The Lawless Days When

The Lawless Days When— Australia's Gunmen Rode!

Editor who Dined and Wined with Gardiner

THE real story of Australia's bushrangers is not found in novels or even in the several more serious attempts at historical record, mostly by writers who have gathered their information from tradition. The true history of bushranging days is found in the columns of the newspapers of the day, and it must be admitted that even the facts given by the scribes of the period often need sifting with some discretion.
USUALLY, however, the truth came out sooner or later. Perhaps the best view was obtained a few years later than the actual incidents happened. The writers were people who had been closely associated with the events recorded. Among these may be classed a series of "Goldfields Reminiscences," —by an author obviously writing at first hand, but concealing his identity—which appeared in The Queenslander in 1875-6—not long enough after the events to make memory treacherous. In his reminiscences the author tells interesting anecdotes of the operations of Frank Gardiner, Ben Hall, and others who formed the notorious gang of "Wedden Mountains Banditti," as they were romantically called. Few people in Australia but those who were on the spot and "takin' notes" day by day can have even the faintest idea of the state of things in the "disturbed districts" of New South Wales—notably Lambing Flat and the Lachlan—at the time when Gardiner and his gang were levying blackmail with impunity over hundreds of miles of country, in the midst of large centers of population, and setting the Government and all constituted authority at defiance- So long as they continued banded together the police were utterly power less to effect their capture or to put any considerable check on their law less career. In the matter of capture, the boot was entirely on the other leg, inasmuch as on different occasions they made prisoners of three inspectors (Norton, Shadforth, and O'Neill), and something like a score of mounted and foot constables. THEIR rendezvous was Wedden Mountain, a stupendous range some dozen miles distant from the goldfield of that name, and, being only a short distance from the main road between Lambing Flat and the celebrated Lachlan diggings, conveniently situated as a basis of operations; while its almost inaccessible recesses afforded a safe retreat.
Frank Gardiner commenced his bushranging career early in 1861, at the time when Lambing Flat was at its best; but it was not until some months after the great rush to the Lachlan in 1862 that anything like an organised band was formed, Gardiner during this time generally exercising his "profession" alone, being occasion ally attended by a boy named Walsh, known as "Gardiner's page," who held the horse of his chief while the other relieved his "clients" of their valuables. While acting singly in this way, it is said this desperado stuck up and robbed no fewer than 43 teams in one day between Lambing Flat and the Lachlan. THE wonderful exploits of Gardiner and his career of unbroken success soon made him famous, and he became a hero in the eyes of the young native-born station hands, to whom he was well-known before he "turned out," and who, of course, afforded him important assistance. Several of them flocked to his standard —OMealley, Ben Hall, Gilbert, Burke, and one or two others, all excellent horsemen. What made them more powerful, and their extirpation next to impossible, was their being all closely related to many of the small squatters and selectors of "The Flat" and the neighbour hood of the Wedden, who gave them shelter when they needed it, obtained and supplied them with information, and acted as agents in every way. Then came the "Reign of Terror," beginning with the murder of Barnes, a storekeeper, by O'Mealley, the most unscrupulous villian of the lot, this being a planned thing on the part of O'Mealley to wipe out an old score. Gardiner was not fond of shooting if it could be avoided, and it may be said that none of the fellows connected with this gang from first to last, except O'Mealley and Dunn, was of the bloodthirsty sort. The five desperate men now com posing the "Wedden Mountain Banditti," with their well-arranged system of "Bush telegraphs"—as their scouts were styled—and their numerous connections, became quite a power in the State. Robberies were of daily occurrence, and, possessed as they were of the best horses to be got in that part of the country, including the racehorse Troubadour, they could distance the police at any time when it became necessary. In June, 1862, a successful attack on the gold escort from the Lachlan at Eugoura Rocks, fully roused the country to a sense of the necessity for suppressing the gang at whatever cost. Something like 70 mounted troopers were concentrated at Forbes; barracks sufficient to ac- Banditti of Wedden Mountain commodate a battalion were procured, and the whole district was, as It were, placed in a state of siege. Fourteen thousand pounds in gold and cash passed into the bushrangers' possession at Eugoura, and only about half the gold, 1500 oz. was ever recovered. It was found on a packhorse which had escaped from the gang. Gardiner was not heard of for two years afterwards. But Gardiner and his gang still had it their own way. Sir Frederick Pottinger (Commissioner of Police) was frequently "in pursuit." but —such was the invariable report—"the bush-
rangers escaped through - the superior swiftness of their horses." The coaches, and police ,and stations, and travellers used to be "stuck up" and disarmed and robbed in all directions. Gilbert would beard Sir Frederick Pottinger
himself on the racecourse, and Gardiner, who was a regular sub scribe to both the local papers (he paid in advance), would regularly write to the "Lachlan Miner" to correct any errors that might appear in the reports of his transactions "on the road." There is one story of Gardiner's "connection with the Press"—and the circumstances is only known to the writer and a few others. Feeling injured by certain strictures concerning himself in the newspapers, and possibly having a desire to discuss the situation with a journalist, he one night sent one of his men with a spare horse to the office of one of the local papers in Forbes with an invitation to come to his camp and pass the night with him. The editor did not hesitate a moment, but, having given in a sufficiency of "copy" to go on with, mounted the spare horse and accompanied the messenger to the head quarters of his chieftain, where a jovial night was spent over many a bottle of stolen claret, stolen champagne, stolen sherry, and stolen brandy, backed by heaped -up trays of stolen raisins, almonds, confectionery, and so on; and on taking leave the visitor was presented with a stolen Cashmere shawl as a memento of his visit. It need scarcely be added that on parting there were many expressions of mutual esteem. It was not long after the Engowda affair that Gardiner mysteriously disappeared from the scene, and Ben Hall assumed the position of leader, but the story of his (Gardiner's) escape from Sir Frederick Pottinger and seven or eight of his troopers when they had him in a regular trap, a short time previous to his retirement, Is worth telling. information was conveyed to the police authorities that Gardiner would certainly be at the house of the notorious Mrs. Brown on a certain night, and Sir Frederick made his arrangements accordingly. It was a bush place; at a considerable distance from any other habitation, and the police, arriving silently after dark, were disposed in two parties among the trees, close to and commanding any approach to or departure from the house. Shortly the moon rose, and presently the door opened, and the outlaw made his appearance, looked at the sky, and again went inside. This occurred under the eyes of Sir Frederick and his men, and there was now, of course, no
doubt about their having the lion caged at last. After a short interval Gardiner again made his appearance, looked quietly around, and then, taking nil well-known white horse from a neigh shed, mounted, and, as if reverie, rode slowly away, the horse taking its own course with the bridle rein loose on its neck. The direction happened to be right towards the spot where. Sir Frederick and three or four of his men, with their carbines ready cocked, were in ambush. "Surrender!" called out the gallant baronet when the bushranger was within two yards of him; but Gardiner, with an exclamation of fright, put spurs to his horse and took an opposite direction in a second. Sir Frederick drew trigger, but his piece snapped, and his men sent a leaden messenger apiece after the fugitive be fore he got 100 yards away, but with out effect. Before they could get into their saddles to pursue, the bush ranger was again out of their reach. Inside the house the police found Mrs. Brown and the boy Walsh (the "page" of whom mention has been made), a box or two of caps, some bullets, and a few etceteras belonging to a bushranger's outfit. The boy was made prisoner, and conveyed to the Forbes lockup; but the police were immensely ridiculed for this last addition to their long list of discomfitures. UNDER Ben Hall the bushrangers became a greater terror than ever, every other day bringing intelligence of some extraordinary outrage by the gang, which had by now received one or two additions. One of their exploits was an attack on Mr. H. M. Keightley, the gold commissioner, and his household at Rockley. when Burke was killed, and Mrs. Keightley had to beg her husband's life on her knees from the ruffian O’Mealley; her prayer only being granted on condition that a messenger was dispatched to the bank at Bathurst with an order for £500, to be paid as ransom. Death was to be the consequence of the non-arrival of the money or of any information being given that could endanger the gang. The ransom duly arrived, and was paid, but Mr. Keightley was after wards reimbursed by the Government. Then came the sticking up of Mr. Campbell's place at Goimbla, the gallant defence by himself and his heroic wife; the burning of part of the premises; the death of O'Mealley by a bullet from Mr. Campbell's rifle; and their retreat without having accomplished their purpose. But perhaps one of their most remarkable actions in this extraordinary period of the history of bushranging in New South Wales was their holding possession of the town of Canowindra for four days, after first making prisoner of the sole constable in charge of the lockup and securing the firearms. Here they made the principal hotel their headquarters, had a sentry armed to the teeth walking the veranda; made every traveller
Banditti of Wedden Mountain join them in the jollification they had determined upon, and kept Miss Flanagan at the piano while they danced and sang and enjoyed them selves generally. Although only five in number, they were not interfered with in any way daring the four days the orgies lasted, notwithstanding that Canowindra is a considerable town; but when they had satiated themselves with this kind of pleasure, they went their way deliberately and unmolested. This dashing exploit brought out a leading article in the London "Times," commenting, in terms not very complimentary to the colony, on the existence of a social condition which could admit of the possibility of such a state of things. The utter inability of the New South Wales police, even though largely reinforced, to deal with the bushranging scare inaugurated by Gar diner, and inherited and rendered more terrible and complete by Ben Hall and his gang, was well exemplified in the arrest of the boy Walsh and the burning of O'Mealley's public house. The arrest had not the least shadow of legality, and the burning of O'Mealley's place was an act of despotism and illegality such as was never attempted before or since in the colonies, and had the matter been pushed through the Superior Courts on behalf of O'Mealley there was nothing to save the Government from being cast in heavy damages. The "page" died shortly afterwards of gaol fever in the arms of his mother, into whose charge he had been given by the police when it was seen that his last moments were near. The capture of young Walsh was no sooner made known to the bushranging fraternity than, watching their opportunity, an attack was made by Hall, Gilbert, and O'Mealley on Inspector Norton and a black trooper who was accompanying him in the bush near The Pinnacle, where, at this time a public-house was kept by a sister of the notorious Dan Charters, the escort robbery informer. The fight, as usual, ended in the police coming off second best. Norton was made prisoner, but the blackboy escaped. It was the practice of these bush rangers, when making an attack, to charge at a gallop, yelling and bran dishing their firearms, and displaying the excellence of their horsemanship by swinging their bodies from side to side until sometimes almost under the horse's belly, in order to divert their opponents' aim. It was, indeed, among Gilbert's boasted accomplishments that he could pick up a sixpence when at full speed on horseback, and could split a revolver bullet on the blade of a knife at 30 yards. They charged Norton and his boy in this manner, as the inspector after wards told the writer, then dismounted and commenced firing at them from behind trees, at the same time calling on the inspector to surrender. This he ultimately did, his blackboy having got away during the melee. There were no casualties on either side, although the inspector afterwards said he had fired two or three shots at O'Meally with his 8 in. Colt resting on his horse's back, he was as cool and deliberate as when shooting at a target, and the bushranger only 15 yards distant. Yet not a shot told, although Norton considered himself a crack marksman. The object in making the inspector prisoner was to retain him as a hostage until young Walsh was released. The bushrangers changed their minds, however, for, a call having been made to the diggers and citizens by the Commissioner of Police (Sir Frederick Pottinger), to which some 3000 or 4000 responded, a party of 100 volunteers was being organised to scour the country for the miscreants, when, who should put in an appearance but Nor ton himself. He explained that holding him prisoner hampered the movements of the bushrangers, and they had set him free, charging him with a message to Captain Browne indicating that, if any harm happened to Walsh, heavy reprisals would follow. The return of Norton put a stop to the preparation for the exterminating expedition.
TOWARDS the latter part of 1864 the gang created by the arch-outlaw Gar diner, and of which, after the disappearance of that worthy, Ben Hall had become the acknowledged chief, had, by death, capture, or desertion, been reduced to three—Hall, Gilbert, and Dunn. Burke had been shot dead by Gold Commissioner H. M. Keightley's pistol at Rockley, when the gang "stuck up" his house there in 1863, the bloodthirsty ruffian O'Mealley had met his fate at the hands of Mr. Campbell at Goimbla; Vane, after consulting a priest, had surrendered to the authorities; and others less known to fame had disappeared from the scene from one cause or another. The halo of romance that had surrounded the band had faded away to a great extent, and people who had regarded the possession of the roads by the bushranging fraternity as a good joke were now ashamed at the existence for so long a period of a state of things that had brought disgrace on the district and discredit on the colony. The gang had attempted nothing commensurate with their great reputation since the unsuccessful attack on the Araluen gold escort at Major's Creek Mount in March, 1865; there was a reward of £1000 each on their heads, and, knowing that at last one of their most trusted harbourers and "telegraphs" had been already guilty of treachery, they could not but feel that at any moment the cupidity of others in whom they were bound to confide might lead to their betrayal. The reserve fund of these three desperate men must have run very low indeed when they drew up one night at 11 o'clock in front of a certain large store in Ranken Street, Forbes. The owner of this store had been no enemy of theirs, and that he should have been thus selected was some thing more than a nine days' wonder in the town when the facts became known. However, handing over their riding horses and several pack horses to the custody of Dunn, who was to keep guard outside (the store being closed), Hall and Gilbert stalked in by a side door, armed with their revolvers. The owner of the store was not at home, but his wife and the store man were behind the counter making up the day's cash takings. They knew the men, and possibly this was not the first time they had been there and departed harmlessly; but when the cash box was taken possession of and the £87 it contained pocketed by one of the visitors, while the other proceeded to pack up shirts, ladies' dresses, and other drapery, and to rifle the store generally of a good deal of its most valuable stock, there was no longer any doubt of their intentions. Resistance was not to be thought of, but the mistress said, in a deprecating way, "Well, Ben, I didn't think you'd treat us like this." They did their work in the most deliberate manner, and everything having been carefully adjusted on the pack-saddles, took their departure. Next day there was the old stereo typed story in the papers of the police having been in pursuit, with the usual stereotyped result. This was the last affair in which the gang was engaged. The trio parted, Gilbert and Dunn going in one direction, and Hall in another. The treachery they dreaded began to do its work soon after this separation. Hall was the first victim, being shot down near the Billabong, within 30 miles of the scene of the last exploit. Gilbert followed suit not long after, with a couple of rifle balls through his chest, at Bin along, Dunn escaping with a revolver bullet in his foot at the same time. The latter, after a short, further period of exciting adventure, met his death on the scaffold. HOW BEN HALL DIED The writer was in Forbes when the body of Ben Hall, pierced by 32 bullets, thrown across the back of a horse, in a sack, which only partially concealed the mutilated corpse, was brought into town by the police. It was through no sort of gallantry on the part of the latter that the career of this man, who had so long been a trial to the force, was at last brought to a close. The chance of earning £500—the other £500 being for division among the actual captors—was not an everyday occurrence, and so thought one of Hall's old acquaintances as the bushranger met him one night on the Billabong, which he had frequently done before, and arranged about a meeting for the night following, when the friend was to bring the outlaw's supper, and they were to discuss the situation. But long before the hour when this meeting was to take place the bush ranger's confidant was closeted with the police magistrate at Forbes, and the same evening a strong detachment of troopers, both black and white, under the direction of Sub-inspector Davidson, left the town on special duty. The information with which they had been furnished was so minute that they knew the precise position of the very tree under which Hall would take his supper at the hands of his "friend," and then camp for the night. On reaching the paddock, there fore, the officer had only to divide his men into two parties and watch until daybreak, knowing that, unless by a miracle, the outlaw's days were numbered. It appeared from the evidence taken at the Inquiry that with the first faint tinge of approaching day Hall rose from his bed of gum leaves, shook himself, and taking up his bundle was about to start in the direction of where his horse was grazing when Davidson called out to him, "Surrender!" Whether, like the Irishman's, the sub-inspector's excited exclamation was "Surrender three times!" and the shooting began before a response was possible; or whether, after the manner of the black troopers, the shooting was first done and the order to surrender given when the work was accomplished, is not clear. It is clear, however, that the bushranger never attempted to use his revolvers, of which he had two in his belt. The ball from one of the first rifles fired—there were 16 in all—cut his leather belt in two, and passed right through his body. His revolvers fell to the ground, and while the bushranger hung on to a sapling with his death-grip the firing was kept up until the body was riddled with no fewer than 32 holes, after which, being considered no longer dangerous, it was taken possession of by his gallant captors. THE blood money was duly paid, and although, of course, the name of the informer was not officially revealed, there was but one person credited with the business, and the terror of this man, when in his cups, lest Gilbert and Dunn, who were still at large, should visit him with their vengeance was extreme. He had purchased a farm on the bank of the Lachlan River, about two miles from Forbes, and the house which he caused to be erected on it for a residence was as strong as a guard-house. The writer of this sketch visited the farm on one occasion at the re quest of the owner, and was surprised at the nature of the preparations made for defence in case of attack. -Gilbert." said he, "has sent word that he'll murder me about that affair of Ben Hall, but I'm prepared for him at any rate." Rifles, revolvers, and bowie knives were everywhere at hand to meet any possible emergency—under his pillow, arranged over his head and within reach of his hand, and in every corner of the room. But Gilbert never carried out his threat, his own death occurring soon after; and Dunn was never seen in the Lachlan district after the sticking up of the store at Forbes. Not far from the spot where Ben Hall was killed, a huge bundle of bank notes was discovered in a hollow log some three or four years ago (this was written in 1876), but in such a rotten condition as to be altogether valueless. Such wholesale destruction of "promises to pay" for value received was, however, no inconsiderable windfall to the bank or banks by which they were issued. The presumption was that they had been "planted" there by Hall or some of his gang. Gardiner was arrested in 1864 in Queensland, where he had been keeping a sly grog shanty between Rockhampton and the Peak Downs gold diggings. He was sentenced to 32 years' imprisonment, but was released in 1874 and exiled. He died many years afterwards in San Francisco, where he kept an hotel.

The Queenslander
Thursday 16 January 1936
http://newspapers.nla.gov.au/