The Kelly Gang. George Wilson Hall
in these colonies, does not offer to the view any features bearing the stamp of utter impossibility imprinted on their surface.
The Kelly party aver, then, that Fitzpatrick, “pretty well on”, as it is termed, came across William Skillion, near Mrs. Kelly’s place, and entered into interrogative conversation with him relative to splitting upon Crown lands without a licence, and that, during the chat the constable inquired the whereabouts of Dan from Skillion, who, not scenting any danger, replied that the former was at home. The two then proceeded to the house, where Fitzpatrick arrested the younger Kelly for horse-stealing. Ned not being present at the time, not at any future time that day.
Being a sort of acquaintance of the family, the constable could not well refuse to permit Dan to get some refreshment previous to starting, and his captor followed suit as far as a liquid “revivifier” or two went.
The report continues, that while the meal was in progress, or immediately after its conclusion, Kelly asked to see the warrant for his apprehension, which he was entitled to do, and that Fitzpatrick, not having the document with him, as he afterwards admitted, became insulting and bullying, and attempted to put the “darbies” on Dan.
Maternal affection then, which in some cases would be lauded, and described as one of the holiest and best instincts implanted in the human breast, urged the mother to the defence of her son, who, guilty or not guilty, as it appeared to her was about to be illegally arrested, so, seizing an old shovel from the fireplace, she applied it to the constable’s helmet, or cap, with a power that was at least equal to the force of her arm, added to the weight of the shovel, multiplied by the velocity of that improvised weapon as it fell. Fitzpatrick, as may be anticipated, came to the ground confused from the joint affects of the “licker” and the “lick”, and while striving to recover the perpendicular, he drew his revolver, in the clumsy handling of which, in the midst of general scrimmage, a chamber was accidentally discharged, the ball from which wounded him slightly in the wrist.
Mrs. Kelly, Dan, and the rest of the company then rejected him and saw no more of him that night.
In some quarters it was asserted that the constable did not go to Kellys’ with any intention of arresting Dan, but simply to make a call, and that, being resisted in attempting forcibly to take undue and unwelcome liberties with a member of the family, he sought revenge by attempting to capture the brother, producing his handcuffs to show his authority, and so forth. The rest of the story as before. The latter report, as the newspaper would say, required confirmation, though it agrees with a statement made subsequently by Edward Kelly at Jerilderie.
Be the truth as it may, the affair is admitted by those who ought to know, to be to a great extent involved in mystery, and the general opinion is, in any case, that the constable did not altogether act “the clean potato”. If it were the fact – but we are far from saying that it was so – that he was guilty of any wilful misfeasance of falsehood whereby the parties concerned might have been wrongly convicted, we would not envy him his feelings when he reflected (as under these hypothetical circumstances he would be bound to do) on the trebly murderous result of his action, so say nothing of the years of misery and degradation entailed on persons innocent of the charge brought against them, merely to screen himself from merited punishment, or mayhap, only reprimand.
Of course, as law-fearing, law-abiding and law-supporting subjects, we are supposed to believe that, even if the constable did, under exceptional circumstances, slightly overstep the regulated bounds of duty or veracity, yet he is to be almost excused on the universally adopted, though not generally acknowledged, principle that the end justifies the means.
Constable Fitzpatrick
CHAPTER VII
“He was a pal o’mine,
My dear boy –”
– Modern Song
Edward Kelly was at one time charged with being an accomplice and mate of the notorious Harry Power, who for so many years, though ill and long past middle age, bid defiance, single handed, to the police in the North-Eastern District, but for reasons which it would be a breach of confidence to both sides to reveal, sufficient evidence was brought forward to ensure his conviction.
Power, in conversation with “the Vagabond”, at Pentridge, stigmatized Edward Kelly as cowardly and bloodthirsty, and said that he was afraid to perform the simple act of holding his (Power’s) horse outside the Seymour bank, as he proposed, while he went in and robbed it. He also stated that he once prevented Kelly from shooting a harmless traveller, on the road between Benalla and Mansfield, out of mere devilment.
But it must be remembered, in receiving and weighing these accusations, that Power was under the impression that he was “sold” by, and owed his capture to, Kelly, though a greater mistake never was made, for the man who pocketed the price of Power’s wretched carcase lived but a short time to enjoy the reward of an approving conscience, backed up by the comparatively trifling but somewhat comforting accompaniment of a few hundred pounds sterling, Government money.
There is every reason to believe – in fact, we know – that Ned Kelly was for some time associated with Power in his predatory excursions, though the fellowship could not have proved a very remunerative one, for it is calculated that, while trading alone, the elder partner of the firm did not average £1 per week, clear.
About the end of 1869, or the beginning of 1870, some horses being suddenly missing from Mount Battery Station, near Mansfield, then owned by John. P. Rowe, and Power being abroad, the loss was at once set down to his agency, and accordingly a party, including two constables, was organized at the station, and the track of the stolen animals followed for some distance towards the head of the King River, where they were finally lost sight of. It is believed by many that at one time, the party being unpleasantly close to Power and his then mate, Ned Kelly, the latter proposed to surrender, and that the elder bushranger, threatened to blow his brains out if he attempted it. The subsequent and recent proceedings of Ned Kelly, however, could apparently give the lie to the story.
About this date, one day shortly after noon, two men, armed with guns, made their appearance of the highest verge of a rocky and nearly perpendicular declivity, nearly overhanging and within rifle shot of the Mount Battery homestead. On the alarm being given, Rowe turned out with a rifle, and a friend of his (who had been lunching at the house) with a smooth-bore loaded with ball, to take stock of the doubtful visitors, the shorter of whom, as far as distance would permit judging, answered the description of the then dreaded Power, but the other, who was tall, and at that time rather slight, defied recognition, while the wildest and most improbably conjectures were suggested as to his identity. This youth actually was Ned Kelly, though, for the matter of that, it is not now known for certain, except to a comparatively few, who either of the strangers was. As soon as Rowe had taken a good look at the excursionists, who appeared to be carefully examining the house and grounds, he raised his rifle and let drive at them, without the formality of a challenge or salute of any kind, an example that was quickly followed by his friend, in the same reckless, and, as we consider, altogether lawless manner. The first shot missed them, and the second, as Sir Boyle Roche would have said, hit them in the same place, producing no further effect than inducing Kelly to raise his gun and take a steady aim at the two, but before any mischief ensued, Power threw up the muzzle of the gun, and persuaded him to retire without firing. They then quickly disappeared from the view of the Battery garrison, and, mounting their horses, which were secured hard by, rode off at full speed towards the King River, which they reached that evening, and rested at Power’s gunyah, near Quin’s Station, so as to baffle the pursuit which they anticipated, and which did take place, with the almost inevitable result in such cases.
There was a good deal of excitement about the affair for a day or two at Mansfield, which soon died out, but the general verdict was that Rowe was not justified in firing at men who, for all he knew, might have been nothing more than harmless travellers.
We must now return to the proceedings of the most prominent characters in our history, and follow them to their lurking places in the Wombat