Inmate No. 3 of the Proserpine.
The Proserpine Reformatory couldn’t reform James Duffy. Unfortunately, nothing could. The son of a colourful ticket of leave man, young James led a life of petty crime and misadventure.
James was born in Brisbane on 22 July at 1856, the third son of Timothy Duffy and Catherine Fahey. His father was 53, and had been transported for life in 1822. A hard-won ticket of leave in 1844 gave Timothy Duffy the right to live in (and not leave, please and thank you very much), Moreton Bay.
Duffy senior took up work as a fisherman, in between Court appearances for using “obscene and profane language” at the merest provocation. Perhaps not the most gracious of households, but the other Duffy children managed to avoid similar fates.
Petty Crime and Punishment
Young James was 14 years old when he was sentenced to three years in the Industrial School and Reformatory, and on his third conviction for dishonesty. Short stays in adult goals hadn’t deterred him at all, and he was brought before the Bench for stealing a desk and its contents from respectable Mr Thynne at Kangaroo Point. James was not a criminal mastermind, and managed to be seen in broad daylight by several witnesses, including a lifelong acquaintance, in possession of the desk.
In April 1871, he boarded the Proserpine, his appearance recorded as “fair complexion, grey eyes and dark hair” and served two years of his sentence. He then traded life on board a stationary ship for life on board his father’s fishing boat.
“A lad named James Duffy, son of Mr. Timothy Duffy, fisherman, of Kangaroo Point, met with a very painful accident on board the pilot cutter Spitfire, on Friday last. It appears that it is the custom, when the vessel is at anchor, for the men to procure a supply of fish by means of small torpedoes, which, on being lighted and thrown into the water, kill all the fish within a radius of several yards. At about 11 a.m. on the day named, when the cutter was moored off the Pilot Station, Moreton Island, Duffy ignited the fuse of one of these torpedoes, and, it seems, did not throw it into the water sufficiently quick, for it exploded while being held in his hand. All the fingers of the right hand, in which he was holding the explosive, were completely blown off, the left hand was considerably shattered, and his face more or less injured- one eye having a very narrow escape from a wound inflicted upon the temple. The wounds were dressed as well as possible under the circumstances, and a telegram was at once sent up to Captain Wyborn, who despatched the new pilot steamer to bring the sufferer to Brisbane. The steamer returned to town about 2 o’clock on Saturday morning, and the lad was conveyed, to the hospital, where he was received in a very precarious state, having been rendered exceedingly weak from loss of blood. By prompt attention, however, he was sufficiently restored to have his wounds properly dressed, and he is now, we believe, progressing favourably.” Brisbane Courier (Qld. : 1864 – 1933), Monday 3 August 1874, page 2
So much for honest work.
In 1875, Duffy returned to theft, the Courts and Brisbane Gaol. This time, he stole a £1 note from the purse of a friend’s wife. The accused claimed the charge was laid as a result of a falling-out with his friend, but Duffy was the only person with access to the purse during the time the offence was committed. Six months in prison seemed a bit steep for one pound, but Duffy had form.
Brisbane Gaol was starting to record its prisoners with photographs in 1875, and here is James Duffy at 19, all tousled hair and moustaches, covering the missing part of one hand by holding his hat in front. Everything about his dress and grooming screamed “Larrikin.”
The Big Steal
On 24 October 1879, Duffy decided that he was going for “the big one.” He recruited some like-minded individuals for a job on a printer’s shop in Telegraph Lane. His connections had dropped some information about a safe, in need of repair, that contained around £100!
It turned out to be a bit harder to get into the “broken” safe than anticipated, and the great criminal mastermind legged it with the £4 the safe actually contained, and some pieces of paper. Needless to say, he was caught. Needless to say, he was imprisoned. For three years.
Timothy Duffy passed away at the age of 72 that year. His land and property did not go to his third son – however much James might have longed for a windfall.
A new life in Sydney
On release, James Duffy headed to New South Wales and fetched up in Liverpool, Sydney. Misfortune followed. Duffy shared his digs with a much older, married woman named Annie Overill, described as a “woman of very intemperate habits.” One evening in September 1883, Duffy returned home from a day’s work as a hawker, and found Annie dead on the front room sofa. The cause of death was severe apoplexy.
In January 1884, Duffy pled guilty to having no visible means of support, and was given one month with hard labour. Around the time the sentence was due to finish, James Duffy, aged 27, was admitted to the Liverpool Asylum for the Infirm and Destitute. He died there on 21 March, 1884.
Moreton Bay and More 
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