CHAPTER VI.

Jackey Jackey, the Gentleman Bushranger; His Dispute with Paddy Curran; Some Legends About Him; Jackey Jackey Always Well-dressed and Mounted; His Capture at Bungendore; His Escape at Bargo Brush; Jackey Jackey Visits Sydney; His Capture by Miss Gray; Paddy Curran's Fight with the Police; Recaptured and Hung; John Wright Threatens to Make a Clean Sweep.

William Westwood, better known as Jackey Jackey, was the darling of the old hands. He was only an errand boy in England, and was transported for some small peccadillo when he was sixteen years of age. He landed in Sydney in 1837, and was assigned to Mr. Phillip Gidley King, at Gidley, in the Goulburn district. He stayed at the station for nearly three years, and then, in company with a notorious scoundrel named Paddy Curran, stuck up and robbed his employer's house. The partnership between Jackey Jackey and Curran, however, did not last very long. Curran disgusted Jackey Jackey by his brutality to women. In one of their mutual enterprises Curran criminally assaulted a woman, the wife of the farmer whose place they had stuck up. Jackey Jackey was furious. He declared that even if a man was a bushranger he might be a gentleman, and added that he would never see a woman insulted. He threatened to shoot Curran unless he left at once, and stripped him of his horse, arms and ammunition. This story furnishes the key-note to Jackey Jackey's character. To the old hands he was always the gentleman bushranger. The stories told by them about the Jewboy and other bushrangers, and even about Mathew Brady, were generally coarse and sometimes brutal, but Jackey Jackey was always polite and well-behaved. More legends have collected round the name of Jackey Jackey than round that of any other of the bushrangers, and many of them are obviously variants of the stories told of the historical highwaymen of England. For instance, Jackey Jackey is said to have bailed up the carriage of the Commissary. When he discovered that the Commissary's wife was inside he dismounted, opened the door and, sweeping the ground with his cabbage tree hat, as he bowed low before her, he invited her to favour him with a step on the green. He rode incredible distances in incredibly short periods of time. He is represented as bailing up a man near Goulburn and telling him to note the time by his watch and then racing away and bailing up another man at Braidwood or some other place a hundred or a hundred and fifty miles away in a few hours and asking that person to note the time. Many of the popular stories told about him are so evidently apocryphal that little notice can be taken of them. But one thing is certain and that is that he was always well mounted. He scorned to steal an inferior horse and would travel miles to secure a racer. He stole racehorses from Mr. Murray, Mr. Julian, and many other gentlemen in the districts over which he ranged.

Although he appears to have been of humble origin he is credited with having been highly educated. This point was especially insisted upon by his eulogists among the old hands. By them he was always represented as being "able to hold his own," in conversation, with "the best of 'em." I remember one old fellow telling me that when Jackey Jackey met Governor Gipps (of which meeting, however, I can find no record) the governor and the bushranger had a long conversation and parted mutually pleased with each other. "You and me," said the old chap, "couldn't have understood what they said though it was all English; but, they talked grammar." What his precise meaning was I had no idea, but I have always thought that he intended to suggest that their conversation was all carried on in what he might have called "dictionary words;" that is, words not used by the uneducated. But everything said of Jackey Jackey redounds to his credit from the old hand point of view. He was emphatically "a good man." The meaning attached to words is purely conventional, and is therefore liable to vary with the conventionalities. The point of view of the convict being entirely different to that of the law-abiding citizen, the terms "good" and "bad" changed places in their vocabulary. Thus the clergy, the magistrates, the free men, were generally "bad men," while those who resisted authority, who fought against law and order, were "good men." Even the cannibal Pierce was a good man from their point of view, however strongly they might condemn his methods. But Jackey Jackey, although he continued the fight to the bitter end, and ended his life on the gallows when he was only twenty-six, never did anything mean or brutal or unworthy of a gentleman bushranger, until he was almost goaded to madness by the cruel discipline of Norfolk Island.

Paddy Curran was "out in the bush" several months before Jackey Jackey joined him, and he was not the only bushranger at work in the district. On December 31st, 1839, the station of the Rev. Mr. Cartwright was stuck up and robbed. On the same day a skirmish between the police and seven mounted bushrangers took place near Yass. One of the police horses was killed, and the police were compelled to retreat. On the same day, Mr. Heffernan's house, not far from Goulburn, was stuck up and robbed of £21 in money, a case of duelling pistols, a valuable mare, and other property. Mr. Israel Shepherd also lost a valuable horse, besides some money, and Mr. Charles Campbell was reported to have been shot dead. This is a heavy record for one day, and as the robberies took place so far distant from each other, there must have been at least three separate parties concerned in them. About the same time it was reported that Scotchy and Whitton were plundering the stations on the Lachlan River in all directions, and that Mr. Arthur Rankin had left his station and retired to Sydney in consequence of the insecurity in the country districts. The robberies continued all through the year 1840, and a great part of 1841.

On January 13th of the last-mentioned year a man ran into the township of Bungendore, and said that Jackey Jackey had followed and fired at him. A few minutes' later Jackey Jackey himself, mounted on a splendid mare, which he had stolen from the Messrs. Macarthur, hove in sight on the plains. He was dressed in a fine suit of clothes which he had obtained when he stuck up and robbed the store at Boro a few days before. He stopped to speak to a man near Eccleton's. In the meantime Mr. Powell, the resident magistrate, and his brother, Mr. Frank Powell, promptly mounted and went towards the bushranger, and were joined by Richard Rutledge, who, however, had no arms. As they approached Jackey Jackey wheeled round and fired at them, but failed to hit any one. Mr. Balcombe and the Rev. Mr. McGrath drove up in a gig, and Mr. McGrath jumped down and presented his gun. Jackey Jackey seeing himself surrounded, surrendered. He explained that his mare had come a long journey and was unfit to travel, and that his musket was out of order and would not go off. He was conducted to the inn and placed in a room, two ticket-of-leave men being placed there to guard him. Jackey Jackey sat very quiet for some time. Then he jumped up suddenly, knocked down one of his guards, snatched his musket, jumped through the window, and ran across the plain. Frank Powell, who was close at hand, followed him, and with the assistance of Dr. Wilson's postman, recaptured him. Among other exploits previous to this capture Jackey Jackey had robbed the Queanbeyan, Tarago, and other mails, stuck up Mr. Julian, Mr. Edinburgh, and a number of other people on the roads at various times and places, stolen horses from all the principal owners and breeders in the district, fired at the driver of the Bungendore mail, who escaped, and had robbed the Boro Creek store of clothing, money, provisions, and other articles, on the Tuesday before his capture. For several months Lieutenant Christie and the whole of the mounted police of the district had been trying to capture him, and he had more than once escaped only by the superior fleetness of his horses. As soon as possible after his capture he was handed over to Lieutenant Christie, who conducted him to Goulburn, where he was lodged in the lock-up. The following day he was being taken to Bargo Brush, on the road to Sydney, when he made a desperate attempt to escape on foot, running for a mile before he was recaptured. He was then tied on the horse and the journey was resumed, but at night he broke out of the Bargo lock-up, taking with him the watch-house keeper's arms and ammunition. He soon procured a horse, and on the following day stuck up Mr. Francis Macarthur on the Goulburn Plains. He robbed Mr. Macarthur of his watch, money, and other valuables, and took one of his carriage horses because it was better than the animal he was riding.

In the meantime the other bushrangers in the district had not been idle. In September, 1840, a fight took place between the police and the bushrangers near Wellington. One of the bushrangers was shot dead, and a mounted trooper was wounded in the shoulder. A few days later another encounter occurred, when a constable was shot dead within two miles of the township.

On October 3rd, Mr. Robert Smith's station, Newria, was attacked by four armed bushrangers and plundered of everything worth carrying away. Mr. Aarons had recently arrived from Sydney, with the intention of opening a store in Wellington. The bushrangers threatened to throw him into the fire unless he handed over his money. They got upwards of £400 from him. Mr. McPhillamy rode up at the time, and was invited by one of the bushrangers to dismount and come in. He dismounted, and then, discovering the class of men he had to deal with, quickly jumped on his horse again and started. The bushrangers fired at him, and one of the bullets so severely injured his hand that it had to be amputated. A reward of £200 was offered for the capture of these men.

On Tuesday, May 18th, 1841, a gentleman, mounted on a spirited horse, pulled up at the tollbar on the Parramatta Road, Sydney, and asked the toll-keeper if he could oblige him with a pipe of tobacco. The toll-keeper gave him a piece, and the gentleman dismounted and filled his pipe. As he stood at the door of the toll-house he remarked a firelock hanging over the mantelpiece, and asked what it was for. "For bushrangers," replied the toll man. "But there are none now. I've never seen it taken down since I've been here." "Did you ever hear of Jackey Jackey?" enquired the gentleman. "Oh, yes," replied the toll man, "but he's a long way away. He never comes to Sydney. If he did he'd soon be caught." "Not at all," replied the gentleman laughing. "They don't know how to catch him, nor to keep him when they do catch him. I'm Jackey Jackey." He raised the lappels of his coat as he spoke and showed a brace of pistols stuck in his belt on each side. The tollman looked very much alarmed, but the bushranger said to him, "Don't be frightened, I am not going to hurt you. I've been in Sydney for three days and I'm going back to Manaro." He informed the tollman that he had taken a horse in Sydney, but that he was too old and stiff, so he had taken the liberty of exchanging him for the one he had with him at Grose's Farm. "Ain't you afraid of being took?" asked the tollman. Jackey laughed. "I'd like to see who'll stop me while I've these little bull-dogs about me," he said, tapping his pistols. He stood chatting while he smoked regardless of the fact that Grose's Farm, now the grounds of the Sydney University, was within a stone's-throw of the tollbar. He offered the tollman some money and asked him to go to the public-house for some rum. The tollman replied, "I can't leave the bar." "All right," returned Jackey, "then I'll get it myself." He went away to Toogood's Inn and returned in a few minutes with half-a-pint of rum. He gave some to the toll-keeper and took a stiff glass himself. Then he shook hands with the tollman, mounted his horse, and rode on towards Parramatta.

On the 8th of July a great commotion was caused in George Street, Sydney, by a soldier arresting a well-dressed man and asserting that he recognised him as Jackey Jackey. A large number of people assembled and there were plenty of them quite ready to assist in the capture of the noted bushranger. On the prisoner being taken to the police court proof was soon forthcoming to show that he was a free man. He was discharged and the soldier was censured for being too officious. Since the visit of the bushranger in May had become known a constant look-out had been kept in case he should repeat his visit.

Jackey Jackey did not long maintain his freedom, however. He one day went into Gray's Black Horse Inn on the Berrima road, called for some refreshments, went into a sitting room, and threw himself on the sofa. He was served by Miss Gray, and while he was drinking she pounced on him and screamed. Her father and mother came to her assistance, but Jackey Jackey fought with so much determination that he would no doubt have got away. A carpenter named Waters was working near, however, and hearing the noise he rushed in and struck Jackey Jackey on the head with his shingling hammer. Knocked senseless, the noted bushranger was easily secured. It will be remembered that Gray's Black Horse Inn was about three miles from Mulligan's farm, and was the place where Lynch had bought the rum to treat Mr. and Mrs. Mulligan just before he murdered them. The capture of Jackey Jackey was effected for the purpose of securing the reward of offered for him dead or alive. He was tried for the robbery of the Boro store, and was sentenced to penal servitude for life. He was first confined in Darlinghurst Gaol, Sydney, but being detected in an attempt to escape, he was transferred to Cockatoo Island at the mouth of the Parramatta River. While here he organised a band of twenty-five prisoners, and made a desperate attempt to escape. The gang overcame and tied a warder, and then jumped into the harbour with the intention of swimming to Balmain. The water police, however, were apprised of the mutiny and captured the whole gang. It has been asserted that no prisoner has escaped from Cockatoo Island. The distance from the island to the shore is not very great, certainly less than half-a-mile to the nearest point, but all who have tried to swim it have either been retaken by the police or eaten by sharks.

The gang was tried for this attempt at escape and were sentenced to be sent to Port Arthur, Van Diemen's Land. Being such a desperate lot of scoundrels they were chained down in the hold of the brig, in which they were forwarded, for safety; but, in spite of this precaution, they contrived to get loose and were only prevented from capturing the brig by the hatches being put on and battened down. They reached Port Arthur in an almost suffocated condition, and were nearly starved, as they had had no food for several days; the captain of the brig not daring to remove the hatches, either to let in air, or to pass food to the prisoners.

Jackey Jackey succeeded in escaping from Port Arthur and immediately resumed his bushranging career. He was captured, however, after a very short run and was sent to Glenorchy Probation Station for milder treatment. Probably this attempt at reformation came too late, but however this may have been, it had little beneficial effect. Jackey Jackey made his escape and again began bushranging. He was captured in a house in Hobart Town and was sentenced to death. The sentence, however, was commuted to penal servitude for life and he was sent to Norfolk Island, where we shall hear of him again later on.

In the meantime, Jackey Jackey's old mate, Paddy Curran, continued to rob as before. He went to Major Lockyer's station and entered the men's hut while they were having their Christmas dinner, in 1840. He had a pair of handcuffs hanging at his belt, and was therefore thought to be a constable out on the spree. He helped himself freely to the good things on the table, and behaved generally so as to induce the idea that he had been drinking. One of the men, however, said he did not believe that the visitor was "a drunken trap," and Curran immediately knocked him down with the butt of his gun. The man jumped up at once and rushed at Curran. There was a struggle for a time, and the man got Curran down. He was, however, too much exhausted to hold him, and Curran got up. The other men, who were all assigned servants on the estate, looked on and applauded the wrestlers, but not one of them made any motion to assist his mate, otherwise Curran might easily have been captured. After his wrestling match Curran walked out of the hut, mounted his horse, and rode away. On the following day Curran again went to the station, and found Mr. North, son-in-law to Major Lockyer, and another man in the store. He called on them to bail up, and both men held their hands up. Curran was about to enter the store-door when he was pinioned from behind. Mr. North and his store-keeper rushed forward, and after a severe struggle, during which the bushranger tried hard to get his gun free, he was captured and tied. The man who had pinioned him was the man with whom he had had the wrestling match the day before. Curran was taken to Goulburn for examination, and was remanded to Berrima to take his trial, "where," said the _Port Phillip Herald_, "it is to be hoped he will be more securely confined, and not allowed to escape, as he did before."

Paddy Curran and James Berry, another bushranger, were sent to Berrima for trial in charge of Constables McGuire and Wilsmore. They stopped at a hut on the road for a rest and food. After they had finished their meal Constable Wilsmore left the hut, and stayed away for some time. At length Constable McGuire went to the door of the hut to call him, and Berry and Curran, taking advantage of his action, immediately rushed upon him. They were handcuffed together, and this no doubt hampered their movements. McGuire fought hard. The bushrangers had seized the guns, and each held one. McGuire endeavoured to wrest the gun from Curran with one hand, while he held Berry's gun off with the other hand. He yelled for Wilsmore, but Wilsmore did not come. At length Berry got his gun loose and shot McGuire in the back of the head and in the shoulder. At this moment Constable Wilsmore returned, and seeing his mate dead and the prisoners in possession of the guns, ran away again. Curran and Berry beat McGuire about the head until he was dead, and a "fearful spectacle to look upon." Then they searched his body, and finding the key of the handcuffs, released themselves and made off. The two bushrangers continued their depredations for only a few months, however, as they were tracked down by the police and captured. Curran was tried on September 15th, 1841, for the murder of Mr. Fuller. He afterwards confessed to this murder. He said he was in company with two other bushrangers on the road near Bungendore when he heard two men quarrelling. Curran and his mates went towards the road and hid behind trees. Presently two men, riding on one horse, came in sight and appeared to be having a dispute about something. They were talking loud and swearing at each other. Curran stepped out from behind the tree and called on them to stop. Instead of doing so they wheeled the horse and began to gallop away. Curran fired and both men fell, while the horse bolted along the road and soon got out of sight. One of the men jumped up as soon as he fell and ran into the bush and they did not see him again. The other man was Mr. Fuller, and he was either dead or at point of death. "I turned him over and took about £11 in money and a pocket knife out of his pockets," said the bushranger.

Curran was also tried for having committed a rape on Mary Wilsmore. He went to the hut occupied by Wilsmore on the 8th of February. It was near Bungendore. He ordered Mrs. Wilsmore to get him some tea. A bushranger, named White, was with him. Mrs. Wilsmore went outside to get some wood to make up the fire and Curran followed her, knocked her down, and dragged her away to some scrub where he committed the offence. He was found guilty of both crimes and was sentenced to be hung. There were another case of rape, several cases of murder, and numbers of robberies and burglaries charged against him, but none of these were heard.

James Berry was tried for the murder of Constable McGuire, and was sentenced to death.

At the same sessions John Wright, another bushranger, was also sentenced to death. The case against him was as follows;--On May 17th, 1840, Mrs. Margaret Foley, living at Long Swamp, about thirty miles from Bathurst, was going from her house into the detached kitchen at the rear, when three armed men appeared. She shouted "Here's the bushrangers" and ran into the kitchen. Mr. Cunningham, Mr. Foley's partner in the farm, came out of the house and fired both barrels of his gun at the intruders, but failed to hit any of them. The leader of the gang followed Mr. Cunningham, who went back into the house; and saying, "It'll be a long time before you and Steel (son of Captain Steel) hunt us again," shot him dead. Wright then went to the kitchen, pushed the door open, and asked where Foley was? On being informed that he had gone to Bathurst, he replied "I'm sorry for it. I'd 'a served him the same as Cunningham if I'd 'a caught him." He swung his gun about in such a reckless manner that one of the assigned servants in the kitchen requested him to be careful, adding "Recollect that there are women and children here." Wright told him to mind his "own---- business and be----" to him. He continued to swear about Foley's absence and declared that he'd a "good mind to make a clean sweep." He became cooler afterwards, and having collected all the jewellery and other valuables, went away. In passing sentence the Chief Justice commented on the great number of robberies which had been committed by Wright and his gang and said there was no hope of mercy. Wright thanked his Honour and then coolly asked whether he might have a candle in his cell, as it was very dark.