beginning of the trouble. What harm was I doing any one on the ship? All
I asked for was a quiet life, leaving others alone, and getting left
alone myself. No man could ask fairer than that. And now just you listen
to what came of it.
We were passing the front of the ladies' cabins, on our way to
the saloon, when out comes a servant lass--a freckled currency
she-devil--with a baby in her arms. We were brushing past her, when she
gave a scream like a railway whistle, and nearly dropped the kid. My
nerves gave a sort of a jump when I heard that scream, but I turned and
begged her pardon, letting on that I thought I might have trod on her
foot. I knew the game was up though, when I saw her white face, and her
leaning against the door and pointing.
"It's him!" she cried; "it's him! I saw him in the court-house. Oh,
don't let him hurt the baby!"
"Who is it?" asks the steward and half-a-dozen others in a breath.
"It's him--Maloney--Maloney, the murderer--oh, take him away--take him
away!"
I don't rightly remember what happened just at that moment. The
furniture and me seemed to get kind of mixed, and there was cursing, and
smashing, and some one shouting for his gold, and a general stamp round.
When I got steadied a bit, I found somebody's hand in my mouth. From
what I gathered afterwards, I conclude that it belonged to that same
little man with the vicious way of talking. He got some of it out again,
but that was because the others were choking me. A poor chap can get no
fair-play in this world when once he is down--still I think he will
remember me till the day of his death--longer, I hope.
They dragged me out into the poop and held a damned court-martial--on
_me_, mind you; _me_, that had thrown over my pals in order to serve
them. What were they to do with me? Some said this, some said that; but
it ended by the captain deciding to send me ashore. The ship stopped,
they lowered a boat, and I was hoisted in, the whole gang of them
hooting at me from over the bulwarks. I saw the man I spoke of tying up
his hand though, and I felt that things might be worse.
I changed my opinion before we got to the land. I had reckoned on the
shore being deserted, and that I might make my way inland; but the ship
had stopped too near the Heads, and a dozen beach-combers and such like
had come down to the water's edge, and were staring at us, wondering
what the boat was after. When we got to the edge of the surf the
coxswain hailed them, and after singing out who I was, he and his men
threw me into the water. You may well look surprised--neck and crop into
ten feet of water, with shark as thick as green parrots in the bush, and
I heard them laughing as I floundered to the shore.
I soon saw it was a worse job than ever. As I came scrambling out
through the weeds, I was collared by a big chap with a velveteen coat,
and half-a-dozen others got round me and held me fast. Most of them
looked simple fellows enough, and I was not afraid of them; but there
was one in a cabbage-tree hat that had a very nasty expression on his
face, and the big man seemed to be chummy with him.
They dragged me up the beach, and then they let go their hold of me and
stood round in a circle.
"Well, mate," says the man with the hat, "we've been looking out for you
some time in these parts."
"And very good of you too," I answers.
"None of your jaw," says he. "Come, boys, what shall it be--hanging,
drowning, or shooting? Look sharp!"
This looked a bit too like business. "No you don't!" I said. "I've got
Government protection, and it'll be murder."
"That's what they call it," answered the one in the velveteen coat as
cheery as a piping crow.
"And you're going to murder me for being a ranger?"
"Ranger be damned!" said the man. "We're going to hang you for peaching
against your pals; and that's an end of the palaver."
They slung a rope round my neck and dragged me up to the edge of the
bush. There were some big she-oaks and blue-gums, and they pitched on
one of these for the wicked deed. They ran the rope over a branch, tied
my hands, and told me to say my prayers. It seemed as if it was all up;
but Providence interfered to save me. It sounds nice enough sitting here
and telling about it, sir; but it was sick work to stand with nothing
but the beach in front of you, and the long white line of surf, with the
steamer in the distance, and a set of bloody-minded villains round you
thirsting for your life.
I never thought I'd owe anything good to the police; but they saved me
that time. A troop of them were riding from Hawkes Point Station to
Dunedin, and hearing that something was up, they came down through the
bush, and interrupted the proceedings. I've heard some bands in my time,
Doctor, but I never heard music like the jingle of those traps' spurs
and harness as they galloped out on to the open. They tried to hang me
even then, but the police were too quick for them; and the man with the
hat got one over the head with the flat of a sword. I was clapped on to
a horse, and before evening I found myself in my old quarters in the
city gaol.
The governor wasn't to be done, though. He was determined to get rid of
me, and I was equally anxious to see the last of him. He waited a week
or so until the excitement had begun to die away, and then he smuggled
me aboard a three-masted schooner bound to Sydney with tallow and hides.
We got fair away to sea without a hitch, and things began to look a bit
more rosy. I made sure that I had seen the last of the prison, anyway.
The crew had a sort of an idea who I was, and if there'd been any rough
weather, they'd have hove me overboard like enough; for they were a
rough, ignorant lot, and had a notion that I brought bad luck to the
ship. We had a good passage, however, and I was landed safe and sound
upon Sydney Quay.
Now just you listen to what happened next. You'd have thought they would
have been sick of ill-using me and following me by this time--wouldn't
you, now? Well, just you listen. It seems that a cursed steamer started
from Dunedin to Sydney on the very day we left, and got in before us,
bringing news that I was coming. Blessed if they hadn't called a
meeting--a regular mass meeting--at the docks to discuss about it, and I
marched right into it when I landed. They didn't take long about
arresting me, and I listened to all the speeches and resolutions. If I'd
been a prince there couldn't have been more excitement. The end of it
all was that they agreed that it wasn't right that New Zealand should be
allowed to foist her criminals upon her neighbours, and that I was to be
sent back again by the next boat. So they posted me off again as if I
was a damned parcel; and after another eight hundred mile journey I
found myself back for the third time moving in the place that I started
from.
By this time I had begun to think that I was going to spend the rest of
my existence travelling about from one port to another. Every man's hand
seemed turned against me, and there was no peace or quiet in any
direction. I was about sick of it by the time I had come back; and if I
could have taken to the bush I'd have done it, and chanced it with my
old pals. They were too quick for me, though, and kept me under lock and
key; but I managed, in spite of them, to negotiate that _caché_ I told
you of, and sewed the gold up in my belt. I spent another month in
gaol, and then they slipped me aboard a barque that was bound for
England.
This time the crew never knew who I was, but the captain had a pretty
good idea, though he didn't let on to me that he had any suspicions. I
guessed from the first that the man was a villain. We had a fair
passage, except a gale or two off the Cape; and I began to feel like a
free man when I saw the blue loom of the old country, and the saucy
little pilot-boat from Falmouth dancing towards us over the waves. We
ran down the Channel, and before we reached Gravesend I had agreed with
the pilot that he should take me ashore with him when he left. It was at
this time that the captain showed me that I was right in thinking him a
meddling, disagreeable man. I got my things packed, such as they were,
and left him talking earnestly to the pilot, while I went below for my
breakfast. When I came up again we were fairly into the mouth of the
river, and the boat in which I was to have gone ashore had left us. The
skipper said the pilot had forgotten me; but that was too thin, and I
began to fear that all my old troubles were going to commence once
more.
It was not long before my suspicions were confirmed. A boat darted out
from the side of the river, and a tall cove with a long black beard came
aboard. I heard him ask the mate whether they didn't need a mud-pilot to
take them up the reaches, but it seemed to me that he was a man who
would know a deal more about handcuffs than he did about steering, so I
kept away from him. He came across the deck, however, and made some
remark to me, taking a good look at me the while. I don't like
inquisitive people at any time, but an inquisitive stranger with glue
about the roots of his beard is the worst of all to stand, especially
under the circumstances. I began to feel that it was time for me to go.
I soon got a chance, and made good use of it. A big collier came athwart
the bows of our steamer, and we had to slacken down to dead slow. There
was a barge astern, and I slipped down by a rope and was into the barge
before any one had missed me. Of course I had to leave my luggage behind
me, but I had the belt with the nuggets round my waist, and the chance
of shaking the police off my track was worth more than a couple of
boxes. It was clear to me now that the pilot had been a traitor, as
well as the captain, and had set the detectives after me. I often wish I
could drop across those two men again.
I hung about the barge all day as she drifted down the stream. There was
one man in her, but she was a big, ugly craft, and his hands were too
full for much looking about. Towards evening, when it got a bit dusky, I
struck out for the shore, and found myself in a sort of marsh place, a
good many miles to the east of London. I was soaking wet and half dead
with hunger, but I trudged into the town, got a new rig-out at a
slop-shop, and after having some supper, engaged a bed at the quietest
lodgings I could find.
I woke pretty early--a habit you pick up in the bush--and lucky for me
that I did so. The very first thing I saw when I took a look through a
chink in the shutter was one of these infernal policemen standing right
opposite, and staring up at the windows. He hadn't epaulettes nor a
sword, like our traps, but for all that there was a sort of family
likeness, and the same busybody expression. Whether they'd followed me
all the time, or whether the woman that let me the bed didn't like the
looks of me, is more than I have ever been able to find out. He came
across as I was watching him, and noted down the address of the house in
a book. I was afraid that he was going to ring at the bell, but I
suppose his orders were simply to keep an eye on me, for after another
good look at the windows he moved on down the street.
I saw that my only chance was to act at once. I threw on my clothes,
opened the window softly, and, after making sure that there was nobody
about, dropped out on to the ground and made off as hard as I could run.
I travelled a matter of two or three miles, when my wind gave out; and
as I saw a big building with people going in and out, I went in too, and
found that it was a railway station. A train was just going off for
Dover to meet the French boat, so I took a ticket and jumped into a
third-class carriage.
There were a couple of other chaps in the carriage, innocent-looking
young beggars, both of them. They began speaking about this and that,
while I sat quiet in the corner and listened. Then they started on
England and foreign countries, and such like. Look ye now, Doctor, this
is a fact. One of them begins jawing about the justice of England's
laws. "It's all fair and above-board," says he; "there ain't any secret
police, nor spying, like they have abroad," and a lot more of the same
sort of wash. Rather rough on me, wasn't it, listening to the damned
young fool, with the police following me about like my shadow?
I got to Paris right enough, and there I changed some of my gold, and
for a few days I imagined I'd shaken them off, and began to think of
settling down for a bit of a rest. I needed it by that time, for I was
looking more like a ghost than a man. You've never had the police after
you, I suppose? Well, you needn't look offended, I didn't mean any harm.
If ever you had you'd know that it wastes a man away like a sheep with
the rot.
I went to the opera one night and took a box, for I was very flush. I
was coming out between the acts when I met a fellow lounging along in
the passage. The light fell on his face, and I saw that it was the
mud-pilot that had boarded us in the Thames. His beard was gone, but I
recognised the man at a glance, for I've a good memory for faces.
I tell you, Doctor, I felt desperate for a moment. I could have knifed
him if we had been alone, but he knew me well enough never to give me
the chance. It was more than I could stand any longer, so I went right
up to him and drew him aside, where we'd be free from all the loungers
and theatre-goers.
"How long are you going to keep it up?" I asked him.
He seemed a bit flustered for a moment, but then he saw there was no use
beating about the bush, so he answered straight--
"Until you go back to Australia," he said.
"Don't you know," I said, "that I have served the Government and got a
free pardon?"
He grinned all over his ugly face when I said this.
"We know all about you, Maloney," he answered. "If you want a quiet
life, just you go back where you came from. If you stay here, you're a
marked man; and when you are found tripping it'll be a lifer for you, at
the least. Free trade's a fine thing, but the market's too full of men
like you for us to need to import any!"
It seemed to me that there was something in what he said, though he had
a nasty way of putting it. For some days back I'd been feeling a sort
of home-sick. The ways of the people weren't my ways. They stared at me
in the street; and if I dropped into a bar, they'd stop talking and edge
away a bit, as if I was a wild beast. I'd sooner have had a pint of old
Stringybark, too, than a bucketful of their rotgut liquors. There was
too much damned propriety. What was the use of having money if you
couldn't dress as you liked, nor bust it properly? There was no sympathy
for a man if he shot about a little when he was half-over. I've seen a
man dropped at Nelson many a time with less row than they'd make over a
broken window-pane. The thing was slow, and I was sick of it.
"You want me to go back?" I said.
"I've my orders to stick fast to you until you do," he answered.
"Well," I said, "I don't care if I do. All I bargain is that you keep
your mouth shut, and don't let on who I am, so that I may have a fair
start when I get there."
He agreed to this, and we went over to Southampton the very next day,
where he saw me safely off once more. I took a passage round to
Adelaide, where no one was likely to know me; and there I settled,
right under the nose of the police. I've been there ever since, leading
a quiet life, but for little difficulties like the one I'm in for now,
and for that devil, Tattooed Tom of Hawkesbury. I don't know what made
me tell you all this, Doctor, unless it is that being kind of lonely
makes a man inclined to jaw when he gets a chance. Just you take warning
from me, though. Never put yourself out to serve your country; for your
country will do precious little for you. Just you let them look after
their own affairs; and if they find a difficulty in hanging a set of
scoundrels, never mind chipping in, but let them alone to do as best
they can. Maybe they'll remember how they treated me after I'm dead, and
be sorry for neglecting me. I was rude to you when you came in, and
swore a trifle promiscuous; but don't you mind me, it's only my way.
You'll allow, though, that I have cause to be a bit touchy now and again
when I think of all that's passed. You're not going, are you? Well, if
you must, you must; but I hope you will look me up at odd times when you
are going your round. Oh, I say, you've left the balance of that cake of
tobacco behind you, haven't you? No; it's in your pocket--that's all
right. Thank ye, Doctor, you're a good sort, and as quick at a hint as
any man I've met.
* * * * *
A couple of months after narrating his experiences, Wolf Tone Maloney
finished his term, and was released. For a long time I neither saw him
nor heard of him; and he had almost slipped from my memory, until I was
reminded, in a somewhat tragic manner, of his existence. I had been
attending a patient some distance off in the country, and was riding
back, guiding my tired horse among the boulders which strewed the
pathway, and endeavouring to see my way through the gathering darkness,
when I came suddenly upon a little wayside inn. As I walked my horse up
towards the door, intending to make sure of my bearings before
proceeding further, I heard the sound of a violent altercation within
the little bar. There seemed to be a chorus of expostulation or
remonstrance, above which two powerful voices rang out loud and angry.
As I listened, there was a momentary hush, two pistol shots sounded
almost simultaneously, and, with a crash, the door burst open, and a
pair of dark figures staggered out into the moonlight. They struggled
for a moment in a deadly wrestle, and then went down together among the
loose stones. I had sprung off my horse, and, with the help of
half-a-dozen rough fellows from the bar, dragged them away from one
another.
A glance was sufficient to convince me that one of them was dying fast.
He was a thick-set, burly fellow, with a determined cast of countenance.
The blood was welling from a deep stab in his throat, and it was evident
that an important artery had been divided. I turned away from him in
despair, and walked over to where his antagonist was lying. He was shot
through the lungs, but managed to raise himself upon his hand as I
approached, and peered anxiously up into my face. To my surprise I saw
before me the haggard features and flaxen hair of my prison
acquaintance, Maloney.
"Ah, Doctor!" he said, recognising me. "How is he? Will he die?"
He asked the question so earnestly that I imagined he had softened at
the last moment, and feared to leave the world with another homicide
upon his conscience. Truth, however, compelled me to shake my head
mournfully, and to intimate that the wound would prove a mortal one.
Maloney gave a wild cry of triumph, which brought the blood welling out
from between his lips. "Here, boys," he gasped to the little group
around him. "There's money in my inside pocket. Damn the expense! Drinks
round. There's nothing mean about me. I'd drink with you, but I'm going.
Give the Doc. my share, for he's as good----" Here his head fell back
with a thud, his eye glazed, and the soul of Wolf Tone Maloney, forger,
convict, ranger, murderer, and Government peach, drifted away into the
Great Unknown.
* * * * *
I cannot conclude without borrowing the account of the fatal quarrel
which appeared in the columns of the _West Australian Sentinel_. The
curious will find it in the issue of the 4th of October 1881:--
"Fatal Affray.--W. T. Maloney, a well-known citizen of New Montrose, and
proprietor of the Yellow Boy gambling saloon, has met with his death
under rather painful circumstances. Mr. Maloney was a man who had led a
chequered existence, and whose past history is replete with interest.
Some of our readers may recall the Lena Valley murders, in which he
figured as the principal criminal. It is conjectured that, during the
seven months that he owned a bar in that region, from twenty to thirty
travellers were hocussed and made away with. He succeeded, however, in
evading the vigilance of the officers of the law, and allied himself
with the bushrangers of Bluemansdyke, whose heroic capture and
subsequent execution are matters of history. Maloney extricated himself
from the fate which awaited him by turning Queen's evidence. He
afterwards visited Europe, but returned to West Australia, where he has
long played a prominent part in local matters. On Friday evening he
encountered an old enemy, Thomas Grimthorpe, commonly known as Tattooed
Tom of Hawkesbury. Shots were exchanged, and both men were badly
wounded, only surviving a few minutes. Mr. Maloney had the reputation of
being, not only the most wholesale murderer that ever lived, but also of
having a finish and attention to detail in matters of evidence which has
been unapproached by any European criminal. _Sic transit gloriâ
mundi!_"
_THE SILVER HATCHET._
On the 3rd of December 1861, Dr. Otto von Hopstein, Regius Professor of
Comparative Anatomy of the University of Buda-Pesth, and Curator of the
Academical Museum, was foully and brutally murdered within a stone-throw
of the entrance to the college quadrangle.
Besides the eminent position of the victim and his popularity amongst
both students and townsfolk, there were other circumstances which
excited public interest very strongly, and drew general attention
throughout Austria and Hungary to this murder. The _Pesther Abendblatt_
of the following day had an article upon it, which may still be
consulted by the curious, and from which I translate a few passages
giving a succinct account of the circumstances under which the crime was
committed, and the peculiar features in the case which puzzled the
Hungarian police.
"It appears," said that very excellent paper, "that Professor von
Hopstein left the University about half-past four in the afternoon, in
order to meet the train which is due from Vienna at three minutes after
five. He was accompanied by his old and dear friend, Herr Wilhelm
Schlessinger, sub-Curator of the Museum and Privat-docent of Chemistry.
The object of these two gentlemen in meeting this particular train was
to receive the legacy bequeathed by Graf von Schulling to the University
of Buda-Pesth. It is well known that this unfortunate nobleman, whose
tragic fate is still fresh in the recollection of the public, left his
unique collection of mediæval weapons, as well as several priceless
black-letter editions, to enrich the already celebrated museum of his
Alma Mater. The worthy Professor was too much of an enthusiast in such
matters to intrust the reception or care of this valuable legacy to any
subordinate; and, with the assistance of Herr Schlessinger, he succeeded
in removing the whole collection from the train, and stowing it away in
a light cart which had been sent by the University authorities. Most of
the books and more fragile articles were packed in cases of pine-wood,
but many of the weapons were simply done round with straw, so that
considerable labour was involved in moving them all. The Professor was
so nervous, however, lest any of them should be injured, that he refused
to allow any of the railway employés (_Eisenbahn-diener_) to assist.
Every article was carried across the platform by Herr Schlessinger, and
handed to Professor von Hopstein in the cart, who packed it away. When
everything was in, the two gentlemen, still faithful to their charge,
drove back to the University, the Professor being in excellent spirits,
and not a little proud of the physical exertion which he had shown
himself capable of. He made some joking allusion to it to Reinmaul, the
janitor, who, with his friend Schiffer, a Bohemian Jew, met the cart on
its return and unloaded the contents. Leaving his curiosities safe in
the store-room, and locking the door, the Professor handed the key to
his sub-curator, and, bidding every one good evening, departed in the
direction of his lodgings. Schlessinger took a last look to reassure
himself that all was right, and also went off, leaving Reinmaul and his
friend Schiffer smoking in the janitor's lodge.