A BRUSH WITH BUSHRANGERS
(_Told by the Old Identity_)
In Australia, during the early seventies, bushrangers were still to
the fore, who with cattle-thieves and hostile blacks made the
squatters on the back blocks keep their eyes skinned, and the banker
in the bush townships cash a cheque with one hand, while he kept the
other on his revolver.
True the mounted police were very good, none better, but, like the
British army, there were not enough of them, and the amount of work in
covering, protecting and patrolling such enormous areas of country was
far beyond what their limited number could properly do. Indeed, there
are plenty of well-known cases where the bushrangers have overcome the
police, handcuffed them in their own station, then stuck up the bank
and, after raiding the town, started off on the best horses in the
place and disappeared into the bush, not to be heard of again until
they bailed up a coach, or stuck up some station, perhaps 150 miles
away. Well, to get on with my yarn.
Some six and thirty years ago I was on leave in Australia, and was
putting in some of it as a guest on a large cattle run and sheep
station owned by two old friends of mine who had already become
wealthy men, and who owned an enormous number of cattle and sheep.
The house, like most of its sort at that time in Australia, was built
of split slabs of wood, with a shingle roof. It contained four
good-sized rooms and a very wide hall running right through it, which
was used as a dining-room and lounge.
The kitchen and offices were close to, in rear of the house, and the
men's quarters, stables, store and outhouses were near by. The whole
block of buildings stood in the open, and was surrounded by
wire-fenced paddocks, so that no one could approach within a long
distance of the house on any side without being seen. My friends' home
staff at that time consisted of six white men, all good and to be
relied upon, also two China boy-cooks, and a few aborigines (black
fellows) who were used as trackers and stock-riders. All of these men
were well armed, so that with our three selves we made a garrison
quite able to beat off any attack of bushrangers or blacks.
I had come up from Brisbane with one of the partners to join in
mustering semi-wild cattle, cutting them off from the bush by
moonlight and driving them into a mob of tame cattle driven along for
the purpose, and then forcing them into a run that led to the
stockyards, where they would be drafted and disposed of. There is no
more exciting work in the world for a good horseman who is well
mounted, can use a stock whip, and who puts no excessive value on his
neck or bones.
The cutting-out was to begin next week, and some of the best of my
friends' numerous and splendid stud of horses had been brought in from
the paddocks and fed up on hard food, so as to get them into good
fettle and wind for the work.
At Brisbane and all the way up by Cob & Co.'s coach we had heard
plenty of shaves about bushrangers, especially of one gang led by a
scoundrel called Ginger, who, having been hunted over the border from
New South Wales, was making things lively in Queensland; as if that
colony had not sufficient blackguards of her own growth to look after.
These shaves were confirmed at the small bush township, where we left
the coach, by the solitary trooper in charge there, who informed my
companion that the sergeant and other troopers were away on patrol
after this bounder.
There was no telegraphic communication in those days, and all the
information we could get was that Ginger's gang consisted of four, or
it might be eight, men. So our traps having been placed in a light
cart that had been sent for them, we mounted two slashing horses and
rode the forty miles to the station, my friend hearing the news from
his head stock-rider, named Blake, who had brought over the horses.
This man, a splendid stamp of a Sidney-side Colonial, was convinced we
should hear more of Mr Ginger, but feared we should be disappointed in
our muster, as our neighbours, having to look after their own homes,
would not come in for it.
Well, we reached the station, and I put in two days very contentedly
indeed, picking and trying my horses, selecting a stock-whip and kit,
and amusing myself generally, so much so that on the evening of the
second day, after a good dinner, when we were sitting smoking under
the verandah, I bothered my head not at all about Ginger. Presently
one of my friends looked up and said: "Hallo, here's someone coming,
and in no end of a hurry too." We looked and saw the township trooper
riding as fast as he could get his horse to travel towards us. He
reached us and dismounted, giving his pumped-out horse to one of the
blacks who had come for it, and took and drank thankfully the
proffered drink, then said: "Mr--Ginger is in the district, and I have
been riding since yesterday morning giving the squatters notice to be
on the qui vive. I left your station to the last, as the inspector
knows you are well armed and your men are to be relied on."
"Come and have something to eat first and tell your yarn afterwards,"
quoth my host, and we adjourned to the hall, where, after the trooper
had eaten with the appetite of a half-starved dingo, he informed us
that Ginger had reached the district, sticking up stations on his way,
and that the inspector with fifteen men were on his track. He had
evidently intended to stick up the township, but the arrival of the
police had prevented this, so he disappeared, and the inspector
thought he would make the attempt to break south again. He therefore
requested my friend for the loan of as many men and horses as he could
spare, so as to accompany the trooper and stop a gap called the
divide, through which the scoundrels might try to break, and where he
promised to meet them, during the next twenty-four hours, but at the
same time warned them not to leave their station short-handed, as it
was quite possible Ginger, close pressed, might try to stick them up
so as to steal fresh horses and food.
Blake was sent for, a short council of war was held and his proposal
that himself, two of the white men and two black trackers should
accompany the trooper was decided on. "And perhaps," said he, "the
Captain here would like to come with us; fighting is in his line, and,
my word! if we corner Ginger we shall have some."
Now Ginger was no business of mine, unless he attacked me; but, being
an Irishman, I could not let the chance of a fight pass, and although
my friends tried to dissuade me, I determined to go.
We were to start at midnight, so we who were to go lay down to get
what rest we could, leaving the others to get the horses ready for us.
At midnight we were roused up, and after swallowing a mug of tea and
some food, a hurried glance over my horse and kit, to see that my
water-bag was well filled and properly slung to the D's of my saddle,
we started.
We were all superbly mounted and well armed, each man carrying two
revolvers; I would sooner have carried a carbine, but I was dissuaded,
and we had cause to regret it. The fight might have finished much
sooner had I done as I judged best; but I was in what was to me a
foreign country and, having no official status, gave in to the others.
So we started, the blacks leading; and they did lead us. No sooner
were we clear of the paddock fences than we broke into a canter, and
made for a dense line of bushes about five miles off, and just as we
reached it the moon went down. I expected to see the blacks pull up
and walk their horses, but not a bit of it. On they went at the same
pace. The bush was some miles through, but no crow could have crossed
it in a straighter line than they did. On reaching the open ground on
the other side we halted and dismounted, for a short time, so as to
give our steeds a blow. It was now pitch dark, with not even the
glimmer of a star, yet no sooner had we mounted than we broke into a
canter again, and rode through open park-like country and bush till
the east began to lighten, when we pulled up at a small water-hole.
This was the spot our guides had aimed for, and it was at least twenty
miles from our starting-point, so it will give you some idea of the
marvellous abilities of these creatures. To be able to ride twenty
miles at a sharp pace, through trackless country, on a dark night, and
exactly strike the spot they aimed for, was to me wonderful. It may
not strike you so, but try it.
We off-saddled, rubbed down, watered and fed our horses out of their
nose-bags, then ate some cold mutton and damper, and dozed for a
couple of hours, leaving the blacks to keep watch over us and our
horses. Saddling up again we rode through clumps of bush and up gently
rising ground towards a range of heavily bushed mountains, some ten
miles off, through which ran the divide, or pass, we were to guard. We
halted when we reached the foot of the range, and took cover in a
small clump of bush, off-saddled and sent one black on foot to scout
the pass and find by the spoor if anyone had crossed it during the
last twenty-four hours.
Of course, being an utter stranger in the land, I knew nothing of the
lay of the country, nor even where the pass was; but a rather acrid
discussion took place between the stockriders, who declared we were
badly posted, and the trooper, who asserted we were not. Unable to
give an opinion either way, I was lying down with my head on my
saddle when we were roused by some shots. I jumped to my feet just in
time to see our scout burst out of a clump of bush and run like a hare
towards us, closely followed by four mounted men firing at him.
They were about 500 yards off, and had I had my carbine I could easily
have covered the black, and perhaps have ended the job there and then;
but my carbine was like the Dutchman's anchor, left at home, so there
was nothing to do but throw our saddles on and try to save him. Quick
and smart as we were, we were too late to save poor Tarpot, who was
ridden down and riddled. As each of us got into his saddle he charged,
and the bushrangers, seeing us coming, turned and galloped back to the
bush from which they had issued. I was the fourth to mount, and as I
galloped out of the bush I saw the three men in front of me riding in
file as hard as they could gallop, with as much as from twenty to
thirty yards between them. This was rot; as, if the bushrangers made a
stand on reaching their bush, as they were certain to do, they would
simply shoot us down from behind cover, one after the other. I
therefore shouted to the leading men to rein in and let us get into
line; but their blood was up, and on they went. I pulled out to their
left, and Blake and the remaining black pulled out to my left. We were
therefore in extended line, some fifty yards to the left rear of the
last man of the leading three who were in file. The distance was
short, and as we were all riding like fiends we soon crossed the open
ground between the two clumps of bush.
The trooper, who was the leading man, was within thirty yards of
entering it when I saw him throw up his hands and fall headlong from
his horse. In a second No. 2 had done the same, and a moment later No.
3 went down, horse and man. Myself and the other two, riding wide of
the line of fire, escaped and, although several shots were fired at
us, gained the bush unhurt. Then, being on equal terms with the
bushrangers, we wheeled our horses to the right and rode at them.
Just at this moment I heard shouts and shots going on close to, at the
other side of the bush, but had no time to inquire if it were friends
or foes. I spotted a horse's head coming round a tree-trunk, and was
ready for the rider. He appeared, and saw me; but I had him already
covered, and had the pleasure of seeing him lurch out of his saddle
and come a heavy crumpler. My mates were alongside of me, and we were
just going after another bounder, whose horse's hindquarters were
disappearing, when an officer and three troopers broke out on us, and
called on us to bail up. In less than a minute we explained who we
were, and I was just starting off after the fugitives when the officer
called on me to halt, and in a rather haughty manner informed me that
he was in command of the party, and that he intended to halt until he
had collected his scattered men, some of whom were wounded. As he only
stated the truth, I was not such a fool as to feel offended with him,
so I went with Blake to see if anything could be done for our fallen
mates.
The trooper and the first stockman were both dead, the third man was
unwounded, but his horse had been killed, and he had been knocked
stiff and silly by the heavy fall. However, after some water and a
stiff nip he was soon all right, and swearing he would make the
blank-blank-blankety-blank bounders who had killed his pet stock horse
and his mate sit up.
We quickly caught the loose horses and were soon joined by the officer
and his troopers, who were a very fine, smart-looking crowd, but, to
my mind, far too big and too heavy for this sort of game. They had two
of their number badly wounded, but had wounded and captured three
bushrangers, so that, with the one I had put out of mess, Ginger could
now have only three men with him. The officer, therefore, determined
to follow their spoor with our party and four of his own men.
Messengers were despatched to other patrols and to the nearest station
to obtain a conveyance for the wounded men, and we started under the
guidance of Jampot, our remaining black.
"Do you think he will be able to track them?" I asked Blake.
"My word," he replied, "Jampot has now a blood feud against Ginger,
and will follow him to the death. Ginger may turn and twist how he
likes, but unless he can grow wings, or kill Jampot, Jampot will kill
him."
I had seen plenty of tracking in my time--I even had the cheek to
fancy myself a bit at it--and had seen good work done both by white
men and Maoris. I had even seen a tame black fellow after stray
cattle; but I was now to see a real warrior black, with a blood feud,
at the game. I expected a great deal, and I was not disappointed--in
fact I saw more than I had ever imagined to be possible. Well, we were
ready to start.
Jampot had made use of the time in transmogrifying himself into a
fiend, and he certainly looked a hideous nightmare in his war paint.
Jumping on his horse, he rode to the end of the bush, circled once or
twice to take note of the different spoors, then broke into a canter
and rode nearly due south.
Mile after mile he kept on, over all sorts of ground, through bush and
over hard land, never pausing for an instant.
"Do you mean to tell me that that black fellow can see spoor going at
this pace and over such ground as we are now on?" said I to Blake.
He only nodded his head and muttered: "My word!" This is a great
Australian expression, and will signify almost anything.
We came to a creek, and Jampot was off his horse in a second and was
examining the rocks round the water-holes. All at once he held up his
hand; Blake and myself went carefully to him.
Blake and he talked gibberish for a minute, then, turning to me, the
former said: "Jampot tells me one of them is badly hit and can't go
far."
"How on earth does he know that?"
"He has seen blood on the trail and can tell by the tracks on these
rocks."
"Tracks?" I said. "Where are they?"
He spoke to Jampot, who immediately put his finger on several places
on the rocks.
I examined the spots closely, but could see nothing, not even when I
used a prospecting-glass I had in my pocket. Yet this marvellous
savage could distinguish spoor with his naked eye, and had spotted
blood-marks on the trail while going at a smart canter in blazing
sunshine, where I could only now and then just barely see hoof-marks.
Jampot was now very keen to go on, so after we had given our horses a
blow and a few go-downs of water it was a case of mount and canter.
Away we went, Jampot leading; but now he went slower, and occasionally
swerved from his line, bending down and regarding the ground intently.
We had only gone a couple of miles or so when he turned in his saddle
and, with a grin on his face a fiend would have envied, pointed at a
small clump of bushes to his right front, and made directly for them.
Drawing our revolvers, we followed, to find him dismounted, bending
over the body of a dead man.
He was a fine-looking, clean-built young fellow, and seemed far too
good for the game he had been playing. But there was no time for
moralising; so, preventing Jampot from mutilating the remains, we
again mounted, broke into a canter, and went on.
The weight they carried had now begun to tell on the troopers' horses,
and they showed signs of having had enough of it: and presently we
came to a dead horse. He had been wantonly shot, and it made my blood
boil to see the poor brute lie there.
We were now approaching a long bare line of hills, and suddenly Jampot
let a yell out of him and pointed at them. I unslung my field-glasses,
and could see three men, dismounted, leading their horses, nearly at
the top of the range, and about three miles in front of us.
We at once gave our horses the spur and went for them.
They reached the summit, paused for a minute or two to give their
horses a blow, mounted and disappeared over the sky-line. We reached
the hill, jumped off, and hurried up it, leading our horses; but the
gallop had finished the troopers' nags, and when we got to the top the
officer found, with the exception of my party, he was alone. His horse
was done, and even the hard-fed, splendid mounts of myself and mates
had begun to show symptoms of distress. Quickly unscrewing the top of
my flask, I emptied the spirits into my water-bag, and forced my horse
to drink the contents. My comrades immediately followed my example and
the noble beasts soon bucked up.
In the meantime the sergeant had reached the top, and with the officer
and Blake held a consultation as to where we were, Jampot being called
on to assist.
He spoke to Blake, who turned round and ejaculated: "My word, those
hounds are making for Edwards' Station. It's only six miles off. The
men are away; there are women and children there, and fresh horses."
The officer at once said to me: "You and your party are the best
mounted and the lightest weights. Jampot may be able to take you a
short cut. Ride like fury. You may be just in time, and if it comes to
fighting you know all about that; but on no account leave there till I
come." He said something more about not letting the bushrangers get
fresh horses; but his words of wisdom were left behind us, for we were
off, and I had the wildest ride I ever had in my life. The slope of
the hill was steep and rough, but we tore down it at full pace.
Our horses, maddened with the spur, almost seemed to fly, clearing
rocks and fallen timber as if they were simply straws, while we,
rendered desperate by the thought of the danger of the women and
children, urged them on with voice and spur, though we wisely gave
them their heads and let their mouths alone.
They were all bush-bred horses, knew their work and did it without a
fault or fall, which would have been certain death to both man and
beast.
Well, we came to the foot of the hill and each man, taking his own
line, although Jampot still led, galloped through the bush, every man
riding all he knew.
Soon we came to the open and saw the house; yes, and we saw something
else, for in front of it stood three knocked-up horses with hanging
heads. A paddock with a heavy post-and-rail fence lay between us, so,
catching hold of our horses' heads, we sent them at it. Over we went,
in line, and charged for the house, a woman's scream causing us, if
possible, to put on pace. Just then we saw a man coming from the
stable leading three horses, and he saw us at the same time. Our
appearance, from an unexpected direction, must have rattled him a bit.
The horses he led, excited by the sound of our galloping hoofs, became
restive and started plunging, so he let them go as Blake rode for him.
I heard the pistol shots, but could pay no attention, as out from the
French windows rushed two men. They made for the horses, then, seeing
they had no chance, turned and opened fire on us.
The man nearest me had a big red beard, and I knew he must be Ginger,
so I rode at him. Jampot rode at him too, firing as fast as he could;
and this most likely upset Ginger's aim as, although I heard bullets
whistle past me as I lay on my horse's neck, I was unwounded. When I
was within twenty yards of him I fired twice and circled left, so as
not to crash into the house. Both shots took effect. He fell, and was
still trying to cover me when Jampot, jumping off his horse, rushed up
to him and shot him through the head. Blake now joined us, slightly
wounded, having accounted for his man, and we found our other mate on
the ground badly hurt; he had succeeded in also dropping his man, who,
preferring to be hung instead of shot, surrendered.
I entered the house and found the ladies unhurt but badly frightened.
They, however, with the self-control and handiness of colonial women,
at once set to work to tend the wounded.
Jampot was still amusing himself with the remains of Ginger, but, as
it is against my principles to allow heathen ceremonies to be
performed on a white man, no matter how big a blackguard he has been,
I made him desist and help me to look after the horses, the real
heroes of the play.
The China boy-cook came out of his hiding-place and started to cook
huge supplies of food for ourselves and the troopers, who turned up
soon afterwards.
A swim in a water-hole, a good dinner, a long sleep, and on the
following morning myself, Blake and Jampot returned home.