SHORT-LIVED BUSHRANGERS

Gisborne Times, Volume XXVIII, Issue 2716, 22 January 1910, Page 2 (Supplement)

SHORT-LIVED BUSHRANGERS

SERIES OF SENSATIONAL STORIES (By Charles White, Author of “Australian Bushrangers,” “Old Convict Days/’ etc.) (Published by Special Arrangement.) XIX.—A SHARP ENCOUNTER.

la the summer of 1864, the Pyramid goldfield, in the Mudgee district, was still yielding its glittering stores of dust and' nuggets, although compared with some of the other fields 1 it was neither extensive nor permanent, and amongst tli© population' there were a dew or those characters of the “rough-and-ready” sort who, disdaining work themselves, looked upon, the earnings of those who did work as legitimate spoil, provided they could seize it and get away without danger or hurt. There was one man on the field named Thomas Sharpe, who combined storekeeping with digging as a means of getting a living, and although his store was an unpretentious slab compartment, in size'2o leet- by 15 feet, tackel on” to his dwelling—a still more unpretentious structure of "wattle and dumb,” it contained a fair assortment ci goods of the class most in request amongst the miners. And here he carried on a fairly profitable trade, his wife being in charge of the store. Mrs. Sharpe was thus engaged one evening, after having prepared the evening meal in the kitchen for iier husband and his digging mate, when slle was startled by the sudden appearance c! a strange man, who, in a gruff '\oice ) cried: “Bail up! Bail up!” and then commanded her to give him what money she had.

“You’ll get no money here, so be off!” answered the plucky woman; but ■just then the sound of. firing was heard at the back, and before she could speak or act further she was being conducted hv the man from the store to the kitchen, outside the door of which two men were standing, one of whom held a short gun in his hand. Handing her over to the care of one of these, the first robber re-entered the store, but before lie could make a close search for money or secure anything portable to carry away he was disturbed by the. sound of pistol shots, shouting, and hurrying footsteps, and looking out lie oav his two mates making off through the bush, whereupon he made off after

The firing had not been that of empty cartridges, for at that moment Sharpe’s mate was lying prono upon the kitchen floor, dead, while the man who had shot him was badly wounded in the shoulder, although not so badly as to prevent his running away. How the tragedy occurred was subsequently explained bv

Eharpe. He and his mate, Alexander Musson, were chatting quietly over tlieir evening meal in the kitchen, when they were startled by the sound of a man’s gruff voice in the shop, and Mrs. Sharpe’s angry tone in reply. Sharpe at once ;juniped up from the table and hastened to the kitchen door, where he was con. fronted by two men, with crape over their face, one of whom carried a gun in his hand. Scarcely had the words: “Hello! what do you want?” left his lips when he was struck a violent blow across the face with the barrel of the gun, and the holder of the weapon yelled out: “Stand back, you , or I’ll brain you!” Half stupid from the cruel blow and almost blinded by the blood that streamed from the wound inflicted by it, Sharpe stumbled back into the kitchen; and then Musson, seeing that lie had been struck, ran towards the door with the intention of shutting it in the face of the man who was following Sharpe. It was rather a reckless thing to attempt, although Musson may not have observed the gun in the man’s hand as he ran forward. Next moment he was writhing^in death agonies upon the kitchen floor, the bushranger having fired the gun point-blank at his breast, when within two paces of him. The charge passed right through Musson’s

body.• Short as was the time that had elapsed since Sharpe stumbled back into tlie kitchen, it was long enough for him to snatch a loaded two-chamber pistol from the mantelpiece, and to fire at the murderer as ho stood in the doorway. He discharged both barrels almost simultaneously, and being at such close range could not ivell miss the mark, 'the shots with which the pistol was loaded found lodgment in a body in the bushranger’s arm and shoulder, and, leaping back with a curse, he dropped the gun and ran away, closely attended by the iman who stood by him, to be immediately afterwards followed by the bushranger who had conducted Mrs. Sharpe from the shop to the kitchen. Still bleeding profusely, and with the empty pistol in ibis hand, Sharpe nan after them as far as the hank of a creek which they had crossed, shouting as ’he ran: “You cowardly wretches, come back! You have shot one man — come hack and fight it out!” Needless to say the bushrangers did not reopond to the challenge, and Sharpe retraced his steps, meeting his wife on the way back, running towards him carrying the' gun which the bushranger had dropped near the kitchen door. A visit by the police to the store after information of the . tragedy had been, conveyed to the station, and a hunt for the three bushrangers followed, also an inquest upon the 'body of poor Musson, at which a verdict of wilful murder against some persons unknown was returned.

Three weeks passed by and no clue to the identity of the bushrangers hadihee.a discovered., when another robbery was reported to the police, the victim in this case also being a 'small storekeeper,

a widow, and the locality Cooyal, also in the Mudgee district. Fortunately the police managed to get upon file track of the offenders at once, and a few days after the robbery' two men respectively McQuirlc and Campbell, were arrested. Upon being brought to trial they were convicted and each sentenced to aevpn years’ hard labor on the roads. "When in gaol Campbell voluntarily gave certain information to the police, which led to a search for two former 'residents- of the district, named James McGrath and George Gibson, alias “Paddy Tom.” The search was successful, and the men were arrested in the Dubbo district, over a- hundred miles from the Pyramid, one of them, Gibson, being found to have unhealed shot wounds on his shoulder.

Charged at the Mudgeo police court with the murder of Alexander Musson, the two men were committed for trial at the Bathurst Assize Court, the evidence of Sharpe and liis wife clearly osablished the fact that Gibson was the man who carried the gun and fired the shot that caused Musson’s death. The shot wounds in Gibson’s shoulder also formed a strong link in the chain of evidence against him, although he protested that they were the result of boils. Additional evidence was forthcoming at the subsequent- trial at Bathurst, when the prisoner Campbell was put in the witness-box and affirmed that two or three days after the tragedy at Sharpe's he liad seen Gibson in bed at the hut of a digger named “Yorkcy,” and that he then complained of bad pains in his side and shoulders. Subsequently when planning the robbery at the widow’s store, Campbell said they wanted Gibson to go with them, but he declined, saying he had had enough of it for a- time, although he was 1 then engaged moulding bullets, and adding, in reply to a question as to whether he was better, that- he ‘•felt more comfortable now that ho had got the lead out of his shoulder, but he had to keep his arm in a sling.” Campbell also swore that four days before the tragedy at Sharpe’s he had seen Gibson with the gun which the wounded man had dropped near Sharpe’s kitchen door. In his defence, Gibson declared that lie was two hundred miles away from the Pyramid on the date of the murder, and he called evidence to show that the wounds in his shoulder were more like those that would have been made by gun shot than shot from a-pistol.

But the jury did not hesitate over their verdict. McGrath was discharged, the evidence of his guilt not being considered sufficiently conclusive; but Gibson was convicted and was taken to the condemned cell in Bathurst gaol under sentence of death, where lie remained until the morning fixed for his execution, his spiritual wants being as. siduouslv attended to by the Revs. Fathers O’Farrell and Keating. During his last! night on earth the condemned man was visited every halfhour by the warder in charge, who found him awake on each occasion. Several times during these visits, Gibson said to the warder, in a matter-of-fact tone of voice, “My time is getting shorter ; it will not be long before I am in another world.” At 4 o’clock in the morning he asked the warder to make him some tea and toast, of which* he partook with apparent relish, at the close of the meal saying, “That’s the last I shall want in this world.” Gibson protested his innocence up to the last, and at the conclusion of' the usual devotions at the foot of the scaffold, the Rev. Father Keating informed the score of persons who bad been admitted to witness the execution that Gibson had signed a written statement, which had been formally witness, cd by himself and the gaoler, and that statement he thereupon read aloud. It ran thus:—

“Gentlemen, —I am now about to suffer death in a few moments for the murder of Alexander Musson. I now call to God to witness that I never committed the crime, nor was I aware of it until I read the account in one of tlie newspapers three days after it took place. I never in my life received a gunshot wound. The scars on my back, shoulders, and arms are. the effect of scurvy boils, which I had on board ship when coming out from England to Australia. There are two scars on the back of my right hand; one was done with a knife, and the other, I think, was done with vitriol. I never had in my possession tlie identical gun exhibited in court against me. Murder I never committed in my life, but I accept of my death, and offer it to God as an expiation of many other crimes. (“Signed) GEORGE GIBSON. “Witness: Thomas Keating, E. Chippendale.” This read? the condemned man, with the clergyman, ascended the scaffold, the former holding a crucifix and audibly praying: “O Lord, receive my soul! Lord Jesus, have mercy on me!” Having been delivered over to the public executioner, Gibson was soon standing on the death-trap, with his arms pinioned and the cap drawn! over his face. Then the bolt was drawn, and in' a few moments Gibson’s lifeless body was dangling from the beam. At his own re. quest, the. crucifix was taken out of his hand after death and given to one of the prisoners in the gaol.

XX.—PRACTICAL JOKERS AND THE SYDNEY PRESSMEN. - Although there was no real bushranger in.this case, it is worth ing as an illustration of .the fact that all men- in the bush, even during the bushranging era, did not take their pleasures sadly, and also of the fact that a man learned in city ways may lie a veritable fool in matters with which lie is not familiar. In the olden days, nothing could give greater pleasure or satisfaction to the

bush “boys” than the successful “taking down” of a “chappie” from the metropolis, and they lost no opportunity of making an attempt in that direction when any of the “down country” folk came amongst them, on business or on pleasure bent. A few of the facts in tills case as they first came to me were undoubtedly embellished, bur, stripped of redundances that might have been supplied by the narrator, who happened to be directly concerned in the affair, the story may be given as it was subsequently in both metropolitan and provincial press. The occurrence took place in the days when the notorious Frank Gardiner held the road, and before his mysterious flight over the Queensland border. The locality was Muswellbroolc, and a Sydney reporter happened to put up at one of the hotels there when on his way back to the city from Scone, where lie had been writing up something special for the paper with which he was connected. At the same hotel there happened to be a gathering of young Muswellbrookians much given to practical joking, and, “having taken the measure” of the city visitor, they proceeded forthwith to victimise him in fashion that was certainly most original. Mr. Reporter had somewhat ostentatiously informed them that he had been in the army, and had wielded the sword before taking to tlio pen for a livelihood. This fact led them to tlie conclusion that lie would naturally take an interest in the movements or the “Knights of the Road,” and so they introduced tlie subject of Frank Gardiner and liis latest exploits, the stories they told exciting tlieir hearer’s organ of wonder to a marked de-

gree. At last they grew quite confidential, and whispered him very mysteriously that Gardiner was at that very m-omont in close proximity to Muswellbroolc. To his ejaculation: “Never, you don’t say so!” the chief spokesman replied, hurriedly looking round, as if fearful of their conversation being overheard: “Hist! not so loud. It’s a fact we are telling you, and, what’s more, if you like I can give you an introduction to him.” Mr. Reporter looked from one to another, as though half inclined to charge them with attempting to “pull his leg,” but, seeing no signs of levity on their countenances, whatever misgivings he may have entertained concerning their honesty of purpose disappeared, and he slowly said: “By jove! what a, fetching sketch an interview with him would make! But yon can’t mean it—and, in any case, he wouldn’t care for that sort of thing.” “Oil, wouldn’t he? - ’ returned the leading joker. “That’s the very thing he’d fancyand if you say the word, we’ll communicate with him and arrange a meeting.** “Well, I’m on, fast enough,” said | Mr. Reporter, “but it must be tonight, as I have to start for Sydney to. morrow.” “That’s all right, then; we’ll be off at once and make arrangements, and you shall know all about it before dark. The daylight passed, and when darkness had fully set in two of the friends ro-appoared at the hotel. “Well, did you manage it?” asked tlie pressman, as he went to the door of his room to meet them. “Did —” His second question was rudely interrupted by one of tlie friends, who hurriedly stepped forward with hand up, raised in warning, and hoarsely whispered: “Damn it, man. Don’t speak so loud, or you’ll spoil everything. As it is, old , the publican, looks as if he suspects something.” The warning was effectual, and nothing was said thereafter in tones louder than a whisper, until the parties moved towards the bar, conversing in ordinary tones on ordinary topics. During tlie drinks that were served at the pressman’s call, one of the friends, to disarm any suspicion of secret movements, proposed a walk, and the trio left the hotel, the p-essman hinting to the publican when leaving that he might not return until a .late hour, as lie had some calls to make after leaving his friends. “All right, sir.,” said mine host. “Boots will let you in if you rap at the side door.” In due course the hut was reached, one of the friends softly whistling a bar or two of “Old Dog Tray” as they approached —the signal agreed upon, ns ho affirmed, that the visitors were -friends. A knock upon the door at once drew forth from within: “Wlio goes there?” “Friends, with a visitor, as arrangde,” was the response. “Enter quickly and without noise,” said the voice, as the door was thrown open, to be again closed and the bolt drawn as soon as the visitors had entered. Tlie “King of the Road” w r as dressed in style quite conventional, having on patent high boots, turned-down collar, panning liat jauntily cocked on one side, Bedford cord trousers, and grey tunic edged ■with red; while round his waist was buckled a black patent leather belt, containing four revolvers, a. bowie knife, a spirit flask, a long German pipe, and white leather gaunt, let gloves— ’his whole appearance' 1 being that of a brigand readily equipped for active work. The pressman’s experience in the army had not schooled him to absolute fearlessness, and ho showed marked signs of timidity as the notorious bushranger confronted him with a look indicative of annoyance,or.anger, and asked, in an arrogant tone what particular business it was that his visitor wished to- see him about. As the pressman meekly indicated that he simply wished for an interview for press purposes, and that he would be pleased to convey any message from Gardiner to the general public, and permit him to ventilate his views on any particular subject, the ‘

bushranger’s manner thawed, and he entered into a general conversation with Ins visitor.

“It was rather plucky of you, I admit,” said lie, “to venture into my temporary hiding-place, and I admire you for it, although I have no special liking for the press, to which you say you belong. AVliy, damn it, man/' he continued, in louder tones, and apparently growing angry, “tlie press lias been hounding me down right from the first, and circulating any number of false reports about me, charging me with every petty robbery that has been committed on the roads, although they must have known that it was impossible for me to have got from place to place in tlie time unless I bad wings; and, you know, I’m not an angol' yet—not by long chalks.” And here the bushranger chuckled loudly, evidently pleas, cd at being able to throw off this pretty conceit.

In the talk which followed, Gardiner ridiculed the want of vigilance and firmness' of the police, being especially severe upon Sir Frederick Pottinger, Bart., whom he described as a nincompoop in boots, and more given to boasting than to deeds. And here there was another burst of anger on his part. “If I come across him,” ho said, “I’ll horsewhip him soundly—l wouldn’t condesccnt to shoot him-—for the lies he has told about Mrs. Brown, who is my dearest friend. But ifi is like a man to attack a defenceless woman. He could not manage' to rob me of liberty, and out of pure, chagrin and vexation he Jnust rob my dearest friend of her good name. But”—and here he raised his hand above his head to give emphasis to his words—“l’ll be even with him yet, and with everyone that doesn’t fight me fair and square—and you can put that in your, paper as a caution to them.”

Refreshments made a break in the conversation, which afterwards branched off into topics of a more general character, the pressman and the freebooter growing more friendly over the gin and water. Then suddenly Gardiner asked his interviewer if he had not been in the army? Ah! lie thought so, from his noble attitude, martial stride, and courageous deportment. Changing the subject abruptly, and becoming more confidential, he then startled the pressman by disclosing that a robbery bad been planned for that very night, and that it might interfere with the plans if anyone left the hut until the time for action arrived, he could do no better than join in the enterprise, as the other friends intended doing. Seeing the pressman’s star# of surprise and alarm, Gardiner hastened to assure him that there was not the least danger to him or anyone else. He had received reliable information that a stockowner would come along the Northern road that night—was in fact, now almost due —from Maitland, where he had been selling cattle, and as he had disposed of some 500 head his purse should be worth taking. “Under the circumstances,” s aid the bushranger, “your part in the affair will never be known. Your name will not be divulged, and you’ll bo able to give a most thrilling account of how I conduct operations.” It was a ease of Hobson’s choice, and the pressman, half bewildered at the turn affairs had taken, resigned, himself to the inevitable, and with apparent cheerfulness agreed to act the part of onlooker, and went out with the bushranger to watch the road. Presently there was a. sound of wheels and ihoof beats on the metalled road, and then a dogcart until one occupant rounded the turn, at which point the horse passed from a trot to a walk, at which pace it came opposite the spot where Gardiner and the pressman stood, the other two friends having retired behind a convenient bush. A sudden call of “Bail up !” and . the horse was jerked to a- stand by Gardiner, as he seized the reins and called upon the driver to alight. Never was

order more promptly obeyed. In one spring the man reached the ground, and a., second spring brought- him to where the pressman was standing. Then there was the sound of a blow, and the pressman staggered, next- moment feeling the grip of a strong hand on his throat, and hearing threats of sudden death if he didn’t surrender. Tlie remainder of the story is, per-

haps, best told by one of the parties interested in the escapade. “Gardiner,” he says, “the pseudo Gardiner, runs away, and leaves our friend with the Tartar, he had so unexpectedly cauglit. Down on his knees pops onr repentant ranger, and earnestly pleads for mercy for the sake of his wife and babies, declaring that lie had been forced into tlie situation. Much bluster on part of the Tartar, much shaking of the press gentleman, much cursing and swearing and threatening most loud, but at length relenting. He lifts the dupe to his feet, looks at him steadily, as if he would swear undoubtedly to his indentity hereafter, and then bursts out into a rude horse-laugh, which is taken up, swelled out, and continued by three others—Gardiner and the two other rascals who had thus played upon the susceptibilities of our military and literary friend. However, he was too happy to escape from the fear of Cockatoo to reproach them, went home to his bed, fell into a syncope) which lasted seventeen hours, and then woke up, a sorer, sadder, wiser man.”

Let mo explain that I simply give this story for what it is worth. “I ha-e me doots” as to the absolute truthfulness, despite the solemn assurance) or one of the'principals that it. is “not a tarradiddle, but a. veracious account of an actual occurrence.” Anyhow, it is just the sort- of prank that provincial jokers would delight to play in those days upon a soft man from the city ; and so “I tell the tale as ’fwas told to me.”