FOOTNOTES:
[80] At the period above mentioned, the colony was in imminent danger of perishing from famine, in consequence of the non-arrival of store ships from England. Captain Tench, in his interesting work on New South Wales, thus describes the situation and feelings of himself and his fellow settlers:—"We had now (that is, in the beginning of 1790) been two years in the country, and thirty-two months from England, in which long period no supplies, except what had been procured from the Cape of Good Hope, had reached us. Famine was approaching with gigantic strides, and gloom and dejection overspread every countenance. Still, we were on the tiptoe of expectation. If thunder broke at a distance, or a fowling piece of louder than ordinary report resounded in the woods, 'A gun from a ship!' was echoed on every side, and nothing but hurry and agitation prevailed. As we had removed from Botany Bay to Port Jackson, it was judged necessary to fix a party of seamen on a high cliff called South Head, at the entrance of the harbour, on which a flag was ordered to be hoisted whenever a ship might appear, which should serve as a direction to her and as a signal of approach to us. Here, on the summit of a hill, did we sweep the horizon every morning from day-light until the sun sunk, in the hope of seeing a sail. At every fleeting speck which arose from the bosom of the ocean, the heart bounded, and the telescope was lifted to the eye. If a ship appeared here, we knew that she must be bound to us; for on the shore of this vast ocean, the largest in the world, we were the only community which possessed the art of navigation, and languished for intercourse with civilised society. In March, vigorous measures were become necessary. The Sirius was ordered to prepare for a voyage to China, but she was shortly after wrecked. On the 27th of this month, the following order was issued:—'Parole—Honor; countersign—Example. The expected supply of provisions not having yet arrived, makes it necessary to reduce the present ration, to render the mentioned allowance to every person in the settlement without distinction. Four pounds of flour, two pounds and a half of pork, and one pound and a half of rice per week.' The flour was afterwards reduced nearly one half, and the other articles in a less proportion. The pork had been salted between three and four years, and every grain of rice was a moving body. We soon left off boiling the pork, as it had become so old and dry, that it shrunk one half. We toasted it before the fire, catching the drops which fell on a slice of bread, or in a saucer of rice. The distress of the lower classes for clothes was almost equal to their other wants. Nothing more ludicrous can be conceived than the expedients of substituting, shifting, and patching, which ingenuity devised, to eke out wretchedness, and preserve the remains of decency. Nor was another part of our domestic economy less whimsical. If a lucky man, who had knocked down a dinner with his gun, or caught a fish by angling, invited a neighbour to dine with him, the invitation ran, 'bring your own bread.' Even at the Governor's table this custom was constantly observed. Every man who sat down pulled his bread out of his pocket. In May, the men became much weakened from want, and they were ordered to do only as much work as their strength would permit. Rigorous justice was executed on persons detected in robbing or pilfering. A convict detected in stealing potatoes was ordered to receive 300 lashes, to be chained for six months to two other criminals, and to have his allowance of flour stopped for six months. Further, to contribute to the detection of villany, a proclamation, offering 60 pounds of flour, more tempting than the gold of Peru, was promised to any one who should apprehend a robber of garden ground. At length the bonds of misfortune began to separate, and on the evening of June 3rd, the joyful cry of 'the flag's up!' resounded in every direction. I was sitting in my hut, musing on our fate, when a confused clamour drew my attention. I opened my door, and saw women, with children in their arms, running to and fro, with distracted looks, congratulating each other, and kissing their infants with the most passionate and extravagant marks of fondness. I ran to a hill, where, by the assistance of a pocket glass, my hopes were realised. A brother officer was with me, but we could not speak; we wrang each other by the hand, with eyes and hearts overflowing. Finding the Governor intended to go immediately in his boat down the harbour, I begged to be of his party. As we proceeded, the object of our hopes soon appeared—a large ship, with English colors flying, working in between the heads which form the entrance to the harbour. The tumultuous state of our minds represented her in danger, and we were in agony. The weather was wet and tempestuous, but the body is delicate only when the mind is at ease. We pushed through wind and rain, the anxiety of our sensations every moment redoubling. At last we read the word London on her stern. 'Pull away, my lads! she is from old England! A few strokes more, and we shall be aboard—hurrah for a belly full, and news from our friends!' Such were our exhortations to the boat's crew. A few minutes completed our wishes, and we found ourselves on board the Lady Juliana transport, with 235 of our countrywomen, whom crime or misfortune had condemned to exile. She had been about eleven months on her voyage."—Tench's Narrative.
[81] Dr. Lang's History of New South Wales.
[82] Bigge's Reports.
[83] The decision of a magistrate was not necessary, to inflict punishment. The overseer stalked about with a military cane, and was not sparing of its use. "He would walk out behind the convict-hoers in a morning gown and morocco slippers, with a Penang Lawyer hugged close under his right arm, or borne like a royal sceptre before him, plucking at every tuft as he paced about, and drumming such a tattoo upon the shoulders of the unlucky wight, whose ground was not completely chopped, and grass fairly uprooted, as made the whole brush dance with fire-flies before him!"—Cunningham.
[84] "The other inhabitants of the island (Britain) still maintained themselves by pasture: they were clothed with skins of beasts; they dwelt in huts, which they reared in forests and marshes, with which the country was covered."—Hume's History of England, chap. i.
[85] "A little wicked tailor arrives, of no use to the architectural projects of the Governor: he is turned over to a settler, who leases this sartorial Borgia his liberty for five shillings a week, and allows him to steal and snip what, when, and where he can. The nefarious needleman writes home, that he is as comfortable as a finger in a thimble: that, though a fraction only of humanity, he has several wives, and is filled every day with rum and kangaroo. This, of course, is not lost upon a shop-board, and for the saving of fifteen pence a-day (to government), the foundation of many criminal tailors is laid."—Edinburgh Review, 1823.
SECTION VI
The adventurous habits of a hunting life, favored by the early necessities of the settlement, trained the prisoners to bushranging.[86] The lawless pioneers of the settlers repeated in Tasmania the exploits once common in Great Britain, when the merry green wood was the retreat of the outlaw; and always found where the population is scanty and the government feeble: the popular names of places denote the character or tastes of their early visitors and heroes.[87] The bushrangers at first were absentees, who were soon allured or driven to theft and violence; but so early as 1808, Lemon and Brown, by systematic robbery, had excited feelings of alarm: one of these men was surprised asleep, and decapitated, at Lemon Springs, which bear his name.
The severity of corporal punishment, which prevailed at that period, when no prison more secure than a stockade had been built, induced the accused to obtain a respite by retiring to the bush. Some men of milder disposition abstained from all active violations of the law, and kept aloof from offenders of a different temper. Of a sailor, who deserted to the forest, it is said that he not only refrained from robberies, but often prevented them: he had carried to his retreat a young woman whom he professed to love, and remained for three years in his seclusion. The romance of this event was, however, extinguished at the close of their exile: the man grew prosperous, abandoned his faithful companion, and married another.
Towards the close of 1813, the daring and sanguinary violence of bushrangers, reduced the colony to the utmost distress: the settlers, generally of the lowest class, received their plunder, and gave them notice of pursuit. Their alliance with stock-keepers, who themselves passed rapidly, and almost naturally, from the margin of civilised to a lawless life, was well understood: nor could they readily refuse their friendship: the government, unable to afford them protection, left them no other source of safety. The division of the colonists into those who had been convicts, and those who controlled them, naturally ranged all of loose principles on the side of the outlaws. Nor was their mode of life without attractions: they were free: their daring seemed like heroism to those in bondage. They not unfrequently professed to punish severity to the prisoners, and like Robin Hood of old, to pillage the rich, that they might be generous to the poor. The course adopted by the government indicated the strength of the robbers: despairing to reduce them by force, in 1814 Macquarie tendered pardon, except for the crime of murder, to those who, within six months, should return to their duty. To give effect to this treaty, time was judged necessary for its publication; and to allow for the hesitation of the penitent, a distant day was appointed for closing the door.
This singular document was prepared by his Majesty's judge, who was thus himself bound in honor to its unexampled conditions; but the legal acumen of the robbers soon detected the error: its effect was not only pardon for the past, but, with the exception of murder, a license to ravage the colony until the date expired. Thus, they gathered the harvest of crime, and continued their depredations to the last. Nor was another advantage foreseen, although eagerly embraced by the robbers: they almost universally submitted, and having cleared with the law, were prepared again to abscond, and risk once more the chances of the field; but if the document was absurd, the conduct of the local authorities was not less impolitic. The removal of men, so well acquainted with the colony and its hundred retreats, was an obvious, yet neglected, precaution: some were satisfied with their past experience, but others lost no time in returning to the bush.
For several years the settlement suffered the utmost mischief from these bands of robbers: among those celebrated for daring, for resolute resistance, and for frequent escapes, Michael Howe, a seaman, obtained the largest share of fame. Formerly in the royal navy, and afterwards owning a small coal craft, he had acquired some notion of order and command. On his arrival in Van Diemen's Land, in 1812, he was assigned to Mr. Ingle, a merchant and stock-holder; but he had declared, that having served the king, he would be no man's slave, and to cast off the yoke of such subjection was, perhaps, the main object he contemplated. Such was his pretence. Having received the benefit of the amnesty, he soon joined a gang, of which one Whitehead was the leader; among whom was a deserter of the 73rd regiment, and two aboriginal women. The settlers of New Norfolk, they deprived of all their portable property, their arms and ammunition; and shortly after, thus equipped, they burned the wheat stacks and barns of the police magistrate, Mr. Humphrey, and those of Reardon, the district constable at Pittwater. The following month they appeared again at New Norfolk, and pillaged the residence of Mr. Carlisle, who advising his neighbour, Mr. M'Carty, of their vicinity, induced him to arm for the protection of a vessel, the Geordy, which he presumed they would endeavour to capture. M'Carty, and those who were with him, coming up with the robbers, demanded their arms. They were under the cover of a large hollow tree: the settlers were thus exposed to their aim: Carlisle himself received a ball in the groin, and three slugs in the breast, and died within an hour. O'Birnie, master of the vessel, was wounded by a ball in the cheek, which perforated his tongue and lodged in his neck. The banditti now commanded instant surrender, which being refused, the firing was renewed. The settlers were compelled to abandon one of their number, who was preserved by Whitehead from the violence of his comrades. When an account of this skirmish was received, armed parties were dispatched from Hobart Town, and came closely on their track. They re-appeared at the house of Mr. Humphrey, and compelled his servants to tie the hands of each other: they then plundered whatever they found useful, destroying the rest in revenge: they had discovered handcuffs in the house. Hitherto Whitehead had been the leader; but his spite ultimately led to his destruction: he conducted his gang to the house of M'Carty, into which they wantonly fired a volley of shot: a party of the 46th regiment were lying in ambush; a brisk fire commenced, and Whitehead was mortally wounded. The darkness of the night prevented pursuit: Whitehead ran towards Howe, who, at his request, immediately cut off his head. They had bound each other thus to provide against the recognition of a fallen companion—to deprive their pursuers of the promised reward. Howe then became the leader of the band. A party of soldiers succeeded in the capture of two who had separated from the rest: they also recovered ammunition and fire-arms, of which the settlers had been pillaged. To effect the reduction of such disturbers of the public peace, martial law was proclaimed by Lieutenant-Governor Davey—an exertion of power beyond his commission, and opposed by his only official adviser, the Deputy Judge Advocate. Macquarie promptly disallowed this interference with his authority. It was argued, that the right to declare martial law, if vested in Davey, might be claimed by any subaltern, whose distance from the central authority gave the plea of necessity. To bring the offenders to justice at all, it was first necessary to take them: when in bonds, they would cease to be dangerous, and might be forwarded to the tribunal appointed by the crown. These arguments did not prevail to stay process: a court-martial condemned to death Macguire and Burne, bushrangers, and Stephens, a perfidious stock-keeper, by whom they had been countenanced.
The movements of the robbers were rapid: they plundered the residence of Mr. David Rose, near Launceston, and escaping a diligent pursuit, they re-appeared at Bagdad, a distance of 100 miles. Their scouts had informed them that property to a large amount would be found there: their confederacy was extensive, and it was asserted by Howe, that some most active in his pursuit, had been sharers in the profits of his crimes. The tone assumed by this robber, was that of an independent chief, and in the management of his men he attempted the discipline of war. They subscribed to articles, which bound them to obedience: penalties were inflicted, such as cutting and carrying wood for their fires, or even stripes. He professed the piety of a quarter-deck, and read to them the scriptures: his style and title was "Governor of the Rangers," and he addressed the King's representative as "Governor of the Town." His taste for ceremony was once curiously exhibited: having met a traveller, he ranged his party, and called on the stranger to witness an oath, which was administered on the Prayer Book by one of the gang. The purport of their vow might be inferred from their message: they said, they could set the whole country on fire with one stick, and thrash in one night more than could be gathered in a year.
Happily for mankind, the association of evil men is but transient. Howe, often absent from his party, without assigning reasons, awakened a suspicion: he retreated with a native girl, Mary, but was shortly after followed by soldiers. His companion was taken, and he lost his dogs, his knapsack, and arms: it is said, that he fired at the girl, because she encumbered his flight; but it was asserted by himself, that he only intended to alarm, and not destroy her. She became useful to the government, by discovering the resort of the robbers, and a flock of sheep they had stolen. At length, weary of his wandering life, Howe proposed to surrender to the government. A person, who had formerly joined him in an attempt to escape in an American vessel, became the channel of communication. Howe affected to dread the violence of the settlers, who might kill him for the reward, or to prevent his disclosures; but Governor Sorell sent Captain Nairne to the place of meeting, with an assurance of present safety, and intercession for his forgiveness.
Society must have been at the verge of dissolution, when letters and messages passed between the government and an outlaw. To admit its prudence, requires a recollection, not only of the power of the robbers, but the number of their friends.[88]
The disclosures of Howe were not important, and his companions continued still a terror to the public: their losses were frequent, but they received continual accessions. They seized the boat, which carried provisions between George Town and Launceston; probably with the concurrence of the crew, several of whom joined them. They were now twenty in number, and it became necessary to unite the colony against them. The more opulent settlers were compelled to abandon their dwellings, and to take refuge in the towns. Sorell, by a spirited appeal, roused their more decided efforts to destroy the marauders: sums, subscribed by the inhabitants of Hobart Town, of eighty or one hundred guineas, were offered for their apprehension. A party of military traced them to the Black Brush, and thence to a settler's house at the Tea Tree, where they had dined. They had the advantage of position, but Geary, their leader, was slain, and several others wounded. The rain had damped the powder of the soldiers, which prevented their muskets from telling with full effect; but their success was ominous to the robbers.
Notwithstanding the character of Howe, on the plea of ill-health, he was permitted to walk abroad in charge of a constable; but whether he distrusted the promise of pardon, or preferred the license of the bush, he eluded his guard, and escaped—without, however, trusting his safety to the fidelity of his former companions. These soon met their fate: Hillier resolved to purchase his life by the sacrifice of his comrades. At midnight, while two of them slept, he attempted their destruction: cutting the throat of one, from ear to ear, and wounding the other with his own rifle.
The bushrangers were now reduced to three: Howe, Watts, and Browne. The last, surrendered; but Watts conspired with a stock-keeper, named Drewe, to seize Howe. This man, when in charge of his master's flock, occasionally corresponded with him. They accordingly met him, at a place called Longbottom. Within one hundred yards of each other, these old companions in crime demanded, and agreed, that both should knock out the priming of their guns: they then kindled a fire. Watts threw Howe on the ground; Drewe tied his hands, and took his knives from his pocket: they then prepared breakfast. After some delay, they proceeded to Hobart Town; Watts, with his gun, walking before Howe, and Drewe behind him. The captive disengaged his hands, and, with a knife he had concealed, stabbed Watts; and in an instant, seizing his gun, he shot Drewe dead. Watts then expected a similar fate; he, however, reached Hobart Town, and was thence forwarded to Sydney, where he died of his wounds.
The Lieutenant-Governor, anxious to end the career of this desperate man, offered, beside the pecuniary reward, freedom and a passage to England to any prisoner, who might succeed in his capture. Stratagems were continually devised to entrap him; but he retired into the distant parts of the wood, only appearing when hunger or lack of ammunition compelled his visits. His courage and skill made him a formidable antagonist: none would venture to face him; yet so hot was the pursuit, that he again left behind his knapsack and ammunition. He continued at large until the 21st October, 1818. Warburton, often an accomplice, became his betrayer: he enticed him to a hut, where he said that he would find supplies necessary for subsistence; and, notwithstanding his hesitation, which occasioned long delay, he was caught in the snare: having discovered the ambush, he retreated with precipitation; but was overtaken, and slain.[89]
Howe was charged with several murders, beside those here recorded. It was the fashion of the day, to admit every rumour of his cruelty. It was stated, on doubtful authority, that having quarrelled with Edwards, a comrade, respecting some plunder, he slew him; that another, Bowles, having discharged a pistol in sport near his person, suffered the same fate—that he tied the hands and feet of the offender, and shot him dead. The death of Davenport, a stockman, without much probability, was attributed to Howe: his remains were afterwards discovered, without confirming the suspicion. The relations of these men naturally led to treachery and revenge, and in the terms of their union retaliation was included. Howe kept the secret of his gang, and displayed much sympathy when his companions were sick or wounded. He was a bold outlaw, prepared to maintain his freedom at whatever cost; nor does it appear that he was wanting in those equivocal virtues, which are compatible with a life of violence and guilt. His knapsack contained a record of his dreams, written on kangaroo skin with blood; he was haunted by visions of his old companions who were dead: the subject of one, was his sister. He had made a list of seeds, vegetables, fruits, and even flowers, intended to adorn the seclusion which he contemplated. Howe's form was athletic, his countenance strongly marked; his beard of an extraordinary length, and he was dressed in the skin of kangaroo.[90]
Five years after his death, Howe's dwelling was found. The site was chosen with taste, in an open undulating country, stretching to the western mountains: the spot was secluded from observation, was covered with a large honeysuckle, and on a rise sloping to the stream. A gigantic tree, prostrate, which he used as a chopping block, was the boundary to which he permitted Warburton to approach.[91]
The privation, fatigue, and anxiety endured by the bushrangers, they have often depicted with horror. The country, destitute of indigenous fruits or herbs, afforded no safe retreat; and they were compelled to hover round the inhabited districts to obtain ammunition, even when willing to live by the chase. The increase of the settlers has long prevented protracted concealment, and multiplied the chances of capture. Prompted by passion, or allured by the fascination of liberty, an unbroken succession of adventurers have sought shelter in the bush, and passed through the miseries of a vagrant life; but their suppression has usually been easy, and for years the penalty of their crimes certain.
In the progress of these memorials, allusions to bushrangers must occur; but the records of crime are disgusting. The Italian robber tinged his adventure with romance; the Spanish bandit was often a soldier, and a partisan; but the wandering thieves of Tasmania were not less uncouth than violent—hateful for their debasement, as well as terrible for their cruelty. They can rarely be objects of interest, save when points in their career illustrate principles, or exhibit traits in contrast with their ordinary course. It may be proper to notice instances of courage, of constancy, or of unusual suffering: they may set forth the social state out of which they have arisen, and thus the operation of systems; but who would delight to read the dull details of wickedness which crowd the annals of this country?