of this and some ember cakes we the day before made. All rested under
the shade; for we were tolerably fatigued. It was here that Mary,
the native girl, told us about Howe: she said that she first saw him
at Hobart Town, where he was a crown servant to Mr. Ingle, and she a
servant to another settler there: she was then only seventeen years
of age, and really must have been a very good-looking young girl, for
a sort of a black as she was. Howe got the better of her so, that he
prevailed upon her to let him into the house to rob her master, and
then elope with him to the woods. He was very kind to her, she said,
whenever he was successful; but if anything crossed his temper, he was
like a tiger; and then, neither she nor his men would go near him until
his passion cooled. He was jealous of this girl; and Edwards--one of
the gang--after they had robbed Captain Townson, gave Mary a shawl,
which was part of the booty; when Howe drew his pistol deliberately,
and shot him. He also killed another of his gang, Bowls, for merely
firing a blank shot over his head: he deliberately tied his hands and
feet first, then put the pistol to his head and fired: this he did
on Salt-pan Plains. None of the men dared remonstrate with him; for
he always was armed with three or four pistols ready loaded; and he
often used to impress upon his gang, that every leader should be obeyed
in whatever he ordered--that no murmurs should be heard; and always
concluded his remarks on such subjects by a terrible oath--that life
was nothing to him, and if they did not like his conduct, they might
try it with him in any way they wished; ‘but,’ said he, ‘I _will_ shoot
any of my men if I think they deserve it.’ She said that he was very
revengeful: he sat on one of the hills of thick wood, which rise one
above the other and overlook Hobart Town, one night with Mary beside
him, smoking and drinking, and more merry than ever she knew him to be,
because he was to have satisfaction of Mr. Humphries, and Mr. Reardon
the constable. Collyer was with him that night; and while she was
telling us about the affair, he often set her right on little points,
which she had forgotten. She said, that they sat in their hut, looking
out over the hills below them, and the town, and the plains: they could
just discern the houses through the closing twilight. As it grew dark,
and the view was lost, Howe filled his goblet, and exclaimed, ‘Now,
Collyer, we want light; here’s success to the hand that will give it
to us.’ Collyer drank the toast, and Mary got up to strike a spark
in the tinder, when Howe laughed loudly, and seizing the girl by the
arm, he replied, ‘Sit down, Mary--don’t trouble yourself; Whitehead is
lighting a match for us.’ She did not understand him, for Whitehead,
she knew, was gone down, with the rest of the gang, to the low lands.
‘Look out,’ said he: ‘now do you see the light?’ The girl looked as he
desired her:--so did Collyer and himself; and they beheld a tremendous
flame, at two different points below, which threw a glare all over the
plain. ‘There,’ said Howe, ‘these fires have cost a pretty penny:--that
is all the corn that Humphreys reaped this season; and that, near it,
is the last of Reardon’s property.’ Then said he to Collyer, ‘My boy, a
toast:--Here’s success to the Bushman’s tinder-box, and a blazing fire
to their enemies!’--I remember that Collyer smiled when Mary recited
this before him.”
[“Well, by the powers!” observed Corporal O’Callaghan, “I never hard
o’ such a divil as that same Misther Howe. What counthryman was he?”]
“A Yorkshireman: he was born at Pontefract in 1787, entered the
merchant service at Hull, and then became a man-o’-war’s man; but he
deserted, and robbed a miller; for which he was transported. Captain
Cross of the _Indefatigable_, brought him out to Van Diemen’s Land:
before he sailed, he tried to escape by jumping from the main deck over
the vessel’s side; and Captain Cross said that he swam a quarter of a
mile before he was retaken.”
[“Well, did you bring in your prisoners safe,” demanded Sergeant
Dobson.]
“Yes,” replied old Worral; “we lodged them in Hobart Town jail, and
they were both gibbetted along with Whitehead, Brown, and M’Guire.”
[“And was Howe ever taken?”
“I’ll tell you the end of the villain.”
“Stop,--come to the end o’ _that_ first,” said O’Callaghan, handing old
Worral the horn goblet.]
Worrel proceeded:--“After this, Howe having separated from his
few remaining associates, had art enough to obtain pardon from the
governor, by humbling to him, and offering not only to give himself
up, but to engage in annihilating the remaining bush-rangers. He was
absolutely at large in Hobart Town--or at least, only accompanied
by a constable--awaiting his pardon; and every body looked upon him
as reformed, when he slipped off from his keeper, and took to his
old habits: but he did not join any others; he wandered about alone,
without any communication with mankind, except when necessity drove him
to plunder an unguarded settler: totally shut out from man, he lived
the sole occupier of an immense tract of the most beautiful country, as
yet untrodden by any human foot but his; for the part he selected was
the distant and unknown lands: there would he wander while his powder
and shot lasted, and then return to replenish his stock by plunder,
committing the most wanton acts of atrocity.
“There was a determined fellow of the name of Slambow, who took care of
sheep for a Mr. Williams, of Hobart Town: he lived on his land in the
neighbourhood of New Norfolk: this man had frequently been accosted by
Howe in his rambles, and for aught we knew, did little jobs for him,
as much out of fear as love. Howe had now gone to this Slambow, to
request him to carry a letter to the Governor; and the request having
been complied with, an appointment was made between them to meet at
an unfrequented place the following Friday, at sunrise. Slambow, in
the meantime, met with a runaway, called Watts, who had been wandering
about New Norfolk, and they united in a plan to take Howe when he came
to give his letter. Watts was tired of his ranging life, and hoped
for pardon, as well as a passage to England, if he captured him. The
appointed spot was on the banks of the Derwent river; and Watts took a
boat on the Thursday night, and went close up to it; when concealing
his boat, he lay himself in a close thicket for the night, to await
the coming of Howe and Slambow. A little before sunrise Watts arose
from his lair and proceeded to fulfil his appointment, he met Slambow,
who then informed him that he was to meet Howe at a place about half a
mile away, called _Long Bottom_: Watts requested Slambow to hide his
gun where he could find it on their return, because he said Howe might
object to come to them, if he saw him armed--as to Watts being armed,
Howe knew he was a Bushman, and would not suspect any thing wrong: this
was done, and they proceeded to Long Bottom, where they arrived just
as the sun was rising. I saw this very place, myself--it is a wide
plain near the river, but skirted by abrupt mountains; here and there
it is spread with bushes and trees, and in the centre is a creek or
nook of the river. When they had come within about a hundred yards of
this creek, Slambow hallooed loudly; and at the signal Howe appeared.
As soon as he saw them, he requested Watts to shake the priming out
of his gun, and offered to do the same himself: this was accordingly
done by both, and they walked together conversing on different matters,
when Howe proposed to light a fire and have some breakfast: this was
agreed upon--the wood was collected, and set fire to--the haversacks
opened--and they were apparently about to enjoy a Bushranger’s
breakfast, when Watts, who was a strong man, came behind Howe--threw
him down--and there held him while Slambow tied his hands.
“Having secured their prey, they sat down to their breakfast; and after
having finished their meal, set out for Hobart Town. They had not gone
more than eight miles when Howe, who had found means to loosen the
cords on his hands, drew a knife and stabbed Watts, who fell from the
blow, and dropped his gun. Slambow was below a bank, and thus prevented
from seeing what Howe had done; nor did he suspect until he heard Watts
groan, and saw Howe presenting a gun at his breast. The next moment he
was dead; for Howe fired and shot him. Watts then cried out to Howe,
‘Have you shot Slambow?’ to which Howe replied that he had, and that
he would serve Watts the same way as soon as he could load his gun.
Upon this Watts got up and ran about two hundred yards, the blood
trickling from his side as he ran: here he fell and lay for a short
time, being overcome by loss of blood. Howe did not follow him, fearing
an alarm from the shot he had fired; but took his way back to the
wilds, happy to have yet that resource from the gallows. Watts crawled
to a settler’s house, and was conveyed to the hospital, where he gave
an account of the affair, and soon after expired. The inquest on both
bodies brought a verdict of wilful murder against Michael Howe.
“This last violence threw the people into consternation, and an
additional sum was offered for Howe, dead or alive; for he was now the
only Bush-ranger abroad, and his fall most probably would put an end to
that system of murder and robbery, which paralyzed trade, and terrified
every inhabitant of the settlement.
“I was now determined to make a push for the capture of this villain;
for which I was promised a passage to England in the next ship that
sailed, and the amount of the reward laid upon his head. I found
out a man of the name of Warburton, who was in the habit of hunting
kangaroos for their skins, and who had frequently met Howe during his
excursions, and sometimes furnished him with ammunition. He gave me
such an account of Howe’s habits, that I felt convinced, we could take
him with a little assistance. I therefore spoke to a man of the name of
Pugh, belonging to the 48th regiment--one whom I knew was a most cool
and resolute fellow; he immediately entered into my views, and having
applied to Major Bell, his commanding officer, he was recommended by
him to the Governor, by whom I was permitted to act, and allowed to
join us; so he and I went directly to Warburton, who heartily entered
into the scheme, and all things were arranged for putting it into
execution. The plan was thus:--Pugh and I were to remain in Warburton’s
hut, while Warburton himself was to fall into Howe’s way. The hut was
on the banks of the river Shannon, standing so completely by itself,
and so out of the track of any body who might be feared by Howe, that
there was every probability of accomplishing our wishes, and ‘_scotch
the snake_,’--as they say--if not kill it. Pugh and I accordingly
proceeded to the appointed hut: we arrived there before day-break, and
having made a hearty breakfast, Warburton set out to seek Howe: he took
no arms with him, in order to still more effectually carry his point;
but Pugh and I were provided with muskets and pistols.
“The sun had been just an hour up, when we saw Warburton and Howe
upon the top of a hill, coming towards the hut. We expected they
would be with us in a quarter of an hour, and so we sat down upon the
trunk of a tree, inside the hut, calmly waiting their arrival. An hour
passed, but they did not come; so I crept to the door cautiously and
peeped out--there I saw them standing, within a hundred yards of us,
in earnest conversation: as I learnt afterwards, the delay arose from
Howe’s suspecting that all was not right. I drew back from the door
to my station; and in about ten minutes after this we plainly heard
footsteps, and the voice of Warburton;--another moment, and Howe slowly
entered the hut--his gun presented and cocked. The instant he spied us,
he cried out, ‘_Is that your game?_’--and immediately fired; but Pugh’s
activity prevented the shot from taking effect, for he knocked the gun
aside. Howe ran off like a wolf. I fired, but missed. Pugh then halted,
and took aim at him, but also missed. I immediately flung away the gun,
and ran after Howe. Pugh also pursued--Warburton was a considerable
distance away. I ran very fast--so did Howe; and if he had not fallen
down an unexpected bank, I should not have been fleet enough for
him:--this fall, however, brought me up with him;--he was on his legs,
and preparing to climb a broken bank, which would have given him a free
run into a wood, when I presented my pistol at him, and desired him
to stand: he drew forth another, but did not level it at me. We were
about fifteen yards from each other--the bank he fell from between us.
He stared at me with astonishment; and, to tell you the truth, I was a
little astonished at him; for he was covered with patches of kangaroo
skins, and wore a long black beard--a haversack and powder-horn slung
across his shoulders. I wore my beard also--as I do now; and a curious
pair we looked like. After a moment’s pause, he cried out, ‘Black beard
against grey beard, for a million!’--and fired:--I slapped at him;
and, I believe, hit him; for he staggered; but rallied again, and was
clearing the bank between him and me, when Pugh ran up, and with the
butt end of his firelock knocked him down again, jumped after him, and
battered his brains out, just as he was opening a clasp knife to defend
himself.
“This was the fate of the last and most ferocious of the
Bush-rangers--a villain, who never was known to have done an act of
humanity, and who had coolly murdered numbers of his fellow-creatures.”
[“Well; did you get the reward, for ridding the world of the rascal?”
demanded Sergeant Dobson.]
“Yes; the reward was divided amongst Pugh, Warburton, and myself; but
we got subscriptions from the settlers, to twice the amount; and I was
sent home free, with the thanks of the Governor and the public.”
[“By my soul, you desarved all you got,” said Corporal O’Callaghan.
“Did you carry the fellow’s body with you?”]
“No; we buried the body, but took off the head and brought it to Hobart
Town, where it was exhibited to the crowd--and no wondering wild beast
ever excited more curiosity. We found in his haversack a sort of book
made of kangaroo skin, and his dreams written in it with kangaroo
blood. There was also a memorandum of what seeds and plants he wanted,
in case he established a secure residence for himself in the wild
country.”
* * * * *
“By George! he was the most extraordinary fellow, except _Three
Fingered Jack_, that ever I heard of,” said Dobson.
“Oh, he was the broth of a boy!” observed the Corporal.--“And have you
lived long in Ireland?”
“Ever since my return from Van Diemen’s Land--that may be about fifteen
years. I told you that I was born in this country, but left it very
young: however, when I returned I found my only relations were a niece
and her daughter; so I took them to keep my cabin for me--where we
live, thank God, very comfortably.”
“What’s your grand-niece’s name?” demanded Jack Andrews.--
At this moment the officer of the rounds challenged, and the guard
turned out. The night was now clear--the weather calm--so Old Worral
took his parting drop from the Corporal, and trudged on towards his
cabin.
As the regiment to which the guard belonged was to march at daylight,
having the day before received orders to proceed to Plymouth, and there
embark for Portugal, little was talked about in the guard-house after
the old man went away, but the parting with acquaintances, and the
forthcoming campaign in that country where they had so long toiled.
At half-past five they marched from Ballycraggen guard-house to the
main street in the little town, where the regiment was already forming,
and the baggage packed on fifteen or twenty cars--all pressed the day
before for this service. The route had arrived very unexpectedly, owing
to the invasion of Portugal by the rebel chief, the Marquis de Chaves,
and the consequent energy and decision of Mr. Canning in sending out
assistance to that country; on this account no regiment relieved that
stationed at Ballycraggen, and the guard-house was now deserted; the
old oak chair in which the sergeant of the guard usually sat, and the
wooden forms, were removed--nothing remained to inform the accidental
visitor of the cottage, that it once was a military occupation, but
the names of sundry soldiers, and the description of their _rank_,
delineated on the wall by a burnt stick.
Early as the hour was, the townspeople were all up, and waiting to
see the regiment march off. The glass--the parting glass--of strong
whisky was doing its duty briskly; the officers were bustling about;
the soldiers wives sorrowful enough, mounted on the baggage, with
their children--many of them were to be left behind the regiment on
embarkation, and none of them knew which. Little groups were here
and there detached from the ground on which the regiment was to
form, generally composed of soldiers and a few of the people with
whom they had been on habits of intimacy. Several couples of lovers
stood interestingly conversing, or in melancholy silence: among these
was a young soldier and a remarkably pretty girl--she was weeping,
while he held her hand and endeavoured to sooth her almost breaking
heart. This was Jack Andrews and this his sweetheart to whom he was
betrothed:--they were to have been married in a few weeks, when the
route came which was now about to separate them for a considerable
time--if not for ever. Her mother now came up to her, and although
evidently affected at her daughter’s situation, put on an appearance
of gaiety which only made things worse. Andrews loved the girl, and
it is but just to say she was worthy of his most tender regard: all
the town, as well as the regiment, knew of their attachment. The girl
had two hundred pounds fortune. Jack Andrews was to have purchased
his discharge, and to have settled in Ireland, along with Ellen Hart
(that was her name). All her friends highly approved of the match; for
Jack was as amiable and as good-looking a man as any in the regiment
to which he belonged. Corporal Callaghan, having dispatched his own
affairs with those numerous acquaintances which a fellow of his
peculiarly pleasant and sociable qualities must naturally possess, when
domiciled for a very considerable time in an Irish country town, now
came up to Andrews, and tapping him on the shoulder, exclaimed, “Blood
an’ ouns! Jack, my boy, I’m sorry Ellen Hart is not coming along with
us. Can’t you ax her mother, there, to let her go?--Ellen, give us your
hand. By the powers! if I had such another as you, I’d have you up at
the top o’ the baggage, there, with Mrs. Mullowny, in a jiffy. The
divil a toe you should stay behind me.”
Andrews smiled and sighed; Ellen’s tears only fell faster, and her
mother was about to reply, when her attention was arrested by another
object. “Here,” said she, “is my uncle--poor old man! he hasn’t seen
you this whole year, Ellen; so don’t be so sorrowful-looking.”
The uncle advanced--it was Old Worral; and the astonishment which
Andrews felt at finding him the grand-uncle of his Ellen may be
imagined. Things were briefly explained; and the veteran, seizing the
hand of Andrews as well as that of Ellen, exclaimed, “I see you are
a couple that ought not to be separated; but I know what the service
is--no woman can be certain of permission to embark with her husband;
therefore you must be patient, and hope to be united soon. Young man,
you are going to a foreign country, to meet the dangers of the field,
and I am on the verge of the grave--we may or may not meet again: but
here, before we do part, let me, in the presence of her mother, give
you my consent to marry my dear Ellen. I see you are a good young man,
and she is worthy of you--she loves you, and, from what I hear, I have
no doubt you love her;--there; I give her to you, and two hundred
pounds,--the savings of a long life. If you return safe from Portugal,
and marry my dear little Ellen--if you both come happily together, and
that it please God to put me under ground before that time--all I ask
is, that you drink poor Old Worrel’s health, and be kind to Ellen Hart.”
“That I will,” said Andrews, as he took up his musket, which he had
placed against a tree--for the regiment was ordered to fall in, the
drums were beating, and the parting word passing from many. After
an instant’s pause, he took the hand of the old man, and with great
emotion said, “O! take care of her,” then pressed once more his Ellen
to his breast: neither he nor she spoke a word--they could not; but
their hearts beat closely together, and right well understood each
other. The old man and the mother of the girl stood gazing sorrowfully;
and even O’Callaghan’s eyes were about to betray him into weakness.
The lovers separated; and with the blessing of the old soldier and
his niece, Jack Andrews and the Corporal hastened to fall into the
ranks. All was now ready--the commanding officer gave the word “_Quick,
March!_”--the band struck up “_The girl I left behind me_,”--and with
three huzzas from the crowd, the gallant soldiers marched off from
Ballycraggen, to take, once more, the field against the enemies of
their country.
THE END.
LONDON:
PRINTED BY S. AND R. BENTLEY, DORSET STREET.
⁂ _The interesting music for which the songs of this work were written,
is preparing for publication, with the words attached thereto; and will
shortly be ready for delivery at the music shops._
FOOTNOTES:
[1] The technical term for a particular movement in the art of Irish
village dancing.
[2] It is very common for the wounded to cheer their more fortunate
comrades as they pass on to the attack. The most remarkable occurrence
of this description took place at the battle of Vimiera, five days
after the battle above described. A man of the name of Stuart, the
piper belonging to the 71st regiment, was wounded in the thigh very
severely, at an early period of the action; and having refused to be
removed, he sat upon a bank, playing martial airs during the remainder
of the battle. He was heard to address his comrades thus:--“_Weel, my
bra’ lads, I can gang na’ longer wi’ ye a fightin’, but Deel burn my
saul if ye shall want music_.” For this the Highland Society justly
voted him a handsome set of pipes with a flattering inscription
engraved upon them.
[3] Men under sentence of court-martial were allowed the option of
either suffering the sentence, or volunteering to serve on the coast of
Africa.
[4] Such articles as sugar, wine, sago, &c., are termed medical
comforts.
[5] Conquer or die.
[6] This valuable officer was soon after killed in the trenches before
St. Sebastian.
[7] While this General was observing the attack of the storming party,
a cannon-ball struck the bottom of the hill, and rolled at a moderate
pace, close to his feet.
[8] The author of “the Subaltern,” says that the day the town was
taken, was dark and tempestuous: the morning, perhaps, might have
begun so; but from nine o’clock, it was to my recollection a sunny
and delightful day. However, I agree with him when he says that the
weather was bad, the day Soult attempted to push across the Bidassoa,
to relieve San Sebastian--I know that the Portuguese who were ordered
from the siege, to assist in opposing him, were wetted through just as
they started; but I think this was not on the day of storming the town.
[9] The author of the “Subaltern” has gone too far in heightening the
horrors of the siege, by stating that it was burnt; his words are
“long before midnight it was one sheet of flame, and by noon on the
_following_ day, little remained of it except its smoking ashes.” I
walked about the town many times on the _following day_, but saw no
marks of fire; perhaps the town was _subsequently_ burnt.
[10] The prepared skin of a pig, in which the Spaniards transport the
wine from one place to another.
[11] The author of this little sketch has had the account of the
circumstances related in it from the Benedict Colonel himself.
[12] For the history of this melancholy occurrence, see Colman’s _Broad
Grins_.
[13] Since writing the above, diligent inquiry has been made into the
family connexions of both, but the relationship could not be traced.
[14] In this terrific storm between thirty and forty transports were
lost, on board one of which were General Baron Bock and his gallant son.
[15] Officers of the army, in the transactions which may require the
interference of an agent, cannot be too much on their guard against
a set of pretenders who prowl about the Horse Guards for “clients,”
in order to lay them under heavy contributions. They are persons
of neither substance nor character: their usual practice is to
scrape acquaintance with military officers, and artfully learn their
intentions regarding exchanging, promotion, &c., and positively promise
to obtain their wishes. Thus they manage to draw money from the dupe,
which he finds very hard to get back again. They generally pretend to
be officers on half-pay; and some, I am sorry to say, are of that body.
The best house decidedly for the half-pay or pensions to do business
with, is Window’s, of Craig’s Court. It is a house of long standing--of
wealth and respectability; and officers will there be certain of
the most liberal treatment. Not only has he obliged the half-pay by
advancing their quarterly stipend, but, in many instances, a much
larger sum, without any indemnity, except the officer’s honour. In this
respect, Mr. Window far exceeds Cox and Greenwood: the latter are very
liberal: but their liberality is confined to the full-pay.
[16] The human body is divided into the head, the trunk, the superior
and inferior extremities.--_Syst. of Anat._