THE LAST EXPLOIT OF THE OUTLAWS.

        A few days before the visit to Sherritt's hut Mrs. Byrne had boasted to one of her friends (who repeated the boast to the police) that "her boy" and his mates would shortly do something that should astonish, not only the people of Victoria, but of the world. We are about to see how that boast was fulfilled.

        Having determined that Sherritt should die, with great cunning the gang planned to make his death and the manner of it the instrument of their further designs. They knew the police were in his house before the arrangement was made for the visit, and while the two told off for the murder were engaged in their work, the other two were proceeding to Glenrowan. Believing that the police would hasten away after the murder to give information, and that there would be a hurried and heavy outrush of police with the blacktrackers from Benalla to Beechworth, they planned to destroy the train with its living freight by tearing up the lines at Glenrowan, and having accomplished this and slaughtered those of their pursuers who might not be killed by the wrecking of the train, to obtain a fresh supply of arms and ammunition from the carriages, and then ride on to Benalla—a distance of about fifteen miles—set fire to the courthouse, release the prisoners in the gaol, rob the banks and the stores, and then make back to their haunts in the Strathbogie ranges. It will thus be seen how it was that they did not interfere with the telegraph lines when Sherritt was shot, as they had done when committing the raids upon Euroa and Jerilderie. They wanted the information to be sent to the more important stations, and they wanted the police to come along the line as fast as special trains could carry them.

        The sole object of the bushrangers' visit to Glenrowan appears to have been to murder the blacktrackers. The hatred which the leader of the gang had for them was very great, and it is certain that the fear of them had kept the gang quiet so long. Ned Kelly knew that the trackers had returned to Melbourne, and he correctly formed the opinion that as soon as the intelligence of the murder reached headquarter, they would be sent on with the police to the scene by special train.

        Ned Kelly and Hart arrived at Glenrowan during the Saturday night, and at once commenced operations. The town was a very unpretentious place, containing only a few score inhabitants, two bush hotels, a police station, and a railway station. On the outskirts of the town lived a line-repairer named Reardon, and he was the first person to be made aware of the presence of the two outlaws. At about midnight he was awakened by a violent knocking at the door, and he at once jumped out of bed and inquired who wanted him at that hour of the night. The answer was the glint of a revolver barrel in his face and the voice of Ned Kelly saying, "Come with me, old fellow; I have a job for you," at the same time making himself known to the startled man, and saying he and his mates had been at Beechworth and killed several people, and were now going to kill the police and black-trackers, who they knew would shortly arrive from Benalla. Reardon begged Kelly not to force him to assist in such a bloody work, but the outlaw said that if he did not come at once he would shoot him. Reardon then hurriedly dressed himself and prepared to follow Kelly, but immediately after starting his custodian told him to go back and tell the "missus and kids" to dress too and accompany them, as they might be away for some time, and during their absence the woman might raise an alarm. This Reardon did, and the whole family prepared to follow Kelly up to the railway station, whither he said he was bound.

        In the meantime Steve Hart had been on the same mission as Kelly, and had succeeded in rousing up two or three other line-repairers (Reardon being the ganger), and when Kelly arrived with his batch he immediately gave the women and children into the custody of Hart, and leading the men away (under threats of immediate death if they did not obey his orders) made them open the tool-box, get the necessary tools, and march in front of him till they came to a spot half a mile from the station. Here he superintended the pulling up of two lengths of rails. The spot was admirably situated for the purpose for which the villain intended it. At the extreme end of a large cutting the line took a very sharp curve, crossing a deep ravine, over which was erected a sort of culvert. It was on the top of the embankment over this ravine that the rails were torn up.

        After two hours' work a huge gap was made in the line, and the men were marched by Kelly into Glenrowan. Hart had marched with those under his charge to the house of the stationmaster (John Stanistreet), situated at the gates about a hundred yards from the station; and having roused the stationmaster he enlightened him as to their mission, and made a convenience of his house as a prison, there being several men who had been called up on the road, together with the women and children under Hart's care. When Ned Kelly returned he made some inquiries concerning the signalling of trains, and particularly how the train was stopped by the signal lamps. Stanistreet enlightened him so far as to say, "White means right, and red wrong, and green generally come along." "There is a train coming," said Kelly, "and you will give no signal"; at the same time saying to Hart, "Watch his face, and if he gives any signal shoot him." After daylight on Sunday morning every passer-by was hailed and sent into the stationmaster’s house to keep the other prisoners company, even little children on their way to school having to share the common fate. During the Sunday no less than seventeen persons were compulsorily lodged in Stanistreet’s house, and until darkness set in no further movement was made.

        The exact hour of Dan Kelly’s and Byrne’s arrival at Glenrowan was not known, but they must have reached the place early in the morning, and immediately joined their companions, and relieved each other in standing guard over the prisoners, who were allowed to go outside occasionally, but were every moment kept under the strictest surveillance by one member or other of the gang. They did not treat their prisoners harshly, although they gave them to understand that any attempt to escape or raise an alarm would be attended by instant death.

        The outlaws evidently anticipated that the special train would arrive during the Sunday, and they grew very anxious as the hours went by without any signs of its coming. At about midday all the male prisoners except the stationmaster were removed from Stanistreet's house to the hotel kept by a Mrs. Jones, about one hundred yards from the house; here the bailing up process continued, all persons coming near being compelled to enter and take their places with the other prisoners. The only constable of the township, named Bracken, became a prisoner soon after the arrival of Byrne and Dan Kelly on the scene, his capture having been effected in a very simple manner. Taking with him one of the lads who had been intercepted and detained, and who was well known to the constable, Ned Kelly proceeded to Bracken's house, and told the lad to call out that his father wanted to see the constable. At once the door was opened, and Bracken stood on the threshold, but only to find himself covered with a revolver, and to hear Ned Kelly commanding him to come at once with him. Being unarmed and taken completely by surprise, the constable had no choice in the matter, and having warned Mrs. Bracken that her husband would be shot if she left the station or raised any alarm, Kelly conducted his prisoner to Jones' hotel, which was already more than comfortably full, there being no less than sixty-two persons there, including some whom Bracken recognised as well-known sympathisers of the outlaws.

        Confident of their power over their prisoners, and knowing that any attempt to arrange a rush upon them would speedily be communicated to them by one or other of their friends in the crowd, the outlaws did not keep them under lock and key, but allowed them during the day to wander about between the hotel and the station; but they were always on the alert and ready for any emergency. The male prisoners could get as much grog as they wished at the hotel, and Ned Kelly gave them to understand that he wished them to make themselves as comfortable as possible, and during the afternoon one or two of the gang joined them in some jumping contests in the yard. Ned Kelly prided himself upon his ability in this class of athletics, and made his jumps with weights in the shape of a revolver in each hand; but one of the prisoners covered a distance which the leader of the gang could not beat, although he tried to do so three or four times. At last he took off his coat, and failing then also, Byrne remarked, "You seem a bit off today, Ned." "Yes," replied Kelly, "I'm a bit handicapped; these fellows are a little too good for me." It was then seen that he wore a plate of armour under his waistcoat, covering his front and back—the plate being of wrought iron about a quarter of an inch in thickness. It was subsequently discovered that each of the outlaws was provided with similar coats of mail, and that they had head coverings made of the same material, ready to put on when the time for fighting came.

        One of the prisoners was Mr. Curnow, the Glenrowan schoolmaster, and as he is the hero of the whole series of subsequent events, his account is worth giving in full. The following is his statement:—

      On Sunday morning, 27th of June, 1880, I determined to take my wife, sister, and child out for a drive along the road from Glenrowan to Greta. We left the school in a buggy about eleven o'clock in the morning, accompanied by David Mortimer, my brother-in-law, who rode on horseback. When we got in sight of Mrs. Jones' hotel, and opposite the railway crossing, through which we intended to pass, we noticed a number of people about the hotel, and at the crossing. I said, "Mrs. Jones must be dead; she has been very ill." As we got near the hotel a man ran out of it towards Mrs. Jones' stable, distant about twenty yards from the hotel. I drove past the hotel to the crossing, and, seeing Mr. Stanistreet, asked him, "What's the matter?" He replied, "The Kellys are here; you can't go through." I thought he was joking, and made a motion to drive through the gates, when a man on horseback, who blocked up the crossing, and was talking to a young man whom I knew to be named Delaney, wheeled round his horse and said to me, "Who are you?" I then saw that he had revolvers in his belt, and was convinced of the truth of Mr. Stanistreet's statement that the Kellys were there. I replied that I was the teacher at Glenrowan. He said, "Oh, you are the schoolmaster here, are you? And who are those?"—pointing to my wife, sister, and brother-in-law. I told him. He then said, "Where are you going?" I answered, "Out for a drive." He then said, "I am sorry, but I must detain you," and directed us to get out of the buggy, which we did. He then turned to Delaney again and resumed his conversation with him. I afterwards found that the man who addressed me was Ned Kelly, the outlaw. I noticed another armed man near Kelly, and I afterwards found out that he was Byrne.

      When we got out of the buggy I led the horse off the crossing, and tied him to the railway fence alongside, directing Mrs. and Miss Curnow to go into Mr. Stanistreet's house, which they did. As soon as I had fastened the horse I joined Mr. and Mrs. Stanistreet and others, who, I was told, had been taken prisoners by the gang, and was informed by them that Glenrowan had been stuck up since three o'clock that morning, and that the gang had forced Reardon and others to tear up part of the railway line beyond the station for the purpose of wrecking a special train of police and blacktrackers which, the outlaws said, would pass through Glenrowan. Some person—I believe it was one of the boys who had been bailed up by the gang—then told me that the Kellys had been at Beechworth during the previous night, and had shot several policemen.

      After some further conversation we all listened to what Ned Kelly was saying to Delaney. The outlaw was accusing Delaney of having, some short time previously, ridden a horse from Greta into Wangaratta to oblige a policeman, and of having sought admission into the police force. He threatened to shoot Delaney for this, and pointed a revolver at him several times. Ned Kelly declared to all of us who were listening to him that he would have the life of anyone who aided the police in any way, or who even showed a friendly feeling for them, and declared that he could and would find them out. He said that a law was made rendering it a crime for anyone to help them (the outlaws), and that he would make it a crime for anyone to aid the police against the Kelly gang. The women who were listening to what Kelly was saying asked him to let Delaney off. After keeping Delaney in a state of extreme terror for about half an hour the outlaw made him promise never again to seek admission into the police force, and finally said, "I forgive you this time; but mind you be careful for the future." Byrne then produced a bottle of brandy, and offered some in a tumbler to all adults there.

      Some accepted it. Byrne drank some himself, and gave Delaney two-thirds of a bottle, which he drank. Ned Kelly refused to take any, and directed some of his boy prisoners to take my horse and buggy into Mrs. Jones' yard, which they did.

      Ned Kelly and Byrne then went from the railway crossing to Mrs. Jones' hotel, preceded by the majority of their male prisoners, and I was with them. When we reached Mrs. Jones' there were, including those who had just been taken over, about fifty persons in and about the hotel, all of whom appeared to be prisoners of the gang. We were allowed to go about in the hotel, except in one room, which the outlaws used, and of which they kept the key, and we were allowed outside, but were forbidden to leave the premises. Dan Kelly, a short time after I entered the hotel, asked me to have a drink, and I drank with him at the bar. I said to him that I had been told they had been at Beechworth during the previous night and had shot several police. I asked him whether it was true. He replied that they had been near Beechworth last night and had done some shooting, and that they had "turned the devils out," alluding to the police. Byrne came to the bar, and, looking at Dan Kelly's glass said, "Be careful, old man." Dan replied, "All right," and poured water into his brandy. While talking with Byrne and Dan Kelly I expressed surprise at Glenrowan being stuck up by them, and they said they had come to Glenrowan in order to wreck a special train of inspectors, police, and blacktrackers which would pass through Glenrowan to Beechworth to take up their trail from there. They said that they had ridden hard across country, often being up to the saddle-girths in water, to get to Glenrowan, and that they had had the line taken up at a dangerous part, and were going to send the train and its occupants to hell.

      About one o'clock I was standing in the yard of Jones' hotel, thinking of the intentions of the gang, and I keenly felt that it was my duty to do anything that I could to prevent the outrage which the outlaws had planned from being accomplished, and I determined that I would try to do so. While standing in the yard Dan Kelly came out of the hotel and asked me to go inside and have a dance. I said that I could not dance in the boots I had on. Ned Kelly then came out of the hotel, and hearing me object to dance because of my boots, said, "Come on, never mind your boots." I said to him that it was awkward to me to dance in those boots, as I was lame, but that I would dance with pleasure if he would go to the school with me to get a pair of dancing boots. It flashed across my mind that in passing the Glenrowan barracks to reach my house, Bracken, the trooper stationed there, might see us, and be able to give an alarm. I knew that Bracken had been stationed at Greta, and felt sure that he would recognise Ned Kelly. He (Ned Kelly) said that he would go, and we were getting ready when Dan Kelly interfered and said that Ned had better stay behind and let him and Byrne go with me. Someone else also urged Ned Kelly not to go away, and said that my house was near the police barracks. Ned Kelly turned to me, and asked if it was. I said, "Yes, we shall have to pass the barracks; I had forgotten that." He then said that he would not go, and I went into the hotel, and danced with Dan Kelly.

      After we had finished dancing Ned Kelly said that he would go down to the police barracks and bring Bracken, and Reynolds the postmaster, up to Jones'. I laughed at him, and said that I would rather he did it than I, and asked to be allowed to accompany him when he went, and to take home my wife, sister, and child. He gave me no reply. The intention to do something to baffle the murderous designs of the gang grew on me, and I resolved to do my utmost to gain the confidence of the outlaws, and to make them believe me to be a sympathiser with them. I saw clearly that unless I succeeded in doing this I should not be able to get their permission to go home with my wife, child, and sister, and consequently should not be able to do anything to prevent the destruction of the special train and its occupants by giving information to the police at Benalla, which I purposed doing if I could induce the outlaws to allow me and mine to go home. The outlaws kept a very sharp watch on their prisoners without seeming to do so.

      About three o'clock in the afternoon Ned Kelly and Dan caused several of their prisoners to engage in jumping, and in the hop, step, and jump Ned Kelly joined with them, using a revolver in each hand as weights. After the jumping was concluded I left Jones' and went to Mrs. Stanistreet's house to see my wife and sister. They came out to see me, and, noticing the red llama scarf wrapped round my sister caused me to think, "What a splendid danger signal that would make!" The idea of stopping the train by means of it then entered my mind, and made me still more anxious for liberty. I went in to my wife and sister into Stanistreet's house and saw Hart lying down on a sofa. He had three loaded guns by his side. He complained to me of having swollen and painful feet, caused, he said, by not having had his boots off for several days and nights. I advised him to bathe them in hot water, and asked for some for him. It was brought, and he followed my advice.

      Shortly after, Mr. Stanistreet and I were walking about at the back of the house, and Mr. Stanistreet expressed a wish that an alarm could be given. Mrs. Stanistreet came out to us, and I asked them if they thought it would be wrong to break a promise given to the outlaws. They said it would not. I then asked Mr. Stanistreet if the outlaws had taken his revolver from him. He said they had not. I saw what use this fact could be made of by me in my efforts to gain the confidence of the outlaws, and to make them believe that they could safely allow me to go home. I said to Mr. and Mrs. Stanistreet that we had better go inside, for I was afraid of being suspected by the gang if they saw us in private conversation, and we did so. I do not know whether Mr. and Mrs. Stanistreet suspected the use I intended making of my liberty if I got it; but afterwards I heard Mrs. Stanistreet saying to Ned Kelly that he ought to allow me to take home my sister, who was in delicate health.

      I was sitting in Mr. Stanistreet's when Dan Kelly came in inquiring for a small parcel in a bag, which he had lost. He seemed very anxious about it, and examined the house throughout in search of it. He could not find it, and went to McDonald's hotel to see if it was there. He came back unsuccessful, and I went to Jones' with him, and he searched there, but failed to find it. When he gave up searching for it, I requested him to tell Ned I wanted to speak to him. I was near the door of Jones' kitchen then. He went into the hotel and brought Ned out, and I told him that Mr. Stanistreet possessed a loaded revolver from the railway department, and advised them for their safety to obtain it, as someone might get it and do them an injury. They thanked me, and I perceived that I had in a great measure obtained their confidence by telling them this.

      About dusk I heard Ned Kelly saying to Mrs. Jones (they were standing between the hotel and the kitchen, which was a detached building) that he was going down to the police barracks to capture Bracken, and that he was going to take her daughter to call him out. Mrs. Jones asked him not to take her. Ned Kelly said that he did not intend to shoot Bracken, and that her daughter must go. I advanced to them, and said to Ned Kelly that I thought it would be better for them to take Dave Mortimer, my brother-in-law, to call Bracken out, because Bracken knew his voice well, and by hearing it would suspect nothing. Ned Kelly, after a pause, said that he would do so. He then went to Mrs. Jones' stables, and I followed him and asked him if he would allow me to take my party home when he went down to Bracken; and I assured him that he had no cause for fearing me, as I was with him heart and soul. He replied, "I know it, and can see it," and he acceded to my request. I went over to Mrs. Stanistreet and brought my wife and sister over to Mrs. Jones', and took them into the kitchen. Ned Kelly said that we must wait until he was ready to go. I found, on going back to Jones', that a log fire had been made on the Wangaratta side of the hotel yard, and that many of the prisoners of the gang were standing round it.

      It was then dark. Other prisoners were in the hotel, and the outlaws encouraged them to amuse themselves by card-playing. I waited with my wife and sister in Jones' kitchen for, I believe, two or three hours before Ned Kelly directed me to put my horse in the buggy. He and Byrne then went into the room which they had reserved for their own use. I drove to the front of Jones' hotel and put my wife and sister and Alec Reynolds, the son of the postmaster at Glenrowan, who was about seven years of age, into the buggy. Ned Kelly directed me to take the little boy with us. We were kept waiting in front of the hotel for about an hour. Ned Kelly then came to us on horseback and told me to drive on.

        It was then, I believe, about ten o'clock. As we got into the road I found that we were accompanied by Ned Kelly, Byrne, and my brother-in-law, and R. Gibbins on foot, both of whom resided with Mr. Reynolds, the Glenrowan postmaster. On the road down, Ned Kelly said that he was going to fill the ruts with the carcases of the police. The outlaws had each a light-coloured overcoat on, and I was amazed at the bulky appearance which they presented. I had then no knowledge that the outlaws possessed iron armour. Each one carried a bundle in front of him, and in one hand a gun or rifle.

      We reached the barracks, and were directed by Ned Kelly to halt about twenty yards distant from the front door of the building. Ned Kelly got off his horse and fastened him to a fence near, ordering my brother-in-law to do the same, and he did so. Kelly then ordered him to go to the barracks door and knock, which he did. Ned Kelly got behind an angle of the walls, and levelled his rifle, either at Dave Mortimer or at the door. No reply came to the knocking or calling, though they were often and loudly repeated at Ned Kelly's whispered command. When I saw Kelly level his rifle I told my party to get out of the buggy, which they did, and I advanced to my horse's head, for I thought Kelly might fire. I was then about seven or eight yards from Kelly. No result being produced by either knocking or calling, Ned Kelly left his position and advanced to Byrne, directing me, in an undertone, to call Mortimer away, which I did, and he came. Byrne, who had remained near us, and Ned Kelly then spoke to each other, and Kelly took Alec Reynolds, the postmaster's son, and Mr. Reynolds, and passed with them into Reynolds' yard.

      We neither saw nor heard anything, I think, for more than an hour, when Ned Kelly appeared, having Bracken, E. Reynolds, and Bracken's horse with him. Kelly stopped when he reached us, and ordered Bracken to mount the horse brought round, and Bracken did so. Ned Kelly put a halter on the horse, which he kept hold of, saying, "I can't trust you with a bridle, Bracken." Bracken said to Ned Kelly that had he not been ill in bed all day he (Kelly) would not have taken him easily, and that if the horse he was on was what it used to be, it would take more than Ned Kelly to keep him a prisoner. Ned Kelly and Byrne then mounted their horses, and I and my party got into the buggy.

      It was then, I believe, between eleven and twelve o'clock. Ned Kelly then said I could go home and take my party with me. He directed me to "go quietly to bed, and not to dream too loud," and intimated that if I acted otherwise we would get shot, as one of them would be down at our place during

But at this point in Curnow's story I must make a break, in order that the sequence of events may not be disturbed; and to this end reference must be made to the movements of the police, who had been apprised of the re-appearance of the outlaws near Beechworth and the murder of Sherritt many hours before the events narrated by Curnow had taken place.  

 

NEXT:  SPECIAL TRAIN