The Kelly Gang. George Wilson Hall
or addressing one of the common inhabitants of the place, he would probably have said, “It’s a whack, ole gal; I’m on”. But such not being the case, he politely observed, “Thankee, marm, I’ll be hup to-morrer mornin’ hearly; ‘taint much, I know, but its better nor nothin’”. And as he turned to go, the widow, by way of clinching the bargain, cut a small slice off a little apple she had commenced peeling, and handing it to him, said, “All right, don’t forget, like a good boy. So long.” Like a good boy, sure enough, the industrious Jim put in an early appearance the following morning, and, when the fruit had been weighed out, to the half ounce, he received his instructions as to the most likely places to call at, and the different prices to ask at each. Then, as Jim was starting to make his first essay as a commission agent, the son of the house came along and said, “Look here, Jim, we’ll deduct the value of any fruit you lose, or can’t account for, from your profits, at selling price, that’s all”. Jim started in excellent spirits; but – alas for the vanity of all human aspirations – at the bottom of a hill, on an unfrequented part of the road to the village, two of the Kellys met him, and seeing that he was helpless and smaller than themselves, they agreed to attack and spoil him at once. Jim showed what fight he could, but soon had to yield to superior numbers, weight, age, and eyesight. The highwayboys then, after rolling him in the dust and kicking him severely, took as much fruit as they could eat and carry, and upsetting the “convaniency”, kicked the reminder about the road, leaving the weeping costermonger to collect the debris, if worth it, and calculate how long it would take him to make good the loss at his moderate percentage of remuneration. What made the act more atrocious was that the Kellys were on intimate terms with the widow and her son.
This is the story as detailed to us, but without any attempt to make us believe it; on the other hand, it was laid before us for the same reason as we venture to present it to the reader – namely, as a sample of what inconceivable “rot” can be invented, and what absurdly improbable and inhuman acts can be attributed even to boys, under certain circumstances, just as celebrated wits have jests and bon mots fathered on them, which they not only did not originate, but, in all probability, never even heard.
CHAPTER IV
“I strike quickly, being moved”.
– Romeo and Juliet
The majority of the many convictions recorded against the Kellys, as well as their blood-relations, the Quins, appear to have been of the “assault and battery” description, and form a long and varied list, which may not appear extraordinary to those who know them and are acquainted with the highly excitable and ungovernable temperament which seems to be one of the chief characteristics of the family.
Naturally impatient of restraint, and of uncontrollable passions when aroused, they have, in many cases, given way to acts to lawless violence under circumstances of aggravation – and, in some instances, exceptional provocation – which to persons of more lymphatic constitutions might seem unpardonable, and for which the law admits of no excuse, and rarely palliation.
The list of their proven offences is not, however, limited to such misdemeanours, which seem to have been distributed pretty freely and impartially among the Quins and the Kellys, and are of such a number and similarity as would render a recapitulation of them tedious, monotonous and uninteresting.
It will be sufficient to relate that one of the cases of violent assault happened in this wise. A brother seeing another brother set upon by a number of assailants, seized upon a bullock-yoke to do battle in his defence. With this simple but impressive weapon he emulated the performance of Samson when operating on the Philistines with the jaw-bone of an ass; and he succeeded, not only in rescuing his brother, but also in gaining a three months’ retirement amid the peaceful shades of Beechworth jail, by the end of which visit he might be expected to have recovered the energy which he had lavishly expended in his brother’s defence. A stirrup-iron, on another occasion, proved as effective and trustworthy weapon in the face of odds.
These instances refer more particularly to the Quin branch, and are therefore only incidentally introduced in a narrative which ought to be confined to the Kellys proper, who, in truth, used to indulge in the excitement of a free fight or a select punching match as often as might be expected from their fiery dispositions.
But it was not until 1871 that the police succeeded in establishing “a case” against Edward Kelly, when he received a sentence of three years’ imprisonment in Beechworth assizes, for receiving, with a guilty knowledge, a horse stolen from the postmaster at Mansfield. James Kelly, another brother is, at the date of writing, undergoing his maiden sentence for horse-stealing, while Daniel has never yet been what is technically called “lagged”, although he has undergone his fair share of punishment for minor offences. A warrant which was issued for his apprehension in April last, on a charge of horse-stealing, has formed a starting point, from which it would appear other circumstances have led up to the frightful massacre of police at the Wombat, with the daring and unscrupulous, though bloodless robberies, which have followed that deplorable event.
CHAPTER V
“They fell on; I made good my place; at length they came to the broomstaff with me. I defied them still; when suddenly a file of boys came behind them, loose shot, delivered such a shower of pebbles, that I was fain to draw mine honour in and let them win the work”.
– King Henry VIII
On the 15th of April, 1878, Constable Fitzpatrick, who was stationed at Benalla, proceeded, according to his own account, to Greta, for the purpose of arresting Daniel Kelly for horse-stealing, on a warrant, which he confessed he had not with him, and had never seen, but the existence of which he took for granted from a notice in the Police Gazette. Whether he took this course by command of his superiors, or on his own responsibility, does not, we believe, appear.
On reaching the abode of the Kellys he made a prisoner of Dan, but, with ill-judged leniency, permitted him to partake of some supper as a preliminary to his journey to Benalla.
During the domiciliary visit, William Williamson and William Skillion being present, a row ensued, in the course of which the constable was knocked down by Mrs. Kelly with a shovel, and shot in the wrist by Edward while on the ground and in the hands of all the others. A consultation was held among the party as to how to dispose of their prisoner, and murder was freely discussed; but in the end mercy prevailed, and after forcing Fitzpatrick to extract the bullet from his wrist with a pocket knife, and making him promise solemnly not to divulge what had occurred, they allowed him to depart.
After riding some distance, he heard two men galloping after him helter-skelter, which he interpreted to mean a change of views on the part of some of his late assailants, and an intention to secure his silence by death. Being well mounted he succeeded in escaping, under cover of the darkness, and having arrived in safety at head-quarters, and not considering himself bound by the promise he had made to save his life, at once reported the particulars of the event.
Upon an information to that effect, Mrs. Kelly, W. Williamson and W. Skillion were subsequently arrested, but Dan made good his escape, after promising his mother that he would never suffer himself to be taken alive; and was soon after joined by his brother Edward.
Mrs. Kelly, W. Williamson, and Skillion were committed for trial to Beechworth, where they were convicted of a murderous assault on the police, and were sentenced by Sir Redmond Barry to imprisonment for terms of three, six and six years respectively, on the evidence of Constable Fitzpatrick. Furthermore, a reward of £100 was offered for the apprehension of Ned Kelly, to whom it was intimated that had he stood beside his mother in the dock, he would have received a sentence of 21 years, an item of news that certainly did not tend to increase the probability of his openly visiting the busy haunts of men.
CHAPTER VI
“Either envy, therefore, or misprision
Is guilty of this fault, and not my son”.
– Shakespeare
The story, however, of the occurrence as narrated by the opposite side, presents the scene in a very different aspect –