The Last of the Bushrangers: An Account of the Capture of the Kelly GangHare, Francis Augustus
History
The Last of the Bushrangers: An Account of the Capture of the Kelly Gang
Hare, Francis Augustus
Brigands and robbers -- Australia; Kelly, Ned, 1855-1880
I consented to this suggestion, and he accompanied me. I left two men
at his house, one of whom knew the outlaws, and I went with two men to
his mother's. I had a conversation with his mother, and she asked me to
be careful and not to shoot any of her sons. She had two besides Aaron,
Jack and Willie. I went inside their barn--a large open building,
within a few yards of their dwelling-house. It was filled with straw,
and the two nights I spent in that building with my two men beggars
description. The pigs slept in the straw, and the fleas beat anything I
ever felt in all my life; the mice, also, were running over me, and I
really believe that a snake went over me also; but there was a chance
of the Kellys coming there, and that was enough for us. I had arranged
with Mrs. Sherritt that if she heard footsteps, or any one coming to
the place during the night, she would call out, as a signal, "Is that
you, Jack, or Willie?" and I could hear their reply. Aaron stayed all
night in his mother's house, in case the outlaws called to see him.
Once or twice during the night I heard footsteps approaching the house,
and, of course, my heart was in my mouth, expecting it might be the
welcome visitors; but, alas! Mrs. Sherritt came to the door when the
dogs barked, and called out, "Is that you, Jack?" and the answer was,
"Yes." I stayed there a second night, but at daylight next morning I
got up and left with my two men. The horrors of that place frequently
come before me, and I shudder when I think of the hours I spent in that
barn.
On my way to my camp I called at Aaron's hut, picked up the two men I
had left there two nights previously, and took up my position under the
rock, feeling as if I had got home again; the bare rock was paradise
compared with the abominable place I had just left.
I must now come to the closing act of my stay at the camp in the
mountains. We had been about twenty-three nights watching there. Our
breakfast consisted of bread and sardines, and a drink of water; dinner
and supper the same, varied with tinned beef. In the midst of our camp
was a large stone, which was used as a table. We never could have a
fire. The food, whatever there was, was placed on the stone. Each man
would get up from his position, take what he wanted, and go back to
where his rifle lay, and eat the food there; no two men went to the
so-called table at the same time.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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