had accosted him. However, to Sykes's credit, he attempted to cross the rising Belubula River to get word to Cowra. Unfortunately, due to its fast-flowing waters, he was discovered when Ben Hall got wind of his leaving, riding quickly to intercept him on the road a short distance from Sykes' home. Hall returned him at the point of a revolver, marching him back to Robinson's Hotel. Described by witness: While the morning was still reasonably young, Ben Hall strolled out of the hotel-bar, limping slightly, as usual, due to one of his legs having been broken, unhitched the reins of his horse from the hitching rail, and cantered away in the direction of the police barracks. After all, it is no use conquering a city and leaving its official defenders to wander free. Before long, he returned. Ahead of him walked the one constable of the settlement, with rifle at the shoulder and bayonet fixed. The officer, thus armed, was then ordered to march up and down in front of the hotel, as though on parade, and, having no mistaken ideas, either of valour or duty, he obeyed. After a brief while, Ben Hall strolled outside and relieved the constable of his arms, telling him to go and enjoy himself with the others.
On regaining his liberty, the peeler tried to make for Cowra; but the gentry of the road put a veto on his journey in that direction. He then headed another way and came to Toogong, where he secured the co-operation of two troopers. The army then marched to the homestead of Mr Campbell, of Goimbla, who, being a J.P., very wisely thought he was bound to join in the chase; and taking with him his brother and Mr Barnes (an agent of Cobb and Co., who was driving the coach nearer Bathurst at the time) and at a moment's notice, sounded his bugle "to horse!" That party returned next morning, and issued the usual bulletin; - Results nil. In January 1864, at Vane's bushranging trial, his presence with Ben Hall was recounted by Charles Sykes. Sykes provided an account of both of his encounters with the bushrangers. First remarking on the meeting on the 26th September 1863, and then the October visit to Canowindra, from the 'Empire', Friday, 15th January 1864: Constable Sykes, being sworn, said: I am stationed at Canowindra, I saw prisoner on the 26th September last; he was in company with Hall, Gilbert, O'Meally, and Burke; I was going down the town about half-past seven in the evening, and they all stuck me up when near Robinson's public-house; I had no arms at the time; they took, me to Robinson’s public house, and kept me a prisoner until five o'clock the next morning; they were drinking during the night; I could not get away as they watched me closely; they went backwards and forwards to the store during the night; there were between twenty and thirty people in the house; the men were all well-armed at the time; I saw; Vane again on the 15th October with the same party; I was away for a short time, and when I returned I was informed by my wife that my arms had been taken away by Hall; I had a carbine and a horse pistol-they were both taken; I then left to go to Cowra, and was stuck-up by Hall near my own house; I saw Vane at the same time at some little distance away from Hall; Hall ordered me to stand, and I was taken to the public-house; that was about eight o'clock in the morning, and I was kept a prisoner until about four o'clock; Gilbert, O’Meally, and Burke were there; there were between twenty and thirty people there; when I left Vane told me he would get me the arms back, and they were afterwards given to me; I did not see the bushrangers any more after that time. After the constable's ordeal, Sykes expressed this comment his capture and treatment by the gang, especially Gilbert: They detained the constable a close prisoner from the time of his arrest, until eight o’clock on Wednesday morning. The prisoner speaks very highly of the kindness he met with from Gilbert and does not seem to have suffered any indignity at the hands of his captors. During the time of his captivity, Gilbert showed the constable a pistol taken from the police camp; and asked whether, in the event of its being returned loaded to him, he would shoot Gilbert; to which he replied, that "he might if he got a chance." "Then," said Gilbert, "to do away, with any chance you might have, I'll fire it off for you." After discharging the pistol, he handed it to the constable, remarking that such arms were useless to them, we learn from the constable, that they rode splendid nags, though rather light in condition, and that they took the police paddock fence like a bird.³⁰ Constable Sykes also attested to Gilbert's leadership of the five bushrangers, although this assumption could be disputed as per another view below of Ben Hall's stamp of authority: Gilbert is described as possessing the most unlimited authority over the rest of the band. His every command is law, no one daring to dispute it; and at night, while one of the five keeps watch, the other four slept soundly, and with the utmost confidence and reliance upon the watchfulness and good faith of their mate on sentry. The same men, on this visit to Canowindra, gave a look in at Mr Pierce's, and took £12 in money; and about £30 worth of goods.³¹ John Gilbert's position as Frank Gardiner's former lieutenant appeared to carry some weight in the public's eyes. However, at this stage, whether Gilbert still wielded some influence with his bushranging fraternity is questionable, as Ben Hall was often reported as the leader. During the three periods of festivities at Canowindra, the residents deferred to Hall to resolve any matters. Hall's leadership is also attested to and noted as organising the bushrangers as guards at various points and gathering those about the town, and allowing passes to be issued so residents could return home for a while: Ben Hall next announced that no one was to leave the town without a written permit, and stated that no harm would be done to anyone unless they attempted treachery. Although Ben spoke in a quiet voice, there was such a stamp of authority about his presence, and such a tone of determination in his speech, that no one felt inclined to resist. Ben Hall was not only quiet of speech, but of appearance and behaviour. He wore a dark tweed suit, slouch hat, Wellington boots. There was nothing of menace, nothing of boastfulness in his manner, and had it not been for the points of two revolvers just showing below his coat, he would have passed for an ordinary, rather prosperous, squatter. His beard helped to hide his fine features, and also his youth, making him look more like 37 than his correct 27. Note: Charles Sykes would retire from the force in 1872 on a pension of £126 per year.
The bushrangers remained until evening, the town having been in their possession for three full days, three gala days, three days which established their popularity, announced to the world that they did not rob or kill as a pastime, and which served as a direct challenge to the police parties that during those three days were out searching the surrounding bush for the outlaws. It was a remarkable piece of audacity on the part of the bushrangers, whose resultant prestige was enhanced greatly by the fact that all the expenses of those three days of jollity were borne by them. It must also be mentioned that as gracious as Ben Hall and Gang appeared. However, the funds provided for the three days being covered by the men were not earned through hard toil, but from the point of a revolver on some hapless victim who on occasion was, no doubt, terrified for his life.
Furthermore, the initial newspaper reports of the gang's arrival at Canowindra indicated that Bill Robinson's publican had been absent. However, this appears to be incorrect, as once again at Vane's future court hearing. Bill Robinson gave a brief account of the situation. Robinson states that at the first raid in late September, he was absent from Canowindra. Robinson's testimony varies from the newspaper accounts of the gangs gala over the three-day hiatus. About the end of September, while I was absent from my home, my house was robbed by persons said to be bushrangers. One day, about the beginning of October, about eight o'clock in the morning, five armed men came to my house; they were Gilbert, Ben Hall, Burke, O'Meally, and Vane. Ben Hall and Gilbert came into the house, leaving the others outside, they bailed me up with the other inmates of the house. Hall searched me and found some silver in my pockets, which he returned, saying he never took silver. Gilbert asked for the keys of the cash box which he opened and took one pound from it, he returned the pound about an hour afterwards, saying if he could not get any more he would not be bothered with it. Hall was dissatisfied, and said Gilbert could not have half searched the house, he then went to the drawers, and found £2 10s' he took the notes and left the silver, the other men then came in, and other people being about the house, Gilbert treated them, after this Hall and Vane got on one horse and rode across the river to the other public-house. Gilbert, O'Meally, and Burke remained at my house. Hall and Vane did not return until one o'clock in the morning, and an hour after that they all want away. Next morning (Sunday) about six o’clock, they all returned, and told me they intended to take the town and stick-up everybody, they did so but did not take any money from those they stopped. Young Mr Robert Kirkpatrick was stopped and searched, and a revolver taken from him, they also bailed-up Messrs. Twaddell and Hibberson, and a number of bullock teams. The same day Ben Hall went up for Sykes the policeman, on the first occasion he could not find him, but brought his arms down, consisting of a pistol and a carbine, he went again some time afterwards and returned with Sykes and another man named Ferguson about 4 o'clock in the afternoon they let Messrs. Waddell and Hibberson go as the river was rising, and they were anxious to reach Bathurst. Mr Kirkpatrick went with them. O'Meally and Burke then went in the direction of Molong. O'Meally took one of my horses, the others went away in about an hour. At about 8 o'clock at night Burke and O'Meally came back again, and at 10 o'clock Gilbert, Vane, and Hall came to look for them, the night was very wet, and Hall said they could not camp out without blankets, and he had no money, he asked the strangers in the house if they had any money, and on their saying no he turned to me and said I must have done well that day, and ordered me to turn out, my pockets that he might see what I had. I did so, there being £3 in notes and £2 in silver, he took the notes and returned the silver, he went over to Mr Pierce's stores to get some blankets, they paid for everything they got at the store after the first time they robbed it. When the bushrangers left this time they did not return until after Burke was shot. I then asked them where Vane was, and they said they had left him behind, for since Burke had been shot he was no good, they had some drinks, and offered to pay, for them, but as I heard that the money was a portion of Mr Keightley's ransom money I declined to take it; they then went away, and I have not seen them since, before going away they told me not to give information to the police, as they wished to getaway. I had given information on both the previous occasions. I know John Vane as one of the men who came to my house. A Police Debacle, "With three, I shall have enough to do to protect myself should I by chance meet the bushrangers." - Superintendent William Chatfield. |
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View of Canowindra, c. 1901. Taken from south-side looking north. In 1863 there was no bridge over the Belubula River. Hall and Vane crossed close to this point and Robinson pitched his message in a bottle across. Courtesy Canowindra Historical Society. |
Eventually, Chatfield departed for Canowindra, but he was too late for any effective action as the bushrangers once again melded into the bush. Regardless, after a fruitless search for the bushrangers in foul weather. Chatfield returned to Cowra irate. However, Chatfield again complained again to McLerie about his force's reduced size. Firing off another telegram on the 12th October 1863. Meanwhile, on the same date, Ben Hall and entourage rode into Canowindra, Telegram, Cowra, 12th October 1863;
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Canowindra c. 1900. Note Robinson Newsagency. Courtesy NLA. |
Sir, - I wish to inform you that the bushrangers, viz. Gilbert, O'Meally, Hall, Burke and Vane, are here; they came here on Monday morning at 8 o'clock and have been on and off until one o'clock today. They stuck up the stores and public houses, and everyone that was travelling to and from the Lachlan yesterday, and detained them all day - would not let anyone go for fear of giving information. Constable Sykes could not get across the river to go to Cowra; he then started to go to Eugowra, but they met him somewhere on the road and turned him back; they would not leave sight of him all day yesterday, and took all his firearms and handcuffs but gave them back to him last night, saying they would give him or anyone else fifty lashes if they left the town. They detained Waddell, Hibberson and Kirkpatrick, but did not search the former; John O'Meally searched Kirkpatrick and took a revolver from him. I have not time to give you any more information as the mail is starting; the bushrangers are only now gone, so I could not write while they were here.
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Artist contemporary impression of Sir Frederick Pottinger with silver-tipped riding-whip. Courtesy NLA. |
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Charles Lydiard c. 1860's |
Consequently, the western patrol's lack of success prompted the Inspector-General to seek more efficient officers. Accordingly, McLerie ordered an officer based at Maitland and recruited from Victoria, Superintendent Charles Lydiard, to the battlefield of western NSW.
Charles Lydiard arrived in the Victorian colony in 1850, serving in the public service in various capacities from 1851 to 1860. However, Lydiard's credentials and contacts in Victoria enabled him to rapidly rise to an Assistant Gold Commissioner at the Mount Alexander gold diggings on a salary of £250 per yr. Then he enlisted into the Victorian police force.
Lydiard also commanded the Victorian Native Police Force of twelve highly skilled and disciplined Aboriginals and commanded various Victorian gold escorts. Including the first escort from Ballarat to Geelong. However, Lydiard's quick rise to prominence may well result from nepotism. (reportedly rife throughout the colonies) A family connection to the highly placed cousin Evelyn Sturt of the Victorian police. Sturt was Superintendent of the Victorian police force. Lydiard was also the cousin of Australian explorer Charles Sturt. Superintendent Charles Lydiard transferred to the NSW Police and was seconded from Maitland. At Bathurst, he was directed to hunt independently with his select party of police. Lydiard's handpicked police departed Newcastle on the 13th October 1863:
Lydiard took to the field, as Sir Frederick Pottinger received Robinson's message in a bottle, gathered his troops, and departed Cowra. A departure that had the newspapers speculating, even ridiculing, the polices' movements. Observing that a force from Bathurst was en route with orders not to return without Ben Hall:
The five surviving their brush with the flooded Belubula River rode northward towards Murga. The town of Murga is situated on the fringe of the Nangar State Forest. The settlement lies on the road from Forbes to Orange. The same highway where 16 months previously Hall, Gilbert and O'Meally had robbed the Eugowra Gold Escort in-company with Frank Gardiner. The bushrangers pushed on from Canowindra, forming a camp near the town. However, law-abiding citizens kept the NSW troopers appraised of the gang's whereabouts; unfortunately, this critical intelligence appeared to produce no urgency except to have the police traversing from one reported sighting to another but not near the described or marked camps. Was it the cold, salty taste of fear that held the troopers back?
The searching troopers at times were overloaded with bushranger sightings and information, often becoming wholly bewildered. The deluge of local reports also contributed to frustration and nervousness, whereby troopers often resorted to drinking hard spirits whilst either on duty or camped—no doubt for the Dutch courage required to confront the five desperadoes who had murdered in their repertoire. The frequent use of booze gave rise to five mounted troopers, led by a senior constable Wright to be outed for drinking on the job. Complaints from citizens reached Sir Frederick Pottinger, who was furious over their lack of discipline and did not hesitate in dragging offenders in front of a magistrate charged with Neglect of Duty;
The case was brought by Sir Frederick Pottinger against five men of the police force, for neglect of duty, by being drunk and unfit for duty and that at a time when their energies were most required to track and apprehend the band of bushrangers that have lately been keeping this portion of the Western and South-western districts in a state of lawlessness and fear hitherto without precedent in the history of the colony. Senior Constable Wright, constable Mannix, constable Simpson, constable Hamilton and constable Cox were charged by Sir F. Pottinger with misconduct and neglect of duty They pleaded not guilty, and were defended by Mr James, solicitor, from Forbes.³³
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Thomas Grant appointment, May 1863. |
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Trooper's dismissal. NSW Police Gazette 16th December 1863. |
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Looking toward the hill that overlooks Grant's 'The Falls', where Hall camped with the Belubula treelined in the foreground. |
On my arrival, here I found a party of six men whom Sir Frederick Pottinger has sent to cooperate with me. The senior constable (Wright) has gone to Mr Grant's: I have not yet seen him, but one of the men tells me that the whole five bushrangers were seen the day before yesterday at Hartigan’s, some miles up the Belubula. I have also heard that they have a camping place opposite Mr Grant's on the Canowindra side of the creek, on a rising ground, whence they can see everything that goes on. I purpose going there this evening with the fresh party nowhere.
The Bald Hill just mentioned is a remarkable place from whence the bushrangers had a view of the Eugowra Road, the crossing-place at King's, on the Nyrang Creek and the whole surrounding neighbourhood. From this hill they can escape in any direction through the bush; but, should they again make it their rendezvous, which as I am keeping its discovery dark, is probable, I think it improbable that they could altogether escape were two police parties working together, and ascending the hill from different directions. I do not think any of the gang have gone from this part of the country unless there be truth in the report that they were seen at Hartigan’s. If so, they are returning to No.1 Swamp, through King's Plains.
I believe I told you in my note from Goimbla that I had engaged a black tracker "Albert." He was in the police at Forbes, some time ago., Without him, I could have done nothing, the whole country being intersected by hills and gullies, and being a perfect terra incognita to me and my party, I have gone over a great deal of it; much more might be searched with advantage, should the gang be in the neighbourhood.
I beg to call your attention to the perfect uselessness of sending parties of police out after bushrangers, such as are now at large, without trackers; by chance, they might meet the offenders, but they would never trace or find them.
I trust you will excuse this note; I have no other paper. I have been up nearly all night, and am wet through. I have one request to make, before I conclude, which is to be rendered perfectly independent of Sir Frederick Pottinger. I have only three men of my own.
I consider I ought to have five. Sir Frederick has lent me one; he has also sent a party to co-operate, but he writes to me as if to a subordinate under him. As a senior officer working out of my own district, this is not pleasant; at the same time, I will not allow any such feelings to interfere with the public service. This request I make contingent on my being continued here, for, unless I hear farther from you and I learn that the gang have left this district, I intend returning to the Flat by the end of next week.
For a more comprehensive account of the mass of correspondence between M'Lerie and Chatfield over the Ben Hall debacle, see pages 2 and 3 in the link below;
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Near Murga, with Nangar Range in view. The camping area of Ben Hall, October 1863. |
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David Henry Campbell, 1829-1885. Private Source never before published. |
On the 16th October 1863, 'The Five' conducted several hold-ups in the neighbourhood of Murga. One of the first hold-ups was the Forbes mail coach. Earlier that day, an old friend of Ben Hall's and reputed bush telegraph had been sent out to canvass the outgoing Forbes coach.
Furthermore, the presence of Hall's suspected bush telegraph, who had been openly observing the encounter and conversation, was also reported to Campbell, who unfortunately ignored the information. However, Campbell's presence would do little to deter the bushrangers next actions. Furthermore, Campbell's presence may well have been the catalyst for a future encounter with Hall, Gilbert and O'Meally, which turned deadly for one. As reported:
Later the same day as Campbell rode on, Ben Hall's old pal Gallen reported the pursuers' passing. The bushrangers with the latest intelligence descended on the town of Murga:
In 1920, an eyewitness to the gang's visit to Murga, Mr Edmund Rymer, then 15 yrs old, recounted the day's activities. 'Forbes Advocate':
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A dry Nyrang Ck, summer 2016, with Nangar Range in background. |
Vane describes the raid on Murga:
The police party was no doubt led by Inspector Chatfield. Furthermore, friction soon raised its head in the gang, and a petty squabble erupted between Vane and Gilbert over some victuals that saw the two come to fisticuffs:
Spurious maybe? However, if any may have been a victim, exactly which Grant is unknown or if it ever happened? Burning down someone's home would not be seen lightly. At this juncture, the gang still had many harbourers where if the gang started this type of attack, their welcome would undoubtedly wane rapidly. Furthermore, the Grant family had been highly respected, and long-time residents of the Canowindra district having been settled there for well over thirty years holding extensive property throughout the fertile reaches of the Belubula River. At the Canowindra raid, three of Grant's brothers owned three properties on the town's outskirts. George D Grant held the 'Grove', John Grant' Belubula' and Thomas Grant' The Falls'.
Moreover, it is difficult to ascertain to which home was believed burnt down. As before the arrival of Ben Hall at Canowindra on the 12th of October 1863, it had been reported that 'The Boys' had paid a brief visit to the property of Thomas Grant's 'The Falls,' where it was said that "they committed no mischief there," and after a short conversation departed. (see above) However, the incident regarding the destruction of one of the brothers' homes may well be only Chinese Whispers, not based on any solid evidence!
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Model 1855 .56 calibre Colt Revolving Rifle. |
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Lawson's 'Errowanbang Station' homestead. Original home with some minor upgrades. Courtesy Edward Higginbotham, 2010. |
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View of Lawson's 'Errowanbang Station' across Flyers Creek. Courtesy Edward Higginbotham, 2010. |
The gang arrived at Dunns Plains am Friday 23rd October and took up an advantage point 300 yards east from the house amongst a copse of trees and granite rocks on a small hill overlooking their quarry's residence. (See maps below.) Taking up positions, the men observed that a police party was camped in a paddock adjacent to Keightley's house headed by Inspector Davidson. During the whole day and into Friday night, the bushrangers paid attention to the occupants' comings and goings. Including sighting Keightley conversing with Davidson whom Keightley had invited to lodge at the house, but Davidson declined to remain encamped with his men:
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William Crisp Pechey. |
Aware that the gang were in the vicinity, a plan of defence had been prepared. The bushrangers dismounted near the rear stables opening fire on the two men who made for their defence position as the bushrangers scattered around the homestead. Consequently, the two men under fire would show stubborn resistance secreting themselves into the house then onto the roof as the gang peppered the dwelling and back door with shot after shot which luckily did not course injury. As the gunfight erupted, it was reported that Mrs Keightley's four-year-old step-sister Lily had been left outside and wandered about with bullets flying in the twilight hour. However, she was miraculously unharmed. (Lily Rotton was Elizabeth Clive Rotton, born in 1859 to Henry Rotton and Mary Ann Ford's second wife. Caroline's mother, Lorn, passed away in 1843. ) Unknown to the gang as they peppered the house with shots, Mrs Keightley's four-month-old baby Henry b. June 1863 was inside under the housekeeper, Mrs Baldock's protection. (There was a daughter Caroline who passed away in 1863; however, her 1863 date is unknown. She was born in 1862.) In the melee, Micheal Burke, aged 19, would be mortally wounded and, in fear of his capture, placed a revolver to his head and pulled the trigger not once but twice. The young bushranger lay dying for some time before life departed.
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H.M. Keightley. ©Penzig. |
Henry had been born at Corfu, Greece, in 1830, where his father had been Governor of several Greek islands controlled by Britain following Napoleon's defeat. Henry's father had also fought at the Battle of Waterloo in the Fourteenth Regiment as a Major and was promoted to Lieutenant Colonel. Unfortunately, as the third son, Henry was required to make his way in the world wherein adulthood due to the constraints of Primogeniture's law that upon his father's death, Henry was compelled to immigrate to NSW in 1853, the same year as his father's death.
Keightley was employed by two brothers named Tindal, who held extensive property on the Clarence River in far northern NSW. During his time, Keightley was involved in a variety of work. Work that incorporated an expedition to dispose of aboriginals who had been stealing cattle from his employer’s;
However, Keightley's striking frame and consciousness of his attractiveness to women soon suffered a flirtatious setback whilst at the Clarence River. When his desire for a female cook may have got the better of him. In turn, the female made known her disinterest in the tall man, made apparent through her reaction and rejection towards Keightley following an argument of a fiery nature.
When Keightley's arrived in NSW 1853, Brittan found itself caught up in the Crimean War against Russia through its alliance with France, the Ottoman Empire and Sardinia. The war was principally fought over protecting the Christian minorities in the Holy Land, controlled by the Ottoman Empire's Islamic Sultan, Omar Pasha. Although the war also had a broader objective. Denying Russia any new territory, the war even posed a Russian threat to NSW, creating Fort Denison's construction in Sydney Harbour. The conflict itself was noted for its sheer butchery and where the 'Victoria Cross' Medal for bravery was born. The Medal was cast out of the cannons' steel from the war by the order of Queen Victoria. And where Florence Nightingale brought a revolution to medical care for the wounded. However, as with many British subjects in NSW, Keightley at the time of the war's outbreak had expressed a desire to enlist, but those who knew him took it as a half-hearted proposal:
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The layout of events at Dunns Plains 23rd, 24th, 25th October 1863. |
(From the Bathurst Times of Wednesday.)
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The Back Door peppered with the bullet holes fired by the gang. Can Be viewed at the Bathurst Historical Museum. My photo. |
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Burke lays dead. Highlighted from the painting by Patrick William Marony 1858-1939. Courtesy NLA. |
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Saturday evening, 24th October 1863, Ben Hall lays siege to H.M. Keightley's home. |
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Mrs's Keightley and Baldock pleading for Henry Keightley's life. Painting by Patrick William Marony 1858-1839. Courtesy NLA. |
Dr Pechey then examined Burke and discovered a large wound in the abdomen, through which his entrails, in a frightfully torn and lacerated condition, were protruding. He was still breathing, although unconscious, and the doctor said he could do very little for him without his instruments. He asked, if one of them would go into Rockley, and fetch what he required, but they said it would be of no use, and that it would be better to shoot him at once and so end his misery. The doctor thought something ought to be done, and at length prevailed upon them to let him go and obtain such things as he wanted, having first pledged his honour that he would not raise an alarm. Before he returned the man was dead. We have said O’Meally was absent, and Mrs Keightley, fearing lest he might not agree to accept the ransom, prevailed upon one of the party to fetch him. When he came, he at first refused to listen to the proposal, and declared his intention to revenge the death of his companion; but he was, however, eventually pacified by the others. They then went into the house, and remained there for a considerable time, awaiting Dr Pechey‘s return, and drank some spirits and wine, Mrs Keightley having first tasted it, in order to assure them the liquor was not drugged Some conversation passed, in which the bushrangers said that the reason Burke was so daring, arose from the fact that they had just previously been twitting him with the want of courage, and seemingly he was determined to convince them to the contrary. In answer to a question from Mrs Keightley, as to what could induce them to pursue the course they did, when, by the many robberies they commuted, they must possess considerable wealth, Gilbert replied – that, with all their depredations, they had not so much as would keep them a week.
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Following the night flight to Bathurst, Dr Pechey alone pays the ransom to the gang on Sunday morning, 25th October 1863. The exact place may have been any one of the small hills close to the homestead. Dunns Plains elevation above sea level is 850 m.
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Mr Keightley speaks most favourably of the manner in which he was treated during his captivity, and it seems he had a long conversation in the night with one or two of them, in which he was told that the gang would never have come into Bathurst, or visited him, had it not been for the taunts received from two individuals who ought to have known better than to spur them to the enterprise. They denied ever having threatened to use any violence towards him, but being told that he (Keightley) was a splendid shot, and would riddle them through, as he was in the habit of practising at a target, they imagined he must be possessed of first-class weapons, and the desire to possess these, as well as to test his courage, had induced them to make the attack they had. Personally, they did not know him. Once in the night, the galloping of horses was heard, and as for some time the bushrangers had taken it in turns to rest – two sleeping while the others watched – Gilbert, who was standing sentry over the prisoner, went up to the sleepers, and touched them gently with his foot, calling them quietly by name. They jumped up without noise and held their weapons in readiness, but as the sound drew nearer, it was discovered to emanate from a passing mob of bush horses.
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Henry & Caroline Keightley. c. 1885. Courtesy NLA. |
In the years following the battle of Dunns Plains, the hellish events have been analysed on and off. The harrowing experiences of Dr Pechey and the Keightley's are riddled with multiple and conflicting accounts regarding what transpired during the first initial engagement in the dying light of Saturday evening, 24th October 1863 and the subsequent detainment of Henry Keightley for ransom. In Keightley evidence at Vane's later trial, he said under oath describing his initial observation of the bushrangers, Empire 4th December 1863:
On the evening of Saturday, the 24th October, between the hours of six and seven, he was standing in the yard of his house at Dunn's Plains, when he saw five horsemen coming over a hill at a walking pace, towards the house. The moment he saw them he called out to Dr Pechey to come and look at them. He thought they were a party of police who had camped in the paddock the night previously, headed by Mr Davidson.
They passed the gate, which is the only entrance into witness's place, and as they still came on at a walk, he was still under the impression they were police. But he told Dr Pechey who was standing by his side (if they should prove to be bushrangers), to make a rush for the campkeeper's room and prepare some firearms placed there. It was in consequence of this that he afterwards retreated to the roof, being under the impression that Dr Pechey had assured the weapons, which, however, as subsequently transpired, he had been unable to do. The party came up slowly until within thirty yards when they simultaneously jumped off their horses and then lept over the fence.
He ran by the back door into the house furthest from where he stood. As they jumped off, they cried out "stand," but he did not heed them. In his bedroom, he picked up a revolver. As he was entering the house, two or three shots were fired. From the glance he caught of them, he thought they were a parcel of lads, so young was their appearance.
William Pechey provided his account under oath and the wound inflicted upon Burke:
Towards evening, Mr Keightley, who was in the yard, called him out, and he then saw five men who rode up to the house. When they approached, they called to witness and his companion to stand. They ran back, witness endeavouring to reach the servants' room, where there were some firearms, but he was confronted by one of the bushrangers, and he then retreated towards the house and took his position near Mr Keightley. While doing so he heard the report of firearms all round. Shortly after, they made for the roof, when the bushrangers commenced to fire on them again, and a bullet passed through Mr Keightley's hat. The hat (produced) was the one worn by Mr Keightley.
The men were then screening themselves behind posts and other things. They shouted out to witness and Mr Keightley to surrender, which they consented to do, and came down. They did so, and the bushrangers finding by that time that their mate was wounded, rushed up to them, and Vane knocked witness down with his hand, in which he held a revolver; producing the cut of which the scar now remained on his temple.
He asked them to let him attend to the wounded man, telling them he was a doctor. Upon going up to Burke he found a large wound in his abdomen, from which his bowels were protruding about two feet.
In 1911 an account of the battle was published, titled 'The Lone Hand' by Mr George Quickie. In it, the son of Henry Keightley, Leo Keightley, recounts the details of the passing night. Whereby shining a light on his father's night of infamy at the hands of the gang. The bulk of 'The Lone Hand' is a solid historical account and relates how the gang passed the night away. Including the intense desire of both Vane and O'Meally to seek retribution for the death of Micky Burke. Hall's command over the gang is also evident. The events surrounding Mrs Keightley departure at midnight, cradling the couple's baby son, and her 4 yr old half-sister Elizabeth and Dr Peachy are recounted as well as her arrival at her father's home 'Blackdown' outside Bathurst.
The 'The Lone Hand' is linked below and exposes that contrary to the belief that the gang's inner relationships were harmonious, Leo Keightley reveals through his father's account that a fracture was evident. Where Hall, Gilbert and then O'Meally long time mates afterwards left Vane in the cold and became in fear of his life. As such shortly after, he left the gang:
Followed by the death of Burke at Mr Keightley's; Vane, being tired of a bushranger's life, and afraid of his associates, next gave himself up to the authorities.
The truest account of the siege at Dunns Plains.
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Sgt Michael Hanley Penzig |
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Keightley Testimonial. S.M.H. 2nd November 1863. |
With the reward paid and testimonials gathering pace, doubt continued to appear in the NSW press regarding whether or not Keightley indeed fired the fatal shot. The Clarence and Richmond Examiner and New England Advertiser, 8th December 1863, noted the subject raised at Vane's court appearance following his surrender to Father McCarthy in November 1863:
However, one person overlooked in the events' rush to heroism was Mrs Isabella Baldock, the housekeeper whose husband was also an employee of Keightley's. Earlier that day, Mrs Baldock's husband had been dispatched to Rockley with mail and carried one of Keightley's pistols for self-protection. In her later testimony, Mrs Baldock held firm that Hall admitted to her of having fired the shot that dropped Burke, saying:
At the time the conversation turned to the still alive Burke. Here Pechey expressed a desire to help save the boy, although he had assessed it was hopeless, as did Ben Hall, who expressed as Peachy prepared to depart Dunn's Plains a desire to shoot Burke and put an end his misery:
The above extracts from the letter sent to the press by Isabella Baldock's husband concluded with this addendum:
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Caroline Keightley. c. 1865. |
The former trooper reiterated the long-held version of Hall's confession and sorrow said:
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The back of the homestead at Dunns Plains as it was in 1863 when occupied by the Keightley's. Henry Keightley was perched on the roof between the two buildings while returning the bushrangers' fire. Note the backdoor extreme right and rear garden gate. Burke hid near chimney in foreground left. Courtesy Des Shiel. |
Caroline Keightley went on to become a public favourite as the heroine of Dunns Plains. However, the initial £500 laid out by Henry Rotton MLA appears to have not been reimbursed by the Government nor Keightley. Long after the events, Mr R. J. Rotton, brother of Caroline, stated that only Keightley was given the reward money:
As the dust settled on the events, the talk in the colony continued a closer examination. Questions regarding the shooting and defence of Dunns Plains constantly appeared. In reviewing the circumstances, the first crack in the Keightley version of events was the weapon he admitted to firing, a double-barrel shotgun and stated that it was only loaded in one barrel. Primed with snipe (birdshot.) Snipe is the smallest lead pellet used out of all the shotgun ammunition types of the period. Was snipe capable of disembowelling Burke to the extent evidenced by Dr Pechey? Even at close range, reputedly less than ten yards?
Accordingly, at the inquest into Burke's death, the physician, Dr Rowland, reported that he removed nine Leaden Slugs (Buckshot) from Burke, indicating that at ten feet, a rough estimate of the distance from Keightley at the door to Burke. Remembering that Keightley stood 6ft 3in and Burke 5ft 6in, snipe would not cause the massive gut-tearing injury inflicted on Burke. But lead slugs would rip him apart. Therefore, when considering Burke's clothes' and their thickness, where the bushrangers were known to wear two or three thick Crimean shirts also two pairs of trousers while living rough against the cold nights. (See the illustration of the shot effect below.)
During the detainment of Keightley, the gang remained at the property till the early hours. As the evening wore on and their nerves frayed, the sound of horses galloping brought the men to their feet, guns drawn covering Keightley. Hall exclaimed, "By God, we are betrayed", leveling his revolver at Keightley's head. Fortunately for Keightley, the alarm was only his horses galloping around the home paddock. Commenting so, Keightley placated Hall and the bushrangers stating that they were his animals, which diffused the tension. On initial detainment Keightley says before his wife and Pechey left they suppered and afterwards, Vane and O'Meally ransacked the house taking various items:
Before doing so, however, they had supper, and Vane with O'Meally (to the best of witness's belief) went into his bedroom and took some clothes, rings, his arms, and a few other things which he had since missed.
The bushrangers returned to their places and continued to wait out the night dozing. As day dawned and for safety, the bushrangers shifted their position a short distance from the house at the request of Mr Keightley, as noted in the 'Lone Hand', to a spot known as the Black Stump. With daylight tingeing the sky in the early hours, the doctor arrived at the Black Stump location with the ransom:
Witness was then taken upon a hill about half a mile distant, where, upon his parole, that he would not attempt to escape, little restraint was imposed upon him till the morning, when the ransom was paid and he was released.
Notwithstanding, there is contradictory evidence about the gang's specific place, one named the Black Stump and the other location named Dog Rocks. It may be that the Black Stump and Dog Rocks are virtually next to each other or one upon the other or the same place as noted:
At about daybreak the bushrangers, having arranged for the disposal of Burke's body, went off with Keightley to the Black Stump at the Dog Rocks; arise that gave a long view of the Bathurst Road.
However, many small hills surround the property that fit the description (I was there in 2019) of the places named the Black Stump or Dog Rocks. However, over time, their significance and importance as local landmarks have been lost. Much of what has been recorded as to the bushrangers' actual location at daybreak while holding Keightley and awaiting Dr Pechey's return is pure conjecture. Therefore, it would be prudent for the gang under the circumstances to remain close to the home, within a few hundred yards at most, as Dr Peachy had limited knowledge of the local landscape. Consequently, the payment most probably occurred near the homestead. It must be noted as well that upon the gang's arrival they told Keightley that;
The day before the occurrence took place which we have just described, Sub-inspector Davidson with some troopers were encamped near Mr. Keightley's house, and the bushrangers told Mr. Keightley that they had been watching them through the night, and mentioned several little incidents that had transpired, in proof of their assertion. Mr. Davidson, it appears, declined to accept the accommodation proffered by Mr. Keightley, preferring to sleep out with his men, and Mr. Keightley was told of what happened during it visit he had paid the party, and also that they (the bushrangers) had been watching both him and the neighbourhood the whole day through.
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Dr Pechey said; "I went to look at Burke's body, and saw that the bowels were protruding from the abdomen; I also saw blood coming from his mouth and nostrils; there was a wound in the head, and one of the bushrangers said Burke had shot his brains out. The shot must have been fired close - I should think within a yard or so..." This type of stomach wound is consistent with a discharge of Leadshot/Buckshot, not Birdshot, remembering that Keightley stated he fired around the door frame. At 6' 3in and Burke 5' 6in, Keightley, blindly, would have fired towards the head, not abdomen of Burke. Dr Rowland also stated that he removed nine lead balls from Burke. Therefore, it is most probable that Hall, at near the same height as Burke, most probably startled, shot the young man accidentally being within a yard of the young man at that time of night. The damage would have been enough to blow out Burke's intestines at one yard and stove his shirt into the wound. |
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Rough height difference between Keightley and Burke. |
In his narration to Charles White, Vane, to add more confusion, expressed that Gilbert was the guilty party. As throughout his conversation with White, Vane never places Ben Hall in a bad light; therefore, Hall's possible complicity in shooting Vane's mate is passed over. As a result, Gilbert was often Vane's focus for a backhander. Accordingly, from the evidence, there appeared to be much animosity between Gilbert and Burke and Vane as Vane had had a stand-up fistfight earlier with Gilbert. Although championing himself as the victor over Gilbert, however, Gilbert could handle himself against all comers. No doubt Gilbert may have had in truth the better of Vane, leaving him with severe bruising and black eyes. Nevertheless, Vane contends that Gilbert was the perpetrator of Burke's death as before their arrival, some chaff passed between Burke and Gilbert:
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Ransom Notes |
The close examination swirling around the Keightley's brought one of the few statements from Dr Pechey, but only in defence of his cousin Caroline. She had been accused of varnishing her efforts following the surrender of her husband and Pechey. He also confirms Mrs Baldock's intercedence after Vane dropped him with a pistol blow:
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Rolf Bolderwood. The pseudonym of Thomas Alexander Browne. c. 1891. |
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Mural at Binalong depicting a new reward of £4000 for the remaining four. 2018. My Photo. |
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'Empire' 27th October 1863. |
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The reward for the remaining four. Courtesy NLA. |

Tindal Diary Entries; 1853, July 29. — Baitman has arrived, leaving Keightley to follow by next vessel. 1853, August 11. — Blacks have been spearing our cattle here, and I only returned last night from the pursuit. We surprised two camps with the remains of beef in each. It was Keightley's first service; we were camped out eight nights. He is a lively, amusing fellow. I prefer him to Baitman, but they’re both too old. (C. G. Tindal, from Ramornie). 1853, October 20 (from Fred Tindal, at Koreelah). — 'The unexpected arrival here of K. and B. prevented my finishing my letter. They created an immense commotion here, the former especially, bullying the shearers in English, Scotch, and Irish by turns, till he was voted fit to travel anywhere. 1854, January 3. — Private races have come off at Eatonsville (Mylne's), opposite Ramornie, at which Keightley was the principal winner. The new chums certainly make the place (Ramornie) very noisy and gay, but I don't think they work very hard. Keightley's room is hung with a profusion of his father's watercolour sketches and knick-knacks of great variety. 1854, January 31. — Baitman and Keightley are now called Jack and Jill. I don't think Charles gets much work out of either of them. Jill (Keightley) is more particularly celebrated for buying and selling horses, mixing punch and telling facetious stories. Jack (Baitman) is fond of a comfortable armchair. (F. C. Tindal). 1854, March 7. — Keightley, who is the more prominent of the two, is very clever and entertaining, what is termed 'good company,’ yet he is not a favourite altogether. He shows too much fondness for making money by games and sharp bets, etc., which is not pleasant, even to lookers-on. I dare say he will make a good enough settler whenever he has work of his own to attend to. Baitman, alias Jack, is devoted to the armchair. 1854, May 28. — Keightley has just started for Ipswich races. Both K. and B. are too old to do any good for themselves or to be of much service, but K. is the better of the two. 1854, September 8. — In my last, I told you both Keightley and Baitman left us. The former has a small Government appointment, the latter intends sailing for England immediately. 1854, September 24. — Keightley is a clerk in Sydney. 1854, December 8. — Keightley is here low on leave of absence from his Rifle Corps duties. He is still connected with the Emigration Office in some way. 1854, December 10. — Writing in a noisy, room, Keightley and Charlie Porter detailing adventures. Keightley says he is on sick leave, but I have an idea he has been in some scrape in Sydney. Ramornie same date. — Keightley, who is here on a visit with C. E. Porter, has just returned from fishing. They frequently bring in from six to 14 dozen perch and fresh-water herrings. Keightley gives out that he is to be married in six weeks, but he is so given to joking that we do not know if this is so or not. He is in the Emigration Office, also a com. in the Rifles. All are employed writing letters, Keightley upon one to a Miss Palmer at Sydney, to whom he tries to persuade us he is engaged.
Henry McCrummin Keightley passed away on the Saturday 8th January 1887; DEATH OF MR. KEIGHTLEY.- "The death is announced, at Sale, on Saturday last; of Mr. H. M. Keightley, for the past four years stipendiary magistrate at Albury. For some time past, the deceased gentleman had been a sufferer from Bright's disease, and it was during a tour to the Gippsland Lakes, undertaken for the benefit of his failing health, that the symptoms as summed a fatal character. On Thursday Mr. Keightley was obliged to take to his bed; on Saturday his illness had assumed such a character that Mrs. Keightley was hastily summoned by wire, and on the same night the end came. Mrs. Keightley, accompanied by one of her four sons; arrived in Sale on Monday, on which date the funeral took place privately, in the local cemetery." Upon the Commissioners death and his long service in public office, the government allocated £1000 to Mrs Keightley in the recognition of his services. On June 22nd 1855 sadly Charles' brother Frederick Tindal drowned while fording the Clarence River at Smith's Falls.
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Reward notes and their numbers paid by Dr Pechey to Ben Hall. |
However, contrary to the coachman's view, the separation was no doubt O'Meally departing with Vane, Hall and Gilbert heading to their planned rendezvous. Here Vane would take his leave from the gang, telling O'Meally he wished to see his father. O'Meally offered no objection saying they would wait at the appointed rendezvous site. Vane stated:
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Donald Cheshire's Return of Prisoners Tried at Different Courts 1864. |
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Donald Cheshire and the shopping list for the gang & receipts in his possession when arrested. Photo of Cheshire c. 1890's. Penzig © |
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Vane to be kept separate from Cheshire. New South Wales, Australia, Sheriff's Papers, 1829-1879. |
For John Vane, it was the end of the road. The feelings between Vane and the other three had become unsettled since Burke's death as he struggled with losing his close mate. There was talk of a dispute between Vane and the others over the £500 paid for Burkes death and in the dividing up of the money Burke's share was set aside for his family, but Vane was excluded. On one report stated:
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Vane & Cheshire separated at Darlinghurst Gaol. As well as Frank Gardiner.
New South Wales, Australia,
Sheriff's Papers, 1829-1879. |
Meanwhile on 28th October as Hall retreated into the wilds of Eugowra another bushranger was commencing his run. He was Fred Ward who, in due course, would become known as Captain Thunderbolt. Ward, originally from Windsor, made the New England region of NSW his district from Tamworth to Murrurundi. One of Ward's first forays was noted in The Sydney Morning Herald' Monday 2nd November 1863. The small entry also remembers Hall's link to Murrurundi:
However, the gangs' success in September against the three troopers at Marsh's Farm. Saw the communique's on the matter between Superintendent Morrisset and the government made public. These telegrams were released to the press on the 7th November 1863 to appease the continued public's dissatisfaction with their police force's prowess. These police questions centered around effort and needed answers for their unpardonable actions! (The to and fro may be viewed through the attached link. The telegrams note the firepower at that time, which had fallen into the hands of the gang.)
While the police dealt with their rough conditions, Ben Hall still had many settlers prepared to offer aid and comfort throughout the district. Such as Agnes Newell (sister of Dan Charters) of nearby Bandon, who had a hotel from which Hall and Co could take some R&R as well as Tom Higgins at 'The Dog and Duck' hotel near Forbes. (Higgins mended Hall's broken leg when a youth.) This support for Hall in defiance of the local police's efforts was highlighted when a correspondent attempted to fall in with the three bushrangers by throwing cash around the Eugowra/Forbes districts' shanty's in an attempt to be 'Bailed-Up' by the boys. Although he was unsuccessful, his article exposes the depth of local knowledge of the inhabitants regarding Hall, Gilbert and O'Meally's movements and protection:
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Vane Retires. Courtesy NLA. |
The attached link is a map that covers the area during John Vane's membership in the gang. It was meticulously constructed by Craig Bratby, author of John Vane; Bushranger. Vane was an active member from August 1863 to November 1863.
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Publican Licences 1853-1899. |
Superintendent Chatfield departed Robinson's, heading in Cargo's direction, also known as Davy's Plains Run. Cargo was principally a farming community with sporadic gold mining, situated 20 miles from Orange, and the locals were known to be sympathetic to Hall.
However, as luck would have it, after leaving the town, the police came across the three bushrangers in the company of another person whom the lawmen thought was part of the troupe. On sighting, the troopers put the spurs to their horses. Hall seeing the troopers galloping towards him took to flight. In the panic, the stranger's horse also bolted, giving an impression of partnership. However, instead of fleeing, the rider attempted to pull up his panicked horse as Hall and Co. melded into the bush. As the police pounced upon the man, the bushrangers halted a short distance off and observed the scene.
Consequently, in the chase, the unknown rider became a live target. To save himself, he called out, "For God's sake, don't shoot me," throwing up his hands. The troopers adrenaline-charged descended ferociously upon the rider and, without hesitation, fired away as they galloped towards him. In a rush to clobber the unknown, the accompanying black tracker Albert soon identified the man as Henry Hurkett, a local.
Henry Hurkett was a farmer and assisted at the families 'Miners Arms' hotel/shanty at Cargo. For the remote settlers, it was a period when every shilling counted to every inhabitant. As such, many publicans and prominent settlers often turned a blind eye to the needs of the bushrangers. Consequently, those beneficiaries of remuneration for a warm bed and hot meal and information regarding police movements enjoyed the notoriety of the bushrangers friendship. The few shillings went a long way! Hurkett may well have been one who, on that basis, was undoubtedly friendly with the three rogues.
Furthermore, Hurkett was well known about the Canowindra district with a reputedly sound reputation amongst the populace. However, that reputation may well have been more nudge-nudge-wink-wink. He was also well known to the police and brushed with the ruthless Sir Frederick Pottinger earlier. However, for Hurkett, his presence in-company with Hall, he passed off, after almost dying, as not fraternisation but a hold-up and said the bushrangers had stuck him up and taken £2 12s 6d from him.
Not satisfied, the police pumped up, maintained their suspicions clapping Hurkett in handcuffs. As Hurkett was suffering ill-treatment in the barrage, the three bushrangers casually retreated up a hill on foot, leading their horses, occasionally turning to watch the proceedings. For details, see the link below;
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NSW Police Gazette 9th May 1866. |
There were three brothers Hurkett they were Henry, Charles and Thomas. All three would spend considerable time in various NSW Gaol's for various offences, predominately cattle stealing.
Note: In 1869 Henry would be sought by police over cattle stealing crimes and bolt to Hay NSW under an assumed name of James Wood. NSW Police Gazette, 1869, page 143. In 1871 Hurkett would be convicted and sent to Berrima gaol for two years hard labour. However, he was paroled in November 1872.
However, while Henry Hurkett was fumbling around handcuffed. Subsequently, after covering some forty miles with night falling, the police rode towards Mr Icely's 'Bangaroo Station' to stop for the night. Consequently, when passing a nearby settler's hut, they were seen by a small mixed-race child, who alerted the occupants in the cabin of their approach. The child calls out, "there's some men coming."
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Icely's Bangaroo Station. Bailliere's New South Wales Gazetteer and Road Guide 1866. |
Chatfield became the fall guy for the NSW government regarding the Canowindra siege. Causing embarrassment over failing to capture the bushrangers. Chatfield's inability to act as the bushrangers returned to the district and continued to rob unabated culminated in the Superintendent's dismissal from his position in February 1864. In his defence, Superintendent Chatfields communicated his efforts to the Inspector-General of police and the hardships hunting Ben Hall:
Ben Hall, Gilbert and O'Meally escaping from their close shave camped close to Toogong. Toogong had two hotels, the 'Toogong' and 'Travellers Rest', a Post office and was inhabited by farmworkers. The town's population in 1863-20. One of those locals was Ellen Chandler, a passenger on the coach where Cst Havilland had died following the Eugowra Gold Robbery in June 1862 and with blood-covered hands, Ellen helped prop the dead constable up in his seat. It was reported that while camped, Hall and Gilbert had a falling out whereby it was said the two almost came to pistol shots:
However, the exact cause of the scuffle is unknown. As the bushrangers rested and the angst between Hall and Gilbert settled. A local wrote that the police were often more dastardly than bushrangers when seeking information and repeatedly harassed even children when parents were absent. 'Goulburn Herald' Wednesday 18th November 1863:
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David Henry Campbell. (1829-1885) Private Source. |
When Ben Hall seized the town of Canowindra in early October 1863, news reached David Campbell whereby the squatter organised a party of neighbours to take the field in search of Ben Hall:
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Campbell's marriage. 19th Feb 1856. |
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Amelia Campbell 1835-1870. Private Source. Never before published. |
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Contemporary illustration of Hall approaching Goimbla. Courtesy NLA. |
However, in not wanting to let stand the threat of David Campbell's desire to finish them off. Ben Hall, Gilbert and O'Meally approached Goimbla Station in the early evening of Thursday 19th November 1863, arriving from Murga along Mandagery (Eugowra) Creek. The trio, unobserved, made their way up to the homestead.
Goimbla was a 12,800-acre property rated to hold 640 head of cattle with one of the district's finest homes. The house walls were pisé (rammed earth) with a shingle roof, long verandah, and a garden enclosed by a picket fence. The property included a yard with a water-well, 3-stall stable with a loft. Fowl and pig houses. Men's huts and every requisite for a first-class head-station. Woolshed 50 x 15 with drafting yards and pens attached. Two cultivation paddocks of 8 and 5 acres as well as a grass paddock of 150 acres. Stock and milking yards, eight sheep station huts, with large yards. All overshadowed by a large mountain.
David Campbell relaxed after the evening meal as his wife and their maid Miss Mary Taylor settled their three children down for the night. Thomas b.1857, David b.1860 and two-year-old Percy b.1861. Also present was David's brother William Campbell who retired to his bedroom.
David Campbell sat in the lounge room, enjoying the quiet. The only sounds filtering in the house were the children fusing and boisterous as they prepared for bed. A silence descended in the home. The night sounds of the bush insects were all that flowed through the house. As the old grandfather clock chimed a bell marking 8.45 pm, Campbell suddenly became alerted as a noise of unfamiliarity caught his ear. Footsteps on the verandah. Earlier, fearing some reprisal from Ben Hall, which had been passed on to him. Campbell had prepared and placed against the fireplace two double-barrelled shotguns ready loaded and other arms at various places in the house.
Arising, Campbell picked up one of the shotguns moving to the passage near the backdoor, whereby at the end, he saw a man standing there who immediately fired twice, one round entering the wall on the right of where Campbell stood the other, the left. Campbell instantly returned fire from his gun but was ineffective. Simultaneously, the stranger retreated as a volley of shots crashed into the house front shattering some windows and embedding into the front door frame.
Campbell knew his moment had come.
After leaving the horses hobbled some distance from the homestead, Ben Hall with his two companions made his way through an oat field to a picket fence beside one of the outbuildings listening for life inside the home. Then, all quiet, Ben Hall brazenly walked to the back of the house, shotgun in hand, the same gun that had earlier by his hand mortally wounded Micky Burke, entered via an open backdoor into the rear passage. An occupant with a weapon in hand suddenly appeared, and Hall fired. The other person fired as well, the shots missing. Hall retreated to the back of the house as Gilbert and O'Meally discharged their revolvers into the home's front. As Hall stood on the back verandah, another man emerged on the porch from the back door. Ben Hall fired again, having reloaded hitting the man in the chest who staggered and collapsed. Unknowing if the man was dead or alive, Hall quickly retreated to the front yard re-joining Gilbert and O'Meally.
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Goimbla Homestead. c. 1930. |
Sitting in his bedroom, William Campbell was startled by the sound of gunfire echoing through the house, ending the quiet solitude of the evening. Subsequently, he rushed from his bedroom and headed for the dining room, then well-lit by a strong kerosene lamp when at that moment, gunshots smashed through the front windows. Fearing the worst "Bushrangers", William made for the back porch where on exiting and near his bedroom window noticed a man standing in the shadow who raised his weapon and fired two shots hitting William in his chest, four wounds in all. Darkness enveloped William as he stumbled from the impact and collapsed beside the rear steps. Coming too moments later, William crawled bloodied out through the back gate. Fortunately, the slugs had not penetrated too deep. Nevertheless, he lay bleeding in a field of oats behind the house at the gate for some time.
Amelia Campbell was in the act of putting her three children to bed with help from her maid Mary Taylor when suddenly the terrifying sound of gunfire erupted. Amelia told Mary to watch the children making her way to the dining room to join her husband and defend their home. The couple joined after David had fired at the intruder and together moved to a bedroom at the end of the passage adjacent to the children's rooms, then altered to various positions to confuse their enemies' fire.
Amelia made for the dining room without a word spoken, passing the front windows already shattered when more gunfire erupted, whereby some fragments of wood from the bullets slightly grazed her as she retrieved a powder flask and bullets. On returning to her husband's side, shots rang out again, peppering the walls. Once again, by her husband's side, she commenced reloading the discharged shotgun.
O'Meally and Gilbert crouched by the front fence saw shadows passing the windows fired, not knowing whether they reflected male or female. Mary Taylor secured the children, and the cook hid himself under a table in the kitchen. Campbell would later praise Mary's calmness. Mary Taylor was a native-born Australian from Tumut. Campbell, in complementary terms, said how cheerful and composed Mary was and whereby at half-past nine, thirty minutes into the battle, Mary brought a tray— with the glasses of refreshment—as usual to the Campbell's. Campbell later mused that he couldn't help laughing as the situation was so severe that their lives hung in the balance.
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Amelia Campbell 1835-1870. |
Hall, Gilbert and O'Meally in failing to dislodge their quarry by the barrage of shots. Hall called out, "If you don't immediately surrender, we will burn your place down." The demand was met with Campbell's response calling back, "Come on-I'm ready for you." Hall then replied, "Oh, is that it!"
As the bushrangers waited, Amelia had unknowingly left the house, covering a distance of some 150 yds to recruit the farmhands holed up in their quarters for support. Arriving, Amelia could not convince the men to support her husband. Distressed, she commenced making her way back to the house when suddenly flames from the adjoining barn and stable licked the night sky. Amelia's presence in the yard had brought her under the aim of Gilbert's gun, who later commented:
He could have shot Mrs Campbell if he had wanted to, as he was planted in a bush close by which she passed on her way to the gardener's hut.
Mary Taylor, without fear, went to assist David Campbell in Amelia's absence.
In her rush back to the house, Amelia, without realising two of the gang Hall and O'Meally had made their way to the barn and stables, stacked with fresh-cut hay and many bales of wool, the bushrangers set fire to the buildings. As the fire took hold, Amelia had returned to the house. Seeing the flames, she clutched her throat in fear and, with the assistance of the maid, again ventured out as the fires took hold to clear the ground about the house strewn with harvested hay and a dray loaded standing between the burning stable and the rear of the house. If caught on fire, it would catch on to the back verandah and the house, ensuring their current position would become untenable.
Together, Amelia and Mary courageously covered the dray with hay by a tarp, saving the house from destruction. Amelia later commented:
I was in such deadly fear of its catching at this point that I rushed out and succeeded in getting the road cleared with the assistance of the maid.
The fire's intensity turned night into day, where the roof of the fired buildings collapsed sparks like fireflies bellowing into the night sky.
As the fire raged in the stables, Campbell's favourite horse Highflyer became trapped and engulfed in flames. The fire's heat increased, whereby the terrified animal raced and to and fro, desperately seeking a way of escape. The family heard its kicks for freedom and the animal's heart-rending cries inside the house as Campbell ground his teeth in despair. Helpless, Campbell shouted to the bushrangers to let it go, but they ignored him instead of calling out taunts and jeers as the fire took hold. Finally, Campbell again called for mercy, yelling, "I will have one of you for poor Highflyer," then, suddenly, the horse's terrified whinnying died out as it was roasted in flames. Soon after, all went quiet for some thirty minutes.
The flames roaring Hall, Gilbert and O'Meally placed themselves behind the paling fence at the front of the house some 40 yds distant. The bushrangers' position was behind thick pine stakes, pointed and driven into the ground affording good cover. The house saved from incineration Mary Taylor returned to the children who hid under their beds. The eldest Thomas comforted the youngest Percy as random gunfire reverberated through the house, hitting various walls, doors, picture frames, and the children's bedroom wall as stray bullets hit just above the boy's beds. Campbell, all the time undaunted, returned fire with fire. Time marched on, with Hall occasionally calling for Campbell to give up. Campbell did not reply.
William Campbell recovering his senses and seeing the flames engulfing the outbuildings decided to head to Eugowra and assistance, staggered off. William, at 2 am, arrived delirious at Hanbury Clements Station, Eugowra, with gunshots in his chest and covered with blood. Mr Clements, in the dim light of the lamp, extracted the bullets, later producing a leaded slug which had been removed from William Campbell's chest during a testimonial gathering for the Campbell's. Clements sent a runner into Eugowra to alert the police.
The flames from the barn burned brightly, enabling Campbell to have a good view of the surroundings. In the lull, Campbell and Amelia placed themselves between two parallel walls, which formed a passage between the house and the kitchen. Watching for movement, Amelia pointed out one of the bushrangers heads with a cabbage-tree hat occasionally pop up, peering over the fence, looking at the burning buildings. Alerted, Campbell shifted for a better look at the corner of the house. Which fortunately was cast into shadow by the burning buildings at the opposite end. Kneeling Campbell brought his gun to his shoulder aimed deliberately at a spot level with the throat as the man once more rose from behind the fence. Campbell fired. The crack of the gun boomed in the night air.
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The Death of John O'Meally. By Patrick William Marony 1858-1939 |
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Mural at Binalong. Hall & Gilbert kneeling over a dead O'Meally. 2018. |
Hall and Gilbert dragged O'Meally a few yards into the adjacent oat field and near a tree stripped off O'Meally's jewellery which would later be returned to O'Meally's sister Ellen 'Kate' O'Meally (1845-1908). The two then approached the worker's hut, cursing and swearing profusely, stating that they would have their revenge. Their angry voices carrying on the night where Mary Taylor heard one of them, Gilbert said he regretted not shooting the woman. However, Hall turned to him, telling him to "hold his tongue and mind what he was about." Then, returning to O'Meally's lifeless body for one last look, the pair made back to their horse's and departed Goimbla.
The sound of the grandfather clock clunked loudly as every second ticked along. The bush sounds once more drifted on the night air, joined by the faint crackling of the outbuildings as they collapsed, sending more embers into the dark sky and the charred bloated remains of 'Highflyer', swollen to nearly double its natural size, lay inside the crumbling enclosure. Listening intently, David Campbell cautiously emerged from his home alert for any sudden occurrence, approached the spot where he believed his shot had taken effect. Reaching the scene at the paling fence Campbell was surprised to find a carbine and cabbage-tree hat but nobody, thinking that the gunshot may have wounded the bushranger. The hour had passed eleven-thirty in the evening, and the two hour battle for life and limb had ended. Unsure, he returned to the house to await daybreak.
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Amelia Campbell. |
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NSW Police Gazette 2nd December 1863. |
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Plaque Forbes Cemetery. |
In the heat of a November day, the bloodied body whose decay had set in from the heat and O'Meally's inquest completed. The fast-turning putrid body was thrown unceremoniously in a hole near Mandagery Creek (Eugowra) coffinless. However, O'Meally's body would be exhumed by the family after an application to the court and consequently placed reputedly in an unmarked grave at Forbes close to or alongside John "Warrigal" Walsh and where later Ben Hall would be laid:
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Henry Knight. NSW Police Gazette 4th November 1863. |
The death of O'Meally rekindled the memory of John 'Warrigal' Walsh and the cruelty of Pottinger, who held the lad of 16 in custody and the confines of the Forbes lock-up brought about his death. 'The Argus' 12 December 1863:
The crowd dispersed, O'Meally was exhumed from the banks of Mandagery (Eugowra) Creek by his father and brother Patrick for reburial at Forbes. At Goimbla, Mr Campbell, the settlers hero, received the government's warm good wishes for the actions in disposing of one of the men who had held the state to ransom for three years. The reward for O'Meally was £1,000. After identification, David Campbell received the reward and a letter of appreciation from the Colonial Secretary:
When the gawkers were gone a final word on the Battle of Goimbla noted Davidson's apprehension:
Having loitered near Goimbla following their mate's death, the two bushrangers were next heard of on Saturday 21st November 1863, two days after the Goimbla disaster crossing the Lachlan River at the Kirkpatrick and Twaddell's toll bridge half a mile from Forbes. The toll keeper brought the two men to a halt demanding the required payment. The two attempted not to draw attention to themselves, paid the amount due, and proceeded to Forbes. Within minutes a party of police rode up to the bridge identifying themselves as troopers from Goimbla. The police inquired if he knew the two men who passed moments earlier as they believed them to be Hall and Gilbert, whom they were pursuing but had been unable to overtake. 'Empire' 1st December 1863, Lachlan correspondent Bathurst Times:
The police had lost the scent. Meanwhile, Hall and Gilbert cautiously sought refuge at Forbes and soon relayed the death of O'Meally to their touts and harbourers; 'The Sydney Morning Herald' Tuesday 1st December 1863:
While in Forbes, Ben Hall visited the editor of the 'Miner' Mr H.P. Williamson arriving at three in the morning on 23rd November 1863 for an interview. The contents of which have not been revealed. For Hall to visit Mr Williamson demonstrates a friendship of some type possibly due to Williamson's position as Secretary of the Forbes Racing Club; 'Sydney Mail' 24th November 1863. FORBES. Monday, 4 p.m.
However, Hall and Gilbert's shock at the loss of O'Meally left Forbes and retired to the familiar grounds of their old haunt, the Burrowa district. They as well sought out the O'Meally's, presenting their dead comrade's jewellery to O'Meally's sister, Ellen, aged 17. Ellen herself was a feisty young lass who in late 1862 led the NSW police a merry chase, over hill and dale, riding like the wind dressed as a boy resembling her brothers. To confound the police Ellen and her friend Elizabeth Mayhew was also similarly attired. On reaching home, the two girls changed into their dresses, as the fooled police led by trooper Clark became the butt of many a joke. So great was their humiliation of the law that a song appeared in the girl's honour called 'THE MAIDS OF MARENGO'.
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Birth of Ambrose Stonham, 1867. Son of Alfred and Mahalah Stonham. |
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Mahalah Stonham. Penzig. |
Arriving in the confines of Burrowa, Hall and Gilbert returned to the road and the rich pickings of the tracks within the gold district. 'The Burrangong Star' ran this headline that Hall and Gilbert were in their old quarters again highlighting the pairs resurgence in the district:
On the outskirts of Burrowa, the Coffey family operated a blacksmith shop and general store, complete with an attached school, situated along the road near a creek sharing their name. Coffey had emigrated to New South Wales from Ireland aboard the Pearl in 1841 as a free single man and skilled blacksmith. In 1842, he married Honora Ryan, a fellow Irish immigrant, and the couple went on to have ten children. The store quickly gained a reputation among law enforcement as a haven for rogues and vagabonds, particularly those linked to bushrangers Ben Hall and Gilbert. The Coffeys were also known for their role in converting stolen cheques into cash for the bushrangers, making their establishment a reliable safe harbor for criminal activity.
In the waning days of November 1863, Hall and Gilbert were allegedly involved in a series of robberies, including the supposed robbery of the Coffey family themselves at their home. However, this so-called robbery was later revealed to be part of the Coffeys' broader schemes, often intertwined with the bushrangers’ exploits.
At the same time, another notorious band of criminals was terrorizing the region, operating between Binalong, Bowning, and Burrowa. This group, described as long-time scoundrels, carried out a spree of robberies during the final months of 1863. One member of the gang was even reported to have donned a police tunic during their crimes. Two of these men, George Lynham and Michael Corcoran, were known associates of Hall and Gilbert, and they often worked with their accomplice, Michael Seary. The trio had gained notoriety during Hall and Gilbert’s earlier activities in the Carcoar-Bathurst region.
On November 12, 1863, Lynham, Corcoran, and Seary staged a daring robbery at Dalton, forcing their way into the home of William Townsend, William Brown, and John Wheatley, and making off with £80. Corcoran, a man of 5 feet 9 inches with fair hair and a light complexion, bore a resemblance to Gilbert. As the Yass Courier reported, their crimes highlighted the sprawling network of bushranger activity that extended beyond the infamous Hall and Gilbert, painting a vivid picture of the lawlessness gripping the region.
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Coffey was arrested with some Keightley ransom money paid by Hall for lodgings. |
Newspaper correspondents were soon made aware of Hall and Gilbert’s activities in the Burrowa district, reporting on the plight of the Coffeys, who claimed to have been robbed at gunpoint by the notorious bushrangers. However, the widely publicized robbery turned out to be a poorly executed ruse by the shady Coffeys, aimed at disguising the fact that Hall and Gilbert had been guests in their home. In exchange for a night's shelter and the use of their facilities, the bushrangers had repaid the Coffeys with cash, part of the ransom taken during the October 1863 raid on the Keightley property.
The so-called robbery attributed to Hall and Gilbert was, in reality, a scheme orchestrated by the Coffeys to recover £35—the cost of a spring cart they had recently purchased from a hawker named Mr. Aaron Steenbohm, using money from the Keightley ransom. The Coffeys devised a plan to have Hall and Gilbert "rob" Steenbohm, who had arrived at their home on November 27, 1863. By doing so, the Coffeys could reclaim the funds paid for the cart, while creating a convenient narrative to distance themselves from the ransom money. For the Coffeys, it was a win-win scenario. For Steenbohm, however, it was an irreparable loss.
The Coffeys' close relationship with the bushrangers became evident through later testimony, particularly from Mrs. Steenbohm, who recalled an incident highlighting the dynamic between the outlaws. She recounted Ben Hall sternly reprimanding Gilbert for inadvertently revealing details of the scheme, a moment that underscored the tangled web of deception and loyalty in the bushrangers’ circle.
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Honora (Nora) Coffey. NSW Police Gazette December 1863. |
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NSW Police Gazette 12th Dec 1863. |
Furthermore, rumours indicated that Hall and Gilbert, while canvassing Burrowa, had got wind of the possibility that the recent compensation to be paid by the government to the Chinese miners routed at Lambing Flat after the 1861 riots said to be about £4,000 was to pass through Burrowa en-route to the Flat:
The whole of the affair at Coffey's hinged on the recovery of the five-pound notes from Keightley's ransom, whereas happened with Donald Cheshire, the Coffey's faced possible incarceration. Soon after, the facade of the robbery Hall and Gilbert to protect one of the few who would give them safe harbour denied ever being present when the Steenbohm's were robbed. The headline read GILBERT AND HIS MATE.- The Bathurst Times says:
Hall and Gilbert remained in the confines of the district surrounding Binalong, Bowning, Burrowa. Spending possibly some nights with Susan Prior. On the 21st November, Hall was seen camped at The Marengo Gap;