# In Bad Company, and other Stories/Fallen among Thieves

FALLEN AMONG THIEVES
In the spring of 1867 I had occasion to travel from my station, Bundidgaree, near Narandera, on the Murrumbidgee River, to the historic town of Wagga Wagga, the residence of Mr. Arthur Orton, whose claim to the Tichborne title and estates was then agitating Britain and her Colonies. An elderly nurse returning to her home was to accompany me in an American buggy. The roads were good; the weather fine; the horse high in condition, exceptional as to pace and courage. Yet was the situation doubtful, even complicated. The road was risky, the head-station lonely and unprotected. A gang of bushrangers, under a leader popularly known as 'Blue-cap,' was at the time I mention within twenty or thirty miles of Narandera. There was a strong probability that I should encounter them, or that they would visit the station during my absence. Either hap was disagreeable, not to say dangerous. I left home with mingled feelings. But circumstances were obdurate. I had to go. The outlaws, five in number, were 'back-block natives,' all young men with the exception of a middle-aged personage known as 'The Doctor.' He was credited with having 'done time,' that is, served a sentence of imprisonment, which apparently had not led to reformation, as he was looked upon as the most dangerous member of the band. Not as yet committed to acts of bloodshed, they had exchanged shots with Mr. Waller of Kooba——a station below Narandera——who had surprised them while encamped upon his Run. He was a determined man and a well-known sportsman. The story was that he nearly shot 'Blue-cap,' that gentleman having slipped behind a stock-yard post, which received the breast-high bullet. The honours of ​war remained with the squatter, however, whose party forced the robbers to retreat across the river, leaving (like the Boers) horses, saddles, and swags behind. It was not known when I started whether they had gone up or down the river. Meanwhile, the pair of police troopers who protected the district of Narandera, a region about a hundred miles square, were 'in pursuit.'
The question of carrying arms had to be dealt with. I thought at first of a double-barrelled gun and revolver. But the idea of an effective defence against five well-mounted, well-armed men, the while embarrassed with a frightened woman and two spirited horses, did not seem feasible. I finally decided to trust to the probability of not meeting the evil-doers at all, and to go unarmed rather than to carry arms which I could not use effectively. The journey to Wagga, about fifty-five miles, was accomplished safely. Making an early start next day, about three-fourths of the return trip was over when I came opposite to Berrembed, the homestead of my neighbour Mr. Lupton. I was walking the horses over a curious formation of small mounds, provincially known as 'dead men's graves,' when I became aware of three horsemen coming along the road towards me.
My first thought was, 'Here they are—bushrangers!' my second, 'It cannot be the gang—these are too young; and I don't see the "Doctor."' The foremost rider, enveloped in a poncho, decided the question by throwing it back and presenting a revolver, at the same time calling out in what he meant to be a tone of intimidation, 'Bail up. Stop and get out. If yer move to get a pistol I'll blow yer brains out.' By the time he had come to the end of this unlawful demand, he had ridden close up, and held the revolver, into the barrel of which I could see, and also that it was on full cock, unpleasantly close to my head. He was a bush-bred cub, hardly of age, who had but little practice, evidently, in the highwayman line, for his hand trembled and his face was pale under the sun-bronzed skin.
Thus I felt (like Mickey Free's father) somewhat perturbed, as, if I tried to bolt, he might shoot me on purpose, and if I stayed where I was, he might shoot me by accident. Meanhile, I secured the reins to the lamp iron, and got down in a leisurely manner. 'I have no arms,' I said, as I stood by the ​off-side horse—the celebrated Steamer; 'there's no hurry. I can't well run away.'
'Give up yer money,' he said gruffly.
'I haven't any.'
'That be hanged! A man like you don't travel without money.'
'I generally have some, but I paid a bill at Martin's (naming an inn a few miles nearer Wagga) and it cleaned me out.'
'Hand out them watches, then!'
He saw by the appearance of my waistcoat that I had more than one. I had brought back a watch belonging to a relative from Wagga, where it had been sent for repair. They were both gold watches of some value.
As he sat on his horse, I being on foot, he kept his bridle-reins and the levelled revolver in one hand, and reached down to me for the spoil. As he did so, I looked him in the eye, thinking that a strong, active man might have pulled him off his horse, grabbed the revolver, and shot one if not both of his comrades. I had no intention of trying the double event myself, but I know a man or two who would have chanced it with such a youthful depredator.
What I said was, 'You don't often get two gold watches from one man.'
'No. I know we don't. Turn out that portmanter.'
'There's only a suit of clothes and my hair brushes. You don't want them.'
At this stage of the intercourse, old Steamer, an impatient though singularly good-tempered animal, moved on, as of one proclaiming, 'This foolery has lasted long enough.' I walked to his head and soothed him, upon which one of the subordinates said civilly, 'I'll hold your horse, Mr. Boldrewood.'
I looked at him with surprise, and saw for the first time that he was Mr. Lupton's stock-rider, and the other 'road agent' the son of that gentleman. The mystery was explained. They were pressed men. We were within sight of the home station. The rest of the gang were helping themselves to the proprietor's best horses in the stock-yard when they saw me coming along the road. So they had detailed this youth for my capture, and ordered the two others to go with him to 'make a show' in case of the traveller resisting.
​However, the interview was nearly at an end. The first robber dismissed me with a brief 'You may go now.' I drove off slowly, not desiring to show haste, in case the capricious devil which abides in this particular breed might prompt him to call me back. He did so indeed, but it was only to say, 'Show us yer pipe. You might have a good'un.' I exhibited an old briar-root, at which he waved his hand disdainfully, and going off at a gallop, made for the homestead with his attendants on either side, like the wicked Landgrave in Burger's ballad.
I drove in leisurely fashion until they were out of sight, when I let my horses out at their usual 'travelling' pace of twelve miles an hour, or a trifle over, and was not long before I 'reached my cattle-gate.'
While the 'momentous question' was in the stage of discussion I had been anxious and troubled—so to speak, afraid. Not for my personal safety. I did not think any bushranger in the district would slay me in cold blood. We were popular in our neighbourhood, for though I was the Chairman of the Narandera Bench when the Police Magistrate of Wagga, Mr. Baylis, was absent, and as such officially a terror to evil-doers, my wife had endeared herself to our humbler neighbours by acts of charity and womanly sympathy in cases of sickness or other sore need. But what I was afraid of, tremulously indeed, was lest the outlaws should 'commandeer' one or both of my horses. Eumeralla, a fine upstanding grey, bred at Squattlesea Mere, good in saddle and harness, and carried a lady, was most valuable, while Steamer, who died after twenty years of priceless service, was simply invaluable. I was only saved from this disastrous loss by the fact that Mr. Lupton's stock-yard (he was absent from home—perhaps fortunately) was full of good station hacks, and as his stud was of high reputation in the district, his loss on that occasion proved my salvation. What had happened at Berrembed was simply this. The bushrangers, with Mr. 'Bluecap' in command, arrived in the early afternoon unexpectedly. There were few men about the place. The overseer and Mr. Lupton were away. Mrs. Lupton, the governess and the children, with the eldest son, a boy of sixteen, and the stock-rider, were at home. The master of the house had firmly expressed his intention to defend his home, and to that end had sent to ​Melbourne for a magazine-rifle, capable (it was said) of discharging sixteen cartridges in quick-firing time. The gang, hearing of this preparation, had sworn to pay him out for it at an early visit. In his absence they behaved well, assuring the lady of the house that 'she need not be apprehensive; they only wanted horses and the new repeating-rifle,' which last they demanded at once. She was not frightened—a native-born Australian, come of a Border family, she was not timorous, and had presence of mind enough to deny knowledge of the rifle. The leader was better informed. 'That won't do, Mrs. Lupton. Master Johnnie shot a bullock with it last Saturday. Better give it up. These chaps might turn rusty. They're quiet enough now.' The lady yielded to force majeure. The governess was sent to bring the rifle from the shower-bath, where it had been placed, and the bushrangers rode off. One of the men, after roaming through the house, appeared with the baby in his arms, which he had taken from the nurse, alleging that 'it reminded him of his happy home.' This was intended as a joke, and no harm came to the infant, who did not seem to object to a change of nurses. No pillage took place other than that of the rifle and a remount all round. Besides losing their horses and saddles at Kooba, and being reduced to an infantry force, having to cross the river ignominiously upon a sheep-wash temporary bridge, they had another mischance. They called at Brookong Station on Mr. Cuthbert Fetherstonhaugh. Here they treated themselves to grog, in which they vainly tried to make Mr. Fetherstonhaugh join them, and finally went off across country. Near the Urangeline Creek they were startled by the galloping of a body of horsemen in pursuit (as they thought), and racing desperately away, rode into the Urangeline, then in half flood. The others got out, but the 'Doctor,' parting company with his horse, was unfortunately drowned, thus cheating the hangman, and not improbably preventing the commission of bloodshed, into which his evil influence might have led his less-hardened comrades. They were next heard of near Narandera, as to which my wife had a sensational visit from a person in the confidence of the police.
On the morning of my departure she was told by the maid-servant that a man outside wished to speak to her. He would not come in, or dismount from his horse. Rather ​surprised, but being, like our neighbour Mrs. Lupton, Australian born, and not afraid of men or horses or anything in a general way, she walked up to the horseman, who sat in his saddle in the middle of the courtyard, formed by a dining-room and kitchen on one side and store on the other. He was not anxious to be overheard, as he leaned forward and in an agitated voice said that he had been sent by the Senior Constable of Police at Narandera to inform her that the bushrangers had recrossed the river, and might be expected to visit the station on that or the following day. If there were arms in the house she was advised to conceal them for fear of irritating the bushrangers; that the police could not come themselves, as they were following up the tracks in another direction.
This was not cheering news. But action was taken promptly. The armoury consisted of a two-grooved rifle, carrying a bullet of such size that, unlike the 'Mauser,' there was no fear of its penetrating a vital organ without causing instant death. I used to make good practice from an upper chamber at any mark within a hundred and twenty or thirty yards' distance. There was also an effective double-barrel, with a couple of revolvers. A young relative of the family lived with us and helped with the management. We could have made a decent defence probably after warning given. But in nineteen out of twenty cases no warning is given, or, as in this case, too late to be of service.
It so happened that a wool-bale had been suspended in an outer room, into which broken fleece, pieces picked up on the Run, was placed from time to time. Under the wool, therefore, the guns were hidden for the present.
When I returned from Wagga after my adventure I was naturally anxious to hear if the bushrangers had called in my absence. My first words to the châtelaine were, 'Have you seen the bushrangers?'
Answer—'No. Have you?'
'Well—ahem—I have!'
Then the story was told in full.
This band, compared with the career and exploits of other gentlemen of the road, hardly rose above the amateur level. They were taken by a sergeant of police and his troopers on the Lachlan. He came unexpectedly one morning, and marching towards them with a determined air, called upon ​them in the Queen's name to surrender. 'Blue-cap' levelled his rifle. 'What!' roared the sergeant in a voice of thunder. He had known of him when he was a stock-rider, indifferently honest. 'You d—d scoundrel! Would you shoot me?'
Whether the idea of the awful crime in the provincial mind, implied in resisting much less attempting the life of such a magnate, overbore the remains of his courage (they were pretty sick of the outlaw business), or that he shrank from deliberate murder, cannot be told; at any rate, they were disarmed, handcuffed, and conducted to the nearest lock-up—magazine-rifle and all. Brought in due course before a bench of magistrates, they were committed to take their trial at the next ensuing Court of Assize, to be holden at Wagga Wagga.
I had occasion to visit the 'Place of Crows' (aboriginal name of Wagga Wagga) some weeks after. The Assizes were coming on, and armed with the police magistrate's order, I interviewed the captives.
When the cell door was opened, and my friend of the poncho and revolver stood revealed, 'quanto mutatus ab illo Hectore!'—'the plume, the helm, the charger gone'—we looked on each other with very different expressions.
'Well, young man,' said I with careless raillery.
He grinned, as who should say 'Met afore.'
'Better have stuck to the mail-driving,' I continued.
'It's too late to think of that now,' he made answer; 'but I wish I'd broken my leg the day I started this bloomin' racket. It was all through the "Doctor" as they called him. He led us chaps into it, simple, with those yarns of his. Anyway, he's dead and gone now. Serve him dashed well right—and me too for being a fool! I was earning good money, and had no call to turn out. And this is what it's done for me. What d'yer think we're goin' to get? They won't hang us?'
'No,' said I; 'you'll get a dozen years' gaol. Luckily you didn't kill any one, so the chief can let you off light. If you behave yourselves you'll be all out again before the end of your sentence.'
'I'll behave all right—no fear!' he replied. 'I'm full up of this "cross" work.'
​With the leader, 'Captain Blue-cap,' I had a more lengthened interview. Not a bad-looking young fellow, of the stock-rider type, it seemed inexplicable that he should have preferred the life of a hunted outlaw to that of the well-paid, well-fed, easy-going life of a stock-rider. A gentleman's life, so to speak: independent, with change and variety in fair proportion, three or four good horses always at command, and receiving an amount of consideration far above that of any other employé under the rank of overseer; to whose orders, if the proprietor of the station was resident, he did not always hold himself bound to attend. And now—here he was, a fettered captive in the dungeon of the period, awaiting trial, certain of ten years' penal servitude, and not without fear of five years additional, before he walked out a free man again.
We had an amicable conversation, there being 'no animosity' on either side, apparently. It has always struck me as a favourable trait in human nature, that criminals in a general way rarely harbour revengeful feeling against magistrates and others, who are, officially, their natural enemies. Nothing is more common than to hear them say, of the police or higher officials, 'Oh, they're paid for it; it's all in the day's work. I don't blame 'em for doin' their duty.' But the amateur they do hate with an exceeding bitter hatred, as having 'gone out of his way' to do them injury. For which interference with the natural order of affairs they are ready to exact, and have before now exacted, memorable revenge.
However that may be, we chatted away, without the introduction of moral axioms on my side or anarchical references on his. It was a lovely, early summer day, without a solitary cloud in the bright blue sky, and he may, as he watched the sunlight fleck the elm-tree within sight of the barred window of his cell, have had a spasm of regret. For this is what he said, gloomily: 'They call it a short life and a merry one. I didn't see nothen jolly about it.'
'Many a man's found that out, but you're a young man. If you give no trouble in gaol you'll not have to serve all your time. Face it, and look forward to coming out again.'
'God knows!' he said. 'I might be dead before then; but it's the only thing to do, I suppose.'
​'Did you ever get hit,' I said, 'in a scrimmage with the police?'
'That near done for me,' he explained, pulling back his singlet and showing a large, ragged cicatrice over the region of the heart. 'I wish to God it had. But it wasn't the police.'
'How then?'
'Goin' up to a hut at night; the feller waited for me. Them marks are slugs.'
'Wonder it didn't kill you,' I said. 'Must have been a good handful of them.'
'Well, I crawled off, and some chaps I knowed nursed me till I got round. But it was a near thing. "Born to be hanged," they say, "save you a lot." But it won't run to that, d'ye think, sir, when we haven't killed any one?'
'Not quite,' I said, 'though you fired at Mr. Waller and his men with intent, as the Act says, to do serious bodily harm. You'll get a term of imprisonment of course.'
'A long "stretch," I expect,' he said. 'Well; it's no use cryin'. Good-bye, sir, and thanks very much.'
Then we parted. He went on his way and I saw him no more; circumstances prevented that. I never met him or his companions again. They were sentenced to twelve years' imprisonment, and as all this happened thirty odd years ago, they must be out years and years since. Let us hope that they reformed. It is on the cards, also, that they may have 'struck it rich' on a Queensland or West Australian goldfield.
After this capture and disposal of our highwaymen, the land had rest for a season. One of the consequences of the outbreak might have had an ending calculated to surprise the European wool-buyer. Just before the bale of broken fleece referred to was filled up and put into the press, Mrs. Boldrewood recollected that she had never seen the box of ammunition since the day they were huddled into the wool-bale. It was hastily examined and the explosives hauled out, just as the press was being put down; great was the laughter in the shed, as the men thought of the faces of the wool-brokers in a London saleroom when the 'mixed pieces' were turned out for inspection.
I never got my watch back, though my cousin recovered his. The police heard that the bushrangers had, holding out ​a hatful of watches, invited the stock-rider to choose one, for his noble conduct and 'moral support' in my affair. He chose my young friend's, which he afterwards returned to him. But mine I saw never again, having to content me with a silver one of small value for the next decade.