True History of the Kelly Gang (20 page)

Had we looked deep into Ben Gould we would of seen a familiar fury at the centre of his soul for though he were not Irish he carried the same sort of fire I mean that flame the government of England lights in a poor man’s guts every time they make him wear the convict irons.

On that 1st night he were the easiest fellow alive he were particularly friendly towards me but best of all he made my mother laugh it were a miracle that hawker caused to bring the tears of laughter to her cheeks once more. Even Dan lost that tight and pinched appearance his cheeks growing rounder Jem’s forehead smoothed and our little Kate who suffered from the bronchitis all that wet and weary month now climbed out of her curtained crib to rest her happy head against my chest.

The following morning the clouds was gone all the sweet green earth were steaming like laundry in the sun. I woke to Ben Gould’s laughter he were standing on the veranda in his singlet and braces his toes was sticking out his socks.

Roll up cried he roll up.

I had not set the fire so there were not yet no boiling water but my ma arose in great good spirits all the children tumbling after. This were not how mornings started as a rule.

Roll up ye adjectival Kellys.

I come outside discovering my brothers and sisters shivering in their nightgowns staring out through the mist to see what could be so amusing on that boggy track. On the other side of the fence were a broken old mare a mangy swaybacked creature perhaps 5 yr. old but she were being harried by a young gelding and she were frisking every which way as if she were the prettiest thing you ever saw.

You know said Gould thats adjectival old McCormick’s cart horse I knew I recognised her.

We never heard of McCormick but soon learned he and his missus was hawkers like Mr Gould himself.

This rotten looking mare said Ben Gould is proof positive of the rule that a horse will end up like its owner or should I say the wife.

I knew I should set the fire but there were a change in Ben Gould’s face that kept me waiting.

McCormick were a keeper at the Demon said he.

He meant McCormick had been a warder in the savage prison of Van Diemen’s Land. He said Mrs McCormick were a Derwenter she had been his prisoner.

Then he turned to me saying You better take the adjectival mare back lad or they’ll have Cons Archdeacon here saying that you duffed it.

I said the police knew me better than to think I would steal a bag of glue.

Don’t be always arguing lad take the adjectival mare to the township. The McCormicks is camped there you’ll see their wagon it has the name wrote on the side.

He aint going my mother said.

Oh?

Jem will go said my mother my Ned is staying away from Greta at present.

Ah I see said the little fellow looking at me long and hard he made me most uncomfortable.

So Jem took off on the horse while my mother and Gracie seen to the milking and I lit the fire so Maggie could cook our breakfast. The 1st johnnycake were not yet in the pan when I witnessed a couple come at a very fierce pace up our track splashing across the creek and when they reached our hut they both jumped down like the troopers in the song.

McCormicks!

Mr Gould leaped up to repel them his wide little body blocking the doorway me standing right behind.

Nice of you to give my horse back said the man he were a lanky Irishman with blaming eyes his mouth were the size of a fish’s arse.

Ben Gould said it were very nice of us indeed. He pushed slowly forward forcing the McCormicks to step back down onto the boggy ground.

After you had worked it cried the Missus.

No one worked your adjectival horse said Gould the boy just returned her free of charge. It were effing nice of you to let him walk back thats a nice lesson to teach him for his kindness.

You worked it said Mrs McCormick She were a young woman she had small sharp teeth like a Murray perch. You worked it don’t change the subject.

Why work your horse said I when we got 20 horses here as good or better.

Now the perch teeth turned on me. We know who you is said she.

Missus I never saw you in my life.

You’re Harry Power’s mate and you betrayed him and is known to be a thief from here to Wangaratta. You worked my horse you adjectival larrikin.

Ben Gould picked up a bullwhip which were hanging from the veranda. Well said he it is a great shame you can’t stay.

We aint leaving cried Mrs McCormick.

Gould become a total stranger his creased eyes went hard as stone and without once taking them off the McCormicks he laid the bullwhip out along the path. I’ll thrash ye he cried.

And with that he leapt down to the earth when he cracked it the lash sprayed stones & wood chips threw them violently across the roof down into the chook yard there were a mighty cackling and rush of feathers.

We aint leaving said Mrs McCormick but her husband had the better sense dragging her by the arm back to their horses and off they rode.

My brothers and sisters thought this v. funny but the McCormicks had set off something powerful in Gould’s heart he strode up and down the veranda with the profanities pouring from him he could not stop. Soon he wrapped up a pair of calf’s testicles writing a note to say McCormick should tie them to himself before he shagged his wife.

Here said he run these into town for me.

I had promised my mother not to risk Greta but I set off anyway. As the McCormicks was not in their camp I left the gift where they would find it.

There was now several respectable weatherboard cottages built amongst the flat and peaceful paddocks and in one of these lived Mrs Danaher an old Irish woman she called out she had a message for my mother. I therefore sat awhile with Mrs Danaher I ate her bitter tea cake and drank her strong black tea.

As I finally rode homewards the Derwenters spied me from the veranda of O’Brien’s Hotel.

We’re going to report youse cried McCormick he were standing with a great mob of drinkers this doubtless made him very brave.

We’ll summons you for that adjectival parcel.

I called back I could summons him for slander if I wished I said neither Gould nor me had stole their effing mare.

Then Mrs McCormick come rushing down the steps wielding a bullock’s shinbone she must of picked up on the way. Mr McCormick followed behind her shouting out I were despised by everyone in the district he said I were a coward and were hiding behind my mother’s skirts.

At this insult I dismounted. Mrs McCormick then struck my horse on the flank with her impertinent weapon and the horse jumped forward and as I were holding the rein it caused my fist to come into collision with McCormick’s nose and he lost his equilibrium and fell prostrate. Tying up my horse to finish the battle I seen Cons Hall descend from the pub like a glistening old spider gliding down from the centre of its web.

He asked me what the row were about. I told him I were being slandered.

The McCormicks fetched the parcel then Constable Hall unwrapped the testicles and read the note I never will forget the smile that come across his face. Did you write this he asked but I could not betray Ben Gould and so I did not answer.

For this crime I were immediately arrested and placed in the Greta lockup where I received neither bread nor water. Next day I were brought to court where Jack Lloyd Sr give evidence that he had seen me ride a horse over Mr McCormick and that was how my uncle paid me back for the imprisonment of Jimmy and Wild Pat Quinn.

I were sentenced to 3 months for hitting Mr McCormick and 3 additional for the testicles and bound to keep the peace for one year. Across the crowded court I held my sad old mother’s eyes. She knew better than I did what lay ahead.

I were 17 yr. old when I come out of prison 6 ft. 2 in. broad of shoulder my hands as hard as the hammers we had swung inside the walls of Beechworth Gaol. I had a mighty beard and was a child no more although in truth I do not know what childhood or youth I ever had. What remained if any were finally taken away inside that gaol boiled off me like fat and marrow is rendered within the tallow pot.

I were released out into Ford Street on a sunny March morning I took shanks’ pony home to Eleven Mile Creek but I were bound by court order to present myself to the Greta police. Thus I were compelled to lay eyes on Cons Hall once more I come into the station & found him gorging himself on a curried egg sandwich his desk were littered with chopped up lettuce.

What can I do you for said he finally looking up from his feast.

I have to report to you said I.

And who would you be when you’re at home?

That is where I understood the changes prison had made for the arresting officer no longer recognised the lad within the man.

Why I am Ned Kelly.

He had lettuce in his beard there was flies crawling on his filthy desk how could I have ever trusted such a being. He told me I were a fool if I thought I had escaped my punishment he promised he would gaol me again the moment he had a chance.

Is that all?

Yes you is dismissed.

Resolving to avoid him in the future I went down the track to my mother’s selection and there I soon met Wild Wright a friend of my brother in law Alex Gunn’s. Wild was in possession of a very pretty chestnut mare white faced and dock tailed she had a very remarkable brand M as plain as the hands on the town clock. Soon this mare went missing and we spent the day looking but in the end Wild said he might as well borrow one of our mares and I could keep his until he returned to swap them back. He never informed me that his mare was someone else’s property.

Shortly thereafter I was travelling to Wangaratta I seen his mare by the road I caught her. Several days later I was riding her back through Greta when Cons Hall hailed me saying there was some papers I needed to sign in relationship to my bond. As I were dismounting the great oaf caught hold of me and thought to throw me but then slipped and landed on the broad of his own back. I should have put my foot across his neck and taken his revolver from him but instead went to catch the mare she had galloped away.

Hall raised his revolver he snapped 3 of 4 caps but the Colt’s patent refused the gun would not fire. When I heard the snapping I thought I were a dead man I stood until Hall came close the pistol shaking in his hand. I feared he would pull the trigger again so I duped and jumped at him and caught the revolver with one hand and himself by the collar with the other.

It were only then he cried out the mare were stolen and he were arresting me for horse stealing. I did not believe him and I tripped him and let him take a mouthful of dust I could of done worse but were bound to keep the peace. Hall still had his gun but I had learnt a thing or 2 in Beechworth Gaol and I kept him rolling in the dust until we got to the spot where Mrs O’Brien were erecting brush fencing outside the hotel and on this I threw the big cowardly policeman. I chucked him on his belly and I straddled him and rooted both spurs into his thighs. He roared like a big calf attacked by dogs and I got his hands at the back of his neck and tried to make him let the revolver go but he stuck to it like grim death to a dead volunteer.

He called for assistance to some men who were looking on I dare not strike any of them on account of my bond. These men got ropes tied around my hands and feet and then the great cowardly Hall smote me over the head with his 6 chambered Colt.

When my mother and sister Maggie came to Curlewis Street to find me they could trace me by my blood in the dust the same blood which spoiled the lustre on the gatepost of the barracks. That night Dr Hastings put 9 stitches in my head.

Next morning I were handcuffed with a rope running from the links to my legs to the seat of the cart.

In Wangaratta Court they swore their lies against me Hall claiming to know the mare was stolen by information in THE POLICE GAZETTE but the report of the stolen horse was not gazetted until April 25th that is 5 days after Hall tried to murder me.

In Wangaratta they charged me with horse stealing but here is another curious thing I had been in Beechworth Gaol on the date the mare were stolen and they could not convict me of horse stealing then or ever.

Instead they found me guilty of receiving a horse not yet legally stolen and for this I was given 3 yr. Hard Labour my last hope of youth was stripped away I had never kissed a girl but were old enough to be a married man.

No one else got punished as severe as me. Wild Wright had took the mare but his sentence were only 18 mo. and as for Hall who tried to murder me he had no penalty except being transferred away from the district.

I was returned to the cells of Beechworth Prison and here the turnkeys stripped me and shore my cut and bleeding head while heaping me with threats & insults but even a green log will burn when the heat is high enough. Many is the night I have sat by the roaring river the rain never ending them logs so green bubbling and spitting blazing in a rage no rain can staunch.

PARCEL SEVEN

His Life Following His Later Release from Pentridge Gaol

Linen-bound pocket diary (3‘ × 4¾‘ approx.) of 50 pages. On the endpapers there are 6 drawings of people, trees and fences, the quality of artwork somewhere between doodling and drawing. Dust soiling along edges. The small publisher ticket of “J. Gill, Jerilderie” is pasted to the address panel, which dates the composition after February 1879.

Although concluding with a rather wistful recollection of
two years during which he was employed at the Killawarra
sawmill, these pages concentrate on a few turbulent months
in 1874, the time between his release from Pentridge Gaol
and his celebrated boxing match with “Wild” Wright.

IN THE MIDDLE OF MY 1ST YR
. as prisoner my mother were dealing with the difficulties of a widow’s life she were standing on a chair with a hammer in her hand attempting to affix a sheet of tin to deflect the cold rain from her back door. She had just hit her thumb the 2nd time when she become aware of a stranger standing by the horse paddock observing her. He were an old fellow in a terrible raggedy coat & raggedy trousers and my mother thought he were a swagman and took pity to beckon him over then she fetched a cup of flour so he might make himself a little damper. She give him the flour wrapped in a cone of newspaper and only then did she discover the object of her charity were a v. stinky old man his wool coat tanned with his own urine the smell of the process made worse by the rain. Just the same the old boy were as proud as a prince telling her she could keep her flour he had no use for it.

Then what are you needing uncle?

I wouldnt be sorry to get a drop of the brandy said he.

Brandy were threepence the slug my mother told him so.

But I have no more than tuppence the old man said.

If its tea you was wanting my mother said I’d supply it and sugar with it.

Said he The fact of the matter is I am a rat charmer.

Thats very nice but do you want the flour or not I can’t stand here all day discussing it.

I’ll give you my 2 pennies said the old fellow and also the benefit of my rat charming.

I have no rats.

Thats for me to know.

What do you mean by that you stinky old galoot do you think I do not know my own house and what is in it?

Never you mind what I mean my name is Kevin the Rat Charmer and that is a name you won’t be forgetting in a hurry I will send a plague upon your shebeen.

Will you now?

I will begob and ye will be praying to the Virgin that you had relented of your penny.

And with that he turned away. If he had a swag it were hidden somewhere up the track for my mother never seen it and if he had baby rats riding in his pocket they was cleverly concealed for my mother detected nothing astir on his person. He were just a stinky old man in a woollen coat he went off down the muddy track to the creek then cut down in the direction of Winton. She never saw him again but he were correct that she would remember the name of Kevin the Rat Charmer for many a day.

That very night the plague come into the hut with rats in the flour and inside the walls and over the bodies of the children they was screaming in the night it were a terrible business. The rats brung the diarrhoea that sickened our beloved baby Ellen she who were fathered by Bill Frost.

My mother sent her young children out to fetch the rat charmer to each she give a bottle of brandy so whoever it was that found him should make up for her offence. Away they went to the 3 towns Dan to Beechworth & Jem to Benalla & Maggie & Kate to Wangaratta but although Kevin the Rat Charmer were well known in them places they could locate neither hide nor hair of him.

Returning to Eleven Mile Creek that evening they found their mother praying to the Virgin with their baby sister lying dead and cold beside her in the basket. Next day the carpenter at McBean’s Kilfeera Station made a coffin whilst Jem and Dan dug the grave beneath the willow their sister were just a poor little thing 14 mo. old but still had to be dug very deep on account of the wild dogs.

That were not the end of it.

Jem fell prey to headaches so my mother took him in a pony cart to Glenmore where Aunt Margaret Quinn shaved his head then placed a mustard poultice on it he could never bear anyone to touch his head thereafter. There was many other afflictions there was warts there was boils that could only be drawn by a hot bottle placed direct upon the skin and then my married sister Annie had her horse stolen as a result of which she fell into the hands of Cons Flood.

When she later seen what the Constable were up to my mother brooded on his name asking herself were not a Flood also a plague? Flood were a tall man with bloodshot eyes they say the raven will bleed from the eyes when it mates. My sister were Mrs Annie Gunn but the Mr were in prison and Cons Flood were soon bleeding from the eyes and soon he got my sister with child.

Meanwhile her husband and I was breaking rock together in the outer yard of Beechworth Prison he had dark circles beneath his eyes his body bent as if he were carrying a millstone on his shoulders. When the priest come to tell me my sister died giving birth he didnt relate the precise circumstances but Mother always believed it were the stinky man’s curse that killed our Annie & left us with Flood’s child and for this she took all the blame onto herself. When Jem were convicted of cattle theft my mother said this also were the plague.

One morning in the summer of 1872 my mother were 42 yr. old she had 2 sons in prison also 1 brother & 1 uncle & 1 brother in law. 2 of her beloved daughters was buried beneath the willow tree and God knows what worse were on the way. On this bleached and dusty morning she and Maggie was staking tomatoes when a stranger come and asks her for a jar of brandy. This one were an American tall and wiry with a small beard hooded eyes and a little smile working behind the cover of his mouth as though he found the world so very droll but were not permitted to tell you exactly what the joke might be. Like the stinky man he claimed to have no money only a cheque he couldnt cash until Benalla.

Maggie began to act sarcastic towards him but my mother suddenly turned v. passionate against her. Listen to you girl said she anyone would think we had no adjectival charity. Go on said she and bring the gentleman his drop.

I am to serve him asked Maggie astonished her muddy hands upon her strong broad hips.

What would prevent you?

Well said Maggie do you mind that? But she done as she were told and my mother went back to staking the tomatoes. For a long time she believed the rats didnt depart until Maggie donated George King that glass of grog.

When 3 yr. had been cut out of me I were set loose once more into the world to see what I would make of it. Having no horse I walked the 20 droughty mi. from Beechworth down across the plains of Lurg and 8 hr. later I approached my previous life only to find it altered beyond hope the creek had changed its course and nature it now were no more than a chain of muddy water holes. The grand old black wattle had dropped while the big red gum at the bottom of our track were 20 ft. taller. There were also a new holding yard built with split rails the timber still new and yellow then I seen my mother come out of the hut with a newborn in her arms I thought it must be baby Ellen but then recalled baby Ellen were dead and buried beneath the willows.

Here was my mother’s 1st words to me.

You won’t cause trouble Ned.

I looked in her arms and could not understand what babe it was.

Don’t you worry about me said I looking back to the horse paddock where there were a number of v. fine horses also a tall young man he were no more than 20 odd yr. of age. How he stared at me never taking his eyes away not even as he removed a saddle and settled it across the top rail of the fence.

We had a plague my mother said her hair were showing grey she had on a bright new dress I thought were much too girlish for her age.

I asked her Who is that young fellow?

That’s George King.

Who’s he?

I couldnt marry him until you got here Ned I made him wait till you was arrived.

I watched George King climb the fence. It disgusted me to see his age he were young enough to be myself.

My mother fed George King’s new baby the same breasts had given suck to me 20 yr. before she were a young girl then the prettiest figure on a horse my father ever saw. Now she sat in a small chair by the window while the new incumbent stretched his great lanky legs from the table nearly to the hob his Yankee boots was yellow with higher heels than a Cuban more like a fancy woman’s shoe. Once she burped the baby my mother passed her to G. King and he lay a towel upon his chest so his nice yellow sweater would not be spoiled with vomit. My mother then sat there a foolish smile upon her face and watched how tenderly he played with the baby’s toes and fingers.

Dan arrived very excited to see me out of prison he were a man now or so he thought he were 13 yr. old with a smudge of hair on his top lip pimples on his nose his hair were wild his clothes was flash he preferred 2 shirts one atop the other and the straw hat he kept in place with a strap beneath the beak. No sooner had he shook my hand than he wanted me to ride to Wangaratta and meet his sweetheart. I told him I wanted a quiet life he said I had come to the wrong adjectival address for that then he took a swig of brandy from George King’s cup and George winked at him I could see they thought themselves the Lords of Misrule they had grown to be great mates together.

After teatime I politely asked King to take a stroll there were still some light in the summer sky the air all purple and malty so we sat upon the fence he had constructed on our land and I informed him I shot Bill Frost after he had abandoned my mother.

He rubbed his beard but made no response.

I asked him how he planned to support his baby.

At that he bared his white teeth at me saying he planned on having many children and he had a very fine scheme which meant he had no fear of feeding any of them. He asked me Do you want to hear my scheme?

I did not say nothing. The gloom come down around.

Would you prefer to shoot me?

I felt so sad I couldnt speak.

Ned do you know this squatter McBean?

Too adjectival well.

He’s got some pretty handsome horseflesh aint he? What say you and me escort said horseflesh across the Murray into New South Wales & then we get them impounded & then we buy back from the pound.

So my mother had chosen herself another flash talking b––––r he were no better than Bill Frost with his bolts of cloth.

Are you going to assist me said he or will I have to turn to Dan?

You do that I said and I really will shoot you.

Well I aint eager to be shot.

It were properly dark now the stars was glittering the 1st night sky I had seen in 3 yr. the air were hot and northerly.

If you want some advice I said I would not eff around with Mr McBean.

Fair enough says King you’ve just got home you shouldnt go exerting yourself.

But later that night when the littlies was all asleep I realised he were stalking me like an old goanna looking for a way into a chook yard. He scratched his beard he smiled a lot and my mother watched approvingly as he tried to reel me in.

I said to her You come with me outside I want to talk to you about the pasture.

I led the way out into the night she following obediently when we was almost at the creek I turned to face her I had been away 3 yr. there were so much in my heart not least that I had come home with plans to save our farm.

Ma you’ve changed.

I’m happy said she but I’m sorry if that aint to your liking.

Why would you want to sic McBean onto me? You know he’ll put me back again.

I thought my mother silent then but after a time had passed I realised she were weeping. When I put my arm around her she shook herself free. You don’t know nothing about my adjectival life she said you don’t remember what its like to live here with the adjectival squatters impounding every adjectival chook and heifer they can snaffle and the traps always knocking on my door hoping to take away my children. He pinched an adjectival saddle she said.

Who pinched what saddle?

Dan the silly little b– – – – r were trying to make some money for his ma. There is no future here she said I can’t make sufficient from the grog and now he’s stole a saddle and they’ll lag him for it.

I told her I were planning to breed some horses but she didnt seem to hear me. I said I would be at Eleven Mile Creek long after George had bolted.

For that she slapped my face. Shutup she cried and look around you. Look at his fences is they the work of a cove who plans to bolt?

The posts are grey box they’ll be eaten out inside 4 yr. Our da would not use grey box no road. It were only ironbark or red gum for him.

I could not endure it cried she stooping in the dust and scooping it in her hands and rubbing it in her hair and on her face. I would rather die than spend another minute with your precious da.