Cookson, The Sun, Sunday, September 10 1911.

POLICE AGAIN PARALYSED.

The Treachery of Sherritt.

Beginning of the Last Hunt.

Ned Kelly Lodged in Gaol.


The unprecedented exploit of the bushrangers at Euroa simply staggered

the whole State. The whole business was so daring and clever as to

compel admiration even amongst the warmest believers in law and order.

But the matter presented other and more disquieting features. That four

men, no matter how well armed, or with what previous bloodshed

fortified, should be able to take possession of a populous town and hold

that possession as long as they pleased, seemed to argue something more

than mere terror-to suggest the existence of elements of friendship

and sympathy rather than that of a general epidemic of fright and

pusillanimity. The police authorities were beside themselves. Police

groups were rushed to various places in the hope of their encountering

the bold outlaws. But they were too hampered by red tape to do any good.

No scope was given for individual initiative. Everything done had to be

determined by some officer in charge. Which would have been wise had the

officers been worthy of the trust. But the report of the Royal

Commission places it on record that most of them were distinctly

unworthy-as incapable of any intelligent action in a desperate

emergency as the merest recruit. Men and money were wasted in all manner

of vain and futile quests. The most wooden and stupid police traditions

of procedure were perpetuaaed (sic) to the last stage of absurdity. Lots

of time was wasted chasing will-o'-the-wisp reports. One man said that

the Kellys were camped in his paddock, and that it was their purpose to

steal his horse. A rush of police to the place elicited that the horse

was in the last stages of a scanty and toothless old age. The "gang"

dwindled down to one poor miserable devil of a sundowner. The police

officers never seemed to consider probabilities at all-and

possibilities but seldom-in their action upon the reports brought in

as to the whereabouts of the outlaws. Every statement, no matter how

absurd, was investigated. In a few days the rank and file were tired

out, and one officer in charge had to be relieved. But the outlaws

pursued their journey homeward in tranquillity-no one interrupting. In

the course of one week the outlaws, according to reports received-and

almost invariably acted upon-by the police, covered an area of about

50,000 square miles. And in doing so committed all the crimes that are

classified time after time. Finally, the police fell back on the

argument of the bribe. They got hold of Aaron Sherritt-who had played

bushrangers with the Kellys as a youngster-and persuaded him, with the

offer of the whole of the reward then held out (4,000 pounds), to betray

the friends of his youth. The police declare that Sherritt was an

abandoned scoundrel of the most pernicious order. When after his

ferocious and horrible threat against Joe Byrne, that careful bandit

lengthened the odds against misadventure for himself by slaying Sherritt

a few hours after his threat, the police rejoiced at being rid of a

confederate whom they regarded as being infinitely worse than any of the

outlaws.

The killing of Sherritt has long been justified beyond question. But the

news of his death sent the public excitement up to fever heat. Because

the public did not know the facts. The public do not know all the facts

even now. Some of them are too horrible to mention. But before he died

Sherritt had managed to get some information for the police that would

have been valuable if communicated in anymore intelligent quarter. He

told them that the outlaws were going to cross the border and stick up a

bank in New South Wales.

This was just after the storekeeper, Owen, came to the rescue of the

Byrne family with a load of stores. And a few days later the bank at

Jerilderie was robbed by the gang. A description of this exploit was in

the "Sun" of yesterday. The outlaws followed the safe course of sticking

up the police station first.

The manner in which the outlaws lorded it in Jerilderie is almost

incredible. Not a man dared to interfere with them. Ned Kelly took the

opportunity of making a speech, in which he set forth the reasons that

had sent him and his comrades to the bush. He declared that he was not

within 400 miles of the homestead on the day on which he was alleged to

have shot Fitzpatrick. It is quite probable that this address may have

had something to do with the fact that all four of the outlaws were

permitted to leave Jerilderie without molestation. They rendezvoused at

a sheep station 20 miles away that night. After this the police

authorities had another violent attack of hysterics. The reward for the

apprehension of the outlaws was, with the assistance of the banks and

the New South Wales Government, raised to 2,000 pounds per man. And the

police ? more and more on Aaron Sherritt. It seemed that in this

acknowledged micreant's (sic) treachery the police placed their sole

hopes of success. So a party of them, under his leadership, mounted

guard over Mrs. Byrne's house, in the hope that the outlaws would visit

it, for several nights. Another party watched one of the Kellys' old

camps. All this was in the thick of the mountain forest country. But

Mrs. Byrne outwitted the whole lot of them, and a few words that she had

with Sherritt, consequent upon a discovery that police were in the

neighborhood, provoked the treacherous scoundrel to the fearful threats

that a few hours afterwards cost him his life. The author remembers the

thrill of horror with which the news of Sherritt's death was received

all through the southern State. People thought only of the one more

murder added to a fearful tale of bloodshed. They did not know as much

as is known now about that, and a few other matters. But, as it was, the

police were spurred to further efforts. The whole country became

alarmed. Then came the great move in the game-the despatch of the

special train full of police and pressmen-and ladies-from Melbourne

to Glenrowan. No need to repeat the closing scenes in the grim tragedy.

How the gang decided to wreck the train and kill the police, how this

desperate purpose was frustrated by the courage and devotion of the

schoolmaster, Curnow, how the outlaws made their last stand in the

Glenrowan Inn, and all but one perished miserably-these facts have all

been recorded, in the course of these articles with a vast amount of

thrilling detail that has never been previously published.

Remains now, to follow the career of the bold leader of the ironclad

bushrangers to his doom. Badly wounded, incapable of further resistance,

his comrades dead, the people of a whole continent clamoring for his

life, Ned Kelly was sent to Melbourne in heavy custody of superfluous

men and unnecessary weapons. The news of his coming blocked the vicinity

of the Spencer-street station with vast throngs of excited

people-including many spmyathisers (sic). But the police, to "avoid

the crush," took their prisoner out at North Melbourne-the next

station up the line. From the train the outlaw chieftain was carried on

a mattress arranged on a stretcher to a waiting vehicle. In this he was

taken to the gaol at Russell-street, and placed in the gaol hospital.

From there he went to his trial, at Beechworth, and there back to

Melbourne gaol to his death. Of which, more hereafter.