True History of the Kelly Gang

by Peter Carey

  When Harry opened his purse in order to reward him Mr B. swore he spat and said Harry were his mate he would be insulted to take money for the service.

  Mr B. were a poor man his shirt were ragged his boots patched with pitch and twine but he had to make his speech and Harry did not mind listening not at all. Finally the old selector accepted the money and returned the way he had come his cart horse had thrown a shoe and was limping badly.

  As the poor pay fealty to the bushranger thus the bushranger pays fealty to the poor.

  We turned our horses ambling back down the hill we was now in no hurry to reach our destination my reason will be obvious enough but as for Harry he wished to enter the town late at night because there was 2 Constables in Beechworth with a hankering to make their reputations with his neck.

  We was passing the little farmhouse where I had been so well entertained when Harry asked what I thought of the boy Shan and I answered he could ride as well as any boy I ever saw. Then Harry told me that it were his strong suspicion that Shan were not a human boy but a substitute that had been left.

  It were that time of day when the light is high up on the ridgetops while down in the valley floor everything were what Scots call the gloaming all the crows and currawongs very melancholy. Harry said there were a couple near Tipperary that had a child which were taken in the night. The so called CHILD left in its place were very strange with a wasted appearance in its eyes you could see that it were very old indeed. The parents was afraid of it and would not argue with it and it could break a plate or climb around the thatching without them daring to contradict it. Harry hadnt seen this substitute child himself but his mother knew him she said the boy had the ability to be in many different places in the one time. He liked to sew and while this were a strange occupation for a boy no one would make jokes at his expense. The wonder of his village he were often about in the woods or nearby towns then inside his cottage sometimes at the same minute he were also in the fields. At the cottage he sat by the fire working on a patchwork cloak it were quite outstanding and no one could explain where he got such colours from. There were a red in particular which were like the red you find in a stained glass window and there was no red about his mother’s garments in the whole house not the smallest skerrick.

  People come paying their respects to the parents but they really come to see the cloak to watch the boy’s fifngers as he sewed no one never seen the like of it before. The ffingers was so very long and nimble they were like the ffingers of a monkey bending as he sewed as if there was no bones at all but as for the design itself people complained it were almost impossible to get a good look at what the boy were up to.

  Time passed his brothers and his sisters growing older with children of their own but the boy didnt age a day although some thought his eyes grew paler no one could imagine how a simple cloak could occupy him for such a length of time.

  Then one day the mother goes to the priest saying that the boy had a question that wanted answering and would the Holy Father call on them at such and such a time. The priest come to the house where he found the boy were waiting by the fifreplace and the boy straight away asks his question which were as follows.

  Would he go to Heaven yes or no.

  The priest looked at the boy at his strange washed out eyes his long thin fifngers and he did not wish to offend him nor did he wish to lie.

  At last he spoke he said I can promise you that if you have a drop of Adam’s blood in your veins you have as good a chance as I.

  And if not says the boy.

  Then said the priest you will not go to Heaven.

  And with that the poor creature let out an awful kind of shriek he dropped his patchwork on the ffloor and run away. He were never seen again but his parents kept the needlework for many years after. It were a picture of the Holy Mother with her Babe and everyone who seen it reported it were very ffine.

  It were now almost dark I asked Harry did he ever see this needlework he said his mother had been shown it on the eve of the very day she were transported. I asked him did he believe in the fairy stories and his answer were he had heard so many from his mother he concluded their only purpose were to frighten the young people to keep the boys away from girls but now his mind were changed. He thought there might be something to them after all.

  The horses were ambling v. slow it were hard to see the track at this time I asked Harry what it were that changed his mind but he give no answer. When I asked had he seen a Banshee he remained silent so I didnt ask him no more but my mind began to dwell on dark things as we travelled north towards Bill Frost and my heart were heavy with foreboding.

  It were no more than 15 mi. from Beechworth that we smelled the cursed odour of burning eucalyptus I said there were a bushfire very close Harry said I were mistaken the fire were far away. When we come across Hodgson’s Creek there was black leaves falling from the sky but still Harry refused to be diverted and it were not until them leaves begun to show the crimson fringe he finally called a halt. I would not have to be a murderer or so I thought.

  Wet your kerchief said Harry placing a bottle of water in my hand. Tie that hanky across your mouth and schnozzle.

  So we pushed on towards the murder and you can rightly say I would of proved my manhood better by turning back to Greta but on that fateful night I were caught between my 15th & 16th yr. and in my wisdom thought I had no choice but accompany Harry Power. I followed the old wombat through the dark the smoke now stung my eyes without relent. My horse didnt like it neither she froze with her head up her ears flickering back and forth. I would not whip her but lay along her quivering neck speaking comfort to her. Harry led us off the road but I knew he could not see no track no more than I could. Edging forward carefully along a ridge we come onto a saddle where we might of expected to glimpse the distant lanterns of Beechworth but instead found only choking smoke it were brown and yellow illuminated by a glow like the inside of a baker’s furnace. There were no sight of flames but the wind were rising from what I took to be the east. My horse quivered she felt the doom in front of her and I spoke to her and told her she were my good girl I would never see her hurt but in truth I were lost and could not see the moon or stars. We begun working our way along the contour but the wind only grew hotter. Twice Harry’s mare frighted and reared up in the dark and I imagined him also lost but in this I did him an injury for he succeeded in guiding us cunningly around the conflagration that were no mean feat of bushmanship.

  From above Reid’s Creek we finally attained a clear hill from which we could view the main front of the fire which were running the ridge to the north east coming almost to the edges of Beechworth itself. The native pine were blazing the apple gum and scrub alight the fire come roaring up our flank forcing us down into the Woolshed Valley beside Reid’s Creek. In dense smoke we nearly trampled a lone selector with his children all done up with scarves around their faces going off to fight the fire. There were one boy he were no more than 5 yr. old wearing his father’s flat grey hat and his eyes was fearful in his lantern light. I said we should help them save their fences.

  Harry looked back over his shoulder he said fences get rebuilt he would not stop. I felt a very bad conscience to see that family disappear into the smoke thinking of my own family imagining my mother at that moment with her hands across her belly the baby quickening in her womb. God willing one day I would tell that baby the story of the apple gums exploding in the night the 1/2 mad kangaroos driven down before this wrath into the township of Sebastopol.

  In the same desolate valley we found a group of Chinese still working their sluices by lantern light. The white miners had quit these diggings years before but the celestials was sifting through the leftover mullock they would never rest not even fire could drive them from their labour. The earth here were like a mighty firebreak all ripped apart like a creature slaughtered its skin pulled back its guts torn out by dogs it were like a battlefield no quarter given. This certainly were not our original desti
nation but through this hellish scene did the young murderer ride and soon he come upon a rough little hut outside which a number of Chinamen was engaged with a game of mahjong on a wide wooden plank. These was hard looking fellows all dried out and salted down for keeping.

  Well heres a sight said Harry.

  I thought he were referring to the gamblers but in fact he were staring at a familiar splayfooted grey mare hitched to a post.

  O thats a pretty horse said he although she werent at all. Do you recognise the mare sonny?

  No.

  It belongs to himself said Harry he were smiling once again.

  I said I didnt think so but it were a lie. Foul fortune had brung us to our quarry’s door.

  Said Harry Go look see what type of iron its wearing.

  I picked up the right rear hoof but already knew them shoes would be most distinctive having a small protrusion on the wall of the U.

  I gave Harry the thumbs up but my stomach were in turmoil. The Chinks was staring as I lowered the hoof and nothing seemed real to me no more. Harry whispered I should find a dark place so I might prime my fowling piece so I went behind the hut and when I come out Harry were giving money to the Chinese the 1st time I seen witnesses bribed before a crime were done.

  Then standing at the door of the rough hut with my fowling piece at my hip I were ready to break the 6th Commandment.

  No he is behind you.

  I turned and saw an even more lamentable habitation than the hut a sad and dirty tent and across its filthy fly were a yellow rope from which were suspended a sign reading PRIVATE and beside which were a lantern of torn red paper hanging from a bamboo pole.

  Harry winked unloosing the yellow cord so the sign dropped to the ground. When he pushed me forward I had no clue I were walking into a brothel the outside of the tent were streaked with grey and mildew but the skin won’t predict the inside of a fruit.

  I swear the 1st thing that struck me were the woman had no rump on her yet there were so many 1st shocks all rushing in at once. She were naked as were Bill Frost he knelt before the tart like a man at church and when he heard me enter he rose to his feet and what could I do but raise the gun.

  Get out I told the tart go on missy.

  The tart’s almond eyes was v. angry but she pulled a black silk gown around her shame and done what she were ordered. Frost would not cower from me. Come on he said and held out his sunburned arms his parts was there for all to see. Come on said he give me the adjectival gun before you do yourself an injury. He stretched his long arm towards the barrel and feeling the wall of the tent behind me I knew I could retreat no farther. I cocked the gun.

  Shoot me if that is what you effing want. Do you want to spend your whole stupid life in gaol?

  I didnt know if I could kill him or not yet I saw I must and I shouted he were a cheat and a liar and I were aiming the gun when a voice come from the dark.

  Don’t make a murderer out of the boy.

  Is that Harry Power?

  You know it is.

  Then call your adjectival dog off Harry.

  I overheard what you said about him spending his life in gaol so here I am. I’m what they call the substitute.

  And with that Harry Power pushed into the tent he had his heavy American repeater in his hand. This fearsome weapon he now pointed directly at Bill Frost’s temple and I were too apprehensive of the murder to feel v. much relieved. Holding the pistol in his left hand Harry took a hold of the fellow’s private parts with his right.

  This is a very nice bit of sausage Bill.

  O Jesus Harry said Bill Frost he now were frightened and who could blame him Harry were a terrifying man without his beard you could see the cruelty in his cheekbones the anger in his mouth.

  But this pizzle has been very troublesome to you Bill.

  No Harry. Barley. Fair’s fair.

  You know it is a big vein delivering all the blood to this pizzle but you would know that Bill for you’re a highly knowledgeable sort of chap. Don’t they call you Yesbut? Yesbut Frost? Yes but I know better aint that it?

  Harry then cocked the Colt.

  When I shoot it there will be an awful lot of bleeding Bill.

  No Jesus Harry.

  Ned would you kindly pick up Bill’s boots.

  But Bill had come to visit the tart in his dancing shoes I picked them up they was so light and dainty the soles as thin as paper.

  Please Harry I’m sorry whatever I done.

  Say sorry to the young’un not to me. Ned please remove a shoelace thats the boy.

  What are you doing?

  Now Bill it is very important you use a tourniquet.

  I did not know this word neither did Bill Frost I could see it alarmed him worse than anything before. A what? What are you saying?

  You don’t know what a tourniquet is? Thats one for the books Yesbut but yes you’ll bleed to death without one and that will be your own adjectival fault so pay attention Bill you tie that lace round your pizzle. I could do it for you but I need one hand to hold the gun.

  Bill Frost’s face were normally a ruddy red but as he tied the dainty shoelace to his member it were grey as a corpse.

  You’ve been a bad boy Billy said Harry Power.

  Bill Frost’s chest were shaking crying hard he gasped O Christ Harry please will you please just let me off.

  Yes but can you promise you won’t never slander young Ned here.

  I will yes he were crying loudly now the tears running down into his beard.

  Will what?

  Will promise.

  Yes but will you also promise to provide £1 per week for the upkeep of Mrs Kelly’s baby?

  I will yes I would of anyway.

  Then you is let off cried Harry knocking him on the head with the butt of his pistol.

  Harry would later claim to regret he had hit Bill Frost but it werent the hitting which then made it all go wrong. The problem were Bill Frost he were proud as a billy goat and once the terror were removed all he could think were how the story would be told around the district. He could not bear the shame. Now his eyes was wet with tears his lips all swollen as he kowtowed but withdrawing from the tent I seen his large and violent shadow as he sought the means for his revenge. I called to Harry but Bill were already rushing us his howdah pistol in his hand.

  You mongrel Power cried he.

  I fired my musket from the hip I thought I missed but when he staggered against the lantern I observed his hand pressed to his gut the black blood flowing like jam between his fingers.

  It were February I would not be 16 until December.

  With that single shot I was once again bound as Harry Power’s apprentice he woke me at dawn in the stables where we was hidden by his friends. Already he had been out and around the streets.

  Bill Frost has carked it he said he has bled himself to death.

  Now it is many years later I feel great pity for the boy who so readily believed this barefaced lie I stand above him and gaze down like the dead look down from Heaven.

  The traps is out for you sonny Jim.

  I asked if there were a warrant sworn against me and for answer he opened up his ivory handled clasp knife then dug his hand into his coat pocket to produce a length of butcher’s sausage still hot and shining from the pan. He passed it to me with the knife his eyes was alive with emotion I mistook for sympathy.

  Here eat some breakfast poor tyke.

  Reminded of Bill Frost’s pizzle I shook my head and Harry took the sausage back.

  I don’t want you to worry said he but there is a mob of troopers recently left for Eleven Mile Creek they think they will arrest you there.

  I never showed my terror only asked again were there a warrant sworn.

  My hand and word to you said the old rogue I’ll not rest until I see you safe.

  I said I would be hung no question.

  You’ll be safe said he if you fetch me a bucket of ashes quick and lively.

  He must of been delig
hted to see how obedient I were become. When I carried him the pail he commenced blackening his great long jaw and neck instructing me to follow his example. He rubbed the filthy ashes over his big wide nose around his pouchy eyes he said this will make you a good citizen my little feral fellow.

  When we both had muck all across our skin he ordered me to give the horses a good feed of oats then to bring some water from the well. I were a rabbit in his snare but did not know it yet.

  All night the hot north wind were blowing through the town filling my nightmares with murder and smoke and iron wheels rolling along the road below but now the wind had dropped the streets was deadly quiet. As Harry and me started up Ford Street on horseback a single pedestrian come limping towards us carrying a pole on which hung a burnt bit of hessian he had been using to beat the flames. He looked up at us his face were black with smoke and soot his eyes well bloodshot.

  Morning said Harry.

  Morning mate.

  The fire were all in the west so we frauds headed south ambling our horses down the centre of Church Street. 2 females rode a cart filled with milkpails in the direction of the fires.

  God bless you boys they cried.

  God bless us murderers the old ham raised his hat he couldnt be happier. Soon we passed that solid stone edifice wherein Bill Frost supposedly lay dead I couldnt help but cross myself I were so ashamed and sorry and I slumped there in the saddle with my eyes cast down upon the mane.

  Soon we was on the Buckland road and thence drifted onto the kangaroo pads that ran like quicksilver throughout the dry bush and along these we passed silent as blood itself. Thus like chiggers we twisted our way deep into the country till finally we come down the ridge to that old hut at Bullock Creek eyeless in a field of bracken.

  No one shall ever catch ye here said Harry.

  I am painted as such a criminal but it seems to me I were so young and gullible that Harry Power could play with me almost any way he wished. I believed him when he said I were safe in the Wombat Ranges but when he announced we would be better in the Warbies I never lost my trust not even when he took me to more populated areas in the hills behind Glenrowan or into hotel bars where there was police in uniform.