From _The Age_ Newspaper, 29th June, 1880--The Start--The Journey--A
Timely Warning--The Gang surprised--Death of Byrne--Capture of Ned
Kelly--His Statement--The Prisoners released--Renewal of the Fight.
Benalla, _Monday Night_.
Immediately on the receipt of the news by Captain Standish on Sunday
night that the Kellys had at last broken cover, and committed another
diabolical outrage near Beechworth, he ordered a special train at
once to start from Spencer Street. He was induced to do so because of
the fact that Sub-inspector O'Connor had, with his black trackers,
been withdrawn from the Kelly country. They were on the eve of their
departure for Queensland, and were staying at Essendon. Captain
Standish ordered the special train to convey the blacks to the scene
of the outrage, so that they might there pick up the tracks of the
dreaded gang; but no one at that time imagined that the expedition
would have such a speedy and sensational termination; that, in fact,
it would end in the annihilation of the band in a manner that must
strike terror into the hearts of all sympathizers and men inclined to
imitate the doings of the gang. When the news arrived at the station
that a special train was required, all the engines were cold, and it
was not till a quarter past ten o'clock that a start was made; and the
small party of press gentlemen, who in good spirits took their seats
in the carriage, little thought that the journey they were undertaking
was of such a perilous nature. Only one gentleman was armed. At
Essendon Inspector O'Connor and his five black trackers were picked up,
together with Mrs. O'Connor and her sister, Miss Smith. [Those ladies
intended to proceed to Beechworth and remain there whilst we went in
pursuit of the gang.] The men were evidently in excellent spirits at
the prospect of an encounter. The train proceeded rapidly on its way.
At Craigieburn it ran through a gate, which carried away the brake
of the engine, and necessitated a stoppage of about twenty minutes.
After that, fair progress was made to Benalla, where Superintendent
Hare, who was in waiting with eight men and seventeen horses, joined
the party. Mr. Chas. C. Rawlings also became one of the number. The
night was a splendid one, the moon shining with unusual brightness,
whilst the sharp frosty air caused the slightest noise in the forest
beyond to be distinctly heard. It was thought that the Kellys or some
of their friends might place an obstruction on the line, and in order
that danger in this direction should be avoided as much as possible, it
was determined to lash one of the police to the front of the engine,
so that he might there keep a good look-out. At the last moment this
plan was abandoned, and it is a merciful intervention of Providence
that it was so. Time certainly was lost by the change of tactics, but
the loss was gain. There was a spare engine in the station, and it was
determined to use this as a pilot. [The pilot was arranged for early
in the afternoon.] Accordingly, it started about half a mile ahead of
the special [only 100 yards], which it was intended to run through
to Beechworth. Glenrowan is the next station to Benalla, being about
fourteen miles distant.
However, when within a mile and a quarter of Glenrowan, just opposite
Playford's and De Soir's paddocks, the special came to a sudden halt.
Danger signals from the pilot engine were the cause, and in a very
few seconds the pilot came back with an intimation that a man, in a
state of great excitement, had stopped the engine, and had stated that
Glenrowan was stuck up by the Kellys, who had torn up the lines just
beyond the station in order to destroy the party which they knew would
pass along the line in the special. The news and the stated intentions
of the gang had not a cheering effect, but the police displayed an
eagerness for action. The members of the press barricaded their windows
with the cushions upon which they had previously sat, and in response
to the request which some of the number made, the lights in the train
were extinguished. It was then ten minutes to three o'clock, and
Superintendent Hare was not long in determining what to do. The man
who gave the information disappeared in the forest as soon as he had
imparted his news, and his story was accepted with caution; but it was
soon made apparent that he had saved the lives of those in the train,
which to a certainty would, along with the pilot engine, have been
hurled into a deep gully just below the Glenrowan Station, and behind a
curve in the line which would have prevented the conductors from seeing
the pilot go over the embankment where the rails had been torn up. Mr.
Hare, with one or two of the police, proceeded in the pilot engine
to the railway station, closely followed by the special. On arriving
at the station the horses were quickly got out of the trucks by the
men, whilst Mr. Hare, with one or two men and Mr. Rawlings, proceeded
towards the Glenrowan Hotel to seek information. Mr. Rawlings, when
he left Benalla, jocularly made a boast that they would bring back
the remains of the outlaws. He little thought at that time that his
prediction would prove to be absolutely correct.
The township of Glenrowan consists of about half a dozen houses,
inclusive of two bush hotels, Jones's Glenrowan Hotel being about 200
yards from the station, on the west side of the line, whilst M'Donald's
Hotel is about the same distance on the other side of the line. In
an instant the men on the platform were convinced, by the report of
a shot fired from Jones's Hotel, that they were in the presence of
the desperate outlaws. [This is an error; no shot was fired until we
were within sixteen yards of the hotel.] The next few minutes were
productive of painful excitement. The police abandoned the horses and
rushed to their arms. The black trackers sprang forward with their
leader, and soon took up a good position in front of the house. Mr.
Hare could be plainly seen by the light of the moon. He walked towards
the hotel, and when within about twenty-five yards of the verandah,
the tall figure of a man came round the corner, and fired. The shot
took effect on Mr. Hare's wrist. Senior-constable Kelly and Rawlings
were close to him, and the former promptly returned the fire, which
was taken up by Hare, although wounded, and Mr. Rawlings followed his
example.
Just before Superintendent Hare was wounded, Constable Bracken, the
local policeman, who had been made prisoner in the hotel, courageously
made his escape, and running towards the railway station, quickly
spread the information that the Kellys, with about forty prisoners,
were inmates of the hotel, which was a weather-board building,
containing about six rooms, inclusive of the bar. Behind the building
there was a kitchen, the walls of which were constructed of slabs.
Into this the police fired. When about sixty shots had been sent into
the walls of the building, the clear voice of Hare was distinguished
above the screams of the terrified women and children who were in
the hotel, giving the order to stop firing. This was now repeated by
Senior-constable Kelly to the men who, under cover, were surrounding
the house at the back, but the Kellys fired three or four more shots,
after which one of them gave vent to coarse and brutal language,
calling to the police, "Come on, you ---- wretches, and you can fire
away; you can never harm us." A few straggling shots were then fired,
the sharp sounds of the rifle being echoed from the mount called
Morgan's Look-out, at the foot of which the fight took place.
Then all was silent again, and after the lapse of about a quarter
of an hour Superintendent Hare approached the station and stated
that he had been wounded in the wrist. The wound was a very bad one,
and was bleeding very much. There was no doctor present, but the
representatives of the press succeeded in stopping the rapid loss
of blood. During the trying ordeal, Mrs. O'Connor and Miss Smith
remained unwilling witnesses of the terrible scene. They retained their
seats in the railway carriage, and the courage which they displayed,
notwithstanding that the bullets from the outlaws whistled past the
train, surely ought to have had a good effect on the men who were
facing death in the execution of their duty. Seeing the wound, the
ladies implored Mr. Hare not to return to the fight, but he did so. His
re-appearance in the trenches was the signal for renewed firing, and
the valley was soon filled with smoke. Mr. Hare then became faint from
loss of blood, and was compelled to leave the field. He went back to
Benalla on an engine in order to have his injury attended to, and to
send more men to the front.
A long and tedious interval followed, during which time Mr.
Stanistreet, the station-master, suddenly left the hotel, where he had
been kept prisoner with the other residents of Glenrowan. He walked
boldly away, and had a narrow escape of being shot by the police, but
he saved himself by proclaiming he was the station-master. He reported
that the gang were still in the house, and that the shots of the police
had struck the daughter of Mrs. Jones, a girl fourteen years of age, on
the head, whilst the son, John Jones, a boy of nine years, was wounded
in the hip. Very soon after this, painful, hysterical screams of terror
were heard from Mrs. Jones and a Mrs. Reardon, both of whom were
walking about the place, disregarding the danger to be feared from the
volleys which the police, at short intervals, poured into the hotel.
Mrs. Jones's grief occasionally took the form of vindictiveness towards
the police, whom she called murderers. The police frequently called
upon the women to come away, but they hesitated, and Mrs. Reardon and
her son were afraid to accompany Mr. Reardon to the station. The poor
woman was carrying a baby only a few months old in her arms, and
she eventually ran to the station, where she received every kindness
from the persons there assembled. She was then in a very terrified
condition, and told the following story, which serves to show the
manner in which the gang took possession of Glenrowan.
She said: "My husband is a plate-layer, employed on the railway, and
we live about a mile from the station, on the Benalla side. At three
o'clock on Sunday morning we were all in bed. We were aroused by Ned
Kelly, who knocked at the door, and told my husband, when he opened it,
to surrender. He advised us to dress, and I did so. They had also made
a prisoner of Sullivan, another plate-layer, and Kelly brought us to
the station, where I was kept for some hours. Kelly took my husband and
Sullivan down the line, in order to tear up the line and destroy the
train with the police. He was afterwards taken to the hotel. There are
a lot of innocent people in there now, and they are frightened to come
out for fear the police will kill them. Amongst the people who are in
there are:--James and Michael Reardon, my husband and son, Catherine
and William Rennison, John and Patrick Delaney (who are here coursing),
W.S. Cooke (a labourer), Martin Sherry (a plate-layer), John Larkins
(a farmer), Edward Reynolds (the brother of the postmaster), Robert
Gibbons, the brothers Meanliffe, and other strangers I do not know."
When the poor woman had completed her story, the firing of the
police became very brisk, and it was replied to by the desperadoes
in the hotel. Senior-constable Kelly at that juncture found a rifle
stained with blood lying on the side of the hill, and this led to the
supposition that one of the gang had been wounded, and had escaped
through the forest towards Morgan's Look-out. Just then nine police
with Superintendent Sadleir and Dr. Hutchinson came from Benalla.
Almost immediately after, seven policemen under Sergeant Steele
arrived on horse-back from Wangaratta. The alarm had been given there
by Trooper Bracken, who caught a horse and rode the ten miles in a
surprisingly short space of time. The conduct of Bracken, and the
promptitude of the Wangaratta police, is to be highly commended. Just
before their arrival a heavy volley was poured into the hotel by the
police.
According to the statement of some of the prisoners, afterwards made,
that volley proved fatal to Joe Byrne, who was standing close to young
Delaney, drinking a nobbler of whisky at the bar, when he was shot
in the groin. He was then carried to the back of the building, where
he gradually sank and died a painful death. This fact at the time was
unknown to the police.
The morning broke beautiful and clear. The police were disposed all
round the hotel, when they were beset by a danger from the rear. Ned
Kelly was the cause. It appears he was the man who shot Mr. Hare, and
he himself was wounded in the arm by the fire which was returned. He
could not without danger get into the hotel, so he sprang upon his
horse, and during the excitement which followed, he got away towards
Morgan's Look-out, but it was not the intention of the bold ruffian to
desert his comrades, and he returned to fight his way to them. [This
is quite wrong. Kelly being wounded, tried to escape on foot, but
being shot in the foot was unable to walk. No man left the hotel on
horse-back, but, to make a hero of himself, he told this story.]
[Illustration: Ned Kelly in his Armour.]
It was nearly eight o'clock when his tall figure was seen close behind
the line of police. At first it was thought he was a black fellow. He
carried a grey coat over his arm, [he wore the coat over his armour],
and walked coolly and slowly among the police. His head, chest, back,
and sides were all protected with heavy plates of quarter-inch iron.
When within easy distance of Senior-constable Kelly, who was watching
him, he fired. The police then knew who he was, and Sergeant Steele,
Senior-constable Kelly, with Mr. Dowsett (a railway guard), fired on
the ruffian. The contest became one which, from its remarkable nature,
almost baffles description. Nine police joined in the conflict and
fired point blank at Kelly; but although, in consequence of the way in
which he staggered, it was apparent that many of the shots hit him, yet
he always recovered himself, and tapping his breast, laughed derisively
at his opponents, as he coolly returned the fire, fighting only with a
revolver. It appeared as if he was a fiend with a charmed life.
For half an hour this strange contest was carried on, and then Sergeant
Steele rapidly closed in on him, and when within only about ten yards
of him, fired two shots into his legs which brought the outlaw down.
He was only wounded, and appeared still determined to carry on the
desperate conflict, but Steele bravely rushed him and seized the hand
in which he held his revolver, the only weapon with which he was armed.
He fired one shot after this, but without effect. When on the ground
he roared with savage ferocity, cursing the police vehemently. He was
stripped of his armour, and then became quite submissive, and was borne
to the railway station by Sergeant Steele, Constable Dwyer, and two
representatives of the Melbourne press.
Great praise is due to Guard Dowsett for the plucky manner in which he
assisted the police. He was armed with a revolver, and got very close
to the outlaw. At the railway station Kelly appeared to be very weak
from the loss of blood, and some brandy was given him. He was examined
in the guard's van by Dr. Nicholson and Dr. Hutchinson, who found that
he was suffering from two bullet wounds in the left arm, a bullet in
the right foot near the right toe, and two wounds in the right leg,
those inflicted by Sergeant Steele.
The outlaw was quite composed, and in answer to inquiries he made
the following statement:--"What I intended to do, and in fact was
just about doing, was to go down with some of my mates and meet the
special train and rake it with shot. The train, however, came before I
expected, and I had to return to the hotel. I thought the train would
go on, and on that account I had the rails pulled up, so that these
---- black trackers might be settled. It does not much matter what
brought me to Glenrowan. I do not know, or I do not say. It does not
seem much, any way. If I liked, I could have got away last night. I got
into the bush with my grey mare, and laid there all night. I had a good
chance, but I wanted to see the thing end.
"When the police fired the first round I got wounded in the foot. It
was the left one. Shortly afterwards I was shot through the left arm.
It was in the front of the house where I received these injuries. I
don't care what people say about Sergeant Kennedy's death. I have made
my statement as to it, and if they don't believe me I can't help it.
At all events, I am satisfied Scanlan was not shot kneeling. That is
not true. He never got off his horse. At the commencement of the affair
this morning I fired three or four shots from the front of Jones's
Hotel, but I do not know who I was firing at. I only fired when I saw
flashes. I then cleared for the bush, but remained there near the hotel
all night. Two constables passed close by me talking, and I could have
shot them before I had time to shout, if I liked. I could have shot
several constables at one time. I was a good distance away, but I came
back again. I have got a charge of duck-shot in my leg. Why don't the
police use bullets instead of duck-shot?
"One of the policemen that was firing at me was a splendid shot. I
don't know his name. Perhaps I would have done better if I had cleared
away on my grey mare. [He never had a chance.] It was just like blows
from a man's fist receiving the bullets on my armour. I wanted to fire
into the carriages, only the police started on us too quickly. I knew
the police would come, and I expected them."
Inspector Sadleir here remarked, "You wanted then to kill the people
in the train?" Kelly replied, "Yes; of course I did. God help them,
they would have got shot all the same. Would they not have tried to
kill me?" Every kindness was shown to Kelly by the police, and his two
sisters were permitted to remain with him during the afternoon. He
was also seen by Father Tierney, to whom it is understood he made a
confession, but the reverend gentleman courteously declined to state
the nature of it.
At various times during the morning more police arrived, but the
bushrangers could not be dislodged; and what was more perplexing still,
the prisoners inside could not be persuaded to leave, although the
police repeatedly called upon them to come out. At twelve o'clock,
however, the people inside, consisting of about thirty men and youths,
suddenly rushed out of the front door, carrying their hands aloft. The
police told them to advance towards where they were located, but many
of the unfortunate people were so terror-stricken that they ran hither
and thither screaming for mercy. They then approached the police and
threw themselves upon their faces.
One by one they were called on, and having been minutely searched, were
despatched to the station. When the turn of two youths named M'Auliffe
came. Superintendent Sadleir directed Constable Bracken to arrest them
as Kelly sympathizers. They were accordingly handcuffed, and taken with
the others to the railway-station. Young Reardon, who with his father
had been confined in the hotel, was severely wounded in the shoulder
by a bullet fired from a rifle in the hands of one of the police. The
unfortunate youth was at once attended to by the doctors already named.
Although the wound was a serious one, it was not considered such as
would prove fatal.
The police after this kept up a constant fire on the place, Dwyer and
Armstrong in front of the house, Andrew Clarke, sen., and Constable
Kelly getting very close in at various quarters of attack. It was
noticed that the fire from the besieged bushrangers was not returned
after one o'clock, but it was believed that Dan Kelly and Hart
intended to lie quiet until night, and under cover of the darkness
make their escape. The police for a time also ceased firing. A
consultation was held amongst the officers as to what was to be done
next. During the cessation of hostilities I visited the locality
where the line had been torn up; it is about three-quarters of a mile
on the Wangaratta side of Glenrowan. Several lengths of rails had
been wrenched from their places at a curve terminating at a rapid
decline, and had not timely warning been given, the pilot-engine,
followed closely by the special, would have inevitably toppled over an
embankment into a defile over thirty feet in depth. I arrived back at
the station in time to witness the most tragic and exciting scene of
the day. The police had telegraphed for a field-gun from Melbourne, but
fearing it would not arrive in time to be of any use, it was determined
to adopt another mode of dislodging the remaining outlaws.