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Authors: Peter Carey

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True History of the Kelly Gang (30 page)

BOOK: True History of the Kelly Gang
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You touch him I said I’ll fire.

Joe raised the tomahawk in his left hand then brought it crashing down upon the leather belt crying out the word c––t with every chop until the shining hateful thing were cut in pieces too small you could not use them to tie up your pants. Joe spat upon the ground he were panting and pale when finally he looked at me again we was both v. embarrassed about what had transpired.

McIntyre sat suddenly his head held in his hands.

We had paid the price we might as well procure the merchandise so we waited for the other 2 police to bring us back the Spencer. Lonigan’s dead body lay beneath sheets of bark but we stayed away from him. On the valley floor it were gloomy and threatening rain but the damned flies was buzzing like a summer’s day excited by the blood for me it is the sound of death forever. Soon Stringybark Creek would be the most famous stream in all the colony but no one could imagine such a forlorn place they couldnt see the dead black wattles or speargrass with no nourishment to offer.

At the end of the long afternoon we finally detected our hunters returning from the north following the creek not slowly neither. But I knew the path were narrow so they wd. be compelled to arrive in single file.

Hsst lads here they come.

We fell into the places we had planned Steve crawling into the police tent with McIntyre’s shotgun and Dan and Joe slinking back into the speargrass. I lay behind a log near the fire where McIntyre obediently sat on the same log so his mates could easily see him when they rode into the camp.

I heard the 1st horse blowing then I ordered McIntyre to stand and speak he done so.

The Kellys are here. You are surrounded.

Very amusing were their answer.

No no throw down your arms.

I waited too long for as I gained my feet I seen the 1st policeman’s hand were at his revolver it were Sergeant Kennedy.

I fired a warning shot then Joe & Dan & Steve all come running shouting. The 2nd policeman were Scanlon he spurred his horse forwards firing at me as he done so. My gun responded and Scanlon lurched onto his horse’s neck and lay there motionless. The Spencer clattered to the ground then Scanlon’s body followed it were lifeless as a bag of spuds.

Events continued without relent Dear God Jesus it were a sorry day. Sgt Kennedy jumped off his horse firing and McIntyre set to running though he were no threat he were intent on stealing Kennedy’s horse. He fled back up towards the track to Toombulup.

Kennedy took one more shot at me then looked around when he seen his horse were gone he retreated into the bush. I picked up the Spencer but it would not fire it were heavy and foreign its mechanism a mystery to me so I threw the cursed thing away. Ahead of me in the deep gloom of the untidy scrub I could see the blue of Kennedy’s uniform.

I called I would not hurt him but he were gone leaving his deadly modern cartridges fallen on the ground. I loaded my .577 Enfield juggling the powder flask & ball & cap as I pursued him.

What he were luring me towards I did not know I tracked him by broken twigs and crushed leaves down onto a boggy little speargrass flat & there he were just 2 perches in advance of me I held my fire.

The ridge on our left flattened and around its apex we were almost at German’s Creek where the cunning b– – – – r suddenly dropped down into a miner’s trench.

I called out to him Surrender I will not harm you. There were no reply the bush suddenly v. quiet except when I begun to move again my boots making the most appalling din the sticks cracking and exploding. I crept back up the ridge hoping to look down into the trench where Kennedy was hid.

Instead he jumped out from behind the tree not 3 yd. before me his pistol flashed my Enfield answered. I got him in the armpit he ran crashing wildly through the scrub and I followed calling at him to surrender as I measured off my powder and dropped in my ball ramming it home with no time for wadding. He wheeled round raising his arm to shoot but I fired 1st.

Curtains of bark hung from the trunks like shredded skin. As he fell I ran to where he lay wide eyed & crumpled then taking possession of his gun I discovered nothing more lethal in his hand than a mass of clotted blood. He had been trying to surrender.

He were shot in the chest and losing a great deal of blood from the wound in his armpit. I knew he were finished so I went to make him comfortable but there is no ease in death.

Ah my poor wife said he I must write to her. Get me my notebook.

He were in great pain I pulled his notebook from his breastpocket it were very bloody but I tore some pages that was unblemished and give him a pencil. When he finished writing I told him I were very sorry more sorry than I could ever make him know. You are a brave man said I.

He sighed and said he were a fool that his wife just lost a boy 11 mo. old little Thomas now she had the grief of losing a husband as well. He told me about his little Tommy how he were a fine strong boy they never thought to lose him he had the grandest smile. He were continually breaking off his narrative for he seemed to be suffering very much and who could bear to look upon him so? Not wanting him to linger alone in such agony I quietly reloaded my gun.

He wished to talk about his little boy again weeping frankly at how he missed him every minute of every day.

I then said soon he would be with him.

Sgt Kennedy looked up at me sharply. You have shed blood enough said he.

I fired and he died instantly without a groan.

On this day of horror when the shadows of the wattle was gluey with men’s blood I could not imagine what wonder might still lie before me. We lads come down across German’s Creek into Bullock Creek driving the police horses before us we now had 4 rifles & 4 Webleys and Joe rode with the Spencer slung across his back. As for me my skin were sour with death.

A friend arrived I will not say his name but thank God he didnt come a day early or else he would of been branded a member of the so called KELLY GANG. He and I had wanted no more than land a hearth to sit by in the night but he seen us in possession of the police horses and knew that dream were gone to smash.

The rain begun sprinkling on the dry earth I wished it could wash away my sin but it come on the cold breath of the Southern Ocean there were no forgiveness there. I told my friend I hoped he would get some good grass from this rain he gave me a folded wad of banknotes having sold his stallion for me I asked would he take the money to Mary Hearn.

Harry Power led me to that hut when I were no older than Steve or Dan. This here is Bullock Creek said he it won’t never betray you. But it were a dead blind place I knew that at 15 yr. of age it were like a beaten dog cowering in the shadow of the hills. All night I had bad dreams very confused I saw Kennedy raising his hand to surrender and me shooting him again & again. In the grey dawn I ordered the boys to set fire to the hateful hut I were glad they never asked me why for I never could have said. As the rain grew heavy we dragged logs and sticks in through the open door there were flour and cans of sardines we kicked them to one side what was we thinking? There was nails & horseshoes but it seems we didnt need their burden. The sky were still dark when we brung the burning torch inside our haven the armoured door swung open useless to protect us. Steve Hart began to sing some mournful song in the old language I told him to be quiet we would write our own damned history from here on.

It were not until the hut were burning that Dan revealed he had a bullet wound from Cons Scanlon he said it werent so bad a scratch but I seen how he held his reins in his left hand and by the time we crossed Kilfeera Station he were hunched over and his teeth was chattering. We imagined the armies of vengeful traps already on our heels not knowing Cons McIntyre had come unhorsed and were hiding in a wombat hole. Grim daylight of the 2nd day showed the smoke rising from my sister’s hut but I would not place her at risk for Harbouring so we skirted farther east-wards all this time Dan looking very bad.

The rain begun in earnest it come down like leaden buckets broke in 1/2 and the clay soil so dry & eager its thirst were slaked easily as a kitten. The runoff were soon a yellow sheet the bark & sticks made dams then broke apart and sailed down into the gullies. The mild level country creeks was now dragging fistfuls from their own banks and as we pushed our mob of horses over the Oxley flats the world were walled & ripped apart by water.

We was making our way towards the mighty Murray River thence the colony of New South Wales not fleeing but retreating. Before we could ford the Murray we had to cross the Ovens River before that we must ride 30 mi. through countless streams swamps and bogs arriving at the Ovens on the 3rd day around 2 o’clock in the morning. We could hear the roar of the river rocks and logs bumping the pylons in the dark though the bridge itself appeared unflooded.

Dan were looking very ill indeed so I ordered Joe Byrne to knock up the landlord from Moon’s Pioneer Hotel and get some brandy he must pay the full tariff I said we was not thieves. Joe let out a very bitter laugh striding towards the dark hotel angrily slapping his whip against his sturdy thigh.

After the grog arrived Dan drank and vomited then we pushed on across the bridge but the flood had claimed the road on the other side so we was forced upstream until Taylor’s Gap when we finally drove the 4 police horses & the 2 packhorses into the flood.

The current here were v. swift with Dan not steady in his saddle I therefore mounted behind him as we swum across together he were still the little nipper cursing me so violently he made me laugh. It were here my copy of LORNA DOONE were ruined also Sgt Kennedy’s message to his wife for when I dried the paper afterwards nothing were writ on it no more.

Coming back downstream into the dismal rainsodden hamlet of Everton we knocked up an old man in a nightgown Coulson were his name. I counted out the full price for what we took telling him my name so he could tell Ned Kelly were no thief.

Up in the high ranges west of Beechworth we finally rode into the scrub on the hill above Aaron Sherritt’s selection. We fired off 8 shots and sure enough Joe’s childhood friend trotted up the hill on a bay mare he walked around us silent examining the police stock I could see his troubled eyes study their brands they was clearly marked VR.

I asked had he heard any news about us but as usual he looked 1st to Joe.

Whats the story cobber?

Joe shook his head I could see Aaron were most offended by his silence yet wouldnt turn to me for information.

Whats the story Dan? The boy were all waxy skinned and hunched over in his saddle he couldnt answer neither. Then Joe offered up the Spencer repeater from its holster but Aaron could see VR stamped on its stock he would not touch it.

At last he looked my way saying I might follow him if I liked.

We soon was riding single file along the path the hill were becoming v. steep he took us round the shoulder of Native Dog Peak. Here we finally come to a clear piece of ground where horses was lately kept you could see the worn earth the clear scars on the trees where they had been eating bark. Joe wd. attend to the hobbling he said.

Aaron escorted me and my brother down the hill along a kind of footpath high above the precipice Dan were leaning on me heavily but soon the way were too narrow for the pair of us.

I’ll carry you.

I can effing walk. He teetered but I got my arm under him with the rock to the left of us & thin air on the right he were yelping like a puppy before we come around a corner and to my great relief we found a cave.

I propped him up against the wall. I said You’ll be all right Dan.

What you going to do?

Aaron straight away begun to light a fire.

No said Dan the traps will see the smoke.

But in all this rain the smoke were no danger so once the fire were well established I passed Dan the whisky bottle. Eff that said he and pushed it away his eyes was on the branding iron Aaron had lain upon the coals.

I squatted in front of him.

Do I have to?

You’re a Kelly I said.

I wish I werent.

After we waited Joe came in to announce the horses was hobbled. Steve Hart sat with his arms round his knees staring into the fire I wonder if he wished he were not a Hart that his daddy hadnt filled his head with all them rebel stories.

Reckon we’re ready said Aaron removing the hot iron it were a little straight line brand commonly used to change a C into an E. I helped Dan take off his shirt the wound on his right shoulder were raw and red the pus was pooling in its center. Aaron asked were he ready but Dan drew away.

Then Aaron gone into the back of the cave to fetch the yen pipe he sometimes shared with Joe.

I don’t want that Chinky ess it makes me puke.

Suit yourself said Aaron setting aside the pipe to pick up the glowing brand once more.

I want my brother to do it.

Suit yourself.

When Aaron give me the iron Dan turned to face me holding out his right hand and I took it like I were walking him across the creek to school.

Ready?

Eff it he said and I lay it exactly on the wound. The smallest sound came from his lips his eyes rolled back in his head. The poor little b––––r smelled like a sausage in the pan.

There were a great commotion in the night I heard the girlish voice 1st it were damned insistent but I couldnt make out who she were nagging. It were raining hard outside I could see her agitated shadow in the weather back and forth like a fruit bat lost in the storm.

You are a blessed tragedy she said as far as I could judge she were no more than 12 yr. old. You was always a larrikin said she well I can’t complain I knew that of you but this time you have turned yourself into as great a tragedy as ever walked. And I always thought your mother hard on you.

My mother is an adjectival cow said Joe Byrne suddenly very loud.

Don’t she cried I aint going in there.

Come on my sweet.

It smells awful something’s dead. Don’t pull at me Joe I aint a heifer.

But for all her protests she did what were requested they passed along the wall behind my head her wet skirt brushing my face.

BOOK: True History of the Kelly Gang
9.74Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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