PARCEL NINE
Bank of New South Wales letterhead, 42 sheets of medium stock (8‘ × 10‘ approx.). Some water damage.
Manhunt following shooting of Fitzpatrick. Evidence that the police expected the fugitives apprehended fatally. An account of the gunfight at Stringybark Creek and Kelly’s often repeated claim that the gang acted in self-defence. Confirmation that Dan Kelly was wounded by police fire. Aaron Sherritt’s role as scout and supporter. Many attempts to cross the flooded Murray River, then a daring crossing of One Mile Creek while it was under police guard.
ONCE OUR MOTHER RETURNED to the new hut she would not leave it she sat by the fire drawing shapes in the ashes I could not persuade her to flee though it were clear she were in serious trouble she had threatened a policeman.
You don’t want to be in prison Ma.
You don’t know what I want.
All my life I had stood by her when I were 10 I killed Murray’s heifer so she would have meat when our poor da died I worked beside her I were the eldest son I left school at 12 yr. of age so she might farm I went with Harry Power that she might have gold when there were no food I laboured when there were no money I stole and when the worthless Frost & King closed round her like yellow dingoes on a chained up bitch I sought to protect her.
Leave me said she go save your brother I made my bed I’ll lie in it.
No said Dan it were me the b––––r come for.
Go she said fiercely for Jesus’ sake let me live with what I done.
Kate were howling in her bed Dan were most distressed he tried to hold his mother’s hands you aint done nothing.
She wrenched herself away I’ve been a fool she said I’ve been as big a fool as any mother could ever be.
She pushed Dan firmly towards me. Look after him said she he were a lot of trouble getting born don’t let him go to waste you hear me?
Yes Ma.
You hide him from the traps you hear I’ll stay with Katie.
Many is the time I have imagined those final moments in the gloomy hut Kate bawling on the bed my mother kissing us both on the cheek.
Go said she my soul’s within you.
Next day we boys was far away and safe enough despite the warrants sworn against us for Attempted Murder we was in places where we could not be found. It were our people at Eleven Mile Creek who suffered. A warrant were issued for Maggie’s husband Bill Skilling who had been 4 mi. away in the presence of witnesses. Bricky Williamson done no more than carry the children to safety but on the basis of Fitzpatrick’s lies he were charged with Aiding and Abetting Attempted Murder. This same charge were laid against our mother and as I had left her undefended the police took her and the baby as easy as plucking mushrooms in a cow paddock. The pair of them were took to Beechworth Prison.
And there Sir Redmond Barry waited for her like a great fat leech hiding in the bracken its only purpose to suck the living blood it were the same man who wished to hang the rebels at Eureka the same man who sentenced our Uncle James to death for burning down the house. When we heard he were to be the Judge we sent word through Mr Zinke we would surrender if Barry released the mother & babe but the great man thought us less than dog manure beneath his boots. Word came back he planned to teach a lesson to us so called LOUTS.
In response I pledged to do the same for him.
Kate were now denied to Fitzpatrick for all eternity the cowardly policeman next slunk down to Arundel Street bearing the gift of an embroidered dress for baby George it were 9 o’clock on a Monday night and mother & child was both asleep but that were nothing to Fitzpatrick he knocked against their window pane ordering Mary to dress the boy in the new garment immediately. Well and good he were too dangerous to disobey so Mary done the dressing then lay George in his cart wheeling him out onto the veranda.
Of course Fitzpatrick had no interest in a baby and once he struck a match and frightened George to death he declared himself very bored by all the bawling. The thing he wished to know were did Mary need assistance he worried how she might survive now Ned Kelly were a hunted man.
Mary would of liked assistance to pull his beaky nose but said she had a little money saved with the Bank of Australasia.
This were a most intelligent defence and it blocked him for a moment but then he come back asking if she had had her bank interest entered by the clerks.
She didnt know she told him. Who ever would?
Show me your savings book said he them clerks is scallywags sometimes they forget to write in the interest and that suits the bank believe me they make 1/2 their profits from forgotten interest.
Mary were not going to show him no road but he were insistent looking at her so hard she could feel the hatred his eyes glistening like a dingo in the dark.
I’ll show you when I find it Fitzy I can’t think where I’ve hid it then baby George begun to cough. Now said she I must put this little chap back to sleep inside.
No no not yet I haven’t examined him properly.
Mary prepared herself for one more match light inspection but then Fitzpatrick said excuse him he must use the dunny. When he finally returned all his passion for the baby were forgotten and he sat himself down in the rattan chair stretching out his legs.
I have a secret he announced.
I shall put George down to sleep said Mary then I’ll hear it.
You’ll hear it now said the trap I have talked to the Stock Protection Association and the members are more than happy to assist you.
She laughed she couldnt help it. If them squatters know my name its only because they heard I were a slut.
They’ll think you the Blessed Virgin if you help them catch Ned Kelly. She felt his mouth brush against her hair it were then she knew he were even more loathsome than she had previously thought. No Fitzy she said I could never do that.
Not even for your baby’s sake?
She begun to shake so hard she could not speak. Fitzpatrick stretched himself out further in her armchair he struck a match. I took the liberty said he then she seen he were holding her blue bank passbook. Fitzy! You was in my room give that to me.
I reckon I’ll keep this Mary I’m sure you don’t mind.
She could not imagine why he would want her passbook but she recognised them cruel eyes in the match light. O Fitzy why do you hate me?
He blew out his match the dark air were acrid with sulphur. I don’t hate you girlie but any Magistrate could look at this passbook and see you cannot support this child he is Endangered as we say in law.
He were threatening to have her baby removed into an orphanage she would kill him 1st.
Very well she said I’ll think about your offer.
Yes he said coldly you can call at the Police Station before noon tomorrow.
The minute he departed she knew she must flee she picked up the cart and carried George to her room then she dressed him in singlets nighties jackets shawls as many garments as she could fit one atop the other his arms and legs as stiff as broken limbs in plaster of Paris and he were crying very loud.
While Mrs Robinson’s pianola played the Sailor’s Polka she rolled her own few possessions in a scarf and wrapped this inside a woollen cardigan. Then she changed her mind and tucked these items all around the baby bearing him along the passageway the floor were shuddering beneath the heavy tread of a RESPECTABLE squatter’s boots.
She set her burden down in Arundel Street and pushed the cart through the windy dark towards the crabholed road that led to Eleven Mile Creek.
She prayed Almighty and merciful God who hast commissioned Thy angels to guide and protect us command them to be our companions from our setting out until our return to clothe us with their invisible protection to keep from us all danger of collision of fire of explosion of fall and bruises. Even when the moon appeared in a chasm of clouds it were no comfort but a frightening apparition the clouds were lowering and angry north of Benalla the wind begun to blow and with it come a fine needling rain that stung her face. She removed her coat and lay it across her babe as the rain blew harder & heavier she were drenched to the bone. For a Kelly this were no bad night but for Mary a severe ordeal. She were afraid of Chinamen of blacks of swagmen her heart were beating as loud as a horse’s in her ears.
At dawn your Aunt Kate saw a strange poor woman come limping down the track from the direction of Greta in the darkness your mother had already missed the Skilling Williamson and Kelly huts she now were doubling back her feet cut & blistered but her rattled baby were blessedly asleep.
O God have pity cried Mary they cannot force me to betray him.
Though Kate never knew her relationship to me she brought your mother inside and when they had both reassured themselves that George were not damaged by his adventure Kate bandaged the stranger’s feet with vinegar & brown paper then she learned who she were also the crimes Fitzpatrick had done against her.
You’re home here lovey said my sister safe as with your own own people dear.
Redmond Barry put on his lambskin then sentenced our mother to 3 yr. for Aiding and Abetting the Attempted Murder of Constable Alexander Fitzpatrick he further ruled she could not keep her baby with her he were a cruel and heartless b– – – – – d his time will come.
The Wombat were steep & twisted deep gorges bounded by almost perpendicular ranges yet it did not feel safe the location of our camp were known to more people than were right. 1st come Aaron Sherritt with his wooden box of opium or oyouknow. Next were Jimmy Quinn then Wild Wright who said in explanation that he had been mooching around Finch’s saddlery in Main Street Mansfield. Moss Finch were a closelipped old b––––r he never talked to no one Wild Wright least of all for he were well known as a troublemaker in the town and not above a little thievery. When Moss Finch seen Wild drifting through the long oily shadows of his shop he were straight onto him.
What can I do you for Isaiah?
Well you could buy me a jar of porter Mr Finch.
Ah but you know I don’t drink Isaiah.
It aint you we was discussing.
It were just banter Wild never had no hope of a drink he were bored and looking for some person or item to amuse him then it come to his attention that old Moss were sewing up a very long strip of hide into a belt or strap he could not see exactly what it were.
Whats this adjectival thing?
Ah look out now you’ve dropped the buckle.
Wild set the buckle on the work bench. Who would need a 25 ft. long belt?
The silence what followed offended him he always were v. sensitive. It’s a pulley belt he suggested.
Still Moss did not answer.
Whats this effing thing for? Wild’s voice were rising ever ready to imagine others thought themselves above him.
Put it down Isaiah you know I’ve got a family to feed I aint got time for playing games but by the time Moss had finished speaking Isaiah Wright were pushing his face close against his own.
I think you better tell me what its for Finchy.
Here said Moss impatiently digging into his apron heres a bob go have a drink if that will calm you down.
Well that done it. Never in the whole history of Mansfield had Moss Finch ever been known to buy a drink for no one.
Wild pocketed the money. Tell me what it is 1st.
Very well Isaiah its what they call an undertaker.
O yairs said Wild in the way bush people do meaning please continue.
Yes thats what they call it.
What does it do?
Lord help me what does it sound like it does its for carrying a body its for strapping a dead man to a packhorse like I said its an undertaker now get out of here and let me finish. Moss picked up his lump of dirty yellow beeswax running it up and down his thread the wax were crisscrossed with deep dry furrows.
Who are you making that for Mr Finch?
That aint none of your business Isaiah.
O come on Mr Finch I never done nothing against you did I?
Moss said that were not the point yet it were clear to him that Wild had not asked the question idly.
Never hurt you in any way never borrowed your horse or nothing.
Moss looked at the beeswax closely as if them crisscross lines was holding some secret information. All right said he I am making this for Sgt Kennedy now go and leave me.
Kennedy is planning on killing someone?
Moss Finch turned on him his eyes very fierce.
Why Jesus Christ cried Wild they’re going to kill the Kelly boys.
That were what Wild cantered 30 mi. to tell us. Thus we imagined our undertakers the leather straps lay fully revealed like giant tapeworms nestling in our guts all our lifetimes growing larger every day. No one cooked that evening we just sat staring in the fire watching the sap sizzling out of the big green logs as the dark come down it were the young lads who concerned me most. Steve and Dan squatted side by side sipping their billy tea they was brave hiding their feelings in the darkness of their hats.
When we had ate a can of sardines and was all rolled up in our coats for the night it were Joe Byrne who spoke. His voice were grey & scratchy as when he were out of oyouknow.
He said he were going to America or Africa the sooner the better the future were clear to him. You don’t mind Ned he asked.
I don’t mind.
You fellows could come too we could go across to Gippsland and get a boat from Eden. They won’t think to look for us in Gippsland they’ll be watching the crossings of the Murray River. Ned?
He won’t go said Steve.
Why won’t I?
You won’t leave Mrs Kelly he said and he were right.
In the morning Joe were feeling crook so he did not depart he stayed the next day too complaining about his legs & guts. He didnt say nothing but I knew them leather straps was in his dreams as well as mine.
3 days passed and he were still in residence when Wild Wright come cantering back down the track like bad news looking for its mother. That b–––––d Sgt Kennedy cried he.
I moved to take his horse by the bridle so as to lead him away from the others but Steve & Dan was already beside him their dread written clearly on their downy faces.
What news mate?
Wild untied his bowyangs then loosened the girth. They’ve got an adjectival Spencer boys he took off the saddle handing it to Steve.
What have they got asked Dan.
Get us a cup of water will you Dan said Wild.
For a moment I thought Wright were being considerate of Dan’s feelings but he waited for him to return before saying That b– – – – – d Kennedy has borrowed a .52 calibre Spencer repeating rifle.
Which Kennedy?
Sergeant Kennedy Dan.
Jesus.
He got a shotgun from the priest and a Spencer off the Woods Point gold escort said Wild them effing traps are intent on doing damage to you b– – – – rs.
Jesus.
Whats a Spencer asked Dan but no one answered the Spencer were a modern machine of war.
Well heres the thing said I they can’t shoot us if they can’t find us. I were trying to make a joke of it but Joe gave me a v. hard look indeed.
As Wild finally departed he made us the present of a lump of lead stolen from the roof of the new Mansfield Post Office. Steve then fetched the kettle so we could mould new balls but even so he must of known we had no chance against a Spencer.
I took young Dan for a walk down towards the creek I told him that while Joe were leaving us it were safer for him to stay by me. Harry Power and me were hid at this place many a time no one never found us.
I wouldnt adjectival leave our ma it aint just you.
I never said you would Danny.
Don’t call me adjectival Danny.
Dan.
You called me Danny in front of them its an effing baby name.
Dan then.
Thanks Neddy he grinned then tried to knock my legs out from under me he were a funny little weasel I wrestled him onto the ground like you would a kangaroo dog. As we rolled around in the dust I seen his dirty grinning phiz all my life we had been locked like this I would not let him die. Our hut were our defence but now I looked at it I recalled how 1st I knew it at 14 yr. of age when I thought it weak & blind.
No one’s going to find you here said I then I called to Joe asking would he scout with me. He hesitated but then saddled up we headed towards Toombulup which is the way the cops would bring their undertakers from Mansfield. Soon we come up on a knoll on a soak on a long ridge and in the soft sandy soil Joe saw something which made him whistle. Eff that said he it were the tracks of 4 police horses plus the packhorse which would carry our bodies back into the town.
We rode on in heavy silence another hour or so then the whistle came again.
Eff this heres more traps.
My dear daughter I will not lie to you I were very afraid when we seen that 2nd set of tracks it seemed certain our hiding place were now betrayed. This later party followed along a kangaroo pad to the old gold diggings at Stringybark Creek it were the creek next to Bullock but one.
As we turned for home I knew Joe were thinking he had been a fool he should of left us while he had the chance. He were a hard man he were known as Snake Eyes and Bullet Eyes but them that named him thus had not looked into them eyes to see a 24 yr. old staring down the barrel of his own destruction.
When dark come we easily located the police they had made their camp in the obvious clearing on Stringybark Creek at the point where the butts of 4 fallen trees met at right angles building the fire right in the niche of the X made by the trunks. Their blaze were so big they was all lit up like actors on the stage and whatever they was arguing about tomatoes or their cultivation them murderous firearms was always slung ready on their shoulders their eyes fixed forever upon the dark. I recognised Cons Strahan and Cons Flood judging them v. foolish to illuminate themselves so brightly.
It were a place of echoes every snapped twig an event so when a branch crashed down behind us 2 of the traps jumped up immediately their rifles aimed into the night. Who’s there! Stand there! etc. etc. Without knowing it Strahan had his gun pointed directly at my chest but the Sergeant with the repeating rifle never moved he laughed at the 3 Constables. What a lot of Nervous Nellies.
Strahan slowly lowered his gun so Joe & me moved back into the speargrass retreating quiet as warrigals towards Bullock Creek. I could still hear Cons Strahan on the subject of tomatoes again the Sergeant’s mocking laughter.
Soon as we rounded the spur Joe spoke urgently into my ear You see that Sergeant’s adjectival repeater mate? I smelled Joe’s smile it were a sardine can peeling open in the dark. Thats the effing Spencer he said I put my hand across his mouth telling him to shut his hole. O thats a beautiful thing that Spencer. I punched him in the chest but were very pleased to see him laughing in my face for Joe Byrne when happy were a mighty force. I told him I would buy him a damn Spencer once we was out of our dilemma.
Why buy apples when they’re growing on the effing tree?
Shutup it is 2 of us vs. 4 of them and all we have is the carbine and Harry’s old .31.
Theres 4 of us as far as I can count.
Dan’s not in this.
You aint his adjectival nurse so if you want to protect him then get the little b– – – – r a decent gun.
He’s got a gun.
Come on damn it Kelly we’ll surround the b–––––ds. If we don’t get them weapons now we deserve to die.
He were not wrong yet I couldnt bring myself to that next step in my life so we returned to Bullock Creek still undecided.
That night Joe shared the lookout standing beside me on the ridge above our camp. An hour or so after midnight the wind changed to the south it came in long hard gusts the bush hadnt got a good shaking in a while so now the deadwood were falling around us while a great bank of cloud blocked all the moon and stars.
In the chill of morning I fancied I could smell the rain and my mind went to Melbourne Gaol where the water must be thundering on the tin roof above my mother’s cell. I had failed to protect her I vowed I would do better with my brother Dan. I thought very sentimentally of him through the watch but the moment he were awake the little b––––r were a thorn in my side tugging his long sleeves over his grimy mitts and cursing me for leaving him to sleep all night. His hair were wild his face smudged with charcoal it were adjectival this and adjectival that. The lorikeets & kookaburras was fighting their foreign wars above us they couldnt wait to get stuck into it again. Steve Hart stood silently beside the armoured door he were very flash with a bright red sash his hat strap adjusted as was his custom only later did I realise he were dressed for battle.
I cuffed Dan and told him to wash his face he began to pout but when I told him to come and investigate the traps his mood immediately repaired.
Wait a mo he said just a mo.
He run to the creek when he returned his face were washed his hair combed his sleeves damp but neatly rolled. Next he set his hat and when he was satisfied with the angle he produced his precious sash from a back pocket. It took a while to tie the cummerbund to his satisfaction but finally he wrapped his poor fowling piece in a blanket and was free to trail me upon his horse.
This were the hour my mother woke to face her prison day I don’t know if she thought of me but I thought of her as her 2 sons followed the waters of Bullock Creek in the direction of the police. It were melancholy country much abused by miners we tethered the horses on the flat of Stringybark Creek coming the last 10 chains on foot we found only Cons Flood & Strahan present at the camp. Thus did the odds turn in our favour.
I sent Dan back for Joe and Steve then lay amongst the speargrass spying on Cons Flood at the fire as he dropped a handful of tea into a billy he swung it around then set it down. Strahan had just called smoko when I heard my mates sliding through the speargrass soft as brown snakes I seen Joe’s hot excited eyes then made the sign to Steve Hart to stay down.
It were now or never I crossed myself rising quick from the speargrass with my .577 Enfield in my hands. Bail up! Stick up your hands.
Cons Flood turned to face me as Joe Byrne come out of hiding. Throw up your hands he bawled he were holding a broken stick rolled in a blanket of course he had no gun.
Flood slowly put up his hands but Cons Strahan begun to run away. Joe screamed Bail up you b–––––d.
Joe had no weapon and I were covering Cons Flood so that made Cons Strahan my brother’s man but Dan could not bring himself to fire.
When Strahan dived for the cover of a fallen log Joe Byrne jerked his stick in rage shouting at my brother Shoot the b–––––d now or he’ll pink you.
Strahan popped up from behind the log his carbine raised. I squeezed the fateful trigger what choice did I have?
The air were filled with flame & powder stink Strahan fell thrashing around the grass moaning horribly. I took the .31 Colt from my sash then run to Flood but it werent Flood it were a stranger who raised his trembling hands. Don’t shoot don’t shoot don’t shoot.
I told Dan to cover the b––––r whoever he were then hurried back to Strahan the poor b–––––d were shot dead through the right eye blood washing down his livid face this were the ripe fruit of Constable Alexander Fitzpatrick.
I approached the other Constable with my gun trained upon him it were clear he anticipated his own death his eyes was bulging and though he stood his ground I seen the waxy terror in his face he were a good sized man over 6 ft. with pleasant features a square black beard. I said I were sorry to have killed Cons Strahan and tried to have him understand I wouldnt harm himself.
You’re Ned Kelly?
I am.
It isnt Strahan you killed said he its poor Tom Lonigan.
But I knew Lonigan from our fight in Benalla. That aint Lonigan said I the Constable looking at me v. baleful. It is Tom Lonigan he said and you have made his wife a widow the poor beggar has 4 children. I said I were very sorry but Dan cried out Lonigan had asked for it and were a silly b– – – – r for firing on us.
On the ridges the mountain ash gleamed like saints against the massing clouds but down here the crows & currawongs was gloomy their cries dark with murder. Ned it is the same silly b––––r who tried to pull your balls off in Benalla.
Shut your gob I told Dan but my little brother had witnessed the blood pour down the dead policeman’s cheek and settle like muck in the tangle of his beard he did not show his distress but hooted like a school-boy. I seen he had commandeered Lonigan’s Webley and were concerned he would do someone an injury I therefore ordered him & Steve Hart to collect all the police guns and empty them of shot & powder. Steve avoided my eye but he obeyed.
Dan begun to tear apart a loaf of yeast bread that had been left cooling by the fire he offered some to Joe but Bullet Eyes couldnt find the Spencer and were in a savage mood he had no friend in all the world.
Dan were wolfing down the bread laughing and talking his mouth full his trouser cuffs unrolled around his boots and dragging in the mud. My thoughts come slow and heavy.
You aint Flood I said to the Constable.
My name is McIntyre.
Well Mr adjectival McIntyre said Joe Byrne where is that effing Spencer friend?
The repeater? Scanlon has it.
Who might he be?
Him and Sgt Kennedy have gone out looking for you.
To effing shoot me don’t you mean?
No we come to apprehend you.
It were with a sort of dread I saw Joe smile he would now be my mate to death but there were something hard & cruel I never seen until this day when he brought the barrel of his brand new Webley within an inch of the policeman’s nose.
You are a liar.
McIntyre began to answer but Joe cut him off.
Shutup I want to see them undertakers I heard so much about.
I don’t know what you mean said McIntyre and I can still see the small deadly twist that answer produced in Joe’s mouth. To prevent a bad thing happening I come at Joe stretching my left arm towards the Webley and speaking his name but this were as stupid as petting a fighting dog and he pistol whipped my arm.
Eff off he snarled it were not personal. In his eye McIntyre had planned to truss his body like a dead roo then carry it blood dripping flies buzzing along the ridges down the valleys into Mansfield.
Show me them undertakers he demanded.
No I assure you.
When McIntyre stepped backwards Joe kicked McIntyre in the knee it were the exact same kick he once give to Wild Wright. McIntyre cried out stumbling as Joe pushed him at gunpoint towards the tent. There was discovered ammunition & ropes & axes laid on a groundsheet but also the 2 straps Moss Finch had worked in Mansfield they was displayed very shipshape coiled tight 2 ft. across. Joe dragged them into the clearing the stink of linseed oil rising up like funeral parlour flowers amongst the bush.
Joe picked up a small axe and McIntyre thought his end were come he stepped backwards falling into Dan.
Joe I cried.
My mate looked at me as at a stranger.
You touch him I said I’ll fire.
Joe raised the tomahawk in his left hand then brought it crashing down upon the leather belt crying out the word c––t with every chop until the shining hateful thing were cut in pieces too small you could not use them to tie up your pants. Joe spat upon the ground he were panting and pale when finally he looked at me again we was both v. embarrassed about what had transpired.
McIntyre sat suddenly his head held in his hands.
We had paid the price we might as well procure the merchandise so we waited for the other 2 police to bring us back the Spencer. Lonigan’s dead body lay beneath sheets of bark but we stayed away from him. On the valley floor it were gloomy and threatening rain but the damned flies was buzzing like a summer’s day excited by the blood for me it is the sound of death forever. Soon Stringybark Creek would be the most famous stream in all the colony but no one could imagine such a forlorn place they couldnt see the dead black wattles or speargrass with no nourishment to offer.
At the end of the long afternoon we finally detected our hunters returning from the north following the creek not slowly neither. But I knew the path were narrow so they wd. be compelled to arrive in single file.
Hsst lads here they come.
We fell into the places we had planned Steve crawling into the police tent with McIntyre’s shotgun and Dan and Joe slinking back into the speargrass. I lay behind a log near the fire where McIntyre obediently sat on the same log so his mates could easily see him when they rode into the camp.
I heard the 1st horse blowing then I ordered McIntyre to stand and speak he done so.
The Kellys are here. You are surrounded.
Very amusing were their answer.
No no throw down your arms.
I waited too long for as I gained my feet I seen the 1st policeman’s hand were at his revolver it were Sergeant Kennedy.
I fired a warning shot then Joe & Dan & Steve all come running shouting. The 2nd policeman were Scanlon he spurred his horse forwards firing at me as he done so. My gun responded and Scanlon lurched onto his horse’s neck and lay there motionless. The Spencer clattered to the ground then Scanlon’s body followed it were lifeless as a bag of spuds.
Events continued without relent Dear God Jesus it were a sorry day. Sgt Kennedy jumped off his horse firing and McIntyre set to running though he were no threat he were intent on stealing Kennedy’s horse. He fled back up towards the track to Toombulup.
Kennedy took one more shot at me then looked around when he seen his horse were gone he retreated into the bush. I picked up the Spencer but it would not fire it were heavy and foreign its mechanism a mystery to me so I threw the cursed thing away. Ahead of me in the deep gloom of the untidy scrub I could see the blue of Kennedy’s uniform.
I called I would not hurt him but he were gone leaving his deadly modern cartridges fallen on the ground. I loaded my .577 Enfield juggling the powder flask & ball & cap as I pursued him.
What he were luring me towards I did not know I tracked him by broken twigs and crushed leaves down onto a boggy little speargrass flat & there he were just 2 perches in advance of me I held my fire.
The ridge on our left flattened and around its apex we were almost at German’s Creek where the cunning b– – – – r suddenly dropped down into a miner’s trench.
I called out to him Surrender I will not harm you. There were no reply the bush suddenly v. quiet except when I begun to move again my boots making the most appalling din the sticks cracking and exploding. I crept back up the ridge hoping to look down into the trench where Kennedy was hid.
Instead he jumped out from behind the tree not 3 yd. before me his pistol flashed my Enfield answered. I got him in the armpit he ran crashing wildly through the scrub and I followed calling at him to surrender as I measured off my powder and dropped in my ball ramming it home with no time for wadding. He wheeled round raising his arm to shoot but I fired 1st.
Curtains of bark hung from the trunks like shredded skin. As he fell I ran to where he lay wide eyed & crumpled then taking possession of his gun I discovered nothing more lethal in his hand than a mass of clotted blood. He had been trying to surrender.
He were shot in the chest and losing a great deal of blood from the wound in his armpit. I knew he were finished so I went to make him comfortable but there is no ease in death.
Ah my poor wife said he I must write to her. Get me my notebook.
He were in great pain I pulled his notebook from his breastpocket it were very bloody but I tore some pages that was unblemished and give him a pencil. When he finished writing I told him I were very sorry more sorry than I could ever make him know. You are a brave man said I.
He sighed and said he were a fool that his wife just lost a boy 11 mo. old little Thomas now she had the grief of losing a husband as well. He told me about his little Tommy how he were a fine strong boy they never thought to lose him he had the grandest smile. He were continually breaking off his narrative for he seemed to be suffering very much and who could bear to look upon him so? Not wanting him to linger alone in such agony I quietly reloaded my gun.
He wished to talk about his little boy again weeping frankly at how he missed him every minute of every day.
I then said soon he would be with him.
Sgt Kennedy looked up at me sharply. You have shed blood enough said he.
I fired and he died instantly without a groan.
On this day of horror when the shadows of the wattle was gluey with men’s blood I could not imagine what wonder might still lie before me. We lads come down across German’s Creek into Bullock Creek driving the police horses before us we now had 4 rifles & 4 Webleys and Joe rode with the Spencer slung across his back. As for me my skin were sour with death.
A friend arrived I will not say his name but thank God he didnt come a day early or else he would of been branded a member of the so called KELLY GANG. He and I had wanted no more than land a hearth to sit by in the night but he seen us in possession of the police horses and knew that dream were gone to smash.
The rain begun sprinkling on the dry earth I wished it could wash away my sin but it come on the cold breath of the Southern Ocean there were no forgiveness there. I told my friend I hoped he would get some good grass from this rain he gave me a folded wad of banknotes having sold his stallion for me I asked would he take the money to Mary Hearn.
Harry Power led me to that hut when I were no older than Steve or Dan. This here is Bullock Creek said he it won’t never betray you. But it were a dead blind place I knew that at 15 yr. of age it were like a beaten dog cowering in the shadow of the hills. All night I had bad dreams very confused I saw Kennedy raising his hand to surrender and me shooting him again & again. In the grey dawn I ordered the boys to set fire to the hateful hut I were glad they never asked me why for I never could have said. As the rain grew heavy we dragged logs and sticks in through the open door there were flour and cans of sardines we kicked them to one side what was we thinking? There was nails & horseshoes but it seems we didnt need their burden. The sky were still dark when we brung the burning torch inside our haven the armoured door swung open useless to protect us. Steve Hart began to sing some mournful song in the old language I told him to be quiet we would write our own damned history from here on.
It were not until the hut were burning that Dan revealed he had a bullet wound from Cons Scanlon he said it werent so bad a scratch but I seen how he held his reins in his left hand and by the time we crossed Kilfeera Station he were hunched over and his teeth was chattering. We imagined the armies of vengeful traps already on our heels not knowing Cons McIntyre had come unhorsed and were hiding in a wombat hole. Grim daylight of the 2nd day showed the smoke rising from my sister’s hut but I would not place her at risk for Harbouring so we skirted farther east-wards all this time Dan looking very bad.
The rain begun in earnest it come down like leaden buckets broke in 1/2 and the clay soil so dry & eager its thirst were slaked easily as a kitten. The runoff were soon a yellow sheet the bark & sticks made dams then broke apart and sailed down into the gullies. The mild level country creeks was now dragging fistfuls from their own banks and as we pushed our mob of horses over the Oxley flats the world were walled & ripped apart by water.
We was making our way towards the mighty Murray River thence the colony of New South Wales not fleeing but retreating. Before we could ford the Murray we had to cross the Ovens River before that we must ride 30 mi. through countless streams swamps and bogs arriving at the Ovens on the 3rd day around 2 o’clock in the morning. We could hear the roar of the river rocks and logs bumping the pylons in the dark though the bridge itself appeared unflooded.
Dan were looking very ill indeed so I ordered Joe Byrne to knock up the landlord from Moon’s Pioneer Hotel and get some brandy he must pay the full tariff I said we was not thieves. Joe let out a very bitter laugh striding towards the dark hotel angrily slapping his whip against his sturdy thigh.
After the grog arrived Dan drank and vomited then we pushed on across the bridge but the flood had claimed the road on the other side so we was forced upstream until Taylor’s Gap when we finally drove the 4 police horses & the 2 packhorses into the flood.
The current here were v. swift with Dan not steady in his saddle I therefore mounted behind him as we swum across together he were still the little nipper cursing me so violently he made me laugh. It were here my copy of LORNA DOONE were ruined also Sgt Kennedy’s message to his wife for when I dried the paper afterwards nothing were writ on it no more.
Coming back downstream into the dismal rainsodden hamlet of Everton we knocked up an old man in a nightgown Coulson were his name. I counted out the full price for what we took telling him my name so he could tell Ned Kelly were no thief.
Up in the high ranges west of Beechworth we finally rode into the scrub on the hill above Aaron Sherritt’s selection. We fired off 8 shots and sure enough Joe’s childhood friend trotted up the hill on a bay mare he walked around us silent examining the police stock I could see his troubled eyes study their brands they was clearly marked VR.
I asked had he heard any news about us but as usual he looked 1st to Joe.
Whats the story cobber?
Joe shook his head I could see Aaron were most offended by his silence yet wouldnt turn to me for information.
Whats the story Dan? The boy were all waxy skinned and hunched over in his saddle he couldnt answer neither. Then Joe offered up the Spencer repeater from its holster but Aaron could see VR stamped on its stock he would not touch it.
At last he looked my way saying I might follow him if I liked.
We soon was riding single file along the path the hill were becoming v. steep he took us round the shoulder of Native Dog Peak. Here we finally come to a clear piece of ground where horses was lately kept you could see the worn earth the clear scars on the trees where they had been eating bark. Joe wd. attend to the hobbling he said.
Aaron escorted me and my brother down the hill along a kind of footpath high above the precipice Dan were leaning on me heavily but soon the way were too narrow for the pair of us.
I’ll carry you.
I can effing walk. He teetered but I got my arm under him with the rock to the left of us & thin air on the right he were yelping like a puppy before we come around a corner and to my great relief we found a cave.
I propped him up against the wall. I said You’ll be all right Dan.
What you going to do?
Aaron straight away begun to light a fire.
No said Dan the traps will see the smoke.
But in all this rain the smoke were no danger so once the fire were well established I passed Dan the whisky bottle. Eff that said he and pushed it away his eyes was on the branding iron Aaron had lain upon the coals.
I squatted in front of him.
Do I have to?
You’re a Kelly I said.
I wish I werent.
After we waited Joe came in to announce the horses was hobbled. Steve Hart sat with his arms round his knees staring into the fire I wonder if he wished he were not a Hart that his daddy hadnt filled his head with all them rebel stories.
Reckon we’re ready said Aaron removing the hot iron it were a little straight line brand commonly used to change a C into an E. I helped Dan take off his shirt the wound on his right shoulder were raw and red the pus was pooling in its center. Aaron asked were he ready but Dan drew away.
Then Aaron gone into the back of the cave to fetch the yen pipe he sometimes shared with Joe.
I don’t want that Chinky ess it makes me puke.
Suit yourself said Aaron setting aside the pipe to pick up the glowing brand once more.
I want my brother to do it.
Suit yourself.
When Aaron give me the iron Dan turned to face me holding out his right hand and I took it like I were walking him across the creek to school.
Ready?
Eff it he said and I lay it exactly on the wound. The smallest sound came from his lips his eyes rolled back in his head. The poor little b––––r smelled like a sausage in the pan.
There were a great commotion in the night I heard the girlish voice 1st it were damned insistent but I couldnt make out who she were nagging. It were raining hard outside I could see her agitated shadow in the weather back and forth like a fruit bat lost in the storm.
You are a blessed tragedy she said as far as I could judge she were no more than 12 yr. old. You was always a larrikin said she well I can’t complain I knew that of you but this time you have turned yourself into as great a tragedy as ever walked. And I always thought your mother hard on you.
My mother is an adjectival cow said Joe Byrne suddenly very loud.
Don’t she cried I aint going in there.
Come on my sweet.
It smells awful something’s dead. Don’t pull at me Joe I aint a heifer.
But for all her protests she did what were requested they passed along the wall behind my head her wet skirt brushing my face.
No road Joe I won’t.
Its a blanket he said firmly its clean enough.
They was quiet a moment then he struck a lucifer and the light of a small spirit lamp illuminated the far end of the cave.
I wanted to get home to you Bessie. It just werent so easy as it sounds the traps was hunting us like dogs.
I kept my eyes closed but did not need to look to know that this were Bessie Sherritt i.e. Aaron’s sister.
Joe it werent you they was hunting.
You don’t know adjectival nothing Bessie said he and I smelled the sweet odour of opium he must of got from Aaron.
Joe that aint correct it were Ned Kelly shot Fitzpatrick. Tell me if I lie.
Well he sighed its too late now any road.
Isn’t it true but my own da’s a policeman?
That were in Ireland long ago.
Its still the English language he read me out the warrant it says DAN KELLY AND NED KELLY it says OTHER MEN UNKNOWN. No one is calling for Joe Byrne they would name you if they wanted. You don’t have to run nowhere you can just tell the truth.
Them b––––rs will know me soon enough.
They’ll know Ned Kelly she said desperately its him who done the murder. Its him and Dan they listed in the GAZETTE.
Sssh said Joe.
No I will not ssh said she. Wake up wake up you shan’t be hanged. Aaron won’t allow it he can protect you in this thing.
He must of done something for she gave a sharp little cry of pain and then Joe snuffed out the lamp. You tell him not to effing meddle this aint for him.
In the dawn Bessie Sherritt were gone and Joe were as calm & neat & rested as if nothing had occurred. It were him who made the tea who buttered a bandage for Dan’s shoulder who assisted Steve and me to carry our provisions back to the horses. I saw the girl Bessie standing at the edge of the clearing she didnt own no coat so her dark hair were soaked her dress all sodden on her skinny little shoulders she were staring passionately at Joe.
Friend of yours I asked.
Joe shook his head. Come to America with me old man.
She’s your donah don’t deny it.
No she aint.
You didnt shoot no one Joe I’ll write a note and swear it.
You can swear any adjectival thing you like it won’t make no difference. He yanked the girth and waited for the horse to let out its breath before tightening it another notch. You can write until the effing cows come home but we killed 3 coppers and they won’t be happy till they pay us back. Come to America with me.
I looked at the girl standing shivering her arms crossed in front of her little bosom. She’s your donah Joe.
I’d rather kiss the effing Banshee.
Looking at the object of his derision I seen a poor girl shivering in the rain but Joe’s pale eyes was seeing a darker dream than mine.
If I stay here don’t you see I’m dead?
I don’t know if it were fear or opium but something had turned his sunburnt face as hard and slippery as a china bowl. It were not my place to argue with him over a woman but I were a man with 4 sisters & a mother & as we left I rode right by poor Bessie I give her a friendly nod. In response her eyes drew back into her head and her lips pursed and a mighty wad of spit come at me.
It were a very small deposit on the capital that would soon be offered to the Mansfield Murderer.
To escape the police there were no choice but to ford the Murray River into New South Wales although the word river gives a poor picture of the sight that met our eyes in the district of Barnawartha. The Murray is a maze of swamps and billabongs but in flood you cannot know what can be crossed till you try & try we did for 3 weary days attempting one place then the next driving the police horses up into swamps and lagoons until the water grew too swift and deep.
God did not see us the waters would not open and no matter how hard we pushed the Murray would not part nor the rain relent. Every time we returned to the banks the brown tide had risen higher than before marooning unmilked cows on islands their udders swollen their painful bellows echoing across the dull insistent waters.
Finally we come to a miserable bit of drowned land mostly wattles & reeds all inundated and beyond this some big old red gums and here the current become so treacherous you could see it from the way the fallen trees raced down the river their crowns rolling over and over lifting water like a paddle wheel.
Dan sat with his hand on his wounded shoulder watching thoughtfully. Steve Hart were close beside him hunched over on his horse with the brim of his hat low on his eyes.
Very well said I then we will head back to Aaron’s. I looked to Joe but he held out his hand as if to say goodbye.
It can’t be crossed Joe.
He looked out across the dreary tumbling waters. I should of pissed off long ago said he without another word he spurred his horse out into the reeds the water were high on the horse’s belly it floundered and then rose then plunged down once more.
Catch me he cried his voice were far away but when the horse rose a 2nd time it were clear he had located a spine of submerged land which he now were following like a miner does a vein of gold. Suddenly the river were very shallow only to the fetlocks of his mare. This was sufficient for Dan he gathered in his mare getting ready for the plunge.
Look hissed Steve suddenly.
I seen a large milled log sweep in front of the rider he were on the edge of a deep & dangerous channel.
Not that. Look behind.
I turned to see a dreadful apparition a large bunch of mounted men emerging from the bush they was perhaps 1/2 a mile to the south. The details was blurred by rain but it were clear they was the police an adjectival army of them come to avenge their dead.
Joe had not seen them yet he’d spurred his mare into the channel she were swimming bravely on. The police trotted out across the grassy plain that separated the bush from the flood. As Joe rose from the torrent to join a stranded heifer on a muddy island he were about 100 yd. out in the stream thus easily within range of a Martini Henry.
Steve were leading Dan and their mounts deeper into the flooded wattle scrub behind a bit of hillock from where he hissed at me.
I could not drag myself away from Joe he were in mortal danger but now witnessing his undertakers approach he brought his horse up on its hind legs so it pranced. He walked it backwards that were normal in a circus but very unusual in the middle of the Murray River.
Come on Ned.
I were beholding an act of courage it made the flesh stand on my arms. A hateful roar went up from the police I heard the drum of hooves it were like the Picnic Cup. A rifle shot whistled overhead I hurried down into the flooded wattles where the 2 boys was already bickering.
Get your adjectival head down said Steve.
I don’t want to get my powder wet.
Don’t worry about the effing powder.
O yes I see you’re keeping your gun dry.
Look look you silly b––––r Steve cried plunging his pistol under the muddy water. Does that satisfy you now?
We was interrupted by a blast from out on the river it were the prancing horseman firing his Spencer at the sodden sky.
Halt the traps shouted you’re under arrest.
Shoot the b–––––d called another.
The murderers was almost next to us the air above our heads were rent with explosions we ducked then felt the water push its icy fingers up our ears. When I surfaced Joe were off again he were swimming to America his horse in the middle of the flood with a great stretch of brown water ahead and no island in sight.
Of course not one of them traps had the courage of a so called HARDENED CRIMINAL they poked around the bush a little but never so much as got their boots wet. They left us by 3 o’clock that afternoon we was dripping wet and certain our mate must be washed upon a bank the mud running from his nose like some drowned calf. Dan’s lips was blue I changed his dressing then we all dried our firearms in melancholy silence.
We sat on our horses watching the flood slowly rise until it were dark even afterwards we continued our watch although Steve were sure Joe must be drowned and Dan would guarantee he got away. We remained without a fire to warm us and not until almost the next day was we rewarded by a murmuring above the suck and wash of flood it were a prayer a litany this human voice talking in the night. They would leave their adjectival mate it said they would ride away and leave a fellow. Well eff them for a mob of effing this and effing that.
We found a single rider poking his way very slowly through the dark eff this and eff that it were belligerent Joe Byrne. To a man we was most pleased to have him back which don’t mean we didnt barrack him a little asking him how were America and was the girls as pretty as we heard.
We was dead men now he answered we might as well accept the fact.
John King 3 yr. & Ellen King 5 yr. & Gracie Kelly 13 yr. all come shrieking in the hut to hide beneath the bed. All this I know from Mary Hearn she thought it were a game until she saw their pursuers was 2 big moustached officers their heavy pistols drawn.
Out cried the traps. Bail up!
Their munitions was .45 Colts but the policemen didnt feel that were sufficient for their safety and the larger of the pair now snatched Mary’s baby from his cart and held him as a human shield.
Little George begun to scream and wave his fists. His mother wrapped her blanket about her and come to rescue him but the officer jabbed her in the belly with his Colt.
Drop your guns he cried.
Sir she cried there aint no guns in here.
Don’t lie to me shouted Supt Brooke Smith we know Ned Kelly’s here. He ripped off her blanket revealing what she would not wish to show no man.
Sir cried she the baby is falling. It were true the babe were slipping from the trap’s grasp but fear can make a big man deaf and Inspector Brooke Smith were in Holy terror that I were hiding in the hut he thought his end were near.
Come out Kelly you’ll be shooting children if you fire.
O give my baby back Mary cried she darted forward but were knocked away she had no more power than a plover squealing around a raided nest.
Go on cried Smith get out the brat is in my care. So saying he got a knee up under George’s bottom a firmer grip around his chest.
Mary thought she were about to have her baby confiscated by the government. O do please return him to me Sir.
Brooke Smith swatted at your mother in reply it were to Kate he spoke. See all the men I have out there today? I will have as many more tomorrow and when I find your brothers I will blow them to pieces as small as the paper in our guns.
Sir I beg you he’s just a baby I am taking care of him very nicely as you see. I’ll show you my saving book if you would like.
Are you Kate Kelly?
Don’t tell him nothing said Kate.
My name is Mary Hearn Sir I have broke no law and neither has my son.
The name of Hearn meant nothing to the Inspector but the other officer were Detective Michael Ward a much more diligent and dangerous creature altogether. This is Kelly’s child he announced.
Good grief exclaimed Brooke Smith. Look how the little demon curls his lip.
Mary pushed forward but it were too late the crooked Ward had taken the baby in his own custody.
He has the gripe Sir thats all it is.
If you’re a clever girlie smiled Detective Ward you’ll tell me where its daddy’s hiding.
And suddenly with no warning he tossed the baby into the air.
Christ said Brooke Smith.
Ned aint the father Sir don’t hurt him.
Liar said Ward throwing the baby again it were far too rough George’s head snapped back his mouth flew open.
O I curse your seed cried Mary.
Ward’s grin failed him.
I curse your unborn children said Mary her blood were icy cold her eyes as black as coal. May your children come to the straw with feet like toads and eyes like snakes.
Silence!
You will be like a blackfellow with no home to turn to. Your wife will lie with soldiers. You will wander the roads with sores & weeping warts.
Detective Ward were white and waxy as an altar candle.
Halt cried his partner or I’ll fire.
Mary were just a girl of 17 normally v. meek & polite in manner her skin still unspoiled by the colonial sun but now her mouth were thin and straight. Then may you get red and scaly skin upon your private parts.
I order you cried Superintendent Brooke Smith & discharged his pistol through the roof.
That were the moment George’s eyes changed colour Kate will attest to that. One moment they was blue the next a yellow brown the colour of a ginger cat. In the heat of the furnace metals change their nature in olden days they could make gold from lead. Wait to see what more there is to hear my daughter for in the end we poor uneducated people will all be made noble in the fire.
We determined to return home to Greta even if the ground were crawling with policemen we could safely get tucker and dry clothes but when we got back to the Ovens River at Everton it were running 8 ft. higher than when 1st we crossed.
I’ll lead youse across said Steve this conversation took place at night in the flooded main street there were a dog behind the butcher’s shop throwing himself against his chain the horses was spooky requiring all our attention so we circled and chivvied while discussing what we was to do.
Ned said Steve we’ll go across at Wangaratta.
Joe had been very sour and glum since his failed attempt to swim the Murray he spoke sarcastically to him. Did it slip your mind theres a railway line to cross or did you fancy you could jump the effing packhorses across a 4 rail fence?
Shutup.
Well said Joe you can forget the railway gate its locked.
We don’t need no gates said Dan theres a railway bridge at Wangaratta.
The traps will have it guarded Danny.
Jesus Christ don’t call me effing Danny.
Ned said Steve I can get us under the railway bridge Ned.
Don’t listen to him Ned.
And what were you proposing Joe?
Shutup said Joe I’d go upriver to Bright we’d cross there easy as you effing well know.
Thats 30 adjectival miles.
You’re such a lazy b– – – – – d Hart you’d rather ride 8 mi. and get lagged at the end of it.
Shutup about being lagged we won’t be lagged.
How can he get us under the railway bridge when the effing river is in flood?
I’m not the one who thought he could swim the Murray.
Keep your voice down.
Theres a rock ledge underneath the bridge said Steve flood or no flood I’ve crossed there all my adjectival life.
I heard a squeaky window rise up in its sash.
Turning to Steve Hart I reminded him Wangaratta would be full of traps they would show us no mercy if we failed in our attempt.
You have my word I will get you through.
Very well said I we’re off to Wangaratta.
We drove the free horses before us walking them until we cleared the township then set off cantering through the dark up the empty main road from Everton to Tarrawingee thence to Wangaratta arriving around 4 o’clock our mounts all but ruined by their exertions.
Through grey early light & drizzle we come down through the sodden town 2,000 citizens was sound asleep our horses’ shoes as loud as cannon in my ears. Riding down to where the railway crossed One Mile we saw the mongrel creek were running a banker so Joe Byrne begun immediately to curse at Steve. You silly mutt you effing clift we should have gone to effing Bright etc. etc.
Shut your gob I ordered Joe he spat but were too busy keeping the driven horses together to argue.
Steve tipped his hat to Joe and grinned I’ll see you in America he said then persuaded his horse down into the current. He promised an underwater ledge we could only pray there were one. A woman were watching from a house across the street when I saw the way she looked at us I understood we was recognised and even in that grey and watery light it were clear I were reviled a murderer I took the plunge the water were exceeding high and deathly fast my horse begun to blow in fear but the ledge were true & we scrambled beneath the railway line and out the other side.
Come on you b––––rs we been spotted.
We was pushing the poor horses very hard making for the Warby Ranges while the witness Mrs Delaney went puffing up the hill to wake up Supt Brooke Smith and his army of police.
It is only 5 mi. from Wangaratta into the foothills this is hard & gnarly country unloved by squatters and relegated to the poor but Harry Power’s apprentice knew its dried dugs its swollen knuckles he had been taught its every twist and gully. Now the Warbies folded themselves around us like a mother and we slept protected by them whose names I cannot say in places we may yet require again.