Black Snake

by Carole Wilkinson

  Ned suddenly came to life. There were still three shots left in the gun. It was pure luck that he’d survived so far. He wasn’t ready to trust to luck any more. He leapt at Hall, one hand grabbing the revolver, the other getting a fistful of the constable’s fat neck. Hall squawked like a chicken about to have its neck wrung. Before I knew it, there were half a dozen men on Ned’s back. Hall pulled the revolver from Ned’s grasp and bashed him over the head with it again and again. I went over to try and stop him, before he killed the boy. Blood was pouring from his head, but Ned was staring straight at Hall’s sweating face. His eyes flickered. He was holding on to consciousness by sheer force of will. I’d guess he didn’t want to give that fat pig the satisfaction of saying he’d knocked Ned Kelly out cold.

  James Gloster, hawker

  Short and Sweet

  On Ned’s prison record, under “Particular Marks” is a list of nine scars. Four of them were on his head and were probably the result of Constable Hall hitting him with the butt of his revolver.

  Ned had to have nine stitches in his head. He had only been released from jail a few weeks and he was in trouble again. This time it was more serious. Ned thought the horse he was riding belonged to a man called “Wild” Wright who had been staying at the Kelly house. The horse had been put in a paddock, but had got out and disappeared into the bush. The horse was found after Wild had left. There was one important fact that Wild hadn’t mentioned to the Kellys—the horse wasn’t his. He had stolen it.

  Ned had made an enemy of Senior Constable Hall the previous year. Hall had asked Ned to draw his uncle Jimmy Quinn into a fight so that the police could arrest him. Uncle Jimmy was a troublemaker. Ned didn’t like him. He agreed to help Constable Hall. He had no trouble annoying his uncle enough to make him pick a fight. He ran to the police station for protection and Hall arrested Uncle Jimmy. But when Ned had to tell his story in front of a judge and jury, he confessed that Hall had put him up to it. Since then, Hall had been out to get Ned. When Ned rode into town on a stolen horse, Hall had his opportunity.

  If Constable Hall’s gun had worked properly, the story of Ned Kelly would have ended right there and no one would have remembered his name.

  Justice

  “I threw big cowardly Hall on his belly I straddled him and rooted both spurs onto his thighs he roared like a big calf attacked by dogs.”

  Ned’s version of his arrest by Hall, Jerilderie Letter, February 1879

  Ned insisted that he didn’t know the horse was stolen. If he had known, he would hardly have been so stupid as to ride it around Wangaratta in broad daylight. Constable Hall was keen to get Ned back for letting him down in court. The judge was happy to make an example of the young larrikin. There was a problem though. The horse had been reported stolen while Ned was still in jail, so he couldn’t be charged with horse stealing. He was charged instead with receiving a stolen horse. Wild Wright, the man who had actually stolen the horse, was sentenced to 18 months in jail. Ned was sentenced to three years hard labour.

  Breaking Rocks

  Prison life was hard. First Ned had to serve three months of solitary confinement—one month for each year of his sentence. This was the prison policy at the time. Locked in a cell by himself, he was not permitted to speak to anyone. Ned and other prisoners serving similar sentences were allowed out of their cells into the yard for one hour of exercise each day. So that the isolation continued even when the prisoners were together for this short time, they had to wear hoods that completely covered their heads, with only two small holes for them to see through.

  The rest of Ned’s sentence was served doing hard labour. He worked in government quarries cutting blocks of bluestone with a hammer and chisel. Then he joined work gangs and helped build sea walls around Port Phillip Bay. Six months were taken off Ned’s sentence for good behaviour. He was 19 when he was released.

  Home Free

  He arrived home in February 1874 to find his world had changed. One of his sisters was dead; another was married. His brother Jim was serving a five-year jail sentence for cattle stealing. His mother was about to remarry, and he had a new baby half-sister.

  Fresh from two-and-a-half years in prison, Ned was determined never to go back there again. He got a job in a timber mill. He wanted to get his revenge on Wild Wright who had been the cause of his imprisonment, but he didn’t want to get into trouble again. A public brawl could have easily ended up with him being arrested, so instead Ned agreed to fight Wild in an organised boxing match. Wild was an experienced fighter, but the years of hard work in prison and months of tree felling since his release meant that Ned was a strong young man. He had the satisfaction of beating Wild Wright.

  He spent the next three years working hard, earning an honest living. He had jobs driving bullock teams, breaking horses and shearing, but most of the work he did was felling trees for a sawmill. He was a trusted worker and became an overseer, yet the period of honest toil didn’t last. Ned later claimed that he had been driven to crime by what we would today call police persecution and harassment. He said that whenever a horse or a cow went missing in the district, the police would accuse him or another member of his family.

  Wholesale and Retail

  By the beginning of 1877, Ned had given up tree felling and bullock driving. He had passed up the chance of continuing to work for his sawmill bosses. Instead, he had taken up what he called “wholesale and retail horse and cattle dealing”. This was Ned’s idea of a joke. He really meant horse and cattle theft.

  He was joined in this venture by his brother Dan; his step-father, George King; some of his cousins and two friends called Aaron Sherritt and Joe Byrne.

  This gang of thieves was no ragtag band. The operation was well organised. The gang found an old hut, deep in the Wombat Ranges. They fixed up the hut and cleared many acres around it. They built fences. They took the stolen stock up to this remote spot where they could corral them away from the prying eyes of settlers, squatters and policemen.

  Tricks of the Trade

  “I was blamed for stealing this bull from James Whitty… I was blamed for stealing a mob of calves from Whitty and Farrell which I knew nothing about. I began to think they wanted me to give them something to talk about. Therefore I started wholesale and retail horse and cattle dealing.”

  Ned’s reason for turning to horse theft, Jerilderie Letter

  Stealing the stock was easy enough. The tricky thing was to sell the animals again without the buyer realising they were stolen. One way to do this was to change the brand. Every stock owner had his own brand—a symbol, such as initials, that was burnt into the hide of the animal. This way, if an animal got lost or stolen, the owner could prove it was his. The gang devised ways of changing brands, for instance by turning an H into an HP joined together. As a fresh brand would have looked suspicious, they found ways of making new brands look old. One technique they used was to pull out the animal’s hairs with tweezers in the shape of the new brand, then prick the bare skin with a needle that had been dipped in iodine. This made the skin burn and the mark it left looked like an old brand.

  The gang stole stock in Victoria and then took the animals over the Murray River, swimming them across at deserted places instead of using busy bridges. They then sold the animals openly in saleyards in New South Wales, far from their owners and reports of their theft.

  Sometimes one of the gang would pretend he was a squatter’s son taking horses to sell at a market. He would stop at another squatter’s property and ask if he could put his animals in a paddock overnight so they didn’t stray. Another gang member would arrive and say he was interested in buying the horses. The two would agree on a price and then ask the squatter to witness the receipt that they wrote out. They would then pretend to go off in opposite directions. This way there was a “genuine” receipt to offer as proof that the animals weren’t stolen when they really tried to sell them.

  Close of Business

  The gang weren’t the only ones i
nvolved in horse and cattle theft at the time. There was a complicated network of thieves. Thieves stole from other thieves and it was impossible to tell whether stock offered for sale was genuine or not. Buying stolen stock was considered to be almost as serious a crime as stealing it.

  Eventually, other men were arrested for receiving horses that the gang had stolen, though Ned was suspected of being the main culprit. Knowing that it was only a matter of time until someone informed on him, Ned sold his remaining horses and disappeared into the bush.

  Ned’s brother Dan decided to go home. With no evidence to prove that he was involved in the theft of stock, the police left him alone—for a while. Before long, though, a warrant was issued for Dan’s arrest. He was charged with a theft that had happened more than six months earlier.

  Ned’s prison record listing his “particular marks”, including scars and freckles.

  Ned after beating Wild Wright in a boxing match.

  Area of Kelly Gang activities in Victoria

  4. One Stray Bullet

  What if you were there...

  The day had seemed no different to any other. Mother and I had spent it washing the sheets and making quince jam. We had just eaten our dinner. I was rocking the baby, looking down at her innocent sleeping face, thinking here’s another mouth to feed, but also another sister. Funny how a new baby can appear in the family, a stranger, unable to speak or do anything but cry, but within two days you can’t help but love them fiercely. My mother was heaping coals on the fire around the bread she was baking. The yeasty smell was starting to overpower the smell of smoke. My brother Daniel had come in late and was still eating.

  There was a knock at the door. I waited for Daniel to get up and answer it, but he made no move, concentrating on demolishing the plate of stew in front of him. I sighed and gently lowered the baby into her cradle—actually a fruit box on roughly cut rockers. Another more insistent knock and Danny finally hauled himself up and over to the door, still holding his knife and fork and yelling, “Can’t a man eat in peace?”

  Dan opened the door. “I’ve come to arrest you, Dan Kelly, on a charge of horse stealing.” I recognised our visitor’s voice. It was Constable Fitzpatrick from Benalla. I’d met him before at the Sports Day. I’d thought him quite handsome at the time.

  Danny glanced back at mother and me. “Can I at least finish my dinner?” he said. No one invited him in, but Fitzpatrick came in anyway. He didn’t bother to take off his helmet.

  Mother turned to the trooper, her hands on her hips, her face red from the fire. “Where’s the warrant, then?” she demanded. She turned to Dan. “You shouldn’t have let him in if he’s got no warrant.”

  “It’s all right, Mother,” Danny said calmly, sitting down at the table again and scraping up the last of his stew. “Is that bread ready yet?”

  Mother pulled the loaf of bread from the fire and put it on the table. Danny wasn’t in a hurry. He hacked an inch-thick slice from one end and used it to mop up his gravy. He drained his tin mug of tea. Finally he pushed his chair away from the table. “I’ll just get my coat.”

  Danny went into the other room. Mother followed him, still protesting that he didn’t have to go anywhere if there was no warrant. Constable Fitzpatrick came over to where I was sitting with the baby. He leaned his sweaty face towards me. I smelt the brandy on his breath and the stale smell of a shirt needing a good wash.

  “Don’t you dare touch me.” I pushed him away. Fitzpatrick staggered back onto a chair. He reached out and grabbed me by the arm and pulled me onto his lap. “Get your greasy hands off me,” I yelled.

  Danny and mother rushed back into the room. I was thrown to the floor as Fitzpatrick stood up. Mother, screaming abuse at the policeman, picked up the coal shovel and brought it crashing down on his helmet while he was still fumbling to get his revolver out of its holster. Danny dived at the gun. At that moment the door was flung open and Ned was standing in the doorway. There was a flash and a crack as a gun went off. Fitzpatrick screamed out like a girl. The revolver had gone off as Dan grappled to take it from Fitzpatrick. A bullet had nicked the trooper’s wrist. My brothers were on their knees holding him down. They both had guns held at his head.

  “If you touch my sister again,” said Ned, his voice trembling with rage. “There’ll be a bullet in your head next time.”

  Kate Kelly, Ned’s sister

  The Whole Truth

  This isn’t quite the version of events that Constable Alexander Fitzpatrick reported to his colleague in Benalla when he woke him at 2 a.m. with his wrist bandaged and his helmet dented out of shape. He said Mrs Kelly attacked him with the shovel, unprovoked, and then Ned appeared and shot him in the arm. He said that Ned dug the bullet from his wrist and bandaged it up, apologising for shooting at him. Ned then begged him not to let on that it was Ned who’d fired the shot. Fitzpatrick didn’t mention Kate.

  Seven versions of these events have been recorded.

  “The police got great credit and praise in the papers for arresting the mother of 12 children one an infant on her breast and those two quiet hard working innocent men who would not know the difference [between] a revolver and a saucepan handle and kept them six months awaiting trial and then convicted them on the evidence of the meanest article that ever the sunshone on.”

  Ned’s view of the police, Fitzpatrick in particular, Jerilderie Letter

  Lapses of Memory

  In Ned’s version of the story, he was more than 600 kilometres away at the time, still keeping a low profile. He said he heard about the incident later from his family. They told him that Fitzpatrick pulled his revolver and threatened to blow his mother’s brains out. Dan disarmed the policeman before he could carry out his threat and no shots were fired.

  Mrs Kelly claimed that Fitzpatrick tried to kiss 14-year-old Kate and “the boys” were defending her honour.

  Kate was reported as saying that she was alone when Fitzpatrick came to the house. Her brothers arrived just in time to witness Fitzpatrick “behaving improperly” to her.

  A neighbour, Brickey Williamson, claimed he stood between Mrs Kelly and Fitzpatrick and took the shovel from her before she had a chance to hit the policeman.

  Ned’s brother Jim said he was told that Fitzpatrick shot himself accidentally during the scuffle with Dan.

  Ned’s cousin Tom Lloyd said Fitzpatrick was about to shoot Ned when Dan grappled him to the floor. The constable accidentally shot himself in the scuffle. He cut his wrist on the door latch.

  We will never know what really happened, but the incident had far-reaching effects. Even though it only lasted a few minutes, the confrontation with Fitzpatrick was, ultimately, what turned the Kelly brothers from horse thieves into hunted outlaws.

  “I have heard from a trooper that he never knew Fitzpatrick to be one night sober and that he sold his sister to a chinaman…the deceit and cowardice is too plain to be seen in the puny cabbage hearted looking face.”

  More on Fitzpatrick, Jerilderie Letter

  Alexander Fitzpatrick was only a young man himself. Younger than Ned, he was just 21 years old at the time of the “Fitzpatrick Affair”.

  Fitzpatrick was thrown out of the police force three years later. Throughout his life he continued to deny that he had molested Kate Kelly, but he went down in history as the man who caused the Kelly Outbreak.

  Bush Telegraph

  Though Ned claimed he wasn’t at the house on that fateful day in April 1878, it seems likely that he was. Though he said no shots were fired, the evidence suggests that they were. But whatever the exact sequence of events was, the result was the same—Ned and Dan knew they were in trouble with the police and they both made themselves scarce. What they didn’t know, what they didn’t imagine in their wildest dreams, was that they weren’t the only ones in trouble. The Kelly brothers rode off that same night to hide deep in the bush. It was some time before they heard the news. The following day, their mother, a brother-in-law and Brickey Williamson ha
d all been arrested for the attempted murder of Constable Fitzpatrick.

  It must have been a terrible shock for Ned when he heard this news. He had high-tailed it from the scene of the crime and his own mother, with a three-day-old baby, had been arrested instead. His mother had been guilty only of hitting a man with a shovel. The two men were completely innocent. Brickey was guilty of nothing more than being present at the house when the shooting took place. Bill Skilling, who was married to Ned’s sister Maggie, hadn’t even been there at the time. Fitzpatrick swore that Bill was present, though it seems more likely that the other man was actually Ned’s friend Joe Byrne, and that Fitzpatrick made a mistake.

  Adding to Ned’s worries, no one had yet come forward to pay the £200 bail, so his mother and newborn sister were in a freezing jail with winter setting in.

  Enterprise

  The Kelly brothers didn’t go far. They hid in the Wombat Ranges, close enough to home to hear regular news from friends who rode out to bring them food and other supplies. On hearing about his mother’s arrest, Ned immediately swung into action. He and Dan set up in an abandoned hut. Ned wanted to raise money for the legal defence of Mrs Kelly and the others. The two Kelly boys set about panning for gold at abandoned gold mines. They built a still and planted crops to provide the ingredients needed to brew whisky. Ned’s plan was that they would then sell the gold and the whisky to get money for a lawyer.

  Even though Ned’s mother remarried in 1874 and became Ellen King, everybody including Ned, the police and the newspapers still referred to her as Mrs Kelly.

  Guilty as Charged

  Two months later, Ned was relieved to hear that someone had finally come forward to pay Mrs Kelly’s bail money. She was able to return home until the trial. It was a long six months before the trial.