We must now introduce some noted characters, Mosquito, and Black Jack, his colleague. The former was a native of New Holland, of great physical powers, vigorous intellect, and of indomitable will. The other, Jack, was able to read and write. When taking to the bush, he exclaimed, “I’ll kill all the whites”; and Mosquito had associated with convicts in New South Wales, and adopted all their vices of drinking and swearing. An associate of Mosquito’s, known by the settlers as Bulldog, and he cruelly ill-used and then murdered a woman; then ripped up the body of the woman to destroy the infant. For want of evidence they were simply transported—Mosquito to Van Diemen’s Land in 1813. He was there employed to track bushrangers, a kind of blood-hound, but the constables, his associates, became jealous of his skill; he was therefore sent away to Hobart Town; and there became head and leader of the mob, who hung about the town. He lived with several women, whom he employed for various purposes, but one Gooseberry, a superior woman, was his chief wife. He murdered her in a fit of jealousy. The monster cut off the breasts of one of his gins, because she would suckle her infant against his will. He sent his blacks to rob and slaughter. He and his people kept the land in a state of terror. They spared neither age nor sex, while it was impossible to catch them in the trackless wilderness. He induced a native civilized lad to join his party, but he was soon captured and sentenced to Macquarie Harbour, the Tasmanian hell, but escaped, and was afterwards employed by the Government as a black tracker.
The outrages of these men were terrible, and a party of soldiers and officers was formed to destroy them. In their search they came upon a black party, stole on them at night, fired into them volleys, and killed and wounded several. A sergeant seized a child, saying, “If you are not mischievous now, you will be,” and dashed the child’s brains out against a tree. Both parties became alike ferocious. Mosquito was captured at length, being badly wounded, and, with Black Jack, tried at Hobart Town. Mosquito was found guilty, Black Jack not guilty, but the latter was tried on a second charge of murder, and both were sentenced to death. They pleaded to be sent to a penal settlement, but in vain—they were both executed. The chaplain who attended (the Rev. W. Bedford) exhorted them to pray. Black Jack exclaimed, “Pray yourself; I am too b——y frightened to pray.” After this example of justice, many natives came into town to implore pardon. The black war however went on, so that, during the temporary absence of the husbands the quick-eyed natives stole down the chimneys or through the other entrances of the houses, murdered all within, and plundered the places. On the husband’s return he found his home a slaughterhouse. No one was safe, and at length it was felt that something of a general character must be done.
Two or three persons—including the celebrated Batman, who first passed over to Port Phillip and settled in that portion of New South Wales—went out with a party for a year, captured several natives and shot some; also the names of Robertson, Jorgenson, Hopkins, Eldon, Grant, and others, must be mentioned as adventurers in the cause, who took the field, but all in vain. Within six years 121 outrages of the blacks were recorded in Oaklands district alone; twenty-one inquests upon murdered persons were held between 1827 and 1830; some women in self-defence took the musket and beat the attacking parties off, although they attempted to fire the houses.
Another proclamation was issued, offering rewards for the capture of offenders, but, in spite of 3,000 armed persons forming a cordon not more than sixty yards apart, the natives escaped. An occasional cry was heard from the sentinels, “Look out, look out.” Every man seized his gun and rushed forward, while the General galloped up, shouting, “What is the matter?” “Don’t know; there has been a breaking of sticks in that scrub.” “Fire, fire, fire.” A poor frightened cow rushed out, occasioning peals of laughter. The Governor was facetiously called Colonel George Black-string. They captured two natives only; the rest had escaped in a fog. The army broke up, and the people were in no way relieved from their danger.
It was at this critical time that Mr. Robinson, a mechanic, made an application to be permitted to go forth, unarmed, and by peaceful means attempt to induce the natives to surrender. He was of course derided, called a madman, a fool; but, although he had a little family depending on him, he could not abandon his self-imposed duty. The state of the natives was such that they lived worse than dogs, and were deprived of food. Their gins were debauched by the cruel white men. The black visitors to Tasmania had treated the natives with great cruelty. Military and civil had been in the field from the 4th of October to 26th November, but the attempt entirely failed. The expense was near £50,000; some say £70,000.
Mr. Robinson proposed a plan of conciliation—to make a visit first to Port Davey, and become known to the other tribes. He obtained a long-boat, but this was wrecked. He carried no arms, but took with him two natives, and set off at 12 o’clock at night with these guides to cross the country, and the next morning the whole tribe joined him. This was in 1830. He placed thirty-four natives on Swan Island, and having been supplied with a cutter, he visited the islands, and rescued many women from the sealers, who used them brutally, flogging them if they did not cook properly.
Next, he removed the Big River tribe and the Oyster Bay tribes to Gun-carriage Island. On approaching these tribes, they ran down the hill with spears, shouting. His party fled, and he alone confronted these exasperated savages. They had known that he was the blackfellows’ friend, and so became pacified. On one occasion only he fled, and was saved by an old woman, who towed him over the river on a log.
Mr. J. Bonwick’s description of one interview is too lucid to pass over.
The leader Robinson had ventured under the shadow of the Frenchman’s Gap, 5,000 feet high, in the uninhabited district of the western interior. There he met the last tribe, and the most dangerous of the natives. He had with him his stripling son, McGeary, Stanfield, and an Hawaiian Islander.
The stout-looking but handsome chief, Montpeliata, glared at them and grasped his spear, 18 feet long; while fifteen powerful men, with their spears and waddies, filled with all the hate and loathing for white men which such a war had excited, were ill restrained by the voice and gesture of their head. They rattled their spears, shouted their war-cry, and menaced the mission party. The women kept in rear, each carrying a bundle of spears, and 150 dogs growled at the intruders.