Larrikins, Bush Tales and Other Great Australian Stories

by Graham Seal

  In an earlier letter, written just before the raid on Euroa, Ned had cautioned his readers to ‘remember your railroads’. The full implications of this mysterious warning became apparent on Sunday 27 June 1880. Glenrowan, a cluster of buildings and tents surrounding a railway station, fell to the bushrangers as easily as Euroa and Jerilderie. But this time they had not come to rob a bank; they had something more ambitious in mind.

  The night before, Dan Kelly and Joe Byrne had ‘executed’ a one-time companion named Aaron Sherritt. Sherritt had apparently been playing the dangerous role of double agent, playing the police off against the outlaws. But his murder also had another motive, to lure the bulk of the special district police force onto a train that would have to pass through Glenrowan on its way to the scene of the murder in the Kelly country. The bushrangers planned to wreck this train and pick off the survivors, particularly the Aboriginal blacktrackers who had several times brought the police a little too close to the Kellys for comfort. Exactly what the gang intended to do after this massacre remains controversial. It has been said that they merely aimed to rob as many unprotected banks as possible; others believe that their plans were far more enterprising, involving an insurrection to establish a ‘Republic of North-eastern Victoria’. Whatever the bushrangers had in mind, they were well prepared for a hard fight.

  During the months before the attack on Glenrowan, plough-shares and quantities of cast iron had been disappearing throughout the Kelly country. The reason for these unusual thefts became plain when the bushrangers herded most of Glenrowan’s small population into Jones’s Hotel that Sunday. In the back room were four rough suits of armour, consisting of back-plates and breastplates and an adjustable metal apron to protect the groin of the wearer. Each suit weighed about 80 pounds—almost 40 kilos—and there was one metal helmet, with eye slits and a visor, weighing about 16 pounds. Ned Kelly was the only member of the gang strong enough to wear both armour and helmet and still manage to handle a gun.

  About ten o’clock that night, after a round of singing, dancing and drinking with the crowd in the hotel, Ned allowed a few prisoners to go home because the police train had not arrived as early as expected. This blunder ensured the failure of the bushrangers’ plot. One of the freed prisoners, the Glenrowan schoolmaster Thomas Curnow, walked along the railway track and warned the police train just outside Glenrowan.

  Hearing the train stop outside the town, the bushrangers realised what had happened, buckled on their armour and stood in front of the hotel to meet the police charge that very soon came. After a lengthy exchange of shots, Ned Kelly and Joe Byrne were wounded, and the clumsiness of their armour, together with the intensely painful bruises caused whenever a bullet smashed into the metal, had become apparent. Ned lumbered into the bush to reload his revolver and fainted from loss of blood. At about the same time, Joe Byrne was killed by a stray bullet that splintered through the wooden hotel wall.

  The hotel was still full of prisoners, but the police raked the building with gunfire. A young boy and an old man were both wounded, and a woman with a baby in her arms and her family in tow was frustrated three times in her attempts to escape by the police’s refusal to cease firing. She was finally helped to safety by the gallantry of a bystander who braved the gunfire to rescue her, though one of her children was wounded.

  Shortly after this, Ned Kelly recovered consciousness and came crashing out of the bush, firing at the police from the safety of his armour. He was finally brought down by a shotgun blast to the upper legs fired by Sergeant Steele and taken into custody.

  The police then sent to Melbourne for a field-gun to demolish the weatherboard hotel along with the two bushrangers left inside, Dan Kelly and Steve Hart. Long before the gun arrived, the prisoners were all released and the police set the hotel alight. A Catholic priest among the 500 sightseers who had gathered at the railway station rushed into the burning building. He found the bodies of Dan Kelly and Steve Hart, and rescued a badly wounded old man who had been forgotten by the prisoners in their rush to escape.

  It was all over; the sightseers had nothing to do but wait for the blaze to subside and then hunt for souvenirs. The relatives of the dead bushrangers waited to claim the charred bodies for burial. Ned Kelly was taken to Melbourne, where he rapidly recovered from his 30 wounds and stood trial in front of the same judge who had sentenced his mother two years before.

  Not surprisingly, the verdict was ‘guilty’ and Edward Kelly was sentenced to hang. Strong campaigning and a petition to have the sentence commuted were unsuccessful, and at ten o’clock on the morning of Thursday 11 November 1880, Ned Kelly dropped through the gallows’ trapdoor and into legend. But that was not the end of it.

  A Glenrowan letter

  Young bank clerk Donald Sutherland wrote to his parents about what he saw in the immediate aftermath of the siege at Glenrowan.

  My Dear Parents

  I have your letter by the last mail all in good time. I am sorry to learn that Maggie Ben Hill had such a narrow shave in the neighbourhood of Spittal. By Jove she must have felt the cold pretty much I guess. The weather here just now is bitter cold. I was in Beechworth the other day and the snow was coming down in great flakes. Snow-balling being indulged in all the afternoon—the ground was literally covered. The mountains are all covered some time ago and the winter garments will continue being worn by them for about 6 months yet. We have hard frost every night and in the mornings the grass is quite brittle. The ice is not strong enough for skating though—in the shade in front of the Bank here and where the sun does not shine. We have frost all day—I sleep at night with three double blankets and a greatcoat and then feel the cold.

  Fresh since I last wrote you we have had great doings here—the Kellys are annihilated. The gang is completely destroyed—you will see a long and full account of all that has been done in one of The Australasians which I send to you along with this letter. They had a long run but were captured at last. Glenrowan is only 8 miles from Oxley and 12 from Wangaratta being the next station on the line from the latter township to Melbourne. I always thought the Kellys were in the ranges about here although some people maintained that on account of their long silence they had got away from Australia altogether. On hearing of the affray, I at once proceeded to Glenrowan to have a look at the desperados who caused me so many dreams and sleepless nights. I saw the lot of them. Ned, the leader of the gang, being the only one taken alive. He was lying on a stretcher quite calm and collected notwithstanding the great pain he must have been suffering from his wounds. He was wounded in 5 or 6 places, only in the arms and legs—his body and head being encased in armour made from the moule boards of a lot of ploughs. Now the farmers about here have been getting their moule boards taken off their ploughs at night for a long time but who ever dreamed it was the Kellys and that they would be used for such a purpose. Ned’s armour alone weighed 97 pounds. The police thought he was a fiend seeing their rifle bullets mere sliding off him like hail. They were firing into him at about 10 yards in the grim light of the morning without the slightest effect. The force of the rifle bullets made him stagger when hit but it was only when they got him in the legs and arms that he reluctantly fell exclaiming as he did so ‘I am done I am done’. Steele was the man who dropped him and Kelly always boasted that he would burn Steele alive before he was captured. Steele is the sergeant in charge of the police at Wangaratta and a very nice fellow. The Kellys this time had lifted the rails to upset the train and kill and shoot everyone on it. They were then going to make the engine driver run them down the line to Benalla where they would stick up all the banks, blow up the police barracks—in fact commit wholesale slaughter and then fly to their mountain fortresses.

  Ned does not at all look like a murderer and bushranger—he is a very powerful man aged about 27, black hair and beard with a soft mild looking face and eyes—his mouth being the only wicked portion of the face. After his capture he became very tame and conversed freely with those who knew him. N
ot having the pleasure of his acquaintance I did not speak to him although I should have liked very much to ask why he never stuck up the Bank of Victoria at Oxley. Well he had it down on his programme at one time but a schoolmaster named Wallace and one who banks with us put him off it—at least Wallace got the news conveyed through Byrne, one of the gang that he had some deeds and papers here which he did not wish destroyed as it would ruin him. Ned had said I wont do it and he didn’t do it and we were consequently saved from the presence of the gang. Poor Ned I was really sorry for him to see him lying pierced by bullets and still showing no signs of pain. His 3 sisters were there also, Mrs Skillion, Kate Kelly and a younger one. Kate was sitting at his head with her arms round his neck while the others were crying in a mournful strain at the state of one who, but the night before, was the terror of the whole Colony. The night that Byrne and Dan Kelly shot Sherritt at The Woolshed they rode through Oxley on their way to Glenrowan. Some of the people in the township heard the horses go by but I didn’t being sound asleep. Byrne was shot in the groin early in the morning as he was drinking a glass of whisky at the bar. Then there remained only Dan Kelly and Steve Hart—whether they shot themselves or whether they were shot by the police will ever remain a mystery. At about 2pm a policeman named Johnstone whom I knew well at Murchison fired the house and it was only when no signs of life appeared that they rushed the place to find the charred remains of Dan and Steve Hart. They presented a horrible appearance being roasted to a skeleton, black and grim reminding me of old Knick himself.

  Thousands of people thronged to Glenrowan on receipt of the news and not one of the crowd there had the courage to lift the white sheet off the charred remains until I came up and struck a match—it being dark—pulling down the sheet and exposed all that remained of the 2 daring murderous bushrangers. Dan and Steve are buried in the Greta Cemetery, Byrne is buried at Benalla and Ned is now in the hospital of the Melbourne gaol treated with every care until he is strong and well enough to be hanged. Such then is bushranging in Victoria so far. I may tell you however that it is not all over yet and my belief is that another gang will be out ere long to avenge the death of the present. I could tell you much more but time and space will not permit. You can read a full and correct account from The Australasian. I am quite well, hoping you are all ditto.

  faithfully

  D G Sutherland

  PS The hair enclosed is from the tail of Ned Kelly the famous murderer and bushranger’s mare. His favourite mare who followed him all round the trees during the firing. He said he wouldn’t care for himself if he thought his mare safe.

  ‘I thought it was a circus’

  On Saturday 14 May 1881, less than a year after Dan’s death and six months since Ned’s hanging, the members of the Royal Commission investigating the causes of the Kelly outbreak rode up unannounced to the family home in Greta. They were met by Ned’s mother, Ellen.

  Her residence, a four-roomed slab hut, with a bark roof, stands in the middle of a paddock comprising about 10 acres. It is within a short distance from a mountain, called Quarry-hill, whence a good view of the surrounding country can be obtained. Within the paddock there were two or three horses and as many cows, and there were a few fowls and a tame kangaroo about the house. But the place presented a gloomy, desolate appearance. There was a very small kitchen garden, but there was no other land under cultivation. Some of the panes of glass in the windows were broken, and, excepting that some creepers had very recently been planted at the foot of the verandah posts, no attempt had been made to beautify the house, or make this home look homely.

  When the commission pulled up on the road opposite the front-door that door was closed, there was no sign of any human being about. Presently, however, a child was observed peeping round the back of the house at the strangers. After a short consultation it was decided that it would be better for the commission, as they were near the house, to ask Mrs Kelly if she had any statement to make on the subjects that they have been appointed to inquire into. Accordingly, Messrs Graves and Anderson were told-off to go to the house and open up communication with Mrs Kelly. She came round from the back of the house to meet them, and intimated, when she was told of the object of the visit, that she had no objection to see the commission.

  The remaining members were then called up, and introduced by Mr Graves to Mrs Kelly. She was dressed in black, and seemed to be between 40 and 45 years of age. In her younger days she was probably comely, and her hair is still abundant, and black as a raven’s wing. Although looking careworn, she has evidently a large stock of vitality. Her eyes and mouth are the worst features in her face, the former having a restless and furtive, and the latter a rather cruel look. When Mr Graves introduced the other commissioners, Mrs Kelly said with a smile, ‘I didn’t know who you could all be; I thought it was a circus.’

  … after a short and rather uncomfortable pause, Mr Longmore undeceived Mrs Kelly by informing her that they were the Police Commission and would be glad to listen to anything she had to say. She did not invite the commissioners into her house or open the front door, and two or three very young children—her offspring—could be seen inside the house, peering through a window. One of these children was a pretty little girl about four or five years old and her face reminded one very forcibly of Ned Kelly, whose hair and eyes were of a different colour from his mother’s.

  Ellen Kelly made the same charges she had made many times before and would make many times again:

  The police have treated my children very badly. I have three very young ones, and had one only a fortnight old when I got into trouble [referring to her recent imprisonment in connexion with the assault on Constable Fitzpatrick at Greta]. That child I took to Melbourne with me, but I left Kate and Grace and the younger children behind. The police used to treat them very ill. They used to take them out of bed at night, and make them walk before them. The police made the children go first when examining a house, so as to prevent the out-laws if in the house, from suddenly shooting them.

  Kate is now only about 16 years old, and is still a mere child. She is older than Grace. Mrs Skillian is married, and of course, knew more than the others, who are mere children. She is not in the house now. Mr Brook Smith was the worst behaved of the force, and had less sense than any of them. He used to throw things out of the house, and he came in once to the lock-up staggering drunk. I did not like his conduct. That was at Benalla. I wonder they allowed a man to behave as he did to an unfortunate woman. He wanted me to say things that were not true.

  My holding comprises 88 acres, but it is not all fenced in. The Crown will not give me a title. If they did I could sell at once and leave this locality. I was entitled to a lease a long time ago, but they are keeping it back. Perhaps, if I had a lease, I might stay for a while, if they would let me alone. I want to live quietly. The police keep coming backwards and forwards, and saying there are ‘reports, reports.’ As to the papers, there was nothing but lies in them from the beginning. I would sooner be closer to a school, on account of my children. If I had anything forward I would soon go away from here.

  Mrs Kelly was then asked if her children had any complaints:

  Mrs. Kelly knocked at the front door, and called out to her daughter Grace to open it. Grace did so, and after much persuasion on the part of her mother, came to the open door, but speedily retreated behind it. She seems about 14 or 15 years old, and bears a much greater resemblance to her brother Ned than either Mrs. Skillian or Miss Kate Kelly do. Most of the party, seeing that the girl was bashful, withdrew from the house, and then Grace made a statement to Mr. Longmore and one or two others to the effect that one of her brother Ned’s last requests was that his sisters should make full statements as to how the police had treated them.

  She then continued as follows:—‘On one occasion Detective Ward threatened to shoot me if I did not tell him where my brothers were, and he pulled out his revolver. The police used to come here and pull the things about. Mr. Brook Smith was one of
them. He used to chuck our milk, flour, and honey, on the floor. Once they pulled us in our night clothes out of bed. Sergeant Steele was one of that party.’

  Mrs. Kelly further stated that when she ‘came out’ her children’s clothes were rotten, because of their having been thrown out of doors by the police. The police, also, had destroyed a clock and a lot of pictures, and threatened to pull down the house over their heads. She was understood to make a statement to the effect that the police had made improper overtures to some of her daughters, but she afterwards said that she had no such charge to make.

  Mr. Longmore and one or two others went into the sitting room, which was very poorly furnished, and the ceiling of which was in a very dilapidated condition. All the inside doors leading into this room were shut, and it seemed tolerably certain that the commission did not see all who were in the house.

  A death in Forbes

  On 18 October 1898, the Forbes newspaper carried a report of an inquest held at the pub. A 36-year-old local woman known as Ada Foster was dead. A young police constable gave his evidence:

  I received information that the deceased had left her infant, five weeks old, without any person to care for it. I made diligent search to try and ascertain her whereabouts, but failed to find any trace; the infant and other three small children were taken care of by a neighbour; I communicated with her husband, and saw him on Saturday evening; I continued making search to find her whereabouts till yesterday about 12.30 when I was informed that the body was floating in the lagoon; in company with Constable Kennedy I proceeded town [sic] the lagoon down the Condobolin road, and at the rear of Ah Toy’s residence, I there saw the body floating face downwards, about ten feet from the bank against a log; the lower portion of the back was bare, the clothes having fallen over the head; we removed the body from the lagoon and conveyed it to the Carlton Hotel…