Chronicles of Queensland in the early days:
Some Early Bushrangers— Race Meeting on the Condamine— Knocking Down Big Cheques— A Hot Time— Sticking up the Mail— A Good Bit of Tracking — A Pigeon-toed Horse —Capture of the Criminals— Kirk and Grey— A “Green” Police Sergeant
(BY “OLD CHUM”). No. 71
Many years ago, a correspondent, whose name I have, unfortunately, forgotten, sent me some notes regarding bushranging in Queensland. In the early days, although the material of which bushrangers are made – horse-stealers and cattle duffers – was plentiful, bushranging as a profession never took root. The Wild Frenchman on the Western Downs and the Wild Scotchman in the Burnett district were only paltry pilferers from shepherd’s huts, with an occasional sticking-up, in a spirit of bravado, of a back-track mail boy. Of these men, whose appearance in the limelight was of short duration, more presently. The most elaborate attempt at bushranging was that made by two men, not even middle-aged, who had made the mother colony too hot to hold them, and who filled their spare time in the season, at jobs of shearing, horse-breaking, when they could get it, horse-stealing and cattle-duffing when the opportunity offered: in the winter passing from one bush shanty to another, picking up crumbs at poker and euchre playing. In the early sixties, an ex-mail contractor, who did a little on the turf, and was an all-round smart man, erected a good-sized rough building, which was to do duty as a store, public-house, and post-office, the usual combination in a new district. This was at the place where the new track to Roma, Bungle, and Mount Abundance crossed the Condamine River, the old track continuing down the river to Talavera Surat and St. George’s Bridge. The embryo town was christened the “Condamine Township.” The Condamine was named by Allan Cunningham (its discoverer) after Lieutenant de la Condamine, who was on the staff of Sir Ralph Darling, Governor of Eastern Australia, under the name of New South Wales, 1823-1831. This gentleman, who was an army officer, was the founder of what is now the Sydney Public Library, and, incidentally, the pioneer of public libraries in Australia.
(ABC.net)
At the close of the shearing season Wallace, the publican, opened business with a two days’ race meeting that brought people from all quarters. Supers, shearers, stockmen, jackaroos, and hutkeepers came along and had a real good time – drinking, fighting, betting, “blowing,” and knocking down their cheques generally, all the paper falling into Mr Wallace’s hands. A special conveyance – a four horse Yankee waggonette – started from Dalby, carrying the mail and a full load of passengers; relays of horses were posted at different stages along the route. On the third morning after the races the waggonette was loaded up for its return journey; part of the load was the mailbag containing the cheques and orders which had fallen into publican Wallace’s net. A visitor, with a saddle and bridle (his horse had been “borrowed”), made an extra passenger. Notwithstanding the blazing hot weather and the sandy track, the waggonette with its load made fair headway till within seven miles of Kogan Creek, where two men on foot, with strips of blankets, with cuttings for eyes in them, covering their faces, stepped from behind two trees, presented revolvers, and ordered the driver to “bail-up.” The next order was that the mail bags should be handed over, and “that saddle and bridle” also. Both demands were promptly complied with; the passengers were not interfered with. The near-side leader in the team, a grey, was unhooked and unharnessed, the commandeered bridle clapped on, and the mailbags strapped on the saddle. After administering a caution to driver and passengers about “talking too much,” the pair took their departure.
That evening a horseman carried the news to Dalby. The Police Magistrate -an ex reverend – D McD Sinclair, was the first informed. He communicated with the chief constable, Upjohn, who wore three stripes on his coat sleeve. The P.M. and C.C. enlisted the services of Tom W______, a well-known bushman, and one-time owner of the stolen grey horse, that had the peculiarity of being, like George Reid, pigeon-toed, but differing from George, in that he was only pigeon-toed on the near forefoot. Tom swore that he could track him over rocks. All arrangements having been made, the pair – Upjohn and Tom – well mounted and armed, started before daylight next morning. They reached the spot, a trifle over 30 miles, where the waggonette had been stuck-up. Looking about to pick up the tracks, they found on a log the two pieces of blanket, a pocket knife, and a broken hair-comb. The horse tracks were easily seen. Tom struck the pigeon-toed ones. They bore straight for the Condamine River, about seven miles distant. They crossed, the river near the Jimbour washpool, then went down the river on the opposite side, past Warrah Warrah, on to Job Sturt’s, another shanty. Job denied that anyone had been seen near the place. A lie: as the plunder had been divided there, the pair had separated, and left the grey horse outside the paddock fence. A fresh track of a single horse was picked up and followed on the road that led to Chinchilla, Leichhardt’s last stopping-place on his last journey. The super at Chinchilla told the chief constable that one of his men, Harry Kirk, had been to the Condamine Races, and thought that he was then in his hut. This was at once visited: Harry’s “missus” was at home, but Harry was absent. The “missus” thought he had gone to the Baking Board, another backblock shanty, distant a good 70 miles from Dalby.
After lunch and a pot of tea provided by the super, the chief constable, who was “very green,” had lost the sheathing from the calves of his legs and hips, the blood oozing through his unmentionables. The super lent him a blanket to act as a cushion to sit on. He wanted to camp, and his condition became pitiable. Tom said, “No: come on.” and on he went, Upjohn following. Before bedtime the Baking Board was reached; the horses were tied to two saplings in front of the house. Tom got out his six-shooter, and walked straight in, Upjohn, poor fellow, crawling behind. Sitting round a table in the front room on the right, a number of men were playing cards. Tom walked boldly in, presented the revolver, and said, “Harry Kirk, stand up.” The poor beggar looked scared. Upjohn then appeared. He walked to Kirk and arrested him in the Queen’s name. Kirk was removed into the parlour and searched. On him were found cheques and orders representing in value £200. He was then taken into a small bedroom off the parlour. Upjohn then obtained all the saddle-straps that could be got, and secured, as he thought, Kirk to the sleeping bunk. He then got some oil and dressed his abrasions, drew a “colonial donkey,” otherwise sofa, across the doorway, and stretched himself on it, advising Tom to turn in, as he (Upjohn) would watch the prisoner. Tom laid himself down on another donkey and went to sleep. A great noise and scuffle awoke him in the night. He jumped up and found Upjohn and Harry struggling on the floor, the latter uppermost, and Upjohn nearly choked. Harry in a few more seconds would have cleared out. Tom wired in and changed the situation. No more sleep that night! They started in the morning homewards by a shorter and more direct track. Before the stars had gone to bed, Upjohn was in a miserable condition yet vowed that he could keep up. Kirk was secured to his horse, Tom leading it, Harry’s arms tied to his side.
After daybreak nothing more was seen of Upjohn until that night at close on 12 o’clock. Tom hurried along and delivered his prisoner at the lock-up. Next day another bushman and a constable arrived with the other mail robber, Paddy Grey. He took the Burnett road after leaving Sturt’s. At the Police Court inquiry, Upjohn took all the credit of the business; “by his own tale he did all the smart work,” and was subsequently promoted as a “most zealous officer.” Kirk and Grey were sentenced by Mr. Justice Lutwyche to 10 years each. Kirk died of gaol fever; “Grey might be in Sydney or a hotter place for all I know.”
Truth (Brisbane, Qld.: 1900 – 1954), Sunday 30 June 1912, page 12
Moreton Bay and More 