The Hunt for Ned Kelly

by Sophie Masson

  Sam writes that by the end of it McIntyre is shaking and exhausted, suffering from such nervous excitement that several times he nearly collapses. I think, with a flash of pity, poor man, it cannot be easy to be forced to relive that terrible day in front of all those people. I’ve heard that he’s never been the same since, and that he has had to wear not only the memories but the contempt of those in the police force and elsewhere who think he is a coward who left his mates to their fate.

  August 9

  David Gaunson, Ned Kelly’s lawyer, has just released a long statement from his client to one of our reporters in Beechworth. It comes directly from Ned Kelly’s lips, and reading it affected me greatly. I will write down some of it here.

  I do not pretend that I have led a blameless life, or that one fault justifies another, but the public in judging a case like mine should remember that the darkest life may have a bright side, and that after the worst has been said against a man, he may, if he is heard, tell a story in his own rough way that will perhaps lead them to soften the harshness of their thoughts against him, and find as many excuses for him as he would plead for himself. For my own part I do not care one straw about my life nor the result of the trial … Let the hand of the law strike me down if it will, but I ask that my story is heard and considered; nor do I wish to avert any decree the law may deem necessary to vindicate justice or win a word of pity from anyone … People who live in large towns have no idea of the tyrannical conduct of the police in country places far removed from court; they have no idea of the harsh and overbearing manner in which they execute their duty or how they neglect their duty and abuse their powers.

  It is a powerful, passionate thing and everybody responds to it strongly. One reporter in the office said it’s very slick for an uneducated man. Another retorted that Ned’s not that uneducated, and besides, he’s bright; another said not so bright if he wastes fine words on a hopeless cause.

  Uncle Will said that it is all such a pity, such a sad and sorry waste. Aunt Julia said tartly that Ned Kelly had made his bed and now must lie in it, and when all is said and done, he is just a common criminal. Uncle Will got a little excited then, in his mild way, and said that is just it—he is no common criminal, for such a person would think no more of what he’d done than he’d reflect on swatting a fly. Ned Kelly struggles with his conscience, he said. That is why he fights to be heard and to explain his actions. Aunt Julia retorted that such men will always try to find excuses, but Uncle Will said it is not excuses Ned might be seeking, but understanding. Aunt Julia snorted but said nothing more. And Ellen and I said nothing.

  Of all of them, we are the only ones to have really encountered Ned Kelly in the flesh, but we are the only ones who cannot express out loud what we think. If we know what we think, that is. I’m not sure. I’m confused.

  August 12

  The fifth day of the trial has passed with not much change, except that Ned was committed to stand trial for murder. There is a good deal of commotion in Beechworth and Sam says the police are very nervous, having a great fear that somehow family or friends of the accused man will try to free him or else pass him poison or a gun or some other means to kill himself and thus cheat the law. The police feel themselves in dangerous territory in what is being called ‘Kelly Country’.

  Oh, one other thing: Lorna is going to have puppies! Aunt Julia is not pleased. She says we will have to drown most of them when they are born. Just let her try!

  August 13

  Ned Kelly has been brought back to Melbourne. There’re reports that a crowd of about 500 or 600 people was at Wangaratta station to greet Ned. He was amused to see them and smiled and waved. A disgusting display, said some of the papers, you’d think the man was a hero and not a deep-dyed villain.

  August 14

  Sam is back from Beechworth, full of what he’s seen and heard. He said that in the dock Ned Kelly looked dignified and calm and reserved, listening quietly, and that when McIntyre was in the witness box giving his version of events, it was the policeman who looked nervous and guilty. I asked Sam if he believed what McIntyre said and he shrugged and said he did not know—there were lots of troubling holes in the policeman’s statement—but whatever happened, it must have been a nightmare. In the end, only two people really knew what happened that day, and they were Thomas McIntyre and Ned Kelly. McIntyre said his mates had been killed in cold blood, Kelly claimed self-defence. One of them was lying. Which one? He could not quite make up his mind, though in his opinion if it had been in cold blood, Ned Kelly would surely have hunted down McIntyre and killed him, and not allowed him to escape to tell his tale. And so he leans to Ned’s side, but only just.

  His senior, the other Age reporter, had spoken with Gaunson, Ned’s lawyer. He said that the lawyer described the outlaw as speaking intelligently and ‘like an educated man’. It surprised us both, said Sam, you don’t expect that of someone like him. But I remember the man who said he loved reading and I am not surprised at all.

  ‘It makes you think,’ mused Sam, ‘if things had been different, perhaps Kelly would be a man respected and looked up to rather than hunted down like a wild beast.’

  Yes. It does make you think. It does make you wonder.

  August 23

  Sam and Ellen are really ‘stepping out’. Sam has confided to me that he thinks Ellen is the girl for him. I find it embarrassing he should tell me, but flattering too, because he does not treat me as though I am so much younger than him, but almost as an equal. I’m not sure though if Ellen would be very happy that Sam talks about her to me. To her I am still her little brother!

  Ned Kelly languishes still in Melbourne Gaol, while the wheels of the law grind on very very slowly (as Uncle Will says).

  September 10

  Big news: Ellen and Sam are engaged to be married! This afternoon he popped the question to Ellen. And she’s agreed! I can hardly believe it. My prickly sister who told me only a few short weeks ago that she would never get married! And who apparently hated all journalists! Not this one, though. She certainly seems very happy. Uncle Will and Aunt Julia are delighted, and I am too, though it does feel strange. They are not to be married for another year or so, and after their marriage Ellen will continue working in the studio for as long as she is able. She has told Sam firmly she intends to continue photographing, even on her own account, afterwards. He of course will continue in his work at the paper. He was more than happy to agree. He said he wouldn’t hear of her giving up, she had far too much talent. He was promoted the other day because of his good work in Beechworth. He has promised that he will try his hardest to get me a position as a cadet reporter perhaps by next year or soon after! He says I’m a really good writer and he’s sure I’ll have a good career. It’s a very exciting thought!

  September 12

  Big news again! Ellen has finally told Sam about our meeting with Ned Kelly, and the photograph Elijah stole from us. She said it was not good to enter into marriage holding secrets from your future husband. But to my pleased surprise she asked me first if it was all right, and I agreed. Sam’s a good fellow. You can trust him. Ellen says she’s changed her mind about journalists. Not all of them use people. At least not Sam. He’s a keen reporter, but not in the way Elijah was. He isn’t eaten by his job. He doesn’t use friendship to get what he wants. He understands there are other things in life too.

  And the way he reacted showed that clearly. After the first shock, he took it well and understood our position at once. She did not even have to ask him not to spread it about. But he was amused that I’d managed to keep it quiet all that time. ‘You must have been busting at times, Jamie,’ he chuckled.

  I nodded. ‘I had to bite my tongue.’

  ‘And I never guessed.’ He looked seriously at us. ‘But don’t you think it’s strange, the photo never being used?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I have been keeping an eye out, but I haven’t seen it at all. And what could we do? We couldn’t tell the police, could we
? I did think of writing to the American consul, but then I wasn’t sure what I should say.’

  ‘Maybe your friend had an attack of conscience,’ said Sam.

  ‘But then he’d have sent us back the photo,’ I said.

  Ellen snorted. ‘Exactly. More likely he did not find a taker. They probably thought it was a fake, that’s all.’

  Something flashed in my mind, then. I said, slowly, ‘But what if—what if something happened to him? I mean, before he could sell the photo? You know he said he owed money to some unpleasant people? What if—they …’

  Sam and Ellen looked at me. Sam said slowly, ‘I reckon you might have something there, Jamie. It would explain a good deal. Let me make some enquiries.’ He looked at Ellen, who shrugged and nodded.

  September 19

  Ned Kelly’s trial is to resume in Melbourne at the Central Criminal Court on October 18. The judge will be Sir Redmond Barry. Sam says that this was the same judge who two years ago sentenced Ned’s mother for her part in the assault on Constable Fitzpatrick. He said that he’d heard from one of the other reporters that at the time Sir Redmond Barry had made some unpleasant remarks about Ned Kelly, who had been sought by the police.

  ‘I’d say Ned was a goner,’ said Sam brightly, making Aunt Julia scold him for using ‘coarse language’.

  But Uncle Will says that there will be a jury too, and that we will have to trust that if there is a case for Ned, they will take everything into account. He has become quite a member of the ‘Poor Ned Club’ as Aunt Julia sarcastically calls it!

  September 30

  I’ve discovered something! Going into one of the shops not far from our office today, I noticed a new box of postcards on the counter. I leafed through them, but found nothing I was looking for. So I asked the owner if there were any pictures of the Kelly gang. I’ve asked that often enough in other places, though not here. And today the man looked at me and said, ‘It’s strange you should say that. I was in Sydney last week and came across a postcard which claimed to feature the Kelly gang. A fake, though, I’d say.’

  I stared at him. ‘Oh, sir! What did it … what did it look like?’

  He shrugged. ‘Three men on horses, in the bush.’

  ‘Was there—anything else, in the picture?’

  He frowned. ‘I can’t remember. Wait, I’ll show you.’ And he reached down under the counter and brought out a limp card. He handed it to me. ‘I was asked if I’d like to buy a box and sell them here. But I don’t know—I thought I’d be wasting my money. Too many fakes in the market, the public are getting wise to it. But I brought this one back as a souvenir, anyway.’

  I hardly heard him. I was staring down at the card. There was no doubt—it was the photo Ellen had taken on that strange December day. The photo had turned out fairly well, quite sharp, but the faces of the men were obscured under the brims of their hats. It wasn’t a perfect photo, not perfectly composed—it bore traces of the hurry we’d been in, you could even see the tripod and the negative box I hadn’t yet picked up leaning against a tree! But it was vivid and, looking at it, I was plunged straight back into that day. I could see the scene, smell the scents of the bush, hear the carolling of the birds—and feel the strange, dreamlike quality of that encounter again.

  There was a caption under each man, but they had got them wrong. Ned was captioned as Dan and Steve as Ned, for instance. It was clear that whoever had printed the postcard had no idea who each of the men were. That figured, I suppose, for Elijah himself had never seen them and wouldn’t have been able to tell them apart; he’d only be guessing at who was who.

  I turned it over. The card was printed by Regal Postcards, Sydney. I said, ‘Er—could I buy this from you, sir?’

  He shrugged. ‘You can have it, son. It’s a useless bit of junk, in my opinion.’ Trying to hide my feelings, I thanked him and hurried out of the shop, my ears burning, my heart thudding. So Elijah had done it after all! I couldn’t wait to tell Ellen and Sam.

  They were gratifyingly astonished and Sam said jokingly that I would obviously make a far better investigator than he, because his enquiries about Elijah in hospitals and police stations all over Melbourne had gone nowhere. ‘But now we know why,’ he said. ‘He must have gone to Sydney. First thing to do, let’s write to that postcard company.’ And he has, this very evening.

  October 18

  No news from Sydney yet. But today I went with Sam and Uncle Will to the Central Criminal Court, in order to witness the first day of the Kelly trial. There were thousands of people outside the court and lots of police there to try to push the crowd back and keep order. It was an amazing sight. At one point, I saw Maggie slipping in through a back entrance. She was dressed all in black. She did not see me.

  We got into the court, which was also packed. Ned was brought in at ten o’clock. It is the first time I have seen him in the flesh since that day and I think he looks paler and maybe a little thinner, but just as imposing physically. There was a lump in my throat as I looked at him. His gaze roamed over the crowd and my heart thumped as I wondered if he would see me. But he did not. Instead he caught sight of his family and smiled faintly.

  There were some things read out by lawyers, but the whole thing was over really quickly because the judge announced almost at once that the trial would have to be adjourned for another ten days as he was busy in another court! How tiresome the law is, and how slowly indeed it grinds, stretching out anxiety! And if it is tiresome for a mere spectator, imagine what it must do to the family and friends of the accused—and to Ned Kelly himself, sitting in his cell for months and months!

  October 20

  Lorna has had her puppies. Three of them, one male, two females. They are adorable. The male’s all black, the females are pale brown and black. Aunt Julia wanted to drown two of them, but because of my pleas she relented, provided I can find homes for them. Sam has promised to take one of them and Uncle Will said one of his friends would take the other. So that’s that. I can keep one of the females (Sam is set on the black male). I have not yet decided on a name for her, but am leaning towards Constance, who is one of the heroines in The Three Musketeers. Aunt Julia says briskly it is a silly name for a dog and too long. Well then I shall call her Connie.

  October 28

  Finally the trial has started. Again the courtroom was packed. It was dim in there, and stuffy. The judge in his red robes and full wig was an imposing sight, and so were the lawyers in black. Ned was brought in. He stood quietly in the dock. Proceedings began, witnesses were brought in. Sam whispered that it was all a rerun of Beechworth, no-one was saying anything very different. All the witnesses are for the prosecution—the defence announced it would not call any!

  Mostly Ned stayed still, quietly listening, but from time to time he would raise his arm and spit over it onto the floor, as if to express his contempt for what a witness was saying. But he did not do so when the Jerilderie bank manager, Mr Tarleton, to whom he had spoken about Stringybark Creek, seemed to back up his claim of self-defence.

  Mr Scott, the bank manager from Euroa, also managed to confuse the prosecutors by saying, ‘Mr Kelly was a thorough gentleman,’ who during the raid had not used a single rude word in front of Mrs Scott. Hearing that, Ned gave a wink to the jury.

  Sam whispered, ‘He has front, that’s for sure, but I don’t suppose the judge will like it much.’

  On and on it went, till six o’clock that evening, when we were told that the trial would be adjourned till the next day. Sam thinks it is not going well for Ned and he would not be surprised if tomorrow the verdict was very bad.

  I am so tired as I write this, my head aches and so do my limbs, as though a day spent sitting in court is more tiring than a day running around at work. Sam came to our house for dinner and talked some more about it with Uncle Will and Aunt Julia and Ellen. Neither of the women has been in court—Ellen says it would make her feel too low and Aunt Julia says she wouldn’t dream of it, she’s not interested. (But
she looks interested enough listening to Uncle Will and Sam dissecting every moment.) But I did not feel inclined to go over things again and went up to bed early.

  October 29

  The trial resumed early. Eight more witnesses were called. In the afternoon, both prosecution and defence gave their final speeches, and then the judge gave a summing-up to the jury which Sam said after was clearly not in Ned’s favour. The jury then retired to consider their verdict.

  During that time, I saw Tom Lloyd and Maggie leave the court. They must have known what the verdict would be. Poor things, they must not have been able to face hearing the sentence pronounced.

  Ned stood there, waiting. Suddenly, as his gaze roamed the crowd, he met my eye. Just for an instant, the blink of an instant, but I knew he recognised me. He gave a little smile. I thought I saw his lips form my name. My eyes filled with tears. I couldn’t help it. My hands were shaking and my head was thumping and my stomach was churning and for a moment I thought I would be sick.

  Just then, the jury came back and Ned’s gaze went directly to them. Sir Redmond Barry asked solemnly, ‘Members of the jury, how do you find the accused?’

  The foreman of the jury, Samuel Lazarus, stood up and said, ‘Guilty of murder, my lord.’

  There was a gasp from the court. Did Ned recoil, at that moment? I’m not sure. But if he did it was only for the merest part of an instant and he was still and straight again, his gaze calm. He was then asked if he had anything to say. He spoke quite calmly. I will try to set down as much as I can remember.