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Past and Present, and Men of the Times.

Chapter IV

page 22

Chapter IV.

"Sam Terry" and "Bill Nash"—A Jollification in the Bush—A Grim Joke—Interviewed by Bushrangers.

After passing the guard of soldiers who were bringing in Lynch to be tried, we continued our journey, and reached the Emu Station, 130 miles from Sydney, without any serious mishap. This property belonged to Smith and Terry, and was worked entirely by assigned convict servants and ticket-of-leave men. It carried 140,000 sheep, 400 horses, and 300 head of cattle. This was in 1833. The well-known Terry, one of the proprietors, was one of the wealthiest men in New South Wales at that time. He had originally been transported for life from home, but obtained a pardon when young, and made his colossal fortune by lucky speculation in land. He had never been to school, and he had taught himself the little he knew. He was a singular character, and notwithstanding his immense wealth, was never called by any other title than "Sam Terry." His chief regret through life was being unable to visit the Old Country, his pardon only extending to the colonies. This was exemplified in the case of another colonial millionaire, "Bill Nash," who obtained a pardon, although exiled for life. This man went to England from Sydney, and thinking that money would do anything, had the impudence to start a carriage and eight, in which he drove in Hyde Park; and upon one occasion actually interfered with the progress of the Royal carriage by being driven in front of the Queen. Enquiries were instituted, and his antecedents revealed, and, although the wealthiest colonist of the day, he got notice to return to his former haunts, page 23which he did rather hurriedly, and died in Sydney some years after leaving an immense fortune. Sam Terry, in his anxiety for a glimpse of his old home, offered, if the Government would allow him to make a visit, to build a frigate, arm her, and hand her over to Her Majesty free of cost. His princely offer was declined, and poor Sam had to rest content with the quarters assigned him for the rest of "his natural life."

We were mustering the sheep and getting ready for a start down-country, and had been several days on the station, when suddenly two new arrivals appeared upon the scene. These were Messrs. Smith and Sam Terry. They were on the road to the station, and about five miles from the end of their journey, when they were "stuck up" by two bushrangers, who took their horses and what money they had from them, and left them to continue their journey on foot. Sam Terry was very strict and near in his ways, and his style of behaviour was not generally liked by his servants, who were, perforce, mostly convicts. Smith, Terry, and all the men who were with me collected together in the large hut that night, and there was a general jollification. Sam Terry related the adventure with the bushrangers, and remarked that, but for the cowardice of Smith, he would have taken the two bushrangers and brought them on to the station, instead of having to walk home on foot. He then asked what firearms were in the station. The overseer said there were ten muskets and ten charges of ammunition. Smith asked what he wanted the information for; he replied "To go after the bushrangers who stole our horses." Smith said "You had better leave them alone; you or I will never miss a horse or two; I lost my watch, and am well pleased; I might have lost my life." Terry said "They got £10 from me, I cannot forgive that, I always thought you were a coward, Smith; I wished I had fired at them." Smith replied that he did not think he was cowardly, but under such circumstances, he believed discretion was the better part of valour; and had Terry fired he would not be there to tell the tale. The sequel will show that Sam was not such a great warrior after all. There were twenty-seven of us all told, sitting round about in the hut, which was built of what is known as "wattle and daub," or poles and mud, and roofed with the bark of a gum-tree. At about eight o'clock two men came to the open door, and, without further ceremony, commanded us to "bail-up," and go in one corner of the hut. page 24We did so like a flock of sheep, the valiant Sam Terry among the rest. These were the redoubtable robbers, the subject of the conversation they had so unceremoniously interrupted. They each had a double-barelled gun in their hands, and a pair of pistols in their belts, and their hair was of patriarchal growth—a pair of as uninviting-looking ruffians as could possibly be imagined. They ordered Sam Terry to make some tea, and told me to bring a stool near the door, that they might sit down and still command the inmates of the hut. One of them remarked, "I have seen you before with a mob of cattle," and then I remembered him. He asked me how many, and if all the men in the station were in the hut. I replied that having been on the station only a few days I could not say, but Mr. Smith or Terry would inform them. Sam Terry who was very unwillingly doing the honours, said "Every man on the station is here to-night," One of the guests pulled out a watch to look at the time, and remarked, "Mr. Smith, this watch of yours, does not keep very good time." Rather a grim joke for the owner, to whom he was speaking.

They kept Sam Terry at work for nearly an hour, and then told him to clear away the table, which he did with as good a grace as he could muster. They then said all they wanted was gunpowder, which they meant to have, if it was on the station. Sam Terry was ordered to bring one man at a time to the door, and tie his hands behind his back. This was done until all hands were helpless, Terry remarking to Smith, when his time came, "This is a fine job I have got into;" and one of the bushrangers said, "I intend to give you a better one presently." The men were then ordered back into the corner, and I was deputed to tie Sam Terry. One of our captors then said, "I will do you the favour of a polite introduction to ourselves, and inform you whom you have so hospitably entertained tonight." Certainly we had not "entertained angels unawares," judging from their looks. He made me sit down near the door, and the other kept his gun at full cock all the time. He said his name was "Donoghue," and his mate's "Jackey-Jackey," and they had escaped some time ago from the Stockade on Liverpool Plains, and had been living a free and jolly life ever since. This was very possible in those days, for the hut-keepers and servants generally being of the criminal class, their sympathies went with old chums in crime, and they would shelter and assist them in page 25preference to giving them up to justice. Besides, to turn informer, was generally their death warrant from some of the bushrangers' "pals" sooner or later.

"When Mr. Donoghue had thus explained himself, he asked Sam Terry where the gunpowder was kept. He referred him to the overseer, who said it was in a small hut at the back of the stockyard. He then untied my hands, and ordered the overseer to precede him to the store. He took me with him, and I handed out two tins of powder and some buck-shot, Donoghue keeping his gun in position the whole time; his mate doing duty as sentry at the hut while we were away. We then turned to the hut, and Donoghue remarked to Terry, "I have a good mind to make you carry a bag of sugar a mile or two out into the bush." Sam turned quite pale at the thought of being made a packhorse of, but the bushranger did not press him into the service. He made me do up some tea and sugar and put into a bag for them. They now made up their minds to leave, and gave orders that none of the men were to leave the corner or have their hands unfastened for full two hours after they took their departure, and at the expiry of that time I was to loose them, my hands having been left untied for that purpose. They remarked, casually, that they might take it into their heads to return before that time, and if any man was found loose he would have his brains blown out on the spot. They then bid us "goodnight," and left. It was about twelve o'clock, and a beautiful moonlight night. I made up a good fire to keep the captives comfortable. They kept up a pretty lively conversation on the late performances of the freebooters, and the incongruity of two of the richest men in New South Wales being prisoners and helpless in their own house. The men, Sam Terry in particular, expressed no very earnest wish to be untied, probably fearing a return of the bushrangers, and it was fully five hours after their departure before any general wish for freedom was expressed. I then undid their bonds, and a feeling of security began to steal over them all. The two bushrangers did not return, and probably never meant to when they threatened to do so. Sam Terry expressed a fervent hope that he should reach Sydney without a repetition of the acquaintance, and promised himself a long immunity from trips up-country in the future. Messrs. Smith and Terry having completed their business on the station, left for Sydney, taking two men with them, and three page 26days after I started with four men and 4000 sheep for the market. We were over three weeks on the trip, and had very good uck with the sheep, losing very few. They were sent to the market, and realised good prices. Altogether the trip was a very successful one. Driving sheep is a very monotonous occupation, especially if they are fat and cannot be hurried.