The practice of \'intromitting with the lieges travelling on their lawful business\'—as Captain Dugald Dalgetty (sometime of Marischal College, Aberdeen) hath it—is an ancient and fascinating, if irregular mode of financial reconstruction. It has always commended itself as a combination of business and pleasure to those bolder spirits who chafe at the restriction of an over-timorous social system.
From the days of the mad Prince and Poins there were those \'for sport sake content to do the profession some grace.\' Risks of death and dishonour were thus taken in countries boasting a high civilisation—a short shrift and a high gallows constituting the accepted termination of a period of riot and revelry; and though the strong hand of the law rarely failed to bring the bold outlaw to his doom, certain alleviations always served to cast a glamour around the pleasant and profitable, if perilous career of the highwayman.
Brigand or bandit, pirate or smuggler, bushranger or buccaneer, as might be, he rarely failed to enlist the feminine sympathy, which has flowed forth in all ages towards the doer of bold deeds—the scorner of gold save for revel and gift—the fearless withstander of the law.
The feats of these heroes of Alsatia have been sung and their valour vaunted in the ballads of all lands and ages; indeed they have formed no inconsiderable portion of the material. \'Yo Soy Contrabandista\' never fails to evoke a storm of applause from every Spanish audience.
They have flourished alike under the rule of kings and the co-operative coercion of democracy. Monarchies fail to extirpate, republics to suppress them. They apparently owe 502their existence to some unexplained ordinance of Dame Nature, whose enfans gatés they are. Her forest children they. Lords of the Waste, roamers through wood and wold, formulating thus a world-old protest against the dulness of respectability, the greed of industrialism, the selfishness of property.
Products as well of the careless ordering of new countries as of the stern discipline of older communities, small wonder that they should have arisen in this brand-new, scarce century-old Austral land of ours, hugging the South Pole and dissevered from many of the formalities of civilisation. Small wonder, I say, that amid our pathless woods and sea-like plains, with every natural advantage and conceivable aid from the habits of a migratory, restless, centaur-like population, these unlicensed tax-gatherers should have appeared. Thus the profession and practice of what is now called \'Bushranging\' occurred at a very early period of Australian history. The term easily grew out of the natural desire of the escaped felon, desperate from harsh treatment, or perhaps merely averse to toil, to hide himself in the woods which then surrounded the settlements.
The old English words \'wood\' and \'forest,\' \'copse\' and \'thicket,\' had been superseded by the comprehensive colonial term \'bush,\' doubtless suggested by the close approximation to \'scrub\' or \'jungle,\' which the interminable eucalyptus wilderness then presented to the first emigrant Britons. \'The bush\' came next, as more fully comprehensive and explanatory, signifying something analogous to the Dutch-African \'veldt,\' not necessarily woodland, but the waste lands of the Crown generally. This nomenclature must have mystified later arrivals considerably, much of the so-called \'bush\' being composed of plains nearly, and in some cases altogether, without timber of any description.
The wandering robber, necessarily \'a burgher of that desert city,\' came then, by general consent, to be described as a \'bushranger.\' The term was even Latinised, as the philologist may discover by reading the description in St. James\'s Church, Sydney, on the tablet placed there to commemorate the death of Dr. Wardell, of \'Wardell\'s Bush,\' Petersham, slain in the early thirties, \'latrone vagante\' (sic). The first robbers were in all cases convicts. For the small 503proportion of free men employed as guards and warders, overseers and head workmen, there was obviously no temptation to leave recognised positions, to ramble through the terrible foodless wastes, with a price on their heads, as was the stern usage of the period.
But in the case of the reckless felon the conditions were different. He had been flogged—he was worked in irons for bad conduct. If returned by his employer to the authorities as useless or stubborn, no prospect lay before him but that of ending a wretched life in the severer penal settlements, where incorrigibles were doomed to chains and slavery. He declared for the open sky, the free forest. The toll levied on the drays of the squatter, the homestead of the farmer, or the wayfarer on the high-road, was necessarily the chief, almost the only support of outlaws. For a time they lived and flourished. Having secured arms—the fowling-piece, musket, or pistol of the period—they entrapped or intimidated the unwary traveller. They made stubborn defence against the minions of the law, unless the odds were too great. In some instances, having discovered retreats known only to the aboriginal tribes or outlying shepherds, mostly sympathisers, their evasion of justice was prolonged for years. The end, however, was but delayed. Tracked down, betrayed, slain in fair fight with police, with soldiers, with settlers combining for self-defence, the same fate awaited all.
Found with arms in their hands, they were hanged as a matter of course. No sentence of imprisonment afforded them hope of escape, with further possibilities of crime. They had played the great hazard, and the forfeit was duly paid.
Living in this condition of continual warfare—their hand against all men, and, with rare exceptions, all men against them, the gallows or the bullet their certain doom—it is not to be wondered at that crimes of violence shocked and aroused the community. \'As well be hung for a sheep as a lamb,\' was the familiar proverb quoted in reference to deeds of blood and rapine. With fancied wrongs and years of oppression to avenge, they showed no mercy. They had received none. Fighting with the rope round their necks, they were reckless and ruthless. And when the last act of the grim tragedy was played, with the hangman for stage manager and 504a quasi-criminal crowd for audience, the leading actor had more than once boasted of a score of murders and kindred outrages.
At the first outbreaks the highwaymen of the period had neither horses nor arms worthy of the name. Revolvers were unknown; pistols were far from being \'arms of precision.\' Rifles even were rare; only the fowling-piece and the Tower musket were in common use. Horses, too, were scarce. So that the colonial summons of \'Bail up,\' or even the old-fashioned British demand, \'Your money or your life,\' came mostly from a ragged Robinson Crusoe-like individual behind a tree, with a rusty gun-barrel protruding therefrom.
Of course after the \'breaking out\' of Port Phillip—as the earliest colonisation of Victoria was disrespectfully termed—in 1837, persons of darksome record hasted to the new settlement to hide from the law or prey on the public. Among them were three escaped Tasmanian felons, named Williams, Jepps, and Fogarty.
This worthy triumvirate raided the wilds of the Upper Plenty, robbing and holding to ransom the lieges, terrorising a line of farm-houses. They took prisoners my good friend Charles Ryan and the late Mr. Alick Hunter, adding insult to injury by eating the breakfast prepared for the latter gentleman and his friends. What the fashionables of the day wanted on the banks of the Plenty Rivulet I never could make out. But it was considered \'the thing\' apparently to have a farm in that locality; it was even surmised that these aristocratic amateurs might make money by the practice of agriculture—a delusion long dispelled. What the solid fact amounted to re Jepps and Co. was that, like the footpads in Don Juan, their first accost was \'D—— your eyes, your money or life.\' So much for the \'first robbers\' in Victoria.
To them enter four gentlemen—volunteers, squatters of the period and overlanders at that—Mr. Henry Fowler, of Fowler\'s Flat, near Albury; Mr. Peter Snodgrass, M.L.A., son of the Colonel and Lieutenant-Governor of that name, historically known as commanding the 13th Portuguese Regiment, when on August 31, 1813, he mounted the \'imminent deadly breach\' at the siege of St. Sebastian; 505Lieutenant Robert Chamberlain, a retired military man; and Mr. Gourlay, squatter. Arming in haste, they followed hard on the tracks of the spoilers, and, as they crossed the creek flat, discovered the bushrangers entrenched in a slab hut, fully prepared for battle. The outlaws had the best of the position, having cover, behind which they could fire through windows and other openings. The attacking force did not stop to weigh probabilities, but charged up to the fortress, the besieged returning fire with effect. Mr. Chamberlain was slightly wounded; Mr. Fowler was shot through the jaw. But \'blood will tell.\' The volunteers were cool and determined. One of the robbers was shot dead, and the others captured before the smoke had well cleared from the tiny battle scene, which compared favourably as to killed and wounded with more pretentious engagements. The prisoners were conveyed to Melbourne, there to await trial, sentence, and execution. Their captives, I may mention, finding themselves neglected, promptly quitted the field, their position between two fires being eminently unsafe.
It were tedious to follow the calendar of crime more or less connected with the highway in old colonial days. In many instances the records testify not less to the unflinching courage of the settlers than to the recklessness of the robbers.
Among memorable incidents that of Mr. Charles Fisher Shepherd, of Monaro, deserves to be recorded. On the 14th of December 1835, being attacked by bushrangers at night, also deserted or betrayed by other inmates of the station, he shot one robber dead and kept up a fight against odds in the most gallant manner, until, being wounded in the head and half-a-dozen other places, he was left for dead. He recovered, however, as if by a miracle, and gave evidence at the trial and conviction of the chief criminal and his abettors.
As far back as 1830 this evil, so far from being stamped out by chain-gang and gallows, assumed alarming proportions, as may be judged by a newspaper extract containing a letter from Mr. George Suttor to Mr. E. B. Suttor, of Baulkam Hills. On the 27th of October in that year, a meeting of the magistrates and inhabitants of Bathurst was called at the Court-house to consider what steps should be taken as to a band of bushrangers. They were led by a desperate convict, 506said to have been flogged unjustly; and numbering at times from twenty to thirty, kept the district in a state of alarm. Murder, as well as serious depredations, was laid to their charge. A body of volunteers numbering twelve, well armed and mounted, was at once formed, Mr. W. H. Suttor being nominated commander by Major Macpherson.
They started at five o\'clock P.M., after hearing of a fresh robbery committed at the house of one Arkell. Mr. Suttor, always a friend of the aboriginal race, met two aboriginal natives who knew him, and enlisted them as guides. They ran the tracks until the robbers were descried in a rocky glen near the Warragamba River, about an hour before sunset. The volunteers dismounted and prepared to take them by a coup de main, but a stone falling, alarmed the gang. They instantly took to the trees for cover, and kept up an incessant fire. The volunteers stood their ground and returned the fire. While Mr. Suttor was on the rock giving orders, a bullet passed through his hat. The firing was kept up for about an hour. Two bushrangers were wounded and fell, but were got to the rear. Mr. Suttor made a feint to charge, which caused the robbers to run from their position, though he had but an empty carbine to threaten with. He then effected a retreat, none of his men being wounded. Mr. Charles Suttor was the last to leave the glen. All remounted their horses, which they had left in charge of the two blacks and a lad they had taken from the bushrangers.
The night after the skirmish was stormy, and Mr. Suttor was vexed to find that most of the horses had strayed; while seeking them the mounted police were met with, eager to overtake the bushrangers. Had they but come up sooner, their united force would have been sufficient to take or shoot the whole gang. In the encounter which took place, two of the troopers were shot and five of the horses lost. Lieutenant Brown did all that a brave officer could, even carrying off the wounded men on the back of his own horse.
The number of the robber band was between fourteen and twenty. They escaped at that time, but were pursued by Captain Walpole and Lieutenant Moore with separate detachments, to whom they surrendered. \'Major Macpherson was much pleased with the brothers Suttor for going forward in the prompt manner they did\' (sic).
507There was talk of a \'rising\' at Mudgee, which did not come off; and doubtless all the \'banditti,\' by which term they are referred to in this interesting letter signed G. Suttor, under date October 27, 1830, were shot or taken in usual course. Let us trust that our country may never fall short of sons of the soil ready to act with the courage and loyalty of the Messrs. Suttor and the other Australian volunteers in the \'battle\' described.
Although gold-mining on a large scale practically commenced in New South Wales in the month of May 1851, when Mr. John Richard Hardy was appointed the first Goldfields Commissioner, and, with a body of mounted police, commenced to issue licenses and to administer the law at Ophir, where a large number of diggers had already collected, and where an eighteen-ounce nugget was found a day or two after their arrival, no robberies of consequence were committed. Still, tent thefts were frequent. Mysterious disappearances from time to time took place, while drunken brawls, horse-stealing, unlicensed liquor selling, and such-like, kept the police fully employed.
But no organised road robbery on a large scale occurred until 1862. Then all Australia was thrilled by an announcement of the gold escort robbery by Gardiner\'s gang, near Forbes in New South Wales. A peculiar significance attached to this daring crime, from the fact of the perpetrators being chiefly native-born Australians. It shook the gene............