Bushranging in the Northern District of New South Wales; Captain
Thunderbolt Robs the Toll Bar; A Chinaman Bushranger; A Long Chase;
A Fight with the Police; "Next, Please"; The Bushranger Rutherford;
Captain Thunderbolt and the German Band; Desperate Duel between
Captain Thunderbolt and Constable Walker; Thunderbolt's Death.
It must not be supposed that while the Southern and Western districts
of New South Wales were harried by bushrangers, that the great Northern
district escaped from this scourge. As a fact, although bushranging
began rather later than in the Western district, the Northern district
was in no degree behind the others in interest at this time. In April,
1864, Peter, James, and Acton Clarke, three brothers, with John Conroy
and a boy of twelve, named Samuel Carter, were riding together towards
Culgoa, near Warland's Range. The boy had cantered some distance ahead,
when he was ordered to "bail up" by a mounted man, who suddenly came
out from behind a clump of trees. The boy took no notice and the man
fired at him and missed. The boy galloped away and the man started to
follow him, when he caught sight of the other travellers, who had just
appeared round a bend in the road. The bushranger stopped his horse,
turned to meet them, and ordered them to dismount. They did so. The
bushranger also dismounted and came towards them. He demanded their
money, and they felt in their pockets to get it out. Just then Peter
Clarke made a rush, threw his arms round the bushranger, and tried to
throw him. There was a short struggle, and a pistol went off. Peter
Clarke fell dead, and the bushranger broke away from him. The other
travellers had come forward and endeavoured to assist Peter, but had
been unable to grasp hold of the bushranger, as the wrestlers shifted
so rapidly. Now, however, they caught him as he was trying to reach his
horse. In the struggle both James Clarke and Conroy were wounded, but
the bushranger was overpowered and disarmed. They tied his arms and
took him along with them. About two miles along the road they came upon
two men tied to trees, who said that they had been stuck up and robbed
by the prisoner about two hours before. The prisoner was handed over to
the police, and was identified as Harry Wilson, twenty years of age. He
was taken to Maitland and charged with wilful murder. He was convicted,
and hung on October 4th. A public meeting was held at Murrurundi and
a committee was appointed to raise a subscription for the purpose of
erecting a monument to Peter Clarke, who had "sacrificed his life in
the cause of order and justice." This project was duly carried out.
Mr. Samuel Turner, travelling from Bingera Goldfield to Newcastle in
a buggy, put up for the night at Britten's Hotel, Willowtree. Next
morning (Sunday, October 19th) he started early, intending to breakfast
at Wallabadah. He had gone barely ten miles, however, when he was
stuck up by a man riding a fine-looking horse. The robber took him off
the road, tied him to one tree and hitched his horse to another. He
robbed Mr. Turner of about £12, a gold watch and chain, and a bunch of
keys, and rode away. Mr. Turner struggled desperately and succeeded in
getting loose. He was leading his horse through the scrub towards the
road when the robber returned, tied him up more securely than before,
and cautioned him not to "try that dodge again." This time Mr. Turner
remained quiet, and about an hour later the bushranger returned again,
directing Mr. McShane where to drive his mail coach. When the coach
had been placed in a satisfactory position the robber tied McShane and
a passenger back to back, with a sapling between them, and laid them
on the ground. The bushranger then sat down to go through the letters.
McShane said, "You'd better leave them alone, you'll get nothing out
of them." "Won't I," replied the bushranger. "What do you call this?
It's a hundred and forty quid anyway." He held up a roll of bank
notes as he spoke. Having finished the letters he told them to remain
quiet until he "got the other mail," and went away again towards the
road. It was fully two hours later when he again returned, directing
Smith, the driver of the other mail, where to drive. Smith said his
horses were young ones and would not stand. "All right," replied the
bushranger, "stand at their heads, but, mind, no hanky panky." The
only passenger was Mrs. O'Dell. She was politely requested to take a
seat on a log and was not interfered with or asked for her money. By
a strange coincidence her husband had been a passenger on the coach a
week before and had been robbed at the same place, presumably by the
same bushranger. By the present transaction the Bank of New South Wales
lost £274, and it was doubtful whether this included the "hundred and
forty quid" or not.
J. Lowe's mail coach, plying between Mudgee and Sofala, was stuck up
by an armed bushranger about two miles from Peel. It was not known
whether this highwayman came from the Northern or the Western district,
the place where the robbery took place lying between the two and being
raided occasionally from either side.
On December 16th a toll-keeper named Delany was "sitting at the
receipt of custom" in the toll-house on the road between Maitland and
Rutherford, when a man pushed the door open, presented a pistol at
his head, and cried out "Give me your money." Delany was of course
considerably startled by the suddenness of this attack, but he replied
"I've got none." "No---- nonsense!" cried the bushranger. "Give it
here!" "I tell you," exclaimed Delany, "there's no money here. My
mate's just taken it to Maitland." The bushranger stepped into the
house, pushed Delany aside, opened the cupboard, and took out the cash
box, saying at the same time, "I'm Captain Thunderbolt." Delany made no
attempt to resist this violence, and the bushranger put the box under
his arm and walked away up the road to where he had hitched his horse
to the fence. He mounted and rode away, and a few minutes afterwards
O'Brien, the lessee of the tollbar, returned from the town. Delany told
him what had occurred, and leaving O'Brien in charge walked towards
the Spread Eagle Inn at the Rutherford Racecourse. Near the inn he
came upon the bushranger, who exclaimed, "Hulloa, come after me?" "No,"
replied Delany, "I'm going to the pub." "Has your mate gone for the
crushers?" asked the bushranger. "No," was the reply, "he's minding the
bar." Captain Thunderbolt kept silence for a moment, as if thinking,
then he said, "I was told that young Fogarty, the flash fighting man,
was keeping the bar, and I wanted to take it out of him. I didn't want
to hurt you. You'll find your cash box behind that clump of trees and
here's your money." He handed Delany about four shillings, mostly in
coppers, and Delany walked away, picked up the cash box, which was
uninjured, and went back to the toll-house. The bushranger walked into
the bar of the inn and asked if he could have something to eat. Mrs.
Byrne, the landlady, replied "Certainly," and went out to cut him some
bread and meat. He sat down and waited, and on her return ate the bread
and meat as if he was very hungry. When he had finished he asked "How
much?" "Oh nothing," replied Mrs. Byrne, "we never charge for a little
thing like that." "Well," said the robber, "I came here to stick you
up, but as you're so---- hospitable, I won't." He then asked for a
bottle of rum, paid for it, and went away. About half-a-mile away he
met Godfrey Parsons, who was taking his sick wife to Maitland, to see
the doctor. Thunderbolt ordered him to "bail up and hand out." Parsons
replied, "We've only two pounds, and we want that for the doctor." The
bushranger asked what was the matter with Mrs. Parsons and how long
she had been ill. Parsons told him. "Well," said the robber, "I'm a
bushranger, but I don't rob sick women; pass on." Mrs. Parsons had £30
in her pocket and was crying at the prospect of losing it.
Further along the road Thunderbolt met a man and four women, and
stopped to joke with them. He said he thought it----- unfair that one
man should have four women, while he could not get one. As they were
laughing a trooper rode up, and the bushranger immediately challenged
him to fight; the trooper, however, said he had no ammunition with
him. "I've been chased by you---- traps near Armidale," exclaimed
Thunderbolt, "but they pulled up at the Black Rock. They were afraid
of getting bogged in the Green Swamp if they followed me."
He stopped a number of other people during the afternoon, robbing some
and letting others go, and in the evening went back to the Spread Eagle
to tea. He chatted for some time with Mrs. Byrne, telling her of his
exploits. Just after his departure four troopers rode up. Information
as to the proceedings of the bushranger had reached Maitland, and these
troopers had been sent out to catch him if possible. They made some
enquiries, and then followed in the direction in which Thunderbolt had
gone, overtaking him as he was talking quietly to a man on the road.
The foremost trooper presented his pistol at the bushranger's head,
and said "You're my prisoner." "Am I?" cried Thunderbolt with a laugh,
as he put spurs to his horse and galloped away. After a long chase,
and the expenditure of a large quantity of Government ammunition, the
bushranger escaped in the dark, the troopers' horses being almost too
tired to return to Maitland. In its comments on this escapade of the
new bushranger the _Maitland Mercury_ enquires: "Is this hitherto quiet
district to be disturbed as the Western district has been for so long a
time?" and events proved that it was.
Within a few days the Northern mail was stuck up by two armed men. One
of the robbers was said to be in a state of trepidation the whole time.
Perhaps this may account for the bushrangers missing two registered
letters, one containing £60 and the other £30, and a small bag of
gold-dust in a package. A gentleman who was accompanying the mail cart
on horseback was allowed to continue his journey because he said he
was on a visit to a sick friend. He was required to promise, "as a
gentleman," not to give any information to the police, and he kept his
word, but on his arrival in Tamworth he made a bet that the mail coach
would not arrive by three p.m. The mail was delayed less than half an
hour, however, and the driver nearly made up the lost time by fast
driving. The gentleman therefore lost his bet in spite of the special
knowledge he had acquired. The robbers were followed at once, and on
January 6th, 1865, William Mackie and Robert Johnstone were committed
for trial for this robbery. Mackie was identified as a bushranger
who had been previously convicted at Bathurst for robbery under arms,
but had made his escape while being conveyed to Sydney to be sent to
Cockatoo Island. The prisoners were taken from Bathurst to Penrith by
coach. From thence they went to Sydney by train. They were handcuffed
in the guard's van, the door being open, as the day was very hot.
When running along the embankment near Fairfield, between Liverpool
and Parramatta, Mackie, ironed as he was, jumped out. The train was
travelling at a fast rate, and it ran some distance before notice could
be conveyed to the driver and the train stopped. It was expected that
the prisoner would be found dead at the foot of the embankment, but
nothing could be seen of him. It was then believed that he had crawled
somewhere into the scrub to die, but although diligent search was made
no body could be discovered. He was now sent to Cockatoo to undergo his
original sentence, and Johnstone was sent to keep him company. It was
said that they intended to join Captain Thunderbolt.
An attempt was made to stick up the Northern mail about twelve miles
north of Singleton, on January 7th. A shot was fired from behind a
culvert on the road, as the coach was passing, and a voice called out
"Bail up." The driver, however, instead of obeying, lashed his horses,
took his foot off the brake, and the coach plunged down the hill at a
tremendous rate, and at the imminent risk of a capsize. Two robbers
came out from behind the culvert and fired. The passengers declared
that they heard the whizz of the bullets, but no one was hurt, and the
coach reached the level ground safely.
On the same day the branch mail from Bendemeer was stuck up and robbed
near Stringy Barks, proving that more than one party was raiding on the
Great North Road. There were no passengers, but a number of half notes
were taken. The robbers handed the driver several cheques to "take care
of," one being for £1000. No violence was used.
The Northern mail was robbed again on January 30th, at Black Hill,
about two miles from Muswellbrook, by four armed men. There were three
male and one female passengers. The amount stolen was estimated at
between £700 and £800. These and several minor robberies on the road
were all credited to Captain Thunderbolt, or to men who were trying to
join him, and it was said that the immunity enjoyed by him encouraged
other evil-disposed persons to take to the road.
In one case at least a Chinaman turned bushranger. Constable Ward was
returning to his station at Coonanbarabran from Mudgee, on February
21st, when he was informed that a Chinaman had recently stuck up and
robbed a number of persons in the neighbourhood. The constable followed
him into the bush, found his camp, and called on the Asiatic to come
out and surrender. Instead of obeying the Chinaman exclaimed, "You----
policeeman, me shootee you!" and did so. The constable, though wounded,
returned to the nearest farm, from whence news of the occurrence was
sent to the police-station. A party was organised and the Chinaman was
soon hunted down. He was convicted of attempting to murder a constable
while in the execution of his duty, and was hung. Constable Ward
recovered from his wound.
On April 6th, Mr. Hughes, of Bourke & Hughes, squatters, informed the
police at Dubbo, that the hotel at the Fisheries had been stuck up and
robbed, and volunteered to assist in the capture of the bushrangers.
They tracked the robbers to Canonbar, about a hundred and twenty miles,
when Mr. Hughes's horse knocked up. There they were informed that the
bushrangers had passed three days before, and had stolen fresh horses
from Mr. Baird's station, Bellerengar, leaving their knocked-up ones
in exchange. The black trackers were thrown off the trail by this
manoeuvre, as they followed the tracks of the abandoned horses for
several miles before they discovered their error. They soon, however,
picked up the new tracks, although the bushrangers had kept off the
road as much as possible, as if aware that they were being followed.
They rode through the scrub and across arid or rocky patches wherever
they could find them, but the black boys followed them with unerring
skill and with but little delay. The bush rangers stuck up and robbed
several people on the road and took fresh horses, provisions, and
other necessaries from the stations as they went along. At Martell's
Inn the police were informed that the bushrangers were only twelve
hours ahead. We will now leave the pursuers and see what the pursued
were doing. They stuck up Mr. Strahan's station and then went on to
Gordon's Inn, where they called for drinks like ordinary travellers,
shouting for all those in the bar. Then the leader, Daniel Sullivan,
produced his pistol, while his two mates went to the door to prevent
any of the men inside from running away. They collected about £4 from
the landlord and those in the bar, then they put their pistols in their
pockets and began "shouting" again. When the £4 was expended, they
again produced their pistols, compelled the landlord to hand over the
cash, and proceeded to spend it as before. The money had been expended
some three or four times, when Sullivan left his mates, Clarke and
Donnelly, to "keep the game alive," mounted his horse and rode into
the bush. Mr. Gordon was compelled to remain in the bar to serve out
the liquors called for, but Mrs. Gordon went on to the verandah to
ascertain whether she could find any one to send to Molong to give
the alarm. Presently she saw three dusty, weather-stained travellers
walking towards the inn, and thought that they were more bushrangers.
Fortunately she did not go into the bar to tell her husband, and when
Sergeant Cleary, with Constables Brown and Johnston, came up they
speedily told her who they were, and were informed in their turn that
the men they had ridden so far to arrest were inside. The police
entered the bar, and covering the two bushrangers with their revolvers
called on them to surrender. Instead of obeying, Clarke put his hand
to his belt and was immediately shot. Donnelly made a rush towards
the corner of the bar, where their guns were standing against the
wall, and he also was shot just before he reached them. A moment later
Sullivan rode up to the front of the hotel, unconscious of the change
which had taken place during his absence, and when he found himself
covered by the police weapons he was so dumbfounded that he permitted
himself to be pulled from his horse and handcuffed without resistance.
The police had left their horses some distance away in charge of the
black tracker. Now they went for their horses and fed them as well as
themselves. Later on a cart was procured, and the body of Donnelly
was disposed in the bottom. Beside it, wrapped in a blanket, was the
wounded man, Clarke, while Sullivan, being uninjured, was mounted on
horseback, and the whole party proceeded to Molong, where an inquest
was held on Donnelly's body. Sullivan, and Clarke, who recovered from
his wound, were subsequently tried and convicted.
On April 29th, the _Tamworth Examiner_ said:--"A week ago we reported
that Frederick Ward, alias Captain Thunderbolt, had stuck up the
Warialda mail. He afterwards went to Mr. Lloyd's Manilla station and
took two first-class horses. Then he stuck up Cheeseborough's and
Lethbridge's stations. From the 20th to the 24th nothing was heard of
him, but on the last-mentioned date he and another stuck up Munro's
Inn, at Boggy Creek. Mr. Munro challenged them to fight singly, either
with fists or pistols, but they laughed at him and shot a valuable dog.
They drank a large quantity of spirits, and collected between £70 and
£80. They went on to Walford's Inn at Millie, sticking up Mr. Baldwin
on the road. Mr. Walford, having been informed of their approach, had
hidden away everything of value, so that they got very little, except
more grog. The police also had been informed, and three troopers,
with a black tracker, soon arrived on the scene. As they approached,
the bushranger on guard outside whistled, and the other man came out
and mounted, Thunderbolt waving a revolver and pointing to a field
behind the house as a challenge. He led his men to the clearing and
made a stand. The police followed, and a number of shots were fired
on both sides. The police closed up, and Constable Dalton shot one of
the bushrangers, a mere lad, and he fell. Dalton shouted to Constable
Morris to 'look after him,' and turned towards Thunderbolt, when the
boy raised himself on his elbow and fired. Constable Lynch shot the boy
in the neck, probably in time to save Dalton's life. Ward made a dash
forward, perhaps with a view to driving the police away from the boy
and carrying him off, but the police fire was too brisk, and after a
few more rounds the robber turned and rode into the bush. The police
followed, but as their horses had travelled fifty miles that morning,
they were obliged to give up the chase. The robber who was killed, was
identified as John Thompson, aged sixteen."
The Namoi mail was robbed by one white man and two blacks, near
Tamworth, and on September 17th the mail from Walgett to Singleton was
stuck up at Brigalow Creek. The passengers and driver were conducted
some distance off the road, to where a fire had been kindled, and were
told to "make some tea and enjoy yourselves while we look after the
bags." James Boyd, alias McGrath, and Charles Stanmore were arrested
after a smart chase, and were convicted of having robbed the Walgett
mail. A number of similar robberies occurred from time to time in
various parts of this extensive district, and the police were kept
constantly busy.
In December, 1865, Ward, riding Mr. Duff's racer Eucalyptus, stuck up
Cook's Inn at Quirindi on the 18th; J.M. Davis's Inn at Currabubula on
the 20th, and Griffin's Inn at Carroll on the 23rd. At this last-named
place he pulled up, and said to his mate in a loud voice, "Let's have
a glass of brandy. We want it this wet evening." They dismounted, and
stepped on to the verandah. As he entered the door Thunderbolt raised
the corner of his mackintosh to display his pistols, and said, "I'll
trouble you, ladies and gentlemen, to bail up." The women began to
scream, and Ward said, "Don't be afraid. We shan't hurt any one. We
only want a little money." A traveller who had entered some time before
drew away from the bar, and joined the bushrangers. The other men
present were ranged in single row along the wall, and when all were in
position each man was called up in turn to be searched. The proceedings
were very suggestive of the "next, please," in a barber's shop. While
this was going on several people entered, and were compelled to take
their places at the end of the queue. The bushrangers held the bar
from five to nine p.m., pausing in their work every now and then to
order drinks for all hands. Shortly after nine o'clock two men rode up
to the verandah, and shouted "Landlord." The robbers looked out, and
recognising the horsemen, retreated into the back room. Mr. Griffin
went to the door, and said in a low tone to Constable Lang, "We're
all stuck up here." "Which are the bushrangers?" asked the constable,
and on being told that they were in the back room he rode to the door
and fired. The shot was returned, and the shooting continued until
the constable was wounded in the arm and his horse in the neck. The
bushrangers went out through the back door, and escaped in the darkness
into the bush, but they left their horses behind.
Early in 1866 Ward and his gang made a raid across the Queensland
border, robbing stations, hotels, and travellers in the Curriwillinghi
district, but he soon returned to his own district, and in March the
Tamworth and Wee Waa mail was stuck up near Bullingall by two armed
men supposed to be Ward and another. The driver of the Northern mail
was also ordered to bail up near Murrurundi, and as he did not obey
with due alacrity he was speedily brought to a standstill by one of his
horses being shot dead. After going through the letters the bushrangers
rode into the town and took a quantity of clothes, some money, and some
jewellery and other valuables from Barton's and Johnstone's stores and
Humphries' Hotel.
The Northern mail was robbed by three armed men at the Red Post Hill,
near Falbrook. It was just before dawn when the driver was ordered to
bail up. The robbers were on foot and had a number of pieces of rope
ready to tie up the passengers. Mr. Moore, of Abingdon, attempted to
run away, but was followed and knocked down with the butt of a pistol.
The six passengers and the driver were tightly bound either to the
fence or to trees, and their money and watches taken away from them.
The robbers then mounted the coach and drove away along the road.
As soon as it was out of sight the bound men began to struggle for
liberty. Mr. Moore was the first to succeed in breaking loose and he
untied Mr. Dines and the others. They followed the coach along the road
towards Singleton, but had not gone very far when they were overtaken
by Mr. Wyndham on horseback. They informed him of their circumstances
and he rode rapidly away to give notice to the police in Singleton. He
found the coach standing on the road within a mile of the town but did
not stay to examine it. The police started out immediately and arrived
at the coach almost as soon as the driver and passengers. Only one of
the bags had been cut open, and no damage was done to anything else on
the coach. The police spent the whole day in searching, but failed to
find any tracks or to ascertain in which direction the robbers had gone.
James Booth, William Willis, alias Dunkley, and Thomas Hampton were
arrested in a public house at the corner of Goulburn and Pitt Streets,
Sydney, by Detectives Camphin and Finigan on April 17th, 1866, and
charged with having robbed the Singleton mail on the previous day.
The coach had arrived at the Red Post Hill, between Muswellbrook and
Singleton, when the men sprang out from behind the trees bordering the
road and sang out, "Bail up, stand and deliver, throw up your arms."
Mr. Moore, one of the passengers, jumped out of the back of the coach,
and Hampton chased him and brought him back. Mr. Button, a Government
railway guard, also tried to get down, but Willis told him that he
would blow his "---- brains out" if he didn't sit still. The passengers
were all tied up and robbed. One of them, George Beved, said that
Willis was the man who threatened to "Blow the roof of his---- skull
off" when Moore was wrestling with Hampton. The prisoners were also
charged with having bailed up and robbed the mail near Campbelltown, on
April 10th. The proceedings were of the usual character. The prisoners
were convicted on both charges and were sentenced, Willis to ten years'
and Booth and Hampton each to eight years' imprisonment.
The April Sessions at Bathurst were unusually heavy. John Weekes was
sentenced to death for the murder of Mr. Scheffts at Grenfell, and John
Connors for attempted murder in another bushranging exploit. Besides
these, Patrick Foran and James Kelly were sent to gaol for ten years
for sticking up the Half-Way House on the Carcoar Road, and other
acts of bushranging; James Kennedy, alias Southgate, to fifteen years
for sticking up John Edwards, William Woodley, and Henry Rodwell,
at Murdering Swamp on January 1st--Kennedy also pleaded guilty to
robbing John Fawcett and John Eaton; Charles Rutherford, who had been
engaged in several robberies in company with William Mackie, who, as
already related, had jumped out of the train while being conveyed to
Sydney, and was afterwards captured in the Northern district, was
sentenced to seven years' penal servitude; Smith and Moran sentenced
to seventeen years each, and Kerr to ten years. These, with some
prisoners, sentenced for minor offences, were being conveyed to Sydney
to gaol on April 25th, 1867. There were fifteen prisoners in all,
guarded by eight troopers. Sergeant Casey, in charge, was seated on
the box seat of the Cobb's coach. The prisoners were inside chained
together in two gangs of seven and eight respectively. Constables
Madden and Kennedy were seated, unarmed, with the prisoners, while the
other five troopers rode beside the coach fully armed. At Pulpit Hill
the prisoners, notwithstanding the heavy force opposed to them, made
a desperate attempt to escape, and in the melee Constable Holmes was
killed, while Rutherford and another prisoner got away in the bush.
Rutherford immediately returned to his old haunts and recommenced his
depredations. In December, 1867, he was captured by Sergeant Cleary,
of Bourke, and was conveyed to the lock-up, but he again contrived to
escape. In January, 1868, he stuck up the Boggy Creek and Galathera
Inns, and robbed numbers of people on the road. He then went to Mr.
Beauvais' inn at Cannonbar and called on the landlord to bail up. Mr.
Beauvais, however, had a pistol in the till and knew how to use it. On
pretence of taking out the money, to hand over as commanded, he got out
his revolver and shot the bushranger. He was awarded a silver medal by
the Government for this act.
The districts raided by Rutherford and Thunderbolt overlapped, so
that it is difficult to decide which of these two bushrangers were
responsible for many of the outrages. Ward, however, was not idle. In
company with a boy named Mason, he stuck up and robbed the Northern,
the Walcha, and several other mails in the district. He was frequently
chased by the police, but being a magnificent rider, with an intimate
knowledge of every gully, ravine, or hill in the extensive district
over which he ranged, he always contrived to escape. Sometimes he was
very hard pressed, as, for instance, when he was compelled to abandon
Talleyrand, a racehorse for the recovery of which Mr. Wyndham had
offered a reward of £100, in April, 1869. His companions were captured
one after the other. They were generally boys of from sixteen to
twenty, but Thunderbolt continued his career unchecked. No doubt he
owed many of his hairbreadth escapes to the superiority of his horses.
He would travel two hundred miles to steal a noted racehorse. Thus he
stole Mr. Samuel Clift's horse, John Brown, from Breeza. The horse had
run on the Maitland and Sydney courses.
One of the stories told about Ward was that he stuck up a German band
at Goonoo Goonoo Gap, and made the Teutons play for him, besides
giving him their money. The Germans pleaded hard. They said they were
only poor men, and that their wives and children would suffer if they
were robbed. Thunderbolt told them that he must have money. He was
waiting for the principal winner at the Tamworth Races, he added, and
he promised that if he caught him he would return the Germans their
money. He took down their names and addresses. Notwithstanding this
the Germans departed very sorrowful. They never expected to see their
money again. Nevertheless, on their arrival at their home in Warwick,
Queensland, they found a Post Office Order for £20 awaiting them. It
was surmised, therefore, that Thunderbolt had captured the winner.
On May 25, 1870, Ward met Mr. Blanche, innkeeper, near Uralla,
returning home with his wife from a drive, and called on him to bail
up. Blanche laughed, but took no further notice of the order. Ward
exclaimed, "No humbugging. You wouldn't let me have a bottle of rum the
other night, though I offered £5 for it." Blanche replied that he never
served any one after hours. He then took four shillings and sixpence
from his pocket and said, "This is all the money I've got. You can have
that." The robber said, "The missus has more than that." "No," cried
Mrs. Blanche, "I've no money. We only came for a drive." Ward seemed to
consider for a moment, and then told Mr. Blanche to drive on. Several
men came up the by-road from Carlisle Gully, and Ward stopped and
robbed them. An old man named Williamson, and an Italian dealer named
Giovanni Cappisote, were also stopped, but after handing over a gold
watch and chain, a small nugget of gold, and £3 13S. 6d. in money, the
dealer was allowed to depart. The other men were taken to Blanche's
Inn, where Williamson was ordered to shout. He did so, and then Ward
shouted. They danced, and sang, and enjoyed themselves. Becoming
quieter, Ward asked Blanche whether he remembered a fight between a
bushranger and the police at the Rocks, about three hundred yards away,
seven years before. Blanche said he remembered it well. "Well," cried
Ward, "I'm the man; I was shot in the leg." Ward went on to relate more
of his exploits, the narrative being interspersed with songs and dances.
In the meantime, Cappisote drove on to a selector's farm about a mile
and a half along the road. Here he told Mrs. Dorrington what had
happened. He borrowed a saddle and bridle, took his horse from the
cart, and rode to Uralla; making a wide détour round Blanche's house.
He told the police where the bushranger was, and Constables Mulhall
and Walker armed and mounted at once. Mulhall had the faster horse and
he reached Blanche's first. As he rode up he saw Ward and a young man,
both mounted on gray horses, riding along the road. He followed them,
and as he approached Ward turned round in his saddle and fired. Mulhall
returned the fire but his horse bolted. The trooper soon pulled him
up. He wheeled and, seeing one of the men on the grays gallop away,
followed shouting to Walker to "look after the other fellow."
The "other fellow" was Thunderbolt, and he turned off the road and rode
down the steep hill towards the Rocky River, followed by Constable
Walker. Both men fired a shot occasionally when an opportunity offered
but neither spoke. On reaching the bank of the river, Ward plunged
in, intending to cross and escape up the opposite range, but Walker
shot his horse. Ward fell into the river, which was shallow there, and
he rose immediately. Walker galloped along the bank past a deep hole
and crossed. Then he returned to where Ward was standing in the water
and called on him to surrender. "Who the---- are you?" enquired Ward
roughly. "Never mind who I am," replied Walker, "put your hands up."
"Are you a trooper?" asked Ward. "Yes," replied Walker. "Married?"
continued Ward. "Yes," said Walker. "Well, remember your family," said
Ward. "Oh, that's all right," returned the trooper. "Will you come
out and surrender?" "No," cried Ward, "I'll die first." "Then it's
you and me for it," said Walker. The trooper urged his horse into the
river. The animal objected at first and then entered with a rush into
deep water. Walker raised his revolver above his head to keep it dry.
Ward fired several shots, none of which took effect. When the horse
steadied Walker fired again and Ward fell. He rose again immediately
and tried to scramble up the bank. Walker struck him with the butt of
his revolver and the bushranger fell back into the deep hole and sank.
The trooper slipped from his horse, and reaching down grabbed Ward's
shirt and pulled him up. He dragged the bushranger out of the hole,
up the steep bank, and laid him out on the grass, believing him to be
dead. Then he remounted and rode to Blanche's Hotel for assistance
to bring the body in. Several of the men about there volunteered to
help, but on their reaching the river they found that the bushranger
had disappeared. A search was made, but it was too dark to look for
tracks. The next morning at daybreak the police and several civilians
went to the spot and found a trail of blood. They followed it, and
found Ward hidden under some bushes. He was placed in a cart and taken
to Uralla, but he died before night. The young man chased by Constable
Mulhall said he had gone after Ward to try and get back a horse which
the bushranger had stolen from him, and as nothing detrimental to his
character was known he was discharged at the police court.
Constable Walker was highly complimented for the pluck and
determination he had shown in this desperate encounter with the noted
bushranger in a deep water hole in a mountain stream with no one
looking on. Of the many brave actions recorded of the police this was
perhaps the bravest and the most tragical. The constable was promoted
and paid his well-earned reward.
In referring to this duel the _Melbourne Argus_ spoke of Ward as the
last of the "professional bushrangers" of New South Wales, and said:
"With a much more compact territory than New South Wales, and with a
population which can entertain no ancestral or traditional sympathies
with burglars or highwaymen, we are nevertheless amenable to the same
reproaches as those with which the neighbouring colony was assailed a
few years ago."
I have already dealt with this mild pharisaical glorification of
Victoria as compared with New South Wales, and have no intention of
enlarging upon it here. I refer to it merely to remind the reader that
bushrangers were at work elsewhere than in New South Wales at this
time.