Part 15

“It was a disastrous end to our expedition, and the death of these unfortunate men caused a panic throughout the settlement: the 73d was ordered out, in detachments, to scour the country; but the Bushmen knew too well how to avoid them--they had a world of unpopulated country, of the finest nature, to retire into. However, a party of the soldiers came so close on them one day, that they found their meat burning on the fire, where they had placed it to broil, while the sheepskin was beside it, out of which the mutton was cut; but they could not catch a man of them.

“It might well be expected, that if the Bush-rangers could, they would not let Mr. M’Carthy rest after this attempt upon their lives; and we so much expected their vengeance, that we made preparation to protect ourselves immediately. Mr. M’Carthy obtained permission to keep a party of the 46th regiment in the house, night and day; the house being situated so lonely. The robbers were not aware of this, or they would not have ventured to make the attack, which they did in a very short time after the failure of our expedition against them. I was sitting at the fire one night, along with the soldiers, talking of one thing or another, when the window was knocked in by a volley from without, and by which one of the soldiers was wounded in the arm. Mr. M’Carthy was from home at the time. Up the men jumped, and seizing their muskets, fired out instantly. I and a soldier ran down stairs and out at one of the back doors, when looking over a wall, we perceived a man at the front of the house: he was alone, and was beckoning to others to come on. I levelled at him,--fired:--he jumped off the ground, two yards at least, and then fell; but got up, and ran towards another of his comrades, crying out, ‘Howe--here, take my watch--the beggars have shot me.’ These were his last words: he then fell. Several of the soldiers now ran round, to get in the rear of the Bushmen, who, quite undaunted, were approaching the house. Several shots were fired both by and at the soldiers a little way from the gate. I now perceived a man approaching the dead body of the fellow I shot: I had no other charge for my gun, and no bayonet, so I returned into the house to load; when casting my eyes from the window, I saw the figure engaged over the body, taking his money, as I then thought. The light was out; the soldiers were gone from the house, engaged with the robbers, so I could not find either a grain of powder or a cartridge. I made up my mind in a moment to attack the fellow I saw below, with the but-end of my musket, so down I ran for that purpose, and was coming behind a ridge of dung or manure, in order to make sure of my man, when I saw the fellow--it was Howe--with the head of the dead man in his hand! he gazed a moment at the body, and then said he, ‘Poor Jack Whitehead, I swore to you, that if ever you fell near me, I’d not let your head be taken; the b----y governor won’t know you now, and no beggar shall get a rap for you, my boy: lie there, brave fellow, and I’ll bury your head for you in our own green valley--I know you would have done the same for me.’ I was petrified with astonishment; so Howe got off, and left the mutilated trunk in a pool of blood: he had cut off the head with his clasp knife. The body was taken away next day to Hobart Town, and gibbited on Hunter’s island. The soldiers, I believe, did not hit any of them--the night was too dark and the Bushmen too wary. If I could have got a cartridge when Howe was cutting off his comrade’s head, I should have settled him; and as it turned out, this Howe was the worst villain of the whole. On the death of Whitehead, he became the head of the gang, and committed the most terrible depredations every where; there was a reward of 100 guineas offered for his head; and that was twice the sum offered for any of the others. There was also a free pardon, with a passage home to England, ready for any of the crown prisoners who would take him or any of his men. The hope of getting back to my own country once more made me turn my attention particularly to this point, and as Mr. M’Carthy offered to assist me in all my projects, I set about the means of accomplishing them.

“I was once very near seizing Howe in the very centre of Hobart-Town, where he was in the disguise of a gentleman. I’ll tell you how it was: I was in a store one day, buying some powder and shot, when this fellow came in: the man’s name who kept the store was Stevens. Although Howe changed colour the moment he entered and saw me, yet I did not observe that it _was_ he; but when I heard him speak in his peculiarly vulgar way, I remembered the voice of the fellow who cut off the head of Whitehead. Strong as Howe was, I thought I was stronger; so without hesitation I grasped him by the collar, and told him that he was my prisoner: he struggled hard with me, and held on my throat; and I had got him fast at the back part of the store, when I was knocked down by a blow on the back of my head, and became senseless. It was some minutes before I recovered myself; and when I came to my senses, I found Stevens holding some strong spirits to my lips, and otherwise kindly attending me. He told me that a strange man had rushed into the store, and with a bludgeon knocked me on the head while I was struggling with Howe; and that when I fell from the blow, Howe jumped up and both ran away: little I then thought that it was Stevens himself who struck me and released Howe. This soon was brought to light; for information was given to the governor that Stevens was a receiver of Howe’s plunder; so he was hanged on Hunter’s Island, and buried under the gibbets of three of his correspondents. The fellow confessed to me in the jail, that it was he who struck me, and said he was only sorry he had not killed me. This man was a crown prisoner, but was thought to be an industrious person who was making a fortune by his business: two youths, his accomplices, were sentenced to death along with him, but were pardoned at the place of execution, on account of their tender years. It was this man, or some of his connexions, who used to supply the Bushmen with information, and also with necessaries.--As an instance of this--the gang appeared at Port Dalrymple, where they robbed one Mr. Rose, and in only eleven days after that, when the soldiers were scouring the neighbourhood in which this robbery was committed, they appeared at Bagdad--a distance of one hundred miles from Port Dalrymple, and intercepted a waggon load of valuable property belonging to a Mr. Stocker, who traded from one settlement to another: this they never could have accomplished unless they had information from their colleagues in Hobart Town.

“I now obtained leave to accompany a party of the 46th regiment on a regular campaign against the Bush-rangers. We carried with us flour, spirits, and some live stock; the weather being fine, we wanted no tents--and even if we had we could not have carried them. My arms were a musket and two pistols; my powder-horn and bullet-bag slung across my shoulder: I did not look much unlike Robinson Crusoe, with my long beard; and I was as often called by that name as by my own. I never passed a pleasanter time than for the three weeks we were out on the excursion, except when we lost our flour in a ford; and then we were so reduced that some of our party gnawed away their mocassions, or kangaroo-skins which they wore on their feet. Although we did not destroy the gang on this campaign, we were the means of hanging four of the Bush-rangers. On the third day’s march after we started, we were close to a place called the _Tea-tree Brush_, and were poking our way through a thick and wide bed of briers and brushwood, in order to get over to an open and green space shaded with trees, where we proposed cooking a quarter of mutton, when we spied a smoke rising from the very trees we were approaching. We were soon on the clear ground, and the whole party advanced as quick as possible towards the smoke, determined to give no quarter to the Bushmen unless they surrendered. We now could see a hut made of boughs, and a fire before it, when out darted two men, and in a moment disappeared into a close thicket, and we lost them. In this hut we found several watches and trinkets, some cloth, twenty-five bullets, some powder, and three kangaroo dogs, all of which we took with us, first having dined heartily upon our mutton in front of the hut--and such a beautiful situation for a bivouac I never was in. It was a flat piece of green land, covered with wild flowers, and overlooking the most beautiful country that can be imagined--a precipice in our front, from which we hurled a stone that rolled over half a mile of a steep hill down to a river all studded with islands, and ornamented by the most delightfully displayed foliage on its banks--plain over plain, and wood over wood, was to be seen for twenty miles’ distance; and the blue mountains far away gave one an idea of an earthly paradise: yet no human being claimed it--none ever trod over this fine country but a few lawless brigands.

“We were now on the scent of the Bushmen, and I proposed a plan which turned out well; this was, that we should lie in ambush all the evening in a covered recess near the hut, and watch the return of some of the gang, whom we had no doubt were out hunting. This was approved by the Sergeant in command of us, and we immediately retired to the ambuscade: here we smoked our pipes:--it was so situated, that we could see all around without being ourselves perceived.

“We had been in this situation about two hours, when we espied four of the Bushmen; Howe was one of them; and the native girl, whom I saw playing with his curls before, was with him. Both were armed with pistols. Her dress was neither native nor European, but a very pretty sort of costume made up of skins, feathers, and white calico. They advanced towards the hut, until they came to within about three hundred yards of it, when the girl, who was before them, ran quickly back, seized Howe by the arm, and pointed to the hut. What was the reason of this I cannot tell: perhaps she saw something about it that excited suspicion--but, be that as it may, the whole party turned round, and fled for the valley, by an open, clear, and slanting ground which led into it. Out we ran after them, and were gaining a little upon them when we came to the bottom of the valley. They here took different directions; but Howe was our man; so after him we all went, dashing up the opposite hill from that on which the hut was; for all parties had forded--the water taking nearly up to the middle. When Howe and his girl, who followed him closely, gained the summit of the hill, he turned round, deliberately took aim at one of us with his fusee, and fired; but without effect. This was returned by three of our party, but also without effect. Our chase now was over a tolerably open country, and I dare say that we all ran at nearly full speed for about a mile--Howe before us, apparently taking it very easy; but he must have run amazingly well, to have distanced us so much in a mile, and with such seeming ease to himself. The girl, we could observe, was falling fast behind, but she still ran, and we could see Howe frequently motioning her on: at last the poor thing stopped short at once, as if overcome by fatigue. Howe roared at her, with a voice that sounded over the plain, and although five hundred yards from us, we heard it like the blast of a trumpet. What do you think he did, when he found that she could not move? the dog drew his pistol--fired at her--and the poor girl fell. I could not resist the feeling of rage which then took possession of me: I dropped on my knee, took a cool aim, and fired.”

[“Did you kill the rascal?” interrupted O’Callaghan.

“No. I suppose from the exertion of running, my aim was not as it in general was. However, we were rather far away for any thing like a certain shot.”]

“We continued the chase, and in about five minutes Howe arrived at an abrupt ravine, into which he darted; and we might as well have attempted to seek him in the bottom of the sea, as the place he sunk into; so we returned to the girl, whom we found was not dead, but severely wounded in the shoulder and neck. When we lifted her up, she trembled, and attempted to fall on her knees, to supplicate for mercy, as she expected to be shot instantly: but we soon relieved her fears, and led her to a shade, where we made a covering of branches for her, and otherwise assisted her, by tying up her arm in a sling, and washing the blood off it. The unhappy girl now offered to point us out the track of the robbers, and do every thing she could, to forward our views. We halted for the night, and at daybreak next morning proceeded on our search, guided by the girl, who was now able to walk.

“After a slow march of three hours, having passed through the ravine into which Howe went, we arrived at the verge of the river Shannon. Here were several huts which the girl said the Bushmen occasionally inhabited--that is, whenever they moved in that part of the country; nothing, however, was in these huts but beds of leaves and dry grass: there were strewed about several sheep skins, and marks of recent fires. The girl informed us that she had been there with Howe four days before. In a few minutes she ran over to the Sergeant, and pointing to the opposite bank of the Shannon, exclaimed, ‘There is Geary.’ We all looked across the river and saw one of the Bushmen with his gun levelled at us: he fired, and the ball splashed in the water close to us. It was no use to waste our powder, for the fellow disappeared. We then set fire to the huts, and guided by the girl proceeded on our march. It would astonish you to see how she discovered the tracks of the robbers; she would sometimes go on fast, and at others stop, look attentively at the grass and leaves under her, and although we could see no mark of footsteps, she declared she did: she would minutely examine each leaf and brier and blade of grass on a spot where she was ‘at fault,’ in order to see were they broken or pressed; and in this way she brought us to a creek of the river near which she said was a hut, and that very likely some of the gang were there. We had scarcely arrived on a high rock which overhung the water of the creek when we heard a shot close to us, and a desperate-looking fellow with a rifle in his hand instantly darted past us: he evidently had no expectation of meeting such _friends_ as the soldiers at this place, for when he saw us he wheeled about and attemped to retreat, but two active fellows of our party leaped down into a hollow and completely cut him off. We were on the top of the rock, and within twenty yards of the Bushman. The fellow stopped an instant: we were just going to seize him, when he at once made a spring, and down off the rock he leaped into the water below, first having flung his gun away. The distance he fell was about a hundred feet. He sunk; but rose in a moment and commenced to swim to the opposite side. The two of our party who before had stopped him, now made for the other bank of the creek, and if they had not run extremely well and leaped a craggy ravine at the upper end of it, the Bushman would have escaped; but they were in time; and when the fellow was approaching the bank, they appeared, and pointed their muskets down at him. I almost pitied the wretch when this took place, he looked so miserable; but he did not surrender: he swam back to the centre of the creek and there cried out to us that if we would not fire he would propose fair terms: he was then below us; muskets were levelled at him from both sides, and an instant would have sent him to the bottom. The Sergeant asked what terms he wanted? He replied that he wished to be taken as an approver, and that he would discover all he knew of the gang. ‘Come ashore,’ said the Sergeant, ‘trust to the Governor for your life--I can make no terms with you: but if you refuse to submit, we’ll blow you into atoms the next instant.’ The fellow paused, and looked wildly up at both sides of the creek, there death was staring him in the face--and such a face of horror I never saw. He had nothing left him but submission; so he cried out, ‘Very well, Sergeant, I’ll submit; but I hope you’ll mention my proposal to the Governor.’ The wretch now swam to the opposite bank, and yielded himself to the custody of the two soldiers there, while we proceeded round to join them. On our way we had to go a considerable distance, unless we all leaped the ravine, which was so well done by the two of our party on the other side; this we had no motive for,--it was dangerous; and besides that, the female who was along with us could not, if _we_ could. We were passing through very long grass and high weeds, nearly up to our heads, when the girl cried out to us to stop. She said that somebody had gone this way bleeding; and showed blood on the weeds, evidently but lately spilt. She also said, that there was a Bushman’s hut, about a hundred yards away. We therefore changed our intention of going to the other side of the creek, and sent a man to assist in bringing round to us the prisoner, while we went to the expected hut; at the same time marking the spot where the blood was. The girl pointed out the place where the hut lay,--we could not then see it; but on approaching a little further, discovered it in a hollow, beautifully surrounded with trees and close brushwood. We halted, and presented our muskets at the opening of the hut, while the Sergeant called out to know was there any body there? and threatening to fire, if they did not come out. No answer:--so we advanced--entered it--and there beheld a dead man--his head nearly severed from his body, and a bloody razor beside him--the ground and grass bed on which the body lay, soaked with blood. Without removing the corpse, we waited, until the prisoner and his escort came up. The Bushman was led to see the body: he showed no astonishment; but merely said, with an affected pity, ‘Aye, that’s poor Peter Septon: he often said he’d cut his own throat, but now I see he has done it completely.’ ‘That’s a lie, you villain,’ said I; ‘no man ever cut his own throat in that manner: this was done by you.’ The wretch’s countenance could not change much for the worse; however, his clammy lips quivered, and he wiped the sweat off his forehead, as he replied that he knew nothing about the murder. ‘Murder!’ said I; ‘then you think it _is_ a _murder_?’ ‘Why,’ replied he, ‘when a man cuts his own throat--isn’t that murder?’ ‘_You_ did it!’ cried out every one present; and the prisoner’s eyes evidently answered, ‘_I did._’

“It was now proposed to trace the track of the blood, and having left four of our party at the hut to take care of the prisoner, we followed the girl, at a short distance, through various places: she of course was guided by the blood. In about ten minutes, our guide beckoned to us, and we quickly approached to where she stood; there she pointed to a man lying in the long grass, and bleeding profusely--it was a desperate Bushman of the name of Collyer.[19] We raised him up; he was weak and faint from loss of blood; his hand was shattered by a shot, and his throat partially cut. The poor wretch was then carried by the men back to the hut, and having tasted a little spirits grew something stronger. He sat leaning against a tree; and looking at the other prisoner with a scowl, he cried out to him, ‘You treacherous villain! thank God, you are taken!’ Then addressing us, he said, ‘That rascal, while I was asleep, attempted to cut my throat with a razor, after he had killed his comrade Septon, who slept beside me; and as I was trying to escape from him, he fired at me, and shattered my hand.’ The murderer now, like a fiend, roared out ‘D--n your eyes and heart, I wish I had cut your throat first, and now you would not be here to tell me of it.’ At this moment, the girl cried out to him, ‘Hillier, you killed my sister, too.’ ‘Yes, you black devil, and if I had you now in the Tallow Chandler’s Shop,[20] I’d serve you in the same way.’

“We immediately tied Hillier’s arms well, and having bound up Collyer’s wounds, and refreshed ourselves, we took the direction of home. Collyer was able to walk after he rested and took a little spirits and water. The dead man’s head we made Hillier cut off and carry--hung round his neck in a haversack.”

[“What was that for?” demanded Sergeant Dobson.

“Because,” replied the old man, “there was 50_l._ reward for every Bushman’s head; a hundred for Howe’s or Geary’s, and seventy-five for Collyer’s.”

“That was sufficient reason,” rejoined the Sergeant.

“By Gad! it was a very good thing, to make the rascal carry home his own work; and I hope he was paid his wages for it,” said O’Callaghan.]

“That he was,” replied old Worral; “both he and Collyer were gibbetted on Hunter’s Island, beside the whistling bones of Whitehead, and the two fellows who escaped us at the time we started them out of the hut; their names were Burne and M’Guire, and I’ll tell you how they were taken. As soon as they were off through the thicket from our party, they made their way down to Kangaroo Point--for they were completely cut off from the gang; and wishing to go to Bass’s Straits, by which they would be safe, they applied to a settler to let them have a boat, for which service they offered him a watch. The settler, who had often lost his cattle and corn by the Bush-rangers, pretended to accept their proposal, and having requested them to wait at a certain place until he returned with the boat, went to Hobart’s Town, and returned with a party of soldiers:--the robbers were surrounded and taken. Burne, a hardy old fellow, attempted to escape, and had broken his way through the soldiers, when a shot took him in the leg, and down he dropped. They were tried for the murder of Mr. Carlisle, and gibbetted.”

“[Well, how did you get on with the prisoners, Collyer and the murderer?” demanded Jack Andrews.]

“I’ll tell you. We did very well; but met with no more of the Bush-rangers. I should have mentioned that the girl, when we halted on the evening we took the two robbers, gave us a history of her treacherous paramour, Howe; and all she said about him was corroborated by both Collyer and Hillier, who were present while she told us what she knew about him. We halted in a very beautiful spot, beside a clear river, in which we could see the fish frolicking about as if they wanted us to cook them for dinner; and all sorts of curious birds were as plenty as sparrows in this country. The place was a green dry piece of flat, close to a thick wood, and at the bottom of a hill. On the opposite side of the river, hill after hill arose, covered with wood; also, at the edge of the river there were a dozen Kangaroos skipping about, but they took care to keep far enough from us. There were several giants of trees at different distances; and under one of those we lighted a fire; having first tied our prisoners together and fastened them to an immense bough, that was hanging from its parent trunk, splintered perhaps by a storm.