True History of the Kelly Gang Read online

  Well if you truly love me you will do it.

  What were I to say that I never learned my parsing? All I could think were to lay with her one last time I were mad as a dog and didnt care the traps was meanwhile humming like a hive of bees not 400 yd. away.

  The whole of it?

  From the time Fitzpatrick tried to marry Kate. That part.

  I reckon I know what you plan to do with it said I.

  Ah but do you? Is that true now?

  The life were in her eyes again.

  You think said I we should send it to this Cameron cove?

  But she never heard of Mr Cameron MLA when I showed her the cutting from THE MELBOURNE HERALD she put her hand upon my wrist.

  Write it down dear said she then come to bed.

  She begun to brush her long black hair I needed no more encouragement than that. The 1st page were rapidly accomplished then the 2nd and 3rd. Oftentimes Mary come to read with her cheek pressed against my ear I do not boast when I say I felt her moved to tears sometimes to exclamations of anger she said there were not a soul alive who could read these words and blame me as the papers did.

  It will persuade Mr Cameron?

  It would persuade anyone.

  For one long night this chaste dance did continue sometimes the dogs barked and soon after midnight there were a great alarm when Kate & Maggie found 2 policemen crouching behind the pigpens but mostly there were no greater upset than a night train crying in the distant dark the old people say it were the trains brought the famine to Ireland well they brought the coppers to Benalla together with artists ready to sketch my bloody corpse.

  When finally I completed the death of poor Kennedy I give Mary everything I had writ & she removed the blue ribbon from her hair so it fell down around her neck and shoulders but she would not let me kiss her yet she bound all my words tying them with the ribbon like you will see the clerks do in Benalla Court I am sure it is the same in Parliament. Then she carried my chair so it were below the shelf that holds the demijohns as noted and she placed the roll behind the turpentine.

  There she said alighting carefully to the floor.

  She come to me and then we kissed.

  Will you post it in the morning?

  We will make a copy for Mr Cameron she said but even as she spoke she took my scabbed hard hand placing it ever so gently on her belly.

  And I knew before she said the words I knew that it were you in there I were very pleased I kissed her on the neck and on the mouth I smelled her fine dark hair and kissed her bright black eyes.

  It is for him I cried thats why you wished me to write it. Its for him!

  Or her she said she were smiling and crying.

  Or her my love.

  So when our daughter comes into the world she will always know the proper story of her da and who he is and what he suffered.

  You may wonder why her speech did not make me gloomy it were clear that your ma were certain I would be murdered by the government and that you would never know what man I were. But it werent nothing to do with death at all it were its very opposite you was my future right away from that moment you was my life.

  Thus were I drawn into this occupation as author for once the letter were completed I immediately commenced a 2nd to Mr Cameron which labour kept me absent from the boys I were not there when the trouble come bearing down on them out of the scrub but will tell the story just the same.

  The traps is on you lads cried our host his braces was broke he held up his britches in one hand hauling Steve’s saddle and bridle with the other hopping pigeon toed across the muddy yard.

  For Jesus’ sake they are at the swamp go boys they’ll lag us all.

  Joe’s gelding & Dan’s mare was in the yard but neither one had nothing more than head stalls both was scatty v. excited by all this uproar. Dan were in the outhouse Steve tossing knucklebones with the littlies but now the alarm were called he run directly into the Friend’s hut. The Missus was hard of hearing not to say stone deaf she were sitting at the table skinning rabbit. Steve said nothing to her ripping back a curtain she had hung across her roughnail cupboard he pulled out her Sunday best a dainty little dress of black & orange lace on its bosom was many flowers of strange description. With no apology or explanation Steve tore himself inside it fierce and brutal as a goanna with its head inside a chicken. Tugging the hem over his muddy moleskin knees he strapped his hobble belt around the middle then wedged in 2 short barrelled Webley pistols.

  Out in the yard the husband were crying to his brood Run children run go run away they’ll lag us all.

  The mother never heard this she were gobstruck staring at Steve Hart large fat tears sliding down her ruined cheeks.

  By herrings she whispered thats my dress.

  As Steve kneeled by the fire there were the loud ripping noise of fabric when she heard it she made a little cry. I’m sorry Missus said Steve scooping up ash some of it were dead and some of it were still alive he rubbed it heedless on his face & hair crying out eff and ess when the embers burned him.

  You godless mongrel said the Missus.

  Then Dan run in from the outhouse and the woman watched in horror as Steve sent her blue town dress flying across the hut it were caught by Dan in the doorway.

  No please she pleaded but my brother’s eyes was dead as stone he begun to don the garment.

  By the laws the Missus suddenly cried by the laws I’ll injure you severely.

  She were no weakling she were broad of shoulder and substantial in the chest and once she armed herself with a splintery stick of firewood both boys retreated she were very fast indeed.

  The traps is coming Steve explained but she chased the unnatural looking pair out the door calling all those curses Irish women use when they wish not to offend their Saviour. Salvation seize your soul sorrow take you but there never were a Holy Writ against club swinging so once she had gained the yard nothing could inhibit her. Each time Dan tried to get into her dress she set upon him and to the muddy injury he had already done the item she added bright red blood.

  As Dan withdrew from her blows Steve called to him Gird yourself. Where he stole a word like that only the Lord knows but Steve Hart were a magpie. Gird yourself! Dan got the dress over his head then turned and come charging at the Missus or so she thought.

  I told youse the Missus cried to her husband as she fled I told youse he’ll murder us all. She veered away towards the gully in the direction opposite to her fleeing brood one of which were later found wandering by the railway at Glenrowan.

  Dan ran back into the hut also set to black his face by some recipe previously concocted with his mate but he had the brains to pour water into the ashcan. When he come out again into the muddy daylight he raised his filthy fist at Steve in wild salute.

  We is the Sons of Sieve cried he. Dear daughter it is Sieve not Steve although it is off the latter that he must of learned it.

  Joe Byrne meanwhile had mounted his horse he were in a very savage mood having decided to take as many coppers as he could before expiring but he had managed to slide no more than one cartridge into the Spencer when he were stopped short by the sight of Steve & Dan.

  What the eff is this he asked but in the confusion of the moment he accepted the ash paste when it were offered urgently smearing it across his face.

  We are the Sons of Sieve.

  All the normal questions & profanities was prevented by our host he brung 2 saddled horses to Steve and Dan.

  Bad cess on you boys said the furious old fellow. Harry Power never done nothing like this to my missus he were an adjectival friend to us.

  Joe Byrne were confused he looked to Steve.

  We is the Sons of Sieve.

  O be off with you cried the old man you is an adjectival disgrace to bushranging I hope you effing die.

  After a dangerously short ride this strange party come to a large flat grey rock high on a hillside here they could lay on their stomachs and watch the gathering of the undertakers 200
yd. below. Beyond a stand of white gums there were a flat clear area of grass it were here the army had gathered it had grown more heads than the Hydra now there was 30 men all armed to the teeth. Dan recognized Superintendent Nicolson the one who had arrested Harry Power but far more alarming was 2 blackfellows now in conversation with the Supt.

  Niggers hissed Steve Hart I aint afraid of niggers.

  Shut your hole said Joe still confused & discombobulated by the dress but for discussion on that topic there werent no time. What you is calling niggers is black trackers that one old b– – – – r is more dangerous than 20 effing Spencers.

  They’ve no adjectival hope of reading our tracks you take my word for it.

  Joe shook his head indicating what a waste of time it were to argue with a sissy boy but Steve insisted he said that swamp is all churned up by beasts therefore it follows the tracks cannot be read.

  Listen to me girlie it don’t matter if a herd of wombats done their business them blackfellows can track us all the way to himself’s place.

  Well we aint there so it don’t matter no road.

  Is there nothing in that noggin fool? Ned will be there they’ll lag him the moment he arrives.

  No matter how strange Steve looked how slight and weak he were never nervous of offering an opinion not even to a man bent on a maniacal war. No they won’t said he.

  Joe already seen 2 traps were laying a sheet of canvas upon the grass a 2nd pair were breaking fallen branches beneath their feet.

  They’re having an effing picnic.

  Soon there were a merry fire and much tucker were produced. Clearly the blackfellows received no invitation to this feast and soon they retreated into the bush beside the swamp.

  Joe Byrne now fed 5 cartridges into the Spencer’s cunning mechanism. There were no noise except what is made by a modern brass munition being levered into the chamber of a Spencer. We have to bag them blacks said he.

  No one argued now he ordered that Steve take the horses behind the hill he were obeyed. When he told Dan to ensure his Webleys was both loaded my brother done so. Then Dan and Joe set off down the hill walking v. bandy legged on the sides of their boots so as to make less noise. Dan were sick at heart thinking there were no choice but murder.

  Before too long they left them rocks & box trees entering the white gum bush the ground here were a cold & clammy bog. Dan followed Joe Byrne through the forest of peeling trunks lifting the hem of his dress with his left hand holding his Webley in his right it were a poor weapon accurate at most to 20 yd. Soon he heard the loud voices of the police then suddenly they was arrived at the deadly place.

  Their knees was brushed with bracken fern the bark hanging from the trees like tattered skin already blasted in a war. Ahead they clearly seen the party of traps and even closer was 2 blackfellows sitting on their haunches amongst the stripes of dark & light. The older one were talking very quietly in their queer tongue the younger one replying only a word or 2.

  Dan and Joe closed in very careful the snap of twig or leaf could give them away the boss tracker squatted in a mote of sunlight he were a sturdy old fellow with a tweed coat white moleskins a pair of knee high boots police issue. As Dan and Joe neared they could now make out the apprentice in the shadow a skinny young warrigal v. natty in tweed britches and blue shirt. At the same time Dan and Joe come upon him he reached the pitch of some complaint but what that were they couldnt understand.

  Joe Byrne stepped out of the shade and the boy went quiet.

  Nothing were said but the blacks rose slowly to their feet.

  When Joe Byrne jerked the barrel the old man held his hands up in the air and his apprentice done the same tho it were an action obviously new to him.

  You read them tracks to the police uncle Joe whispered.

  The tracker shook his head.

  You sure uncle?

  The old boy knew the score immediate. Nothing here boss he whispered back I swear by Jesus them tracks all belong to cattle.

  You tell them police fellahs there aint no tracks in here.

  Them b––––rs get by very good without me boss you watch them.

  They give you tucker uncle?

  The old man shrugged.

  You know my name uncle?

  I reckon you Ned Kelly boss.

  You know what Ned Kelly does to traps uncle.

  Yes boss but I not a trap boss I not one of them Queensland b––––rs I aint hurt nobody.

  Very good said Joe though he didn’t know what Queensland b––––rs was or what that meant. No more were said. The trackers sat down on their heels again the boys retreated back in amongst the shadows.

  Them trackers was good as their word they never said nothing not then or even later they led the police away in the opposite direction straight back towards Eleven Mile Creek. Believe me this were no favour to your father.

  Late that night the boys rode through the gap at Glenrowan. Once they descended onto the plain at Eleven Mile Creek they watched the hut for a good 2 hr. before they begun cautiously to approach. Finally Dan burst through the door and were distressed to discover it not only empty but abandoned to the rats.

  Having previously received intelligence of Supt Nicolson’s approach I had already loaded Mary and George into a spring cart and with Maggie riding ahead as a scout we had set out along the meandering tracks threading through the river gums to Moyhu. Here the letter were posted to Mr Cameron that done we hurried onwards soon passing through the townships of Edi and Whitfield. When the moon rose Maggie turned home I then drove Mary & George all the way across the grey and white plains to the upper King River that is the doorway to the high country you will recall from the lesson I learnt off Harry Power. At dawn we safely made camp a mile or so from the Quinns. Cooked meat were delivered and the spring cart disposed of where it would not raise suspicions.

  That same yellow dawn the boys had reached Moyhu securing a safe camp on Boggy Creek both parties remaining hidden through the day.

  At dusk I saddled the cart horse a quiet old mare named Bessie I set Mary and her sick baby on her back this were no way to be either a mother or an outlaw but we had vowed never to be parted from each another. As the moon shone on the King Valley we begun to poke slowly up a spur on the western side of the King after the ridge were attained we proceeded south towards the mountains I were always in front leading Bessie by a rope but this were scratchy country & a great ordeal for Mary who would be no horsewoman even on McBean’s rich river flats.

  We was in love as never before though it were certainly no time of bliss with the undertakers upon us your brother George v. sick indeed. We cantered into the valley near the Buckland Spur and once I located the old miner’s hut we both spent all our time trying to make the little fellow well. We had ridden all night but there were no rest the baby’s breath turning very bad and nothing settled on his stomach but would come back up accompanied by a deal of mucous. I woke the magpies with my axe cutting notches into the trunk of a mighty stringybark I got myself high enough to make a good harvest of eucalyptus leaves. Then with whatever was useful in the miner’s tip I constructed a eucalyptus still as in easier times I made one for poteen. To light a fire were a danger but this distillation would do the boy much better than the sulphur smoke.

  By evening of the 2nd day his breathing were less troubled & at dusk I dropped a gum & peeled sufficient of its bark to make a most effective curtain. Thus we could permit ourselves a lighted candle. We ate cold mutton and once George slept I told Mary she too should rest and I went outside to keep watch over my family. My Colt were in readiness 6 percussion caps snugged on the nipples my charged .577 lay across my knees. Many hours passed but it were not until the dew begun to fall that I heard hooves amongst the river rocks I cocked the carbine’s hammer and held my fire.

  3 riders come threading through the ti tree scrub. Thank God it were my mates delivered safely. Joe Byrne led the way into the clearing Dan’s gelding were very meek pushing his nose r
ight into the mare’s tail and then Steve come hard behind. I could see no faces nor clearly distinguish Dan’s garment which I took to be a smock.

  I called to Mary through the open door We got company.

  She had been asleep but now come rushing to the doorway with the candle in her hand. Lifting this light she revealed a scene worthy of the Theatre Royal it were blackface men in dresses. I begun to laugh but then I heard her body fall & found her laying in a cold and muddy puddle by the door. She had fainted dead away.

  Steve entered the hut like the Dame in the pantomime. Mary opened her eyes she never asked what happened or why she woke up back inside the hut nor did she smile or laugh or point at the dress. Instead she up and at him she ripped at his empty bosom and tugged at the yellow flowers around the lace.

  This won’t solve nothing she cried.

  Steve squared his shoulders and hooked his thumbs into his hobble belt but his eyes was filled with wild confusion.

  Lay off said he retreating one more step. Mary were 6 in. shorter but now she invaded the territory he abandoned plucking at the dress until the lace tore in her hand.

  It is Molly’s Child you think to make my Ned?

  This made no sense we knew no Molly but Mary’s pretty face were scratched from her nightriding it give her a wild & desperate kind of look.

  Get off me cried Steve his eyes asking would I help him but I were more confused than him.

  Steve then pushed Mary in the direction of the hearth saying Fetch me an adjectival cup of tea why don’t you.

  I would of punished him immediately but the slippery little Jesuit squirmed away. I caught his arm then seen Mary had chose to obey him she picked up a dirty tin pannikin slopping it full of cold black tea.

  May it turn to adjectival poison in your Molly mouth.

  Joe Byrne laughed to see Steve so disadvantaged by a woman but in a moment this become an ugly snort. He sunk down on the bench behind the splintered table and remained deep in shadows his brawny arms folded across his chest.

  Ned if you won’t say it then I will.

  I advised Joe not to say nothing he would regret telling him Mary were as good as wife to me.