Before I close this part of my narrative1 I wish to say that I have not given a hundredth part of what actually took place during the time I was searching for the outlaws3. I felt sure, sooner or later, one of the different parties who were out in search of them would drop across them, as the outlaws had always to be on the alert, never knowing when a party would be on them. Ned Kelly said after his capture, the hardest part of their life was the constantly keeping guard for fear of surprise. They were dreadfully afraid of the black trackers—I mean the men that came from Queensland—I was told it was marvellous how these men could follow a track across the bush. I was out on two occasions with them, but I did not see anything particularly striking about them, but other Victorian officers spoke5 in the highest terms of their wonderful skill in tracking.
When Moses was with me I saw him do a fine piece of tracking. We were on a flat at the back of Warby's Ranges, and after lunch started to search a range in the mountains, leaving our packs at the camp, and a man in charge. We had been searching several hills, and about half an hour before sunset one of the men drew my attention to some tracks of horses coming from the Wangaratta side of the range. I called Moses and showed them to him. He dismounted, looked about, and said they were from horse tracks about four days old, three big horses and one small one; he pointed6 in the direction they were going. It was exactly in the opposite direction to where our camp was. He said, "Shall I follow them?" I replied, "Yes." He took some cartridges7 out of his belt and put one in his rifle, and without saying another word, off he galloped8 as hard as he could go across country, we all following him. We went for about five or six miles. Suddenly Moses pulled up, and we found ourselves on the cross road running from Wangaratta to Yarrawonga. Moses said, "The tracks have gone into this dusty road, and I can't follow them any further." I replied, "Surely you have not been on the tracks all the while." He said, "Oh, yes; I will show you." He got off his horse and showed me the four tracks—three large horses and one small one. He then galloped up one side of the cross road and back the other, to see if the tracks crossed either the one side or the other, but without any result. We then returned to our camp. We were without coats, it was bitterly cold, and we had nine or ten miles to ride.
Next morning we started to try and pick up the tracks again, and I suggested we should work back to see where they came from. We did so, and found they were coming from the direction of a sympathizer's house which we had surrounded a few nights before. We rode on for about a mile, and suddenly Moses pulled up, and said, "They have been camping here." I could see no signs of anything. I said, "How do you know?" He replied, "One saddle been there," pointing to a spot, "another there, and there." I dismounted and could see no signs of anything. We searched about and found where a small fire had been made. Searching further he found under some rocks, where the black fellow had noticed the stones had been removed, the identical tins which we had given Sergeant9 Kelly when I directed him to take up his position in the mountain overlooking the house. I afterwards ascertained11 that it was just four days before we were there, that Sergeant Kelly had left this camp and gone the road Moses had followed the previous evening. I have given this story just to show the wonderful powers these blacks have in following tracks.
In addition to going out in search parties, I had a number of agents always working for me, but I felt the information they gave was of little use. They would tell us the outlaws were seen at some distant place, and what they intended doing, but all this information was of little service to us, beyond letting us know they were in the country. This we had no doubt of, and I often asked Sherritt if there was any chance of them leaving the district, and he scorned the idea. He said, "Most decidedly they can never leave, and the day they attempt to do so they will be captured." I never could understand why they did not separate and make for Queensland as swagmen; but Sherritt was quite right; they never did leave, beyond going across the Murray, where they had many friends, and they were always within a day or two's ride of their own relations. They never had horses with them, except when they went on some raid; otherwise we must some time or other have come across their tracks. They could not have kept their horses out of sight. I was told that on two or three occasions I and my party nearly surprised them, and that once they had to take refuge in the head of a fallen tree to escape us.
When the inspecting superintendent14 relieved me he adopted a different system to mine. He did away with all search parties, and depended entirely15 on agents, thinking he might lead the outlaws to believe that he was under the impression they had left the colony, and thus beget16 a feeling of security which might lead them to become careless about their movements. He had some reliable agents, who were giving him information of all the movements of the outlaws. Our two systems were entirely different. I thought mine was the best, the inspecting superintendent thought otherwise, and he begged to be allowed to continue carrying out his plans. The press throughout the colony was calling out about the disgraceful conduct of the police in not capturing the offenders17. A change of Ministry18 having taken place about this time, the Government were determined19 to try some other measures to effect the arrest of the bushrangers.
One morning Captain Standish told me that Mr. Ramsay, the chief secretary, had decided13 I was to relieve the inspecting superintendent, and take charge of affairs again at Benalla. I protested, and told him I had already tried my hand and failed, and that there were many officers in the force senior to me who should have a trial. He replied: "The Government have decided upon your going, and you must go." I saw the chief secretary on the subject, and his reply was, "Mr. Hare, the Cabinet have decided that you are to take charge of affairs at Benalla. They have the utmost confidence in your discretion20, we give you carte blanche to do whatever you think desirable, you are to consider yourself independent of all control, and anything you do the Government will bear you out in." I told Mr. Ramsay that I felt very much flattered at the confidence reposed21 in me, and that I was ready to start at once.
In the meantime the inspecting superintendent, having received orders to hand over the charge of affairs to me, came at once to Melbourne, and saw Mr. Ramsay. He told the chief secretary he felt sure if left in the district a short time longer, he would without doubt capture the outlaws. He begged to be allowed to remain a little while, and Mr. Ramsay gave him another month. He went back to Benalla, and did everything in his power to effect a capture, but all to no purpose—and I was compelled to go back to Benalla, very much against my inclination22, on 1st June 1880.
I first began to find out what had been going on during my absence from the district. I saw some of the agents who had been employed by the inspecting superintendent, and got them to remain in my employ. I then took steps to remove the trackers, as I had informed Mr. Ramsay, it was said that as long as they were in the district the outlaws would not show out, and I was anxious they should do something, as it would give us a better opportunity of falling across them. Besides, the Queensland authorities wanted their trackers back, as they belonged to their force of native police, and the officer in charge was anxious to return also. I arranged with Captain Standish they should leave as soon as they could conveniently do so.
After I had found out all I could concerning the movements of the outlaws at Benalla, I started off to Beechworth and saw Aaron Sherritt. I found he had married during my absence, and his family and his wife's relations did not get on together, as she was a Roman Catholic and he a Protestant, and his family were vexed23 with him for marrying. Aaron had taken a cottage on the road from Beechworth to Eldorado near Woolshed, where he and his wife resided. I had a long interview with him, finding out all that had taken place during my absence, and the different interviews he had had with the outlaws whilst I was away from the district. He expressed himself very pleased at my return, and told me he did not get on as well with the inspecting superintendent as he did with me, and he would set to work with fresh zeal24 and endeavour to find out where the outlaws were to be found. He told me that a fortnight ago they were at his mother's house looking for his brother Jack25, whom they wanted to join them, and four constables26 had been sent to his house in hopes that they might call on him; but when the inspecting superintendent was leaving the district, these men had been removed, and he was of opinion that it would be as well to send them back.
I ordered them back, and directed that they should stay indoors all day and watch Mrs. Byrne's house by night, as Aaron lived about three-quarters of a mile from her. I also made arrangements to have the Harts' house watched from Wangaratta, and for a party to watch Kelly's house from Glenrowan. The orders to the men were, that after dark every night they were to leave their abode29 singly, and walk away to the watching-place, so that if any of them should be met, no notice would be taken of a man walking alone. They were to take up their positions within view of the houses, but not near enough for the inmates30 to discover their whereabouts.
I kept moving about and working hard. Rumours31 were coming in from all directions that the sympathizers were very active, that something was about to happen. Old Mrs. Byrne was very jubilant, and she told a person—who repeated it to me—that the gang was about to do something that would astonish not only the colony, but the whole world.
Horses were reported as being stolen in several directions, all supposed to be by the gang. Constable27 Bracken, who was in charge at Glenrowan, reported that the four men who had been watching Kelly's house were completely knocked up, being out night after night in the wet, and asked me to let them be sent to Benalla to recruit themselves for a few days. I consented, but I had no other men to replace them. I paid another visit to Beechworth, saw Detective Ward10, and told him I was not at all satisfied with the way the men were conducting things at Aaron's house.
Two or three reports came to hand, informing me that Paddy Byrne had saddled his horse at his mother's place at two o'clock in the morning, and started off into the ranges, and instead of the men accompanying Aaron to endeavour to follow him, they let him go alone. I decided to go down that night to visit the party at Woolshed. Ward and I started away from Beechworth about eight o'clock, and reached Aaron's house about 9.30. I stood in the road whilst Ward went to the house to find out from Aaron's wife where the men were to be found, as they should have been out watching. We found one of the men at the hut, and he told us the others were away with Aaron watching Mrs. Byrne's house. I left Ward at the hut, and got this constable to show me where the men were watching. He purposely lost his way, and kept me fully4 an hour going one mile. I believe he kept me all this while in the bush to gain time for the men to take up their positions, as it turned out that none of the men were watching Mrs. Byrne's house but Aaron.
When I got to the watching-place I met the constable who was in charge of the party. I asked him why he had left one constable behind at Aaron's house? His reply was, "That man has deceived you, Mr. Hare; we were all of us at Aaron's house when you called with Ward," he said. "I was collecting wood on the hills—Aaron alone was watching." I severely32 reprimanded the constable for misleading me. I then spoke to the constable in charge about matters in general. He appeared to be a smart, intelligent man. I asked if he had made up his mind what he would do if the outlaws came to Mrs. Byrne's. He said: "I would shoot the lot of them if Aaron said they were the men." I told him to be careful not to make a mistake and shoot any one else. I left them, and Aaron walked back with me to his house to pilot me across the diggings.
No sooner did he get within sight of his house than he said, "You can't go wrong; there is the house. I will return, as I don't like leaving the men there alone." I saw he was just as zealous33 as ever. I thought all this zeal might have been put on to deceive me, but I listened to his footsteps making back as fast as he could. I thought after he had let me go he would probably return to his hut for a cup of tea, as the night was bitterly cold, and he was dressed as usual, with a white shirt, trousers, and boots. I sat there fully half an hour, but I heard no sign of his returning. I went to the hut, picked up Ward and my horse, and rode back to Beechworth, telling Ward I was convinced that the men at Sherritt's house were not working as they should, and that I had decided I would remove them and send others in their place as soon as I could arrange to do so. Exactly at that time on the following Saturday Aaron was shot, and two of the outlaws were guarding his place for some hours afterwards.
On Saturday evening, the 26th June, about nine o'clock, a man named Antone Wicks, a German, who lived about a quarter of a mile from Aaron Sherritt's house, was stuck up by Joe Byrne and Dan Kelly. He was handcuffed by the outlaws, and made to accompany them to Sherritt's house. He was told to call Aaron out, and say he had lost his way, and ask him to put him on the road, as it was quite dark. When the three arrived at Aaron's house Wicks knocked at the door; Aaron said, "Who is there?" The German replied, "It is Antone Wicks, he has lost his way." Aaron opened the door, and Wicks said, "Come and show me the way." Aaron said, "Who is that?" at the same moment stepping out of his door. Joe Byrne jumped forward and fired at him. He retreated to the middle of the room, and Byrne stood in the doorway34 and fired a second shot, and Aaron dropped down dead without saying a word. It is commonly believed that Ned Kelly was present at the shooting of Sherritt, but Wicks stated that only Byrne and Dan Kelly were there; they kept him handcuffed all the while they remained at Sherritt's house.
It might be as well to explain why they took Wicks up to Aaron's house to call him out. The outlaws may have heard voices in Aaron's house, and thought that if they called him outside his door their voices would have been recognized by him, and he would have been on his guard, so they got Wicks, who lived close by Aaron, to call him.
Whilst all this was going on at Woolshed, Ned Kelly and Hart were busy elsewhere. About 2.20 o'clock on Sunday morning 27th June, a railway line repairer, named Reardon, was awakened35 by Ned Kelly and Hart at Glenrowan, and told to get up and dress himself. Kelly presented a revolver at his head, and told him he wanted him and a man named Sullivan, also a line repairer, to go and pull up the rails. He said, "We were at Beechworth last night, and killed several people. I expect a special train will be sent from Benalla with a number of police and black trackers, and I am going to kill the lot." Reardon begged Kelly not to take him, as he had a wife and large family. Kelly replied, "You must come, or I will shoot you." Kelly told him to pick up the tools he required. Kelly, Hart, Reardon, and some other workmen walked along the line to a place about half a mile away from Glenrowan, where there was a steep embankment with a fall on each side of about twenty or thirty feet. Hart pointed out the rails to be taken up, and Reardon and the others took up two rails. They were a considerable time about it, and Kelly found fault with them for not being quicker, and threatened to tickle36 some of them with his revolver if they did not hurry up. When this was done they all walked back to Glenrowan, and were marched into Mrs. Jones's hotel, and were kept prisoners there.
steve
Steve Hart.
It is not positively37 known at what hour Joe Byrne and Steve Hart appeared on the scene, but it was some time in the morning. Throughout the day the four outlaws took possession of the township. They kept watching for persons passing Mrs. Jones's hotel, and they would call upon them to "bail38 up," and march them off to the hotel, which for the time being was converted into a prison-house by the outlaws. By the evening they had captured sixty-two people. Amongst those thus detained was Constable Bracken, an excellent ex-constable, who rejoined the force for the express purpose of assisting in the capture of the Kelly gang. He was a clever, shrewd, careful, quiet man. Young Reynolds, the son of a neighbour, came to the police station about eight or nine o'clock on Sunday night, and called Bracken to come outside to his father, who wanted him. The object in getting Reynolds to call Bracken, was to prevent the constable from recognizing the outlaw2's voice, so the boy, who lived near the police station, was made to call him.
It was the habit of constables, when called by any one during the night, not to show themselves unless they had their revolvers in their hands. Bracken, hearing young Reynolds' voice, got up without taking this precaution; being unwell, he had gone to bed early. The moment he opened his door, which led into the yard, Ned Kelly, who was standing39 beside the boy, covered him with his revolver, and ordered him back into the house. One of the other outlaws was also present. Kelly at the time had his armour40 on, with a waterproof41 coat over all. They made Bracken dress himself, he being the only constable at the station, and told his wife that she was to remain in the barracks, and, if she gave information to any one, or answered any call during the night, they would shoot her husband. Mrs. Bracken said she looked out of her window two or three times during the night, and saw men watching her house. This may have been fancy or fear on her part. Bracken was marched off to Jones's hotel, and found sixty-two prisoners there. Dancing was going on, and everybody appeared in great spirits. Of course, amongst these sixty-two prisoners there were several of the Kellys' sympathizers, who, if a rush had been contemplated42, would have given the gang warning. When Bracken was admitted into the room the doors were locked, so that nobody could leave. Dan Kelly had charge of the key which opened the front door, and Bracken kept watching him.
About ten or eleven o'clock at night Dan Kelly commenced to dance, and before doing so he put the key on a mantel-piece. Bracken sidled towards the fire-place, and taking the key, slipped it down his boot unobserved by any one. The dancing was kept up with great spirit until some one called out, "The train is approaching!" The outlaws at once went into an adjoining room and began to put on their armour, but no one knew what they were doing. About ten minutes afterwards the train stopped, and there was great excitement. Bracken saw his chance of escape. He took the key from his boot, opened the front door, and ran towards the railway station. The first thing the Kellys did when they came out of the side room was to look for Bracken, but they could not find him, and appeared very much annoyed.
About one o'clock on Sunday afternoon, 27th June, a messenger was sent to my hotel in Benalla, who told me that there was an important message for me at the telegraph office. I went there, and found that intelligence had come that Aaron Sherritt had been shot at his own house at nine o'clock the previous night by the outlaws. I at once sent a wire to Captain Standish, telling him of the circumstances, and requesting him to send the black trackers back to Benalla at once, as they had left for Melbourne on the previous Friday.
Captain Standish was out of town when the telegram arrived, and it did not reach him till about five in the afternoon. He then at once placed himself in communication with Mr. Ramsay, the chief secretary, and, strange to say, sent me a wire that he would send the trackers up by an early train next morning. I replied, "If they are not sent up by a special train to-night, they need not come at all." In the meantime Mr. Ramsay called on the Minister of Railways, and arranged to have a "special" ready to take the trackers back to Benalla, and they left town about eight or nine o'clock that night, and were to reach Benalla about 12.30 A.M. The officer in charge of the district and myself remained all the afternoon at the telegraph office, and I can never forget the assistance rendered me during that trying afternoon by that officer. Unfortunately, it being Sunday, many of the operators were away from their offices. We called as many as we could, and had to engage private individuals to convey on horse-back the intelligence to others, directing them to be ready for any emergency that might happen. We felt sure that something of importance would follow such a deed, but had no idea when or where it would take place, so that every possible precaution had to be taken.
We sent to the railway station and ordered a special train to be ready in case the trackers were not coming up that night, and I arranged to take a party of men from Benalla to Beechworth. Unfortunately, none of my old men were there, but still I had a very good lot. I had also two of our own black trackers, "Moses" and "Spider," both Queensland men, but they did not come specially43 to Victoria as trackers. I kept them, and would have taken them had the others not been sent back to me; and we also arranged, in the event of anything happening during my absence, to have a party of men ready to start off at a moment's notice.
We got a wire that the trackers would leave Melbourne that night, and so we decided to keep the special engine that was ready for us to act as a pilot to our train. Everything was in order to start off directly the men arrived. My plans were as follows:—The train with my own men, horses, and trackers would reach Beechworth about four o'clock in the morning (Monday); we would get our horses out directly we arrived, and start off to Sherritt's house, put the trackers on the outlaws' tracks, and endeavour to follow them.
We had made no other plans beyond these. In my own mind I felt convinced we should never reach Beechworth, but I told no one of my convictions. About ten o'clock I lay down to get an hour's sleep, and at midnight had all the horses and baggage put in the train, so that we could start off directly the trackers arrived. They reached Benalla a little after one, having had some delay on the road in consequence of having run through some gates, which flew up and broke the brakes.
It was decided by the railway authorities at Benalla that the engine that came from Melbourne should act as pilot. I had a consultation44 with the two engine-drivers before we started, telling them to be on the alert and keep a good look-out, as I felt sure either the rails would be pulled up, or something would happen before we got to Beechworth. The driver of the Benalla engine asked me to let a constable stand on the side-plate in front so as to keep a good look-out. I selected Constable Barry for this post. He was to fasten a strap45 round the brass46 rod which runs along the engine, and to put his arm through that to hold on by. It was afterwards stated that I had made him sit on the buffers47. However, the driver of the pilot engine dispensed48 with his services, so Barry was not put in this dangerous position. I told the driver of my train on no account to let the pilot get more than a hundred yards away from him, and consulted the two drivers as to the most probable place for the rails to be interfered49 with. They fixed50 on the very spot where the rails were taken up. I told them to be very careful in going down the hill indicated. It was arranged we were not to stop between Benalla and Wangaratta, there being no occasion for doing so.
We left Benalla a little before two o'clock. The train from Melbourne had brought up the officer in charge of the five trackers, and five reporters connected with the Melbourne papers. The officer in charge of the trackers having recently been married, we allowed his wife and sister to accompany him in the train, intending that they should remain at Beechworth while he followed the tracks of the outlaws. I got into the compartment51 with the officer and the ladies, the reporters having a compartment to themselves, and the constables another. I had put my rifle on the rack of the carriage, and was just arranging to lie down and have a sleep, when the engine gave a whistle, and stopped. I jumped up, put my head out of the window, and saw the three red lights of the pilot just ahead of us. I loaded my rifle, jumped out of the train, and met the guard of the pilot coming towards me. We were then about a mile from Glenrowan. He told me that they had seen a red light on the line, and pulling up to ascertain12 what it was, found a man, who said he was the school-master, and stated that the Kelly gang had pulled up the line of rails, and he told the driver he must be very careful. This person then ran away, notwithstanding that the driver begged him to see me before he left. They told him I was in the train behind; but he said no, he had to return to his wife, and ran off. It afterwards turned out the man was Mr. Curnow, the local school-master, who, having no lamp by which to stop the train, got a red scarf and held a candle behind it when he heard the train approaching, but, having left his wife alone, he hurried back for fear some of the gang might see him.
After the guard of the pilot had related this story to me, I called four of my men, and putting two on each side of the line, we walked towards the engine. The driver told me the same story as the guard. I considered for a moment what was best to be done, consulting with my men, and thinking that the information given by the person representing himself as a school-master was a ruse52, especially as Glenrowan was only about three miles from Kelly's house, I returned to my train (they were about 150 yards apart), and told those who were in the train to be prepared for any emergency, as I could not say what might happen. I put my senior constable with three men on the tender belonging to the train engine, and went myself with the three remaining men on the pilot engine, both being coupled together. In that way we went slowly along, half the men facing one side of the line, half the other, I myself standing beside the driver of the pilot engine.
In that way we approached Glenrowan station, which was all in darkness. When about fifty yards from the station the driver would insist that there was a man standing on the platform, but it was only his imagination. We pulled up, but not seeing or hearing any one about, we proceeded slowly into the station. I ordered the men to jump on to the platform, and keep a sharp look-out.
In order that the reader may have a clear idea of the events happening at Glenrowan, I break off here my own personal narrative to insert the account given before the police commissioner53 afterwards, by Mr. Curnow, one of the sixty-two prisoners confined in the hotel by the gang.
"On Sunday morning, 27th June, 1880, I determined to take my wife, sister, and child out for a drive along the road from Glenrowan to Greta. We left the school in a buggy at about eleven o'clock in the morning, accompanied by David Mortimer, my brother-in-law, who rode on horse-back. When we got in sight of Mrs. Jones's hotel, and opposite the railway crossing, through which we intended to pass, we noticed a number of people about the hotel, and at the crossing. I said, 'Mrs. Jones must be dead; she has been very ill.' As we got near the hotel, a man ran out of it towards Mrs. Jones's stable, distant about twenty yards from the hotel. I drove past the hotel to the crossing, and, seeing Mr. Stanistreet, asked him, 'What's the matter?' He replied, 'The Kellys are here; you can't go through.' I thought he was joking, and made a motion to drive through the gates, when a man on horse-back, who blocked up the crossing, and was talking to a young man whom I knew to be named Delaney, wheeled round his horse and said to me, 'Who are you?' I then saw that he had revolvers in his belt, and was convinced of the truth of Mr. Stanistreet's statement that the Kellys were there. I replied that I was the teacher at Glenrowan. He said, 'Oh! you are the school-master here, are you? and who are those?' pointing to my wife, sister, and brother-in-law. I told him. He then said, 'Where are you going?' I answered, 'Out for a drive.' He then said, 'I am sorry, but I must detain you,' and directed us to get out of the buggy, which we did. He then turned again to Delaney and resumed his conversation with him. I afterwards found that the man who had addressed me was Ned Kelly, the outlaw. I noticed another armed man near Ned Kelly, and I afterwards found out that he was Byrne.
"When we got out of the buggy, I led the horse off the crossing, and tied him to the railway fence alongside, directing Mrs. and Miss Curnow to go into Mr. Stanistreet's house, which they did. As soon as I had fastened the horse, I joined Mr. and Mrs. Stanistreet and others, who I was told had been taken prisoners by the gang, and was informed by them that Glenrowan had been stuck up since three o'clock that morning, and that the gang had forced Reardon and others to tear up part of the railway line beyond the station, for the purpose of wrecking55 a special train of police and black trackers, which the outlaws said would pass through Glenrowan. Some person—I believe it was one of the boys who had been bailed56 up by the gang—then told me that the Kellys had been at Beechworth during the previous night, and had shot several policemen.
"After some further conversation, we all listened to what Ned Kelly was saying to Delaney. The outlaw was accusing Delaney of having, some short time previously57, ridden a horse from near Greta into Wangaratta to oblige a policeman, and of having sought admission into the police force. He threatened to shoot Delaney for this, and pointed a revolver at him several times. Ned Kelly declared to all of us who were listening to him, that he would have the life of any one who aided the police in any way, or who even showed a friendly feeling for them, and declared that he could and would find them out. He said that a law was made rendering58 it a crime for any one to help them (the outlaws), and that he would make it a crime for any one to aid the police against the Kelly gang. The women, who were listening to what Kelly was saying, asked him to let Delaney off. After keeping Delaney in a state of extreme terror for about half an hour, the outlaw made him promise never again to seek admission into the police force, and finally said, 'I forgive you this time; but, mind you, be careful for the future.' Byrne then produced a bottle of brandy, and offered some in a tumbler to all adults there. Some accepted it. Byrne drank some himself, and gave Delaney two-thirds of a tumbler, which he drank. Ned Kelly refused to take any, and directed some of his boy prisoners to take my horse and buggy into Mrs. Jones's yard, which they did.
"Ned Kelly and Byrne then went from the railway crossing to Mrs. Jones's hotel, preceded by the majority of their male prisoners, and I was with them. When we reached Mrs. Jones's there were, including those who had just been taken over, about fifty persons in and about the hotel, all of whom appeared to be prisoners of the gang. We were allowed to go about in the hotel, except into one room, which the outlaws used, and of which they kept the key, and we were allowed outside, but were forbidden to leave the premises59. Dan Kelly, a short time after I entered the hotel, asked me to have a drink, and I drank with him at the bar. I said to him that I had been told they had been at Beechworth during the previous night, and had shot several police. I asked him whether it was true. He replied that they had been near Beechworth last night, and had done 'some shooting,' and that they had burned the 'devils out,' alluding60 to police. Byrne came in the bar, and, looking at Dan Kelly's glass, said, 'Be careful, old man.' Dan Kelly replied, 'All right,' and poured water into his brandy. While talking with Byrne and Dan Kelly, I expressed surprise at Glenrowan being stuck up by them, and they said that they had come to Glenrowan in order to wreck54 a special train of inspectors61, police, and black trackers, which would pass through Glenrowan for Beechworth, to take up their trail from there. They said that they had ridden hard across country, often being up to the saddle-girths in water, to get to Glenrowan, and that they had had the line torn up at a dangerous part, and were going to send the train and its occupants to h—l.
"About one o'clock I was standing in the yard of Jones's hotel, thinking of the intentions of the gang, and I keenly felt that it was my duty to do anything that I could to prevent the outrage62, which the outlaws had planned, from being accomplished63, and I determined that I would try to do so. While standing in the yard, Dan Kelly came out of the hotel and asked me to go inside and have a dance. I said that I could not dance in the boots which I had on. Ned Kelly then came out of the hotel, and hearing me object to dance because of my boots, said, 'Come on; never mind your boots.' I said to him that it was awkward to me to dance in those boots, as I was lame64, but that I would dance with pleasure if he would go to the school with me to get a pair of dancing boots. It flashed across my mind that, in passing the Glenrowan police barracks to reach my house, Bracken, the trooper stationed there, might see us, and would be able to give an alarm. I knew that Bracken had been stationed at Greta, and felt sure that he would recognize Ned Kelly. He (Ned Kelly) said that he would go, and we were getting ready, when Dan Kelly interfered, and said that Ned had better stay behind, and let him or Byrne go with me. Some one else also urged Ned Kelly not to go away, and said that my house was near the police barracks. Ned Kelly turned to me, and asked if it was. I said, 'Yes, we shall have to pass the barracks. I had forgotten that.' He then said that he would not go, and I went into the hotel, and danced with Dan Kelly.
"After we had finished dancing, Ned Kelly said that he would go down to the police barracks and bring Bracken, and Reynolds, the postmaster, up to Jones's. I laughed and said to him that I would rather he did it than I, and asked to be allowed to accompany him when he went, and to take home my wife, sister, and child. He gave me no reply. The intention to do something to baffle the murderous designs of the gang grew on me, and I resolved to do my utmost to gain the confidence of the outlaws, and to make them believe me to be a sympathizer with them. I saw clearly that unless I succeeded in doing this, I should not be able to get their permission to go home with my wife, child, and sister, and consequently should not be able to do anything to prevent the destruction of the special train and its occupants, by giving information to the police in Benalla, which I purposed doing if I could induce the outlaws to allow me and mine to go home. The outlaws kept a very sharp watch on their prisoners without seeming to do so.
"About three o'clock in the afternoon Ned and Dan Kelly caused several of their prisoners to engage in jumping, and in the hop28, step, and jump. Ned Kelly joined with them, and used a revolver in each hand as weights. After the jumping was concluded, I left Jones's and went to Mrs. Stanistreet's house to see my wife and sister. They came out to meet me, and noticing the red llama scarf wrapped round my sister caused me to think, 'What a splendid danger signal that would make.' The idea of stopping the train by means of it then entered my mind, and made me still more anxious for liberty. I went with my wife and sister into Mr. Stanistreet's house, and saw Hart lying down on a sofa. He had three loaded guns by his side. He complained to me of having swollen65 and painful feet, caused, he said, by not having had his boots off for several days and nights. I advised him to bathe them in hot water, and asked for some for him. It was brought, and he followed my advice.
"Shortly after, Mr. Stanistreet and I were walking about at the back of his house, and Mr. Stanistreet expressed a wish that an alarm could be given. Mrs. Stanistreet came out to us, and I asked them if they thought it would be wrong to break a promise given to the outlaws. They said it would not. I then asked Mr. Stanistreet if the outlaws had taken his revolver from him. He said they had not. I saw what use this fact could be made of by me in my efforts to gain the confidence of the outlaws, and to make them believe that they could safely allow me to go home. I said to Mr. and Mrs. Stanistreet that we had better go inside, for I was afraid of being suspected by the gang if they saw us in private conversation, and we did so. I do not know whether Mr. and Mrs. Stanistreet suspected the use I intended making of my liberty if I got it; but afterwards I heard Mrs. Stanistreet saying to Ned Kelly that he ought to allow me to take home my sister, who was in delicate health.
"I was sitting in Mr. Stanistreet's when Dan Kelly came in, inquiring for a parcel in a small bag, which he had lost. He seemed very anxious about it, and examined the house throughout in search of it. He could not find it, and went to McDonald's hotel to see if it was there. He came back unsuccessful, and I went to Jones's with him, and he searched there, but failed to find it. When he gave up searching for it, I requested him to tell Ned that I wanted to speak to him. I was near the door of Jones's kitchen then. He went into the hotel and brought Ned Kelly out, and I told him that Mr. Stanistreet possessed66 a loaded revolver from the railway department, and advised them for their safety to obtain it, as some one might get it and do them an injury. They thanked me, and I perceived that I had in a great measure obtained their confidence by telling them this.
"About dusk I heard Ned Kelly saying to Mrs. Jones (they were standing between the hotel and the kitchen, which was a detached building) that he was going down soon to the police barracks to capture Bracken, and that he was going to take her daughter down to call him out. Mrs. Jones asked him not to take her. Ned Kelly said that he did not intend to shoot Bracken, and that her daughter must go. I advanced to them, and said to Ned Kelly that I thought it would be better for him to take Dave Mortimer, my brother-in-law, to call Bracken out, because Bracken knew his voice well, and by hearing it would suspect nothing. Ned Kelly, after a pause, said that he would do so. He then went to Mrs. Jones's stable, and I followed him, and asked if he would allow me to take my party home when he went down for Bracken; and I assured him that he had no cause for fearing me, as I was with him heart and soul. He replied, 'I know that, and can see it,' and he acceded67 to my request. I went over to Mrs. Stanistreet's and brought my wife and sister to Mrs. Jones's, and took them into the kitchen. Ned Kelly said that we must wait till he was ready to go. I found, on going back to Jones's, that a log fire had been made on the Wangaratta side of the hotel yard, and that many of the prisoners of the gang were standing around it.
"It was then dark. Other prisoners were in the hotel, and the outlaws encouraged them to amuse themselves by playing cards. I waited with my wife and sister in Jones's kitchen for, I believe, two or three hours, before Ned Kelly directed me to put my horse into the buggy. He and Byrne then went into the room which they had reserved for their own use. I drove to the front of Jones's hotel, and put my wife and sister and Alec Reynolds, the son of the postmaster at Glenrowan, who was about seven years of age, into the buggy. Ned Kelly directed me to take the little boy with us. We were kept waiting in front of the hotel about an hour. Ned Kelly then came to us on horse-back, and told me to drive on.
"It was then, I believe, about ten o'clock. As we got into the road, I found that we were accompanied by Ned Kelly, Byrne, and my brother-in-law, each on horse-back, and by a Mr. E. Reynolds and R. Gibbins on foot, both of whom resided with Mr. Reynolds, the Glenrowan postmaster. On the road down, Ned Kelly said that he was going to fill the ruts around with the fat carcases of the police. The outlaws each had a light-coloured overcoat on, and I was amazed at the bulky appearance which they presented. I had then no knowledge that the outlaws possessed iron armour. Each one carried a bundle in front of him, and in one hand a gun or a rifle.
"We reached the barracks, and were directed by Ned Kelly to halt about twenty yards distant from the front door of the building. Ned Kelly got off his horse, and fastened him to a fence near, ordering my brother-in-law to do the same, and he did so. Kelly then ordered him to advance to the barracks' door and knock, which he did. Ned Kelly got behind an angle of the walls, and levelled his rifle either at Dave Mortimer, or at the door. No reply came to the knocking or calling, though they were often and loudly repeated at Ned Kelly's whispered command. When I saw Kelly level his rifle, I told my party to get out of the buggy, which they did, and I advanced to my horse's head, for I thought Kelly might fire. I was then about seven or eight yards from Kelly. No result being produced by either knocking or calling, Ned Kelly left his position and advanced to Byrne, directing me, in an undertone, to call Mortimer away, which I did, and he came. Byrne, who had remained near us, and Ned Kelly, then spoke to one another, and Kelly took Alec Reynolds, the postmaster's son, and Mr. E. Reynolds, and passed with them into Reynolds's yard.
"We neither saw nor heard anything for, I think, more than an hour, when Ned Kelly appeared, having Bracken, E. Reynolds, and Bracken's horse with him. Kelly stopped when he reached us, and ordered Bracken to mount the horse brought round, and Bracken did so. Ned Kelly put a halter on the horse, which he kept hold of, saying, 'I can't trust you with the bridle68, Bracken.' Bracken said to Ned Kelly that had he not been ill in bed all day he (Kelly) would not have taken him easily, and that if the horse he was on was what it used to be, it would take more than Ned Kelly to keep him a prisoner. Ned Kelly and Byrne mounted their horses, and I and my party got into the buggy.
"It was then, I believe, between eleven and twelve o'clock. Ned Kelly then said I could go home and take my party with me. He directed us to 'go quietly to bed, and not to dream too loud,' and intimated that if I acted otherwise we would get shot, as one of them would be down at our place during the night to see that we were all right. I then left them and drove home, distant from the barracks one or two hundred yards, leaving the outlaws and their captives ready to start back to the railway station. As soon as we were out of hearing of the outlaws, I announced to my wife and sister my intention to go to Benalla and give information as to the intentions and whereabouts of the outlaws. They both anxiously and earnestly opposed my purpose, saying that it was not at all likely that we should be allowed to come home unless some of the agents of the gang were watching; that I should not be able to reach Benalla, as I should be shot on the road by spies, and that, even if I succeeded, we should be hunted out and shot.
"While the discussion was going on, and supper was being got ready, I quietly prepared everything, including the red llama scarf, candle, and matches, to go to Benalla, intending to keep as close to the railway line as I could, in case of the special coming before I could reach there. I declared to my wife that I did not intend to go by the road—that I meant to keep as close to the line as possible in order to be safer. At last my sister gave way, but my wife worked herself into such an excited and hysterical69 state, that she declared that she would not leave the house—that if I would go, she would stay there, and she, baby, and my sister would be murdered. I wanted to take them to my mother-in-law's farm, about one-third of a mile from our place, for safety, while I was away. At length Mrs. Curnow consented to go to her mother's to obtain advice, and, as we were momentarily expecting the promised visit from one of the gang, I left the doors unlocked, and wrote a note, leaving it on the table, stating that we were gone to Mrs. Mortimer's to obtain medicine, as Miss Curnow was taken ill. My sister wore her red llama scarf, at my request. When we got there Mrs. Curnow was exceedingly anxious to get home again, and would not stay there, and we went back. I succeeded in persuading Mrs. Curnow to go to bed; and my sister and I told her I had given up my project.
"My sister engaged my wife's attention while I went out to harness my horse to go, for I could not rest, and felt that I must perform what was clearly my duty. I heard the train coming in the distance as I was harnessing the horse, and I immediately caught up the candle, scarf, and matches, and ran down the line to meet the train. I ran on until I got to where I could see straight before me some distance along the line, and where those in the train would be able to see the danger signal. I then lit the candle and held it behind the red scarf.
"As the guard's van got opposite me I caught sight of the guard, who shouted, 'What's the matter?' I yelled, 'The Kellys,' and the pilot engine then stopped a little past me, and the guard jumped down. I told the guard of the line being torn up just beyond the station, and of the Kelly gang lying in wait at the station for the special train of police. He said a special train was behind him, and he would go on to the station and then pull up. I cried, 'No, no! don't you do that, or you will get shot.' He then said that he would go back and stop the special which was coming on. He asked me who I was, and I told him I was the school teacher there, and requested him not to divulge70 who it was that stopped and warned him, as I was doing it at the risk of my life. He promised to keep my name secret. He asked me to jump in the van, but I declined, as my wife and sister were without protection. The pilot engine whistled several times while I was talking with the guard.
"The pilot went back, and I hastened home, and found Mrs. Curnow had been almost insane while I was stopping the train, and had been made worse by the whistling of the pilot engine. She would not leave the house after I had stopped the train, and we blew out the lights to seem to be in bed. My sister hid the red scarf and my wet clothes, and we were going to deny that it was I who had stopped the train, if one of the outlaws came down to us.
"After the first volleys had been fired, I, with an old man who lived opposite me, went up to Jones's to ascertain who were victorious71, but we were ordered back by the police, and we returned home. While I was away my sister and wife had a terrible fright through Mr. Rawlings, who had accompanied the police, coming down to the school. They thought that he was Ned Kelly when he asked for the door to be opened. When I reached home I found Mr. Rawlings there. He asked me to draw a plan of Mrs. Jones's house, which I partly did; but, on hearing the train returning from Benalla, he hurried out, and stopping it, he got into it. During the Sunday afternoon I had heard Mr. Stanistreet ask Ned Kelly to allow the rails torn up to be replaced, and he pointed out to Ned Kelly the sacrifice of innocent lives which would ensue if the Monday morning's passenger train was wrecked72. The outlaw refused to allow it to be done. In speaking of and to one another the outlaws had assumed names.
"In the Argus report (May 16th) of James Reardon's evidence, given before the Police Commission at Glenrowan, it is stated that James Reardon said he told me that 'the line was broken,' and that he also told me 'how the train could be stopped.' Mr. Reardon is labouring under a wrong impression. I am positive that he did not tell me how the train could be stopped. Stopping the train, nor how to stop it, was not mentioned to me by any one. Of this I am absolutely certain. I have been informed that an impression prevails that it was in my power, before the outlaws stuck up Glenrowan, to have furnished information to the authorities relating to the Kelly gang or their friends. Others assert that I was employed by the authorities to obtain information. I desire to emphatically state that this impression and assertion are both false.
"The outlaws were perfectly73 sober. One of them, I think Byrne, lay down on the bed about twelve o'clock in the day, and had a sleep, but the others were quite sober."
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1
narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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outlaw
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| n.歹徒，亡命之徒；vt.宣布…为不合法 | |
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outlaws
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| 歹徒，亡命之徒( outlaw的名词复数 )； 逃犯 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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cartridges
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| 子弹( cartridge的名词复数 )； （打印机的）墨盒； 录音带盒； （唱机的）唱头 | |
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8
galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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9
sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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10
ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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11
ascertained
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| v.弄清，确定，查明( ascertain的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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12
ascertain
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| vt.发现，确定，查明，弄清 | |
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13
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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superintendent
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| n.监督人，主管，总监；(英国)警务长 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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beget
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| v.引起；产生 | |
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offenders
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| n.冒犯者( offender的名词复数 )；犯规者；罪犯；妨害…的人（或事物） | |
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ministry
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| n.(政府的)部；牧师 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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reposed
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| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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zeal
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| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
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25
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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26
constables
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| n.警察( constable的名词复数 ) | |
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constable
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| n.(英国)警察，警官 | |
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hop
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| n.单脚跳，跳跃；vi.单脚跳，跳跃；着手做某事；vt.跳跃，跃过 | |
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29
abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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inmates
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| n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
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rumours
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| n.传闻( rumour的名词复数 )；风闻；谣言；谣传 | |
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severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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zealous
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| adj.狂热的，热心的 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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35
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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tickle
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| v.搔痒，胳肢；使高兴；发痒；n.搔痒，发痒 | |
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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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38
bail
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| v.舀（水），保释；n.保证金，保释，保释人 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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40
armour
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| （=armor）n.盔甲；装甲部队 | |
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41
waterproof
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| n.防水材料；adj.防水的；v.使...能防水 | |
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42
contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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43
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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44
consultation
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| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
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45
strap
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| n.皮带，带子；v.用带扣住，束牢；用绷带包扎 | |
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46
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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47
buffers
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| 起缓冲作用的人（或物）( buffer的名词复数 )； 缓冲器； 减震器； 愚蠢老头 | |
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48
dispensed
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| v.分配( dispense的过去式和过去分词 )；施与；配（药） | |
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49
interfered
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| v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 )；调停；妨碍；干涉 | |
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50
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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51
compartment
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| n.卧车包房，隔间；分隔的空间 | |
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52
ruse
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| n.诡计，计策；诡计 | |
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53
commissioner
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| n.（政府厅、局、处等部门）专员，长官，委员 | |
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54
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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55
wrecking
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| 破坏 | |
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56
bailed
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| 保释，帮助脱离困境( bail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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57
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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rendering
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| n.表现，描写 | |
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premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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60
alluding
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| 提及，暗指( allude的现在分词 ) | |
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61
inspectors
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| n.检查员( inspector的名词复数 )；（英国公共汽车或火车上的）查票员；（警察）巡官；检阅官 | |
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outrage
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| n.暴行，侮辱，愤怒；vt.凌辱，激怒 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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acceded
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| v.（正式）加入( accede的过去式和过去分词 )；答应；（通过财产的添附而）增加；开始任职 | |
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bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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69
hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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divulge
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| v.泄漏(秘密等)；宣布，公布 | |
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victorious
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| adj.胜利的，得胜的 | |
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wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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