PARCEL TEN

The History Is Commenced

Bank of New South Wales letterhead, 64 sheets of medium stock (8‘ × 10‘ approx.). Creasing, foxing, staining.

Of particular interest for the dual motives for the history’s composition. Mary Hearn’s response to the reports of Stringybark Creek murders. The author’s response to fatherhood. His faith in a parliamentary enquiry. Mary Hearn’s recollections of transvestism among the Irish peasantry. An explanation of Kelly’s refusal to flee when it was possible. His trial by a jury of his peers. This parcel also contains two annotated pages from The Melbourne Argus in which that newspaper’s account of the Euroa Bank robbery is quibbled with.

2 DAYS LATER DAN & ME WAS on our way to visit our sister Maggie we approached Eleven Mile Creek like blackfellows in the night. There were a 1/4 moon some fast moving cloud permitted sufficient light to show the familiar bosom shape of Bald Hills. Behind them we knew 20 police was now encamped each one sworn by secret oath to avenge their dead companions.

Everything at home were devastation the dark shadow of my mother’s 1st hut looked damned forsaken. Closer still were the hut I built so she might escape the stinky man’s curse though the arresting traps had dragged her from it anyway. We knew this 2nd hut also abandoned but as we passed there were a ghostly yellow light flickering beneath the door. I reined in my mare.

Come on said Dan lets go.

The hair on my own neck were upright when I come beneath the peppercorn tree but through the 8 pane window I seen a female figure walking back and forth a saucepan in her hand. When Dan plucked at my elbow I shrugged him off. From the saucepan rose a cloud of dense yellow smoke though I were more concerned with that crow black hair that white skin and in my confusion imagined it were my mother unexpectedly made free. I felt a bolt of joy the weight of worry lifting off me.

Ma I shouted.

Jesus Christ moaned Dan please lets go.

But the woman heard my cry she turned and to my shock it were Mary Hearn.

Its Ned I called.

Shutup shutup Dan begged Jesus Christ do you want the whole effing police force to know you’re here?

Mary Hearn come out on the veranda. Is it you she whispered.

It is.

It aint safe said she.

I looked to Dan he sighed and drew his Webley. As he turned to keep the watch I entered the hut it were filled with sulphur smoke little George lay in his box upon the floor his face very red & shining his yellow brown eyes staring at the candlelight.

What ails the little one?

Mary did not reply.

Why are you by yourself all alone?

I don’t bother anyone here I can keep the smoke up to him all the night.

Did you read about me in the newspapers Mary?

She moved a little to her left so she were in a direct line between me and her child.

Mary I would never kill no one unless I had to.

She shook her head.

They would of shot me if I didnt shoot them 1st.

She tried to smile. I prayed for you said she.

I shot them fair and square Mary.

She starting fossicking on the high shelf where the demijohns of oils & turpentine was stored she produced a scrap of newspaper and by peering v. close I seen there were a drawing of a demonic kind of man.

Read it.

The author of this so called LIKENESS were not content to show my natural imperfections he must join my brows across my nose and twist my lips to render me the Devil the Horror of the Ages these engravings in the newspaper was made by a coward who never had his beasts impounded or his family gaoled on the evidence of perjurers his only useful trade were to persuade the people to hate & fear a man they never met.

This aint me.

Read the write up Ned then tell me it aint you.

Her arms was wrapped like chains around her chest I couldnt leave her in this state I were detained like a locust in a web. The headline said MURDER OF POLICE AT STRINGYBARK CREEK. I don’t know who wrote it but he made us Irish Madmen. I had mutilated Sergeant Kennedy he claimed I had cut off his ear with my knife before murdering him. Moreover I had forced my 3 mates to discharge their pistols into the bodies of the police so all would be guilty of the crime the same as me.

I heard Dan’s heavy boots upon the veranda the door swung open. I can see their adjectival fires behind the hill he pleaded.

Advise me if you see them coming.

O Jesus Ned lets go now.

But all the love & light in Mary’s eyes were cold as ash in the morning grate I could not leave.

You go Dan I’ll follow in a while.

You know I aint leaving without you.

I won’t be more than 5 minutes said I then returned to Mary. You think I done them things they say?

O Ned I don’t know what I am to believe.

Well I will tell you what I done and then you judge you don’t know what them police is like.

Your mamma dragged my da’s chair up beside George’s box there she sat with shoulders rounded waving the smoke about him. I am a man a man that loved her & my body yearned to comfort her to touch her skin but instead I talked.

I began with Fitzpatrick and Kate telling how that event had played out much like she predicted then I described all that happened until Kennedy received his mortal wound poor Dan it took much more than 5 minutes it were nearly dawn when I finished & the light were wet & grey as drowning. At that dismal hour I heard the cry Mopoke Mopoke it were no owl it were my brother.

Snuffing the candle we both come out onto the front veranda and there we seen the undertakers smudged as charcoal in the rain an army of invaders riding round the flank of our familiar hills. As Dan were hurrying towards the creek I turned to follow but Mary Hearn touched my hand what bliss what torture she loves me yet she loves me through the drizzling rain.

If you will lead men you cannot be away from them no more than from a dairy herd or to put it another way when no rooster is present the cockerels will grow their combs till they’re red and flapping across their beady eyes for once their leader is absent they exercise their own judgment setting plans in course they would never dream of if their Captain were up front.

I did not forget neither my men nor my mother in her cruel Scientific gaol but I am guilty of neglecting both while setting the fire back blazing in the eyes of Mary Hearn. I returned with Dan to sleep in our hiding place in the Warby Ranges but didnt talk to no one I were so very tired then at noon I were shook awake to be informed a big party of men were riding in formation across the plain below. This was a larger number than were hid behind Bald Hills but as they seemed headed towards the township of Winton I went back to sleep. No need to write the name of the family that harboured us only that they lived a hard life in the rocky foothills of the ranges they were no better than they should be they knew what it were to have the police harassing them the squatters squeezing them enclosing all the common land for private use.

Waking at dusk I found the friend’s family spreading newspapers around the floor and table. In this little hut it were usually hard to find sufficient paper to wipe yourself but now it were a rat’s nest of ENSIGN and ADVERTISER and ARGUS there were no smell of cooking only of the cold black ink. The baby had torn the front page of THE MELBOURNE HERALD but not so bad I couldnt see my name. Mr Donald Cameron had asked the Premier the question WHETHER HE WOULD CAUSE A SEARCHING ENQUIRY TO BE MADE INTO THE ORIGIN OF THE KELLY OUTBREAK AND ALSO THE ACTION OF THE AUTHORITIES IN TAKING PRELIMINARY STEPS FOR THE ARREST OF THE CRIMINALS. He said he had information that POINTED TO THE CONDUCT OF CERTAIN MEMBERS OF THE POLICE FORCE AS HAVING LED UP TO THE MANSFIELD MURDERS. This were the best news in many a long day. I never heard of this cove Cameron previous but he were neither blind nor stupid he understood we was driven to the deed that the law was scandalous in our pursuit.

But there were more than this to hearten me Mr Berry the Premier had answered him THAT IF RELIABLE INFORMATION WERE TO REACH HIM THAT DIFFICULTIES WERE INTERPOSED BY WANT OF PROPER ORGANISATION AMONG THE POLICE HE WOULD OF COURSE INSTITUTE AN ENQUIRY.

Well look at this lads I said heres a go.

Joe’s eyes was sick & fluey. Politicians he declared.

So?

So it don’t mean nothing said he and in exchange for my HERALD he give me the front page of THE MELBOURNE ARGUS where I read we was all declared outlaws who could be shot on sight and was entitled to no more mercy than a rabid dog.

You can believe this one he said this is most reliable.

The 2 boys looked from him to me their faces stretched like drums waiting to see what I would say.

I have a mind to talk to this Cameron cove said I.

And how asked Joe would you manage that?

I’ll tell you in the morning lads. I give Joe back his ARGUS and retrieved THE HERALD and from this I tore the write up concerning Cameron.

You aint going back to Eleven Mile?

Its my neck said I.

Its your adjectival pizzle cried Joe Byrne as all 3 turned from me to hunch around the papers. Daughter forgive me when I confess how little thought I give for their agony I were a man in love I left them alone to drink in all that poison ink.

1/2 an hour later I were Romeo himself riding through the gap above Glenrowan the night sky a deep royal blue and the outline of Bald Hills clear above it. There were no sign of police fires but my Juliet were very tense as she took my hand and squeezed it there were no kissing. When she pulled out a chair I sat down not knowing what she had in mind though the table were unusually clear of dishes and on its clean top a sheaf of paper were stacked alongside a Post Office pen & a bottle of red ink labelled PROPERTY OF KATE KELLY.

Dear said she I would be very pleased if you would write down what you told me previously.

Which part of it?

Why every part.

O I aint no scholar Mary you know that.

Well if you truly love me you will do it.

What were I to say that I never learned my parsing? All I could think were to lay with her one last time I were mad as a dog and didnt care the traps was meanwhile humming like a hive of bees not 400 yd. away.

The whole of it?

From the time Fitzpatrick tried to marry Kate. That part.

I reckon I know what you plan to do with it said I.

Ah but do you? Is that true now?

The life were in her eyes again.

You think said I we should send it to this Cameron cove?

But she never heard of Mr Cameron MLA when I showed her the cutting from THE MELBOURNE HERALD she put her hand upon my wrist.

Write it down dear said she then come to bed.

She begun to brush her long black hair I needed no more encouragement than that. The 1st page were rapidly accomplished then the 2nd and 3rd. Oftentimes Mary come to read with her cheek pressed against my ear I do not boast when I say I felt her moved to tears sometimes to exclamations of anger she said there were not a soul alive who could read these words and blame me as the papers did.

It will persuade Mr Cameron?

It would persuade anyone.

For one long night this chaste dance did continue sometimes the dogs barked and soon after midnight there were a great alarm when Kate & Maggie found 2 policemen crouching behind the pigpens but mostly there were no greater upset than a night train crying in the distant dark the old people say it were the trains brought the famine to Ireland well they brought the coppers to Benalla together with artists ready to sketch my bloody corpse.

When finally I completed the death of poor Kennedy I give Mary everything I had writ & she removed the blue ribbon from her hair so it fell down around her neck and shoulders but she would not let me kiss her yet she bound all my words tying them with the ribbon like you will see the clerks do in Benalla Court I am sure it is the same in Parliament. Then she carried my chair so it were below the shelf that holds the demijohns as noted and she placed the roll behind the turpentine.

There she said alighting carefully to the floor.

She come to me and then we kissed.

Will you post it in the morning?

We will make a copy for Mr Cameron she said but even as she spoke she took my scabbed hard hand placing it ever so gently on her belly.

And I knew before she said the words I knew that it were you in there I were very pleased I kissed her on the neck and on the mouth I smelled her fine dark hair and kissed her bright black eyes.

It is for him I cried thats why you wished me to write it. Its for him!

Or her she said she were smiling and crying.

Or her my love.

So when our daughter comes into the world she will always know the proper story of her da and who he is and what he suffered.

You may wonder why her speech did not make me gloomy it were clear that your ma were certain I would be murdered by the government and that you would never know what man I were. But it werent nothing to do with death at all it were its very opposite you was my future right away from that moment you was my life.

Thus were I drawn into this occupation as author for once the letter were completed I immediately commenced a 2nd to Mr Cameron which labour kept me absent from the boys I were not there when the trouble come bearing down on them out of the scrub but will tell the story just the same.

The traps is on you lads cried our host his braces was broke he held up his britches in one hand hauling Steve’s saddle and bridle with the other hopping pigeon toed across the muddy yard.

For Jesus’ sake they are at the swamp go boys they’ll lag us all.

Joe’s gelding & Dan’s mare was in the yard but neither one had nothing more than head stalls both was scatty v. excited by all this uproar. Dan were in the outhouse Steve tossing knucklebones with the littlies but now the alarm were called he run directly into the Friend’s hut. The Missus was hard of hearing not to say stone deaf she were sitting at the table skinning rabbit. Steve said nothing to her ripping back a curtain she had hung across her roughnail cupboard he pulled out her Sunday best a dainty little dress of black & orange lace on its bosom was many flowers of strange description. With no apology or explanation Steve tore himself inside it fierce and brutal as a goanna with its head inside a chicken. Tugging the hem over his muddy moleskin knees he strapped his hobble belt around the middle then wedged in 2 short barrelled Webley pistols.

Out in the yard the husband were crying to his brood Run children run go run away they’ll lag us all.

The mother never heard this she were gobstruck staring at Steve Hart large fat tears sliding down her ruined cheeks.

By herrings she whispered thats my dress.

As Steve kneeled by the fire there were the loud ripping noise of fabric when she heard it she made a little cry. I’m sorry Missus said Steve scooping up ash some of it were dead and some of it were still alive he rubbed it heedless on his face & hair crying out eff and ess when the embers burned him.

You godless mongrel said the Missus.

Then Dan run in from the outhouse and the woman watched in horror as Steve sent her blue town dress flying across the hut it were caught by Dan in the doorway.

No please she pleaded but my brother’s eyes was dead as stone he begun to don the garment.

By the laws the Missus suddenly cried by the laws I’ll injure you severely.

She were no weakling she were broad of shoulder and substantial in the chest and once she armed herself with a splintery stick of firewood both boys retreated she were very fast indeed.

The traps is coming Steve explained but she chased the unnatural looking pair out the door calling all those curses Irish women use when they wish not to offend their Saviour. Salvation seize your soul sorrow take you but there never were a Holy Writ against club swinging so once she had gained the yard nothing could inhibit her. Each time Dan tried to get into her dress she set upon him and to the muddy injury he had already done the item she added bright red blood.

As Dan withdrew from her blows Steve called to him Gird yourself. Where he stole a word like that only the Lord knows but Steve Hart were a magpie. Gird yourself! Dan got the dress over his head then turned and come charging at the Missus or so she thought.

I told youse the Missus cried to her husband as she fled I told youse he’ll murder us all. She veered away towards the gully in the direction opposite to her fleeing brood one of which were later found wandering by the railway at Glenrowan.

Dan ran back into the hut also set to black his face by some recipe previously concocted with his mate but he had the brains to pour water into the ashcan. When he come out again into the muddy daylight he raised his filthy fist at Steve in wild salute.

We is the Sons of Sieve cried he. Dear daughter it is Sieve not Steve although it is off the latter that he must of learned it.

Joe Byrne meanwhile had mounted his horse he were in a very savage mood having decided to take as many coppers as he could before expiring but he had managed to slide no more than one cartridge into the Spencer when he were stopped short by the sight of Steve & Dan.

What the eff is this he asked but in the confusion of the moment he accepted the ash paste when it were offered urgently smearing it across his face.

We are the Sons of Sieve.

All the normal questions & profanities was prevented by our host he brung 2 saddled horses to Steve and Dan.

Bad cess on you boys said the furious old fellow. Harry Power never done nothing like this to my missus he were an adjectival friend to us.

Joe Byrne were confused he looked to Steve.

We is the Sons of Sieve.

O be off with you cried the old man you is an adjectival disgrace to bushranging I hope you effing die.

After a dangerously short ride this strange party come to a large flat grey rock high on a hillside here they could lay on their stomachs and watch the gathering of the undertakers 200 yd. below. Beyond a stand of white gums there were a flat clear area of grass it were here the army had gathered it had grown more heads than the Hydra now there was 30 men all armed to the teeth. Dan recognized Superintendent Nicolson the one who had arrested Harry Power but far more alarming was 2 blackfellows now in conversation with the Supt.

Niggers hissed Steve Hart I aint afraid of niggers.

Shut your hole said Joe still confused & discombobulated by the dress but for discussion on that topic there werent no time. What you is calling niggers is black trackers that one old b– – – – r is more dangerous than 20 effing Spencers.

They’ve no adjectival hope of reading our tracks you take my word for it.

Joe shook his head indicating what a waste of time it were to argue with a sissy boy but Steve insisted he said that swamp is all churned up by beasts therefore it follows the tracks cannot be read.

Listen to me girlie it don’t matter if a herd of wombats done their business them blackfellows can track us all the way to himself’s place.

Well we aint there so it don’t matter no road.

Is there nothing in that noggin fool? Ned will be there they’ll lag him the moment he arrives.

No matter how strange Steve looked how slight and weak he were never nervous of offering an opinion not even to a man bent on a maniacal war. No they won’t said he.

Joe already seen 2 traps were laying a sheet of canvas upon the grass a 2nd pair were breaking fallen branches beneath their feet.

They’re having an effing picnic.

Soon there were a merry fire and much tucker were produced. Clearly the blackfellows received no invitation to this feast and soon they retreated into the bush beside the swamp.

Joe Byrne now fed 5 cartridges into the Spencer’s cunning mechanism. There were no noise except what is made by a modern brass munition being levered into the chamber of a Spencer. We have to bag them blacks said he.

No one argued now he ordered that Steve take the horses behind the hill he were obeyed. When he told Dan to ensure his Webleys was both loaded my brother done so. Then Dan and Joe set off down the hill walking v. bandy legged on the sides of their boots so as to make less noise. Dan were sick at heart thinking there were no choice but murder.

Before too long they left them rocks & box trees entering the white gum bush the ground here were a cold & clammy bog. Dan followed Joe Byrne through the forest of peeling trunks lifting the hem of his dress with his left hand holding his Webley in his right it were a poor weapon accurate at most to 20 yd. Soon he heard the loud voices of the police then suddenly they was arrived at the deadly place.

Their knees was brushed with bracken fern the bark hanging from the trees like tattered skin already blasted in a war. Ahead they clearly seen the party of traps and even closer was 2 blackfellows sitting on their haunches amongst the stripes of dark & light. The older one were talking very quietly in their queer tongue the younger one replying only a word or 2.

Dan and Joe closed in very careful the snap of twig or leaf could give them away the boss tracker squatted in a mote of sunlight he were a sturdy old fellow with a tweed coat white moleskins a pair of knee high boots police issue. As Dan and Joe neared they could now make out the apprentice in the shadow a skinny young warrigal v. natty in tweed britches and blue shirt. At the same time Dan and Joe come upon him he reached the pitch of some complaint but what that were they couldnt understand.

Joe Byrne stepped out of the shade and the boy went quiet.

Nothing were said but the blacks rose slowly to their feet.

When Joe Byrne jerked the barrel the old man held his hands up in the air and his apprentice done the same tho it were an action obviously new to him.

You read them tracks to the police uncle Joe whispered.

The tracker shook his head.

You sure uncle?

The old boy knew the score immediate. Nothing here boss he whispered back I swear by Jesus them tracks all belong to cattle.

You tell them police fellahs there aint no tracks in here.

Them b––––rs get by very good without me boss you watch them.

They give you tucker uncle?

The old man shrugged.

You know my name uncle?

I reckon you Ned Kelly boss.

You know what Ned Kelly does to traps uncle.

Yes boss but I not a trap boss I not one of them Queensland b––––rs I aint hurt nobody.

Very good said Joe though he didn’t know what Queensland b––––rs was or what that meant. No more were said. The trackers sat down on their heels again the boys retreated back in amongst the shadows.

Them trackers was good as their word they never said nothing not then or even later they led the police away in the opposite direction straight back towards Eleven Mile Creek. Believe me this were no favour to your father.

Late that night the boys rode through the gap at Glenrowan. Once they descended onto the plain at Eleven Mile Creek they watched the hut for a good 2 hr. before they begun cautiously to approach. Finally Dan burst through the door and were distressed to discover it not only empty but abandoned to the rats.

Having previously received intelligence of Supt Nicolson’s approach I had already loaded Mary and George into a spring cart and with Maggie riding ahead as a scout we had set out along the meandering tracks threading through the river gums to Moyhu. Here the letter were posted to Mr Cameron that done we hurried onwards soon passing through the townships of Edi and Whitfield. When the moon rose Maggie turned home I then drove Mary & George all the way across the grey and white plains to the upper King River that is the doorway to the high country you will recall from the lesson I learnt off Harry Power. At dawn we safely made camp a mile or so from the Quinns. Cooked meat were delivered and the spring cart disposed of where it would not raise suspicions.

That same yellow dawn the boys had reached Moyhu securing a safe camp on Boggy Creek both parties remaining hidden through the day.

At dusk I saddled the cart horse a quiet old mare named Bessie I set Mary and her sick baby on her back this were no way to be either a mother or an outlaw but we had vowed never to be parted from each another. As the moon shone on the King Valley we begun to poke slowly up a spur on the western side of the King after the ridge were attained we proceeded south towards the mountains I were always in front leading Bessie by a rope but this were scratchy country & a great ordeal for Mary who would be no horsewoman even on McBean’s rich river flats.

We was in love as never before though it were certainly no time of bliss with the undertakers upon us your brother George v. sick indeed. We cantered into the valley near the Buckland Spur and once I located the old miner’s hut we both spent all our time trying to make the little fellow well. We had ridden all night but there were no rest the baby’s breath turning very bad and nothing settled on his stomach but would come back up accompanied by a deal of mucous. I woke the magpies with my axe cutting notches into the trunk of a mighty stringybark I got myself high enough to make a good harvest of eucalyptus leaves. Then with whatever was useful in the miner’s tip I constructed a eucalyptus still as in easier times I made one for poteen. To light a fire were a danger but this distillation would do the boy much better than the sulphur smoke.

By evening of the 2nd day his breathing were less troubled & at dusk I dropped a gum & peeled sufficient of its bark to make a most effective curtain. Thus we could permit ourselves a lighted candle. We ate cold mutton and once George slept I told Mary she too should rest and I went outside to keep watch over my family. My Colt were in readiness 6 percussion caps snugged on the nipples my charged .577 lay across my knees. Many hours passed but it were not until the dew begun to fall that I heard hooves amongst the river rocks I cocked the carbine’s hammer and held my fire.

3 riders come threading through the ti tree scrub. Thank God it were my mates delivered safely. Joe Byrne led the way into the clearing Dan’s gelding were very meek pushing his nose right into the mare’s tail and then Steve come hard behind. I could see no faces nor clearly distinguish Dan’s garment which I took to be a smock.

I called to Mary through the open door We got company.

She had been asleep but now come rushing to the doorway with the candle in her hand. Lifting this light she revealed a scene worthy of the Theatre Royal it were blackface men in dresses. I begun to laugh but then I heard her body fall & found her laying in a cold and muddy puddle by the door. She had fainted dead away.

Steve entered the hut like the Dame in the pantomime. Mary opened her eyes she never asked what happened or why she woke up back inside the hut nor did she smile or laugh or point at the dress. Instead she up and at him she ripped at his empty bosom and tugged at the yellow flowers around the lace.

This won’t solve nothing she cried.

Steve squared his shoulders and hooked his thumbs into his hobble belt but his eyes was filled with wild confusion.

Lay off said he retreating one more step. Mary were 6 in. shorter but now she invaded the territory he abandoned plucking at the dress until the lace tore in her hand.

It is Molly’s Child you think to make my Ned?

This made no sense we knew no Molly but Mary’s pretty face were scratched from her nightriding it give her a wild & desperate kind of look.

Get off me cried Steve his eyes asking would I help him but I were more confused than him.

Steve then pushed Mary in the direction of the hearth saying Fetch me an adjectival cup of tea why don’t you.

I would of punished him immediately but the slippery little Jesuit squirmed away. I caught his arm then seen Mary had chose to obey him she picked up a dirty tin pannikin slopping it full of cold black tea.

May it turn to adjectival poison in your Molly mouth.

Joe Byrne laughed to see Steve so disadvantaged by a woman but in a moment this become an ugly snort. He sunk down on the bench behind the splintered table and remained deep in shadows his brawny arms folded across his chest.

Ned if you won’t say it then I will.

I advised Joe not to say nothing he would regret telling him Mary were as good as wife to me.

It don’t matter she must not talk to Steve like that.

I would of dealt with him as well but Mary laid her cool hand upon my wrist.

Are you Joe she asked him butter would not melt in her mouth.

Bullet Eyes sized her up. It aint your place said he at last.

You are wrong she said this place is mine and Ned’s.

Jesus eff me cried Joe Byrne.

Shutup I said there aint no one standing watch and there is horses all around the hut.

Though Joe were a mad b––––r he could turn sensible at the drop of a penny he come outside with me as did Steve & Dan. The horses was in night hobbles they could hardly move so we released them and walked them down to the King and there they finally watered. No one said a word about what had taken place inside we talked quietly about the police the black trackers the 2 boys saying nothing of the dresses they was wearing.

When the animals had drunk their fill I led man and horse alike to an old holding yard a mile further upriver. Me & Harry Power had built it 9 yr. previous. Then I dispatched young Dan to keep lookout on the slope below the hut and sent Steve back to watch over Mary. All were now peaceful or so it seemed but when Joe and me brung home the firewood I was most annoyed to discover no food upon the table and your mother once more backing Steve Hart against the wall.

If you are the Son of Sieve what is you the son of? Can you tell me? Or must the priest ring the bell for you to give the correct response?

Steve were a man ready to die in war but also a boy he didnt know how to fight against an older sister. Its Ireland he offered.

Ireland is it continued Mary. Had she been a male she would of known to let him off the hook but she didnt realise Steve were already cowed. Well says she I’m sure you is nothing worse than a colonial lyre bird copying anything it hears.

Now fair go Missus you must not talk to me like that.

O said Mary her shoulders was so straight & slender I am sure it is a fine brave boy you are. I am sure you aint one of them murdering cruel b–––––ds who make Ireland such a Hell on earth.

If she had been a man this was the moment at which Joe Byrne would up and hit her and even were she the size of a shire horse he would of dropped her and kicked her in the throat for good measure. But now all he could do were stare balefully at me until he could bear his own silence no more.

Well whats this bloody dress Joe cried at last or is it some effing secret?

Its what is done in Ireland Joe said Steve sitting down beside him.

Joe seemed to wish no more affiliation with the boy in the dress than with the harpy woman. God Jesus help me said he.

Its what is done by the rebels insisted Steve as I’m sure you heard your own da relate. Its what is done when they wish to scare the bejesus out of the squatters.

In all my life entire this were the 1st time I ever heard that secret revealed. Mary come to the table and sit opposite Steve.

There aint no squatters in Ireland Steven Hart.

The knights then its just the same.

Knights?

The knights cried Steve the adjectival Queen of England for your information.

Then do you see. She paused.

What should we see Joe asked her coolly.

Mary lit an extra candle & the light washed up her long white arms and across her scratched and lovely face. You are Joe Byrne? She wedged the candle into a knothole in the table and now were clearly revealed the other deep knot I mean the fury in Joe Byrne’s forehead.

Then you should know Joe this costume is worn by Irishmen when they is weak and ignorant.

Doubtless Joe could not believe his ears. We is all adjectival Irish here his voice went lower hers went higher in reply. I am ever so sorry to go against you Joe Byrne but you are colonials. I am the Irish one and it is the truth I am telling when I say I have seen many men in dresses before today.

No one commented.

Mary then took a cup of sugar & a spoon she rose from her seat to carry the service around the table. Steve hesitated to accept the gift then took 2 spoonfuls and stirred his pannikin in silence.

If wearing sheets & masks & dresses were such a powerful remedy said she well then Ireland would be a paradise on earth and all the Kings of England have burnt in Hell. Do you Steve Hart wish to turn the people against my Ned?

We is 4 men Joe interrupted 4 men what has the whole damn country trying to murder us theres £1,000 upon our heads there is 30 traps wandering the plains with authority to shoot us dead on sight. My guts is bad my marrow is hurting the last thing I need is to have lessons in this business from a tart.

If you steal from the poor selectors began Mary.

God save me cried Joe she’s worse than an effing solicitor I hope she don’t cost as much.

Mary handed me her sugar bag I returned it to the table then took her by the arm.

Come dear I said I took her by the arm.

I won’t shutup Ned I’m sorry but I will do you all the great favour of telling you what uniform these boys is wearing.

Dear God thought I even a murderer does sometimes deserve a holiday but as I thought it Mary begun the tale with Joe Byrne sitting in judgment on her his hostile yellow eyes examining her.

Your mother stood in the middle of the hut with her hands clasped in front of her a scratch on her cheek had begun to bleed.

My da she said he were a blacksmith in a village by name of Templecrone you never heard the name don’t worry Steven Hart you talked about them knights well in this part of Donegal there were a Lord and he would sometimes leave a horse with my da for shoeing and then neglect to collect it until he were good and ready the poor blacksmith bearing the cost of feeding & stabling.

There wasnt no knight but there were Lord Hill and one morning he left behind an uncommon horse he were a gelding very high and handsome jet black in colour. The white blaze upon its forehead were exactly in the shape of the map of Ireland everyone remarked on it.

When nighttime fell no one come down from the so called GREAT HALL to collect Lord Hill’s horse my da grumbled O it were an imposition O it were a liberty but I noticed he give the beast molasses with its oats so I knew he loved that horse he couldnt help himself.

It were winter so the light went early much earlier than it ever does in Benalla. In Templecrone it were pitch black by 4 o’clock of the afternoon and on this one day there were a great storm out in the Atlantic & a fisherman were drowned the winds terrible loud and bitter. It were me who heard the knocking on the door at 1st I thought it were the wind.

But here was men in dresses.

They was the Sons of Sieve said Steve Hart but your mother would not be distracted. I were 6 yr. old said she and they was big men all their faces was blacked and one of them were a great lanky galoot he had a mask. They was each man holding burning faggots and the high wind were making them flare up high and wild licking towards the fringes of the thatch.

Get your da said the leader his voice very stern but still I imagined it were some prank like is practised by the strawboys when they put on the dresses or the sheets going from house to house on Halloween or May Eve and you must do what they say or else will have some trick played on you. Behind the men in dresses were a larger mob though being only 6 yr. old I were not afraid not at all I fetched my da and I tried to stay close by him to hear what favour the men would demand or trick they would threaten but then the da pulled me back into the house shutting the door behind him when he stepped outside.

We was a big family 7 girls and me the middle one. It were bath night and since my ma were no more a housekeeper than me today I knew one child would not be missed so I put on my slippers and my mother’s shawl then crept outside to see what fun & games would now take place.

The whole crowd of men had pushed into the stables by the time I arrived and my da already persuaded them to put out their faggots for he had a mighty fear of fire he had lit his own lanterns at his personal expense. There was 5 horses stabled on that particular night but Molly’s Children and their friends was all gathered around the stall of one and of course it were that tall black gelding property of Lord Hill.

I can tell you very particular how the men was dressed though all was not dressed the same. 6 of them wore dresses these was for the most part garments their wives would of happily give away they were sewn and patched and torn our village was poor enough but no woman would have use for these dresses not even to tend the pigs. All the men had black ash or coal painted on their faces some had been most mindful to cover every skerrick of white skin the rest was pretty careless. There were one had a mask made out of the feathers of a wren or many wrens a fierce looking thing I would not have recognised its owner excepting he wore his wife’s dress so I knew it straight away. He were the tenant on a strip of land out on Thinglow Road in truth it were not so hard to name the others.

My da knew the men too but he did not speak to them familiar and though they was sober he talked to them like they were very drunk and might take offence at the smallest thing.

Now boys said he now I’ll be fair with you. If hat you have then hat he’ll wear I’ll not say no to that.

I wondered what hat this might be then one of the men got down in the stall to secure a top hat on the horse’s head it werent a proper hat it had been made particular for a horse. The poor beast didnt like it and went to shaking its head the effect so very comic I laughed myself.

There Lord Hill said the man. He called the horse LORD HILL although his name were MERCURY.

Then another chap produced a sack from which he took a kind of crimson blanket with a white cotton border in other words it were made up to look like the cloak of a Cardinal or Lord. My father permitted this raiment to be laid upon the beast.

Ah Lord Hill said the 1st man what a Lord you is to Lord it over us.

Ah Lord Hill said another this land is our land it is not yours to take and give. What say you to that Lord Hill?

Even if Mercury answered to the name Lord Hill he could not of course say nothing. One of the men jumped down into the stall he had what is called a twitch a loop of rope which is put round a horse’s lip and when its turned the animal cannot easily move its head so now he fitted this device and twisted it.

We know what an adjectival twitch is Joe Byrne says.

Answer me you b–––––d said the man you can say whatever you like. Of course the horse said nothing how could it?

Very well said the man then you is to be put on trial and we’ll see how well you like that.

The men in dresses now all jumped down into the stall like spiders dropping from a tree. Being farmers they was swift & skilful they soon got more ropes around the poor creature than around Gulliver if you ever heard the story. The horse found himself so tightly bound he could move no more than a fly in a web but his big dark eyes was full of fear I thought it a prank but I do believe poor Mercury had seen his fate he knew no good would come of it.

Then they took a knife and a long stick.

Mary stopped.

I do not like to say it.

No one encouraged her we all was horsemen staying v. quiet to think of this horse so cruelly tormented though still wondering what would happen.

They done to the horse what they dare not do to its master. The stick were sharpened to a point then hardened in the fire and the man with the wren mask thrust it in the horse’s belly.

O Jesus cried Dan he had just come in to be relieved from his watch.

O yes said Mary fiercely they stuck it in a good foot deep and when it come out there were a portion of its gut attached like to a crochet needle.

The b– – – – – ds said Joe Byrne.

My da then jumped into the stall.

Joe slammed his fist against the table all the metal pots jumped in the air.

My da seized the stick from the wren man and tried to break it over his knee but then all the men in ugly dresses leapt upon him they dragged him outside the stall and in the high alley of the bay they thrashed my da they struck him on the head and shoulders with the stick threatening they would do the same thing to him as they done to the horse.

My Mary were now crying trapped inside her horror like a bird inside a church I couldnt reach her no one could. Her da were left bleeding in the dirt she said she would of gone to him but she feared they would bring the dreadful stick to him so she stayed in hiding. She heard grown men blame the horse for taking their common land they said the proof were having Ireland on his head and they demanded of the poor beast why they should not take Ireland back from him. Much horror the girl saw and heard the horse were shrieking horribly.

In the midst of this cruelty her father saw his pretty dark haired daughter lying curled up in the shadows. Then he rose up with a great roar and swept her into the house and there barred the door and when it once were locked he gave the girl to her mother.

What more happened Mary didnt know only that for a long time that night the wind were not high enough to blunt the wailing of the horse.

In the morning when she woke there was soldiers all round the house and she seen the grand Lord Hill come dressed as for Parliament a powdered wig upon his head. The children wasnt permitted out of doors but nonetheless she observed the remains of the horse being loaded onto the cart it were sickening to see the butchery done to it.

The white blaze were later found in the house out on Thinglow Road the tenant were Michael Connor he were convicted of Swearing Oaths and Theft of Property then he and 5 other farmers were hanged in Donegal.

My da were a United Man said Mary but he give evidence against them all and I will tell you boys if you wish to ride around in this costume the people will not love you. You must ease their lives not bring them terror.

Joe Byrne set down the cup and walked out into the night.

That night inside the hut beside my Mary I were restless my beard hot & itching my limbs as agitated as a threshing machine what horrible visions assaulted me e.g. what were my father doing with that dress in the tin trunk and to what purpose. That is the agony of the Great Transportation that our parents would rather forget what come before so we currency lads is left alone ignorant as tadpoles spawned in puddles on the moon. Laying on the damp floor of the miner’s hut I smelt the smoke and ashes of your mother’s hair she were a sweet young girl she were a stranger from an ancient time.

Joe went to keep his watch & then Steve returned to stretch out upon his oilskin coat. As written he were a little fellow but he had a blacksmith’s snore and once his organ begun to play I pulled on my elastic sides and went out into the air. I were well accustomed to the bush at night but this one were like a nightmare all the black gum trees looked alien and monstrous. Joe Byrne were amongst them somewhere.

At night every river has a secret twin a ghost of air washing above the living water down towards the sea I arrived at a flat white gravel bed where our shallow creek joined the river and there I felt the cold air on my cheek and with it an unholy smell it were poor Joe Byrne he were afflicted by the diarrhoea. He were silent in his agony a contrast to old Harry Power who would moan & thrash & curse the heavens for his pain.

Are you crook old man I asked when he come down to the river. I couldnt see his eyes but his teeth grinned white.

I’d give my bawbles for a pipe said he A little oyouknow would fix me up. He were still smiling but his voice were hard as a spoon rattling in a metal cup.

I had no opium but I did have news to comfort him I told him the letter to Mr Cameron were posted.

This give him no relief the opposite it set him off on a furious bout of leg scratching. O we’ll all be pardoned now said he I’m sure they’ll set your mother free.

Well perhaps they will.

O Christ Ned do you know who this Cameron fellow is? Do you know what sort of house he lives in?

I read what he said in Parliament.

Yes he is an effing politician.

Yes thats what they have in Parliament.

And you think a politician will defend the likes of us? We are weevils in their flour.

What is the matter with your legs Joe?

It aint my legs mate its my effing neck. You should of come to me about that letter I don’t mean no offence but when Cameron sees your writing he’ll think us even worse than what we are.

He would of said more except a spasm took him and for a moment all he could utter were eff and ess. If Cameron were a horse he said at last you’d see he were swaybacked and short necked you’d never effing look at him.

It were in the paper Joe you read it too.

You is a very clever bloke Ned save you don’t know a rat’s arse about politics.

And you aint read my adjectival letter mate.

O Jesus he cried bending over his guts were exceptionally bad O Christ you’re impossible. I got to go he said then stumbled through the ti tree scrub to find a private place.

When the last troubled smudge of Joe were swallowed in the bush I removed my boots I left them on the bank and picked my way through the water out to the larger boulders. Finally I found a flat white rock it were wide but narrow enough so I could lay down and drop my arms and let the river run briefly across my wrists. The story of the poor horse had laid a greasy pall upon me now the cold mountain stream were like a poultice drawing out all the ancient poisons I filled my hat with water pouring it across my head it smelt of earth & moss same as the flesh of a river trout. The clouds was light but queerly yellow on their edges as they moved across the ageless constellations.

I woke in bed next morning to discover Mary sitting over me the baby in her arms. It were still too early for any birds except a solitary robin in the scrub beside the hut. You must leave me here she whispered I replied there were no choice we all of us had to keep on moving.

His fever is too high he cannot travel.

I did not speak roughly but in the leaden light I firmly removed baby George from her arms carrying him out of the hut down under the twisted black ti tree past the wet dresses which Dan or Steve must of washed in the middle of the night the garments was spread like catfish skins upon the river bank.

What are you doing?

We are going to cool him.

At my command she got down in the freezing water then I unwrapped the steaming baby from his shawl it were a shocking vision he had always been a hefty wombat but now his ribs was prominent his skin the colour of lamb fat in the river water.

O the poor darling she wailed as I baptised him holding him under his arms in the mountain water O dear Jesus it is a cruel thing to have a baby in this country.

I paid no attention to her keening for I knew this were exactly how our mother cured our fevers so now I passed the patient back to her then filled my hat and give him another dose onto the head.

It will kill him she cried her eyes was pooled with tears. O Jesus help me what will I do? The baby’s eyes was sunk his protest against the icy water were as weak & thin as paper.

I had no wish to torture a child but could not let my boys be captured and would never abandon this woman and baby unprotected in the bush.

By the time we come back to the hut it were clear he were much cooler his lips was blue so Mary wrapped him in the shawl then all 5 of us squatted round him looking down to see if he might improve. The boys was never short of an opinion but in this case all was silent. They didnt wish to be nabbed on account of a baby yet they was not cruel and it were jittery Joe who dipped his finger in water and put it in the baby’s mouth. If the fingernail were dirty George never minded he sucked it very hard. That very moment we clearly heard the sound of a horse or horses splashing through the river crossing.

Traps cried Dan then Joe violently jerked back his finger from the baby’s mouth. George of course begun to bawl Mary cooed at him but she were too slow for the circumstances so I licked my finger dipped it in the sugar bag and stuck my finger in the sucky mouth. The baby’s silence were as valuable as life itself.

Joe urgently racked a shell into the chamber and slipped out the door Steve were after him but messy Dan waited till now to fumble with his powder flask.

Come Mary I said I’ll put your finger in the sugar too.

But Mary cared only to hold her child and neglected the sugar. So my sugar finger must remain inside the mouth as we crabbed together with the baby on my left hand and my .577 cocked in my right. We edged beside a narrow tributary to a place where tall swordgrass covered the stream and here Mary lay down as in a grave & when I looked in her frightened eyes I knew we could not live like this no more I could not have her follow me as the wives followed their husbands into war in olden days.

A fright of blood red parrots flared & swept through the khaki forest.

Ahead of me some 20 yd. Joe jumped out from behind a grasstree he sprinted towards the river the Spencer in his hand. Racing after him I wondered would I ever lay eyes on my wife again then I seen Steve and Dan rising cautiously from behind a fallen log my ears was filled with my own crashing footsteps I ran through knee high bracken.

A single rider were now clearly visible through the scrub I stopped to raise my Enfield but then he kicked his horse forward and I seen it were Joe’s mate Aaron Sherritt. In his hand he held a small wooden box and it were towards this that Joe Byrne ran & I saw what I must of known before. He were both slave & lover to the Chinaman.

I did not like Aaron he were always whispering in Joe’s ear seeking out Joe’s eye making mention of this place & that time neither one the rest of us could ever know. The minute he come into our camp he took Joe down to the river where the pair of them indulged in the contents of that Chinese box and smoked their pipe and pickled their bodies with celestial taint. When he come back Aaron’s mocking mouth were smiling at us like he knew things he would not tell. And yet and yet and yet I cannot fault Aaron Sherritt he were as tough as nails a mighty bushman.

It were thanks to Aaron’s information we knew a small fire might be risked in the hut’s old fireplace and his gift of bacon & eggs could now be cooked. Mary sat alone on the single bench us men leaned against the dusty log walls smoking pipes & roll ups while Aaron poked peacefully at his frying bacon describing to us the various parties of armed police Captains Commissioners & Superintendents all the most important actors in the colony was in search of us daily racing from hut to hut along the roads across the open plains.

Aaron pulled a battered MELBOURNE ARGUS from his back pocket it were still a shock to see my name so famous. Aaron drew our attention to a squib it showed the Police Commissioner holding a dead possum with all his men arranged behind him as if they had slain a mighty lion the scene were set inside a settler’s hut and a mote of light streamed through a hole in the bark roof illuminating the dead marsupial. The engraving made no sense till we learned of the raid on the Sherritt family’s hut at Sebastopol this is now a famous story perhaps you heard it. Imagining he’d found the Kelly Gang’s headquarters the Commissioner let off a shotgun as he entered and so not only scared the pants off Aaron’s brother Jack but blasted a hole in the bark roof and killed the ringtailed possum. The caption to the drawing read A SAD CASE OF MISTAKEN IDENTITY.

For a change the ARGUS had no cartoons of Superstitious Mick or Ignorant Bridget the Irish maid instead the pictures was of the coppers their point being they did not have the brains to find the Kellys. Here is one from MELBOURNE PUNCH I paste it down upon the page.

Whipper (who has never been beyond Keilor Plains): “I say, aint it shameful they don’t catch the Kellys? Why don’t the police jump on their horses and ride ’em down?”

Snapper (who has been as far as Dandenong): “No sir, you’re wrong—quite wrong—strategy, sir—strategy’s the thing—wait for ’em behind a tree!!”

After the Commissioner departed from the Sherritts’ he led the charge onto Joe Byrne’s mother’s property interrupting the old dame’s milking. Aaron had a long lazy jaw and laughing hazel eyes he told this story particularly to Joe he done it very comical performing Mrs Byrne’s Irish curses and Commissioner Standish retreating backwards from the bails and standing in a cow pat with his nice clean boots.

All Joe’s pains was gone he laughed but I began to see the storyteller did not really like me laughing too. I never thought Aaron very clever but always a good natured chap though today I observed a calculating quality about them merry eyes. Soon he abandoned his funny stories asking Joe to keep an eye on the bacon and do it like at Hodgson’s Creek whatever that meant. Can I have a word Ned?

His mouth were still making a smile but he didnt look at me till we come to a sandy patch beneath the ti tree. Here he squatted as a bushman will do then broke a stick and for a moment I believed he intended to draw a map.

Well he said I see you is very adjectival jolly.

I asked him what were eating him.

I aint talking against you.

You aint said nothing yet.

I got to be honest mate everyone knows the b– – – – rs will get you in the end everywhere I go they’re offering money for information. I want to keep Joe’s spirits up but only a fool can’t see how this will end.

I thanked him for his confidence though my sarcasm were wasted.

You should let go of Joe mate said he smiling.

I aint holding him Aaron.

He don’t deserve this punishment he didnt kill no one yet as you well know.

I am sure Joe will go if he wishes to.

You have a power over him Ned he don’t deserve this outcome.

What outcome might that be?

You know he said but he couldnt hold my eye.

Is that to mean that I deserve it Aaron?

Seeing he could not answer I set back off towards the hut.

Theres something else he called I seen he were holding out an envelope. Thinking it were Cameron’s reply I grabbed for what I thought an envelope but it were just a pale green square of paper speckled like a plover’s egg. I asked him what it were but he only shrugged.

Unfolding the paper I seen nothing but the words NED KELLY it were the slow hand of an individual not fully confident of their education. Where is this from?

But I already knew the answer.

It is reckoned to be from your ma.

I seen how Ellen Kelly had secretly laboured upon that scrap and it pierced my heart that NED KELLY should serve not only as name & address but must carry all the weight of shame and subjugation teeming in her breast. Them b–––––ds would not give her paper she must of stole it & pencil both & when she were sent to walk back & forth alone in the yard of Melbourne Gaol she tied her message to a rock and threw it into the rockyard thus did young girls write love letters to their men.

Prison is a hard place the souls within it murderers or worse but them 2 words was carried by some unknown person to someone else unknown there were no gain to it only risk but even the lowest of them prisoners knew what were done against my mother were UNFAIR. The Queen of England should beware her prisons give a man a potent sense of justice.

One Monday morning Maggie come out of Mr Zinke’s office in Beechworth and there was waiting a hawknosed old lag with his brows pushed down hard upon his eyes he asked were she Maggie Skilling and give her the paper when she affirmed it.

Maggie soon passed the scrap to Aaron who handed it to me and the demand made of a son by them 2 words were clear. Now of course it were no single man standing in between me and my mother not only Bill Frost or George King but also the Governor the Premier & the Police Commissioner & Superintendents Nicolson & Hare and below them all the great pyramid of serfs Fitzpatrick & Hall & Flood nearly 100 of them to be defeated.

Telling Aaron to go back inside I cogitated by myself in the dank little clearing beside the King the ti tree scrub was hung with flotsam from the October floods the earth was moist with rotting bark scented with mud and eucalyptus. In that fragrant chapel with God as my witness I swore an oath that if Mr Cameron’s character were as Joe Byrne had warned and if he did not soon release my mother then I would burst the prison walls asunder and take her back myself.

As Aaron departed he done me the disservice of leaving Joe deep in useless dreams I told the boys they was to guard him and Mary and the baby while I went to find something for the dinner pot but that were not the truth I were set to devise a stratagem equal to my vow.

When I left the camp at Sandy Flat even the clouds seemed party to my confusion and for much of the day they hung low above my head the colour of dirty wool. I had not the least idea of where to look or what to do and even my horse showed pity treating me like she would a woman or a child. She were so sorry she refrained from pigrooting when I mounted.

All day we poked along through the maze of wild ridges me talking to her while her ears flicked back to listen but she had no better idea of what I should do next.

How I wished for a better man a Captain to advise me. My own father died when I were 12 yr. old the only boss I ever had were Harry Power and once I seen his feet of clay I left him far behind or so I thought. Yet as this dismal cloudy day wore on I finally understood I were still the apprentice and Harry were the master I were still following his rutted track. It were on account of him I knew this were a blind gully and that were the best spur to get me to the humpback ridge. Your Ignorance he called me when teaching me the secrets of the Strathbogies the Warbies & the Wombat Ranges. If you know the country he said then you will be a wild colonial boy forever.

This were untrue as were proved by his own arrest and incarceration in Pentridge Gaol but this were his path I loyally followed and if I pushed along the Buckland Spur till dusk why I might end up in Harry’s bolthole on the cliff above the Quinns and wake tomorrow morning with Supt Nicolson crashing on me like a grey box in a storm.

I reined in my mare but there were a patch of loose shale & she propped & slid with the crupper hard around her tail as she steadied on the ledge below. Beyond this precipice were a mighty sea now ridge after lonely ridge rolling all the way to Mount Cobbler and in this wild and roiling landscape I finally seen the truth.

The bush protected no one. It had been men who protected Harry and it were a man who betrayed him in the end. Harry always knew he must feed the poor he must poddy & flatter them he would be Rob Roy or Robin Hood he would retrieve the widow’s cattle from the pound and if the poor selectors ever suffered harassment or threats on his behalf he would make it up with a sheep or barrel of grog or fistful of sovereigns.

Harry were not captured because the traps suddenly learned his trails and hideouts he were arrested when he put a lower price on his freedom than the government were prepared to pay. The sad truth is the poor people’s love is cupboard love and all it took was £500 for the police to be led directly to his secret door.

Harry can be excused he never heard his own blood price but ours were advertised in every paper it was as well known as the price of stockmen £1 a week and drovers £40 a year the Kelly Gang were worth £800. I aint no scholar as I said but the arithmetic were simple we would muster £8,000 and scatter it around the district like water on the drought bare plains. This good news I brung back to camp but I were away too long it seemed too many hours had passed since Joe’s last smoke he now were sneezing & his nose were running and his good mood were all gone and he were once more out of temper with the world.

Kelly you are adjectival mad he cried slamming his fist onto the splintered table I will not effing do it I’m damned if I will I’ve gone too deep already.

In the silence that followed Mary quietly lit the lamp and once the yellow light washed up the cobwebbed walls it shone into Joe’s beard and I seen that flaw to his looks that harelip hidden deep in the shelter of his fair moustache. I will not rob a bank he said.

What are you frightened of asked Dan they are going to hang us anyway.

He were a brave little b––––r but I got his pimply beak and twisted him off his chair and down onto his bony knees I promise you I cried I promise all of youse that you will not be hanged.

You’ll not be hurt cried Mary she hung the lantern off the hook above the table. Not one of you brave boys will be harmed.

That’s very comforting said Joe Byrne are you a witch?

Mary put her nose against the baby’s head but her eyes never left Joe’s glare. You have my word she said.

Joe were famous as a ladies’ man in Beechworth he brought them gloves or stole them scarves there were nothing he did not know of how to make a woman happy but now he were pale and sick he had no charm. You’re barking mad he told my wife.

Shutup I told him.

You are both mad you too Ned you cannot break your mother out of Melbourne Gaol.

Well he never said he could cried Mary.

Yes but thats what he’s thinking. I know him girlie he loves his ma like nothing else.

Ned tell him you don’t think that Ned.

He couldnt do it said Joe not if he robbed 2 banks not if he had £100,000.

Don’t tell me what I’ll do Joe Byrne.

We’ve spilled their blood the only hope is California O Jesus he cried eff you Kelly just let me go.

I pursued him outside the sky were dusk white above the black umbrellas of the gums Joe Byrne had mighty thighs & calves he were noisy as a wombat crashing up the scrubby hill he were cursing eff and ess I followed him for 50 yd. the sticks was snapping like baby ribs beneath his angry boots. Then come a thick silence.

Even if you got a ship I called you’d have to grease the Captain’s palm also pay your passage Joe where else would we get the money but from a bank?

I aint afraid of dying he said at last then I made out his lumpy shape he were sitting on a stump or rock or fallen tree.

This plan don’t call for dying.

I won’t kill I have enough bad dreams already.

Or killing neither.

A long silence from us while the kookaburra gave its last call for the night.

Just let your ma serve out her term it aint so long. We both done as much time in prison and it hasnt killed us yet.

But I were not prepared to debate with him about my obligations they was no less to my mother than to him. I took a noisy step or 2 towards him and he backed away. Go back to Aaron but don’t whine like a yellow cur.

I aint leaving said the maddening b––––r don’t you know why?

I did not answer when he spoke again there were a tremor in his voice. Ned you are as good a man as I ever known. He come through the dark putting his clammy grip upon my arm. I am your mate he said thats my bad luck.

He were Aaron’s mate I thought thats worse luck still. We walked to the hut no one spoke until our eyes was naked in the candle light.

I’ll tell you what I’ll do for you he said I’ll go to Benalla and inspect the bank.

He’ll inspect some opium I thought.

You don’t have to come back Joe you could send word.

Thank you Ned he said engaging himself urgently with his tobacco pouch.

Later while he saddled his bay I stood waiting in the blue night with Steve and Dan. Joe said we soon would know how the bank were guarded and the most profitable day to rob it I did not expect nothing of him now. When he mounted he done the unusual thing of leaning down to shake my hand.

Don’t kick no one in the knees I said.

In the bawbles more like it.

I waited until the soft clomp of the hooves could be heard no more then I also parted from the youngsters it were me towards the hut Steve and Dan to keep the 1st watch of the night together.

Inside the hut I could hear George’s snotty milky breathing I were melancholy.

Dear asked Mary.

Yes?

I have been wondering if grumpy Joe is so mistaken. Why should we not all sail to America?

O Jesus Mary we have no money Mary we have to rob the bank to get the money if we are to get away.

But when we have the money dear?

Well 1st we have to rob the bank Mary there aint no avoiding it.

This were the moment our misunderstanding begun I were not ready to discuss how the money would be used I were thinking only how to rob the bank without the boys being killed. But your mother had travelled many miles beyond that place she already had the sea spray on her cheeks.

I been wondering said she exactly what experience do you have of robbing banks.

I think I know well enough how to rob a bank.

O forgive me she said I never knew it were something you done before.

You must not let Joe worry you I reckon I can rob a bank.

She come to join me at the table. I wished to hold her in my arms to run my fingers down her slender back to place my hands across the curve of her stomach.

And how would that be she asked. It were such a clear straight gaze she had.

I didnt think bank robbing were an art of much interest to women.

It is a subject that is become more than 1/2 interesting to me. For instance would you be planning to stroll in the front door?

I fancy thats as good a door as any other.

And would you rob the bank when it were locked or unlocked?

When it were unlocked.

Unlocked?

That don’t suit you Madam?

I certainly would not arrive when the bank were open said the surprising girl. I never would wish to have the difficulty of dealing with customers as well as the tellers.

O would you not now?

I would go after 3 o’clock when they were tallying the take then I would knock at the door and have a cheque with me that I needed urgent to be cashed.

Mary I said you must of robbed a bank before.

I have a baby in my womb said she that I would like the pleasure of seeing upon her father’s knee.

You understand I have an obligation to my mother?

Indeed I do and to me as well.

That I do.

You should expect the manager to have his pistol handy.

I will knock at the door and the mongrel will shoot me dead?

Well that certainly is the danger at Benalla where old Patrick McGrath will know your face don’t you think? And Philips who drank with us and Fitzy that night at the Bridge Hotel he’s still head teller but I were thinking Ned are you known at all in Euroa?

Mary it were you showed me the drawings in the papers they’ll have seen them in Euroa too.

Then the Euroa bank will be expecting the Devil not my handsome Ned. Let me trim your beard you get yourself a nice suit from Mr Gloster and anyone will see you is a darling darling man they would think you was a squatter. The tellers would have to open the door if you had a cheque to cash.

And would you not come to the door for me my Mary?

I would cross the world for you. She come around the table and then she took my scabbed and callused hands and placed them carefully upon her.

Dear daughter you know I never had no proper education at Avenel I would have to be there with my sixpence each Monday morning except when my father were in the lockup and then my mother must be granted a CERTIFICATE OF DESTITUTION. From the time we went to Greta I had no school at all so there are much better educated men than me to write the story of our robbery and you may study this account as a fair example. Yet not one of them scribes was sufficient for your mother’s taste as you will note from her comments on the sides. Heres my cutting and theres your ma she sits watch on these sentences like a steel nibbed kookaburra on the fences in the morning sun.

The Morning Chronicle, December 11, 1878

The Sticking Up of Faithfull’s Creek Station

THE HOMESTEAD OF FAITHFULL’S CREEK STATION IS THREE MILES along the railway line from Euroa and only a stone’s throw from the railway line itself. Shortly after noon on Monday one of the employees of the station, a man named Fitzgerald, was sitting down to dinner in his hut when a bushman sauntered up to the door, and taking his pipe out of his mouth, inquired if Mr McCaulay, the overseer, was about. Fitzgerald replied, “No, he will be back towards evening.” The bushman said, “Oh never mind, it is of no consequence.”

Fitzgerald continued to eat his dinner, but the door of his hut was open and he had a clear view of the bushman beckoning to some persons in the distance. As Fitzgerald was finishing his dinner he saw two very rough looking characters join the bushman. They were leading four very fine horses, in splendid condition. There were four bays.

3 bays and a grey

The bushman then proceeded to the homestead.

He was very handsome, over six ft. tall, built in proportion

Mr Fitzgerald’s wife was, at that time, engaged in household duties in the homestead kitchen. The old dame was considerably surprised that a bushman would enter with no invitation, she asked him who he was and what he wanted. He said, “I’m Ned Kelly, but do not be afraid; we shall do you no harm, but you will want to give us some refreshments and food for our horses, that’s all we want.”

Mrs Fitzgerald immediately called for her husband who duly arrived. His spouse introduced him to the bushman, saying, “This is Mr Kelly, he wants some refreshments and food for his horse.” By this time Kelly had drawn his revolver and Fitzgerald, knowing him to be the Mansfield Murderer, said, “Well, of course, if the gentlemen want any refreshment they must have it.” Ned Kelly then entered into a conversation with the Fitzgeralds, making very particular enquiries about the number of people employed at the station. To all questions satisfactory answers were given.

While this was going on two other men, one of whom is now known to be Dan Kelly, were busily engaged in feeding the horses. A fourth man was standing at the gate, evidently keeping watch.

Kelly then took Mr Fitzgerald to a building used as a storehouse and locked him inside, all the time making assurances that no harm was intended to anybody. As the station hands came up to the huts to get their dinner they were very quietly ordered to bail up and were marched into the storehouse and locked up with Fitzgerald, no violence being offered them as they went quietly.

3 of these men knew E. Kelly’s good character for many a year

Later in the afternoon Mr McCaulay, the overseer, returned from his rounds and when crossing the bridge over the creek he noticed with some surprise that quietness reigned about the station. As he neared the storehouse he heard Mr Fitzgerald call out from the building, “The Kellys are here. You will have to bail up.” He did not believe this but then Ned Kelly came out of the house and, covering him with his revolver, ordered him to bail up. McCaulay, without dismounting, said, “What is the good of sticking up the station? We have no better horses than those you have.” Kelly then repeated that he wanted food and refreshment; he also added that he wished a place for he and his men to sleep.

Still McCaulay did not believe it was the Kelly gang, but when Dan Kelly came out of the house he recognised, he said, “his ugly face” from the portraits previously published in this newspaper.

D. Kelly has clear blue eyes, strong cheekbones, a strong and handsome face

McCaulay then said to the Kellys, “Well, if we are to remain here we may as well make ourselves as comfortable as possible, and have our tea.” He led them back into the homestead. The Kellys, however, were very cautious. They took great care that some of the prisoners should taste the food first, being afraid poison might be administered to them. Nor would all four of them sit down at once. Two of them had their meals while the other two kept watch until relieved. It was just as the second pair finished Mrs Fitzgerald’s Mutton Stew, that the cry went up there was a new arrival, a hawker with his wagon and two horses. This was Mr Gloster,

On time to the minute

who has a shop in Seymour, but is in the habit of travelling about the country with a general assortment of clothing and fancy goods.

Ned Kelly called out to him to bail up, but Gloster did not see the danger and went about unharnessing his horses as was his normal custom. Daniel Kelly immediately raised his gun and was about to fire when Ned Kelly prevented him doing so. McCaulay also called out to Mr Gloster he should bail up or there would be blood shed. Gloster, who appears to have been a pretty obstinate fellow, took no notice of the threats of the Kellys or the entreaties of the overseer and so continued about his business. Ned Kelly put his revolver to Gloster’s cheek and ordered him obey or he would blow his – – – – – – – brains out. At this point quite a drama was enacted in the dusty yard and it was only by the endeavours of Mr McCaulay that Kelly was prevented from shooting Gloster. Dan Kelly was eager for blood, as he expressed a strong wish “to put a bullet through the ––––––– wretch.” Gloster was then locked up in the storeroom and the four ruffians then proceeded to ransack the poor man’s cart where they each provided themselves with a new outfit. As luck would have it the fit was very good

A strange coincidence indeed

and the four soon made bush dandies of themselves, helping themselves freely to the contents of the scent bottles which they found among the stock.

E. Kelly wore a blue sac coat, brown tweed trousers and vest, elastic-sided boots, brown felt hat

Before going to bed for the night, the Kellys opened the door of the storeroom, and let the party out for a while to get some fresh air, but at the same time keeping their revolvers in their hands and watching their prisoners very closely. While they were all smoking pipes together, a friendly conversation took place. Ned Kelly said, “I have seen the police often and have heard them often. If I had been a murderer I could have killed them any time I chose.” He spoke a great deal about his mother whom he continued to insist had been unjustly imprisoned and her newborn baby cruelly taken from her. He gave the clear impression he would give himself up if the government would release his mother.

Not true. He never said this. He will give himself up on no account.

DESTRUCTION OF TELEGRAPH

Having locked up their prisoners for the night, two of the gang went to sleep, while the others were keeping watch. Early next morning they were all up, and breakfast having been taken of, one of the gang was sent by their leader to render the telegraph wires unfit for use. There are wires on both sides of the line. On the west there is a single line belonging to the railway department, while on the opposite side are four lines used for the general business of the colony. These are sustained by light iron poles. In order to destroy the railway telegraph the earthenware insulators were broken, and the line fell to the ground. A great deal more damage was done, however, to the other lines, as the ruffians took some stout limbs and smashed seven or eight of the cast iron poles, and then twisted the wires into an inextricable maze. The Kellys appeared to be very uneasy when the trains passed up and down the line. The passengers were plainly seen from the homestead looking at the broken telegraph wires. It was not until afternoon, however, that a train stopped and a man got out. He proved to be a line repairer sent down from Benalla to see what was wrong. As soon as the train passed out of sight the man was made prisoner and locked up inside the storeroom. When this was done, Ned Kelly went to Mr McCaulay and asked him to write a cheque for him on the National Bank of Euroa. This McCaulay bravely refused to do,

He was at no risk and he knew it

but in searching the desk Kelly found a cheque for £4 and some odd shillings. He said this would answer his purpose well enough. The gang now prepared to make a start, Kelly saying they were going into the township, and that everyone including Mr McCaulay would have to be locked up during the gang’s absence. One of the gang, a man named Byrne,

A loyal brave friend who would not depart the colony until all concerned could set sail together

was to stay behind as sentry over them, and in order to secure their quietness one of the prisoners was taken out and kept covered by Byrne’s rifle. The clear intimation was that if any of the party attempted to escape this man would be shot.

The ruffians then left the station, Ned Kelly driving a spring cart, Dan Kelly driving the hawker’s cart, the third man accompanying them on horseback.

ROBBERY OF THE EUROA BANK

The bank was closed at the usual business hour, 3 o’clock, and at a quarter to 4 o’clock the two clerks, Messrs Booth and Bradley, were engaged in balancing their books, while Mr Scott, the manager, was in his room close by. A knock was heard on the door, and Mr Booth asked Mr Bradley, who was nearest the door, to open it and see who it was. On the door being opened a bushman presented a cheque for £4, saying he wanted it cashed. He was told it was too late, and he then asked to see Mr Scott the manager. Mr Bradley said it was too late for that day, as all the cash was locked up. The man then pushed his way in, saying, “I am Ned Kelly.” He was immediately followed by another of the gang, a young man wearing a grey striped Crimean shirt and new lavender tie, and both men drew their revolvers, forcing the clerks to go to the manager’s room which was just behind the banking chamber. As soon as they got in Ned Kelly ordered Mr Scott to go and tell the females in the house what visitors they had and to bring them back.

No. First, E. Kelly requested money, was given £300 in cash and told there were no more—a lie, as E. Kelly knew.

Thus was soon assembled Mr Scott, Mrs Scott, her family of five children, Mrs Scott’s mother, two female servants.

She flirted with him, a married woman. She thought him very handsome, better than her own husband that was clear. It was her that found the key to the safe and give it to E. Kelly. Afterwards Mrs Scott never did stop saying what a polite and dignified gentleman Mr Kelly was, she did not have much luck with the husband of her own. He was a short bald-headed little fellow.

[Several lines here obliterated completely.]

After some little delay and hesitation Mr Bradley handed over the keys,

A lie, as is proven above, it was the Missus give up the key

and Kelly then proceeded to search the strong chest. He took all the money and notes out of it and placed it on the counter, there was about £1,900 in notes and £300 in gold. Ned Kelly then went outside and brought in a small gunnybag, into which he stuffed the notes and gold. Turning to Mr Scott, he said “You have a buggy in the yard. You had better put a horse in it as I have to take you all a little way into the bush and the buggy will be more comfortable for the women than the carts we have.”

Mr Scott said his groom was away, and Kelly thereupon went outside and harnessed the buggy himself. The whole party then went into the back yard where the hawker’s wagon was standing. Mr Booth, Mr Bradley and three of the children were put in the wagon in charge of Dan Kelly. Mrs Scott and her mother and the two other children and one of the servants were placed in the manager’s trap, which Mrs Scott was ordered to drive. The other cart was driven by Ned Kelly and in it was placed Mr Scott and one of the servants. Thus did the gang steal not only the bank’s gold but twelve people, driving them out of the main street of Euroa, which was very quiet on account of there being a funeral in the town that afternoon.

And whose idea was that, I wonder?

They drove rapidly to Faithfull’s Creek Station. Here the women were allowed to go on to the house, and Byrne, who had been sentry, allowed the captives to come outside.

At about a quarter to nine the ruffians prepared to head back into the bush, but before doing so they locked up the entire party with the exception of McCaulay. Kelly directed him to keep the prisoners for three hours longer, and at the same time impressed on him that the gang would be in the vicinity, and if he let any of them free then he would be held responsible for it. Kelly and his mates then rode off in the direction of Violet Town.

A WARNING IGNORED

The particulars at hand show not only that the offenders have performed a daring exploit, but also that they feel themselves masters of the situation.

So they were—and are!

That they have outwitted the police is obvious, and until some explanation is given, the public cannot fail to hold the opinion that the outrage should have been easily prevented. It has been stated in the press more than once that the gang would in all probability stick up and rob some bank, and thus good warning was given to the authorities. There are 100 members of the police force exclusively engaged in hunting these criminals, and while their performance is giving cause for jubilation in certain quarters, respectable citizens can only look upon their failure with despair.

At Faithfull’s Creek we was tried before a jury of our peers you would not know it from the papers.

There was 12 men taken captive and Joe Byrne were by my side to guard them we was all squeezed into a slab hut 20 ft. × 12 ft. which were normally used for holding tools & provisions. It were a hot still night the men was busy on the harvest but this year they was using a mechanical reaper & binder that had some trouble with its innards and that were the overseer McCaulay’s complaint that I were causing more trouble than the adjectival reaper & binder. It were McCaulay who took the best seat for himself a rack toothed old iron skeleton of ancient patent thus he lounged in the corner until I kicked him out saying I were the overseer now many is the secret smile this provoked amongst the men.

The so called MISTER FITZGERALD normally occupied that seat but he did not complain he had known me all my life. Old Snorer were Fitzgerald’s nickname he were a mate of Harry Power & Billy Skilling and had a well earned reputation for finding the laziest job on any station. When his seat were taken Snorer found a corner atop 2 bags of chaff and there he stayed the night sleeping v. loud & comfortable indeed.

Jimmy Gloster the hawker were another prisoner he were still playing his pugnacious part acting as my mortal enemy.

Peter Chivers were a posh spoken labourer with big muttonchop whiskers he were called the Moth because if you lit a lantern he wd. appear he were often in Mother’s shebeen but no one feels natural sympathy for a murderer and in this there were no difference between the Moth and them that only seen my likeness in the newspaper. There were also present a cockney mechanic for the reaper & binder name of Leeves and 6 casual labourers from the Wimmera it were very clear none of them relished the prospect of being locked up with the Mansfield Murderers.

There were also one fellow very broad of shoulder with his hair parted down the middle his moustaches waxed his eyes fixed on me from the minute I come in the hut and while his mates was all concerned about their comfort for the night he done nothing more than lean against the wall to stare. When everyone were settled when even the reaper & binder mechanic had been granted a place to sit it were the man with the waxed moustache who spoke up very bluntly.

What reason did you have to murder them men at Stringybark Creek?

I asked his name he said it were Stephens and I might as well know that he had been a trap himself.

I told the cove it were me alone that done the shooting and Joe Byrne now leaning against the door with 2 pistols in his belt had at that time no more lethal weapon than a stick.

The men all turned as if expecting Joe to support my claim but he give a smile like Riley’s dog and dug his hand into his pocket from which he brung some string & a lump of beeswax.

I told them the traps come into the bush with a Spencer repeating rifle & Webley pistols and they had brought long straps specifically made to carry our bloody bodies back to Mansfield.

The men was very still & attentive but when Joe turned his interest to the 2nd pocket their eyes followed. Now he calmly lit the reed in a pannikin of tallow and they observed him place it carefully in the middle of the floor. Once the light were steady he held up a piece of leather no more than 4 in. in length.

This is a souvenir of that very strap said he.

There were no sound save the skurr of a native cat out in the darkness.

It would be no evidence in an English court but that little piece of undertaker had a mighty effect upon our jurors some was so disgusted they did not wish to touch it others examined it v. close for what information I did not know. Stephens were not swayed he said it were easy to imagine the police would be afraid of me for I already tried to kill their colleague from Benalla.

Do you mean Fitzpatrick?

Yes Fitzpatrick.

Snorer then took the stand so to speak. He didnt swear on nothing but admitted to the company he knew me man and boy he said Ned Kelly would never miss his target so if he had wished to kill Fitzpatrick then Fitzpatrick would be dead today. As Ned Kelly had shot the Constable in the hand then he would personally warrant that is where Ned Kelly meant to shoot him.

Stephens turned on me with a most dubious expression.

Not wavering from his judgment I said Fitzpatrick promised to marry my sister but were revealed to have 2 fiancees already in production.

And so you shot him said Stephens his tone sarcastic.

No my mother were upset so she hit him.

So then you shot him?

No the mongrel drew his Colt .45 there was children in the hut and I judged the lesser risk were to shoot the hand that held the gun.

And then he tried to arrest you and you resisted?

No he apologised for his character and we dressed his wound and then he rode away saying he wished to be my friend if you knew Fitzpatrick you would believe me.

O I know him.

And what is your opinion Mr Stephens?

Stephens sighed then wiped his hand across his face. It is well known he is a mighty fool.

Joe Byrne caught my eye.

And that were why the police come to ambush you asked the mechanic. On this cad’s evidence?

Yes said Joe they boasted to Ned’s sisters they would scatter his brains across the bush.

So thats what lay behind it said Chivers. They came to kill you and you killed them instead?

Well I had nothing but a stick said Joe smiling regretfully. I don’t see what I could of done.

We had nothing decent to protect ourselves I said all we wanted were their weapons. We never wished them dead.

The b–––––ds shot to kill said Joe you see that is the problem. I doubt any of you gents would of permitted them to have their way.

The hut were quiet again but for the sound of the train passing in the night. I looked around at the men one by one I asked what they would of done if they was in our boots.

They give no answer though the softening in attitude was definite.

And what would you do about my mother I asked. She is imprisoned for Aiding and Abetting Attempted Murder which were neither attempted nor murder in the 1st place.

Again no answer.

Her baby is taken from her I said and they did not answer. And here is the thing about them men they was Australians they knew full well the terror of the unyielding law the historic memory of UNFAIRNESS were in their blood and a man might be a bank clerk or an overseer he might never have been lagged for nothing but still he knew in his heart what it were to be forced to wear the white hood in prison he knew what it were to be lashed for looking a warder in the eye and even a posh fellow like the Moth had breathed that air so the knowledge of unfairness were deep in his bone and marrow. In the hut at Faithfull’s Creek I seen proof that if a man could tell his true history to Australians he might be believed it is the clearest sight I ever seen and soon Joe seen it too.

It were late when the men begun to sleep Snorer were up on his chaff bag earning his good name. When the lights was doused you could see the stars through the chinks in the bark roof it were then I asked Stephens what an enquiry would do if such information were put before it. He said there was many bad politicians in the Parliament but Mr Cameron were a man of principle.

A letter would be read Joe asked you think this Cameron’s dinky di?

O yes indeed.

You think an enquiry would be a possibility?

By Jove I believe they would have to call one if they heard what you told me.

Thus Joe took from Stephens what he would not accept from me and this my daughter will explain the story in the newspaper relating how one of the so called OUTLAWS come into the homestead late at night and were seen by the women to be labouring over some document all through the long hours until dawn. It were Joe Byrne that wrote the 2nd letter we sent to Cameron it were very eloquent and strong.

The effect on him were tonic in the morning he werent scratchy there were neither sneezing nor mournfulness about him. On this day we robbed the National Bank in Euroa & as my stratagems was realised step by step Joe smiled more and more. Oftentimes he laughed or caught my eye. More than once he whispered in my ear that Mrs Scott the bank manager’s wife had become my great admirer. He were very polite to her also to her husband he did not neglect to show the piece of undertaker.

I do believe it were Joe who rallied Scott to our cause if not entirely then sufficient for the bank manager to tell a reporter that with regard to the conduct of the gang although domineering in giving their orders no attempt at violence or roughness was made on any of the hostages.

It were also Joe Byrne that begun the display of flashy riding prior to our departure we showed them what Wild Colonial Boys could do we demonstrated riding the like of which were never seen before we galloped laying longways on our horses’ spines our feet at their tails and our noses in their necks and sometimes reclining with our feet upon the neck.

And lo they did applaud us with their eyes bright their faces red bank managers & overseers & ex policemen they stood in the scorching sun and cheered us that were a development we never hoped before.