Recollections of Thunderbolt.

Cromwell Argus, Volume 1, Issue 46, 28 September 1870, Page 7

Recollections of Thunderbolt.

—o [From tho Armidale Teleyraph ] As my acquaintance with Thunderbolt was of very recent date prior to his being j shot, it has occurred to me that it might 1 tend to interest the majority of your readers ■ wore I to give an account of tho leading i occurrences of his life, aa narrated to me I by the bushranger himself, since the time he took up lawless pursuits. My first introduction to the freebooter arose in this wise. My father and myself, who are miners, were engaged in prospecting in a very wild and desolate district of New England, situate among the gorges at the j head of the Guy Fawkes, a tributary of the Clarence; and here, whilst we were engaged in driving our packhorses over a creek, we one day encountered a lone bushman, who " joined our party. The man was dressed in moleskin trousers, long boots and spurs, Crimean shirt, and a rough high hat. He bestrode a horse which was more remarkable for strength than beauty, and carried rather ostentatiously, as I thought, a revolver in his belt. The stranger seemed equally surprised with my father and myself at the meeting, and after merely exchanging the compliments of the day, rode off and disappeared in the neighboring ravines. My father, who told me afterwards he had known Ward personally at an earlier period of his career, said, “ Did you know who that was 1” And on my answering him in the negative, replied, “ That is Thunderbolt.” After the bushranger’s departure we continued our work for some hours, till the sun was getting low, and when settled in camp for the night, and seated by the fire, I was surprised, on looking round, to behold the mounted bushranger close to my back. He accosted me by saying, “Good evening, stranger and inquired whether I had seen any horses about! After telling him that I had not, he then inquired the name of the nearest station, and how far it was away'? I said , Nowhind’s or Newby’s was the nearest, the latter being called Paddy’s Land, which was 12 miles off. “ And what may your name besaid tho bushman. “ My name is Q !” I rejoined, “and the man with me is my father.” Thunderbolt thereupon dismounted, hobbled his horse, and spent the night with i.s. He revived his old acquaintanceship with my father, gave us an account of his late career, and the robberies, perils, and hardships of his bnshranging life. He refused the proffered shelter of our tent, remarking that for the last seven years he had never slept but for one night in abed, and preferred camping in his own blanket outside. I had never seen the bushranger before, and was much struck with the mildness of his conversation, the candour of his narrative, and the justness of his views regarding his unlawful courses. I was astonished at his tales, and felt great commiseration for the misguided and unhappy criminal. His account of his daring and courageous escape from Cockatoo seven years before more particularly interested me, as I have often heard it stated by those well qualified to give an opinion, that he never could have swam from the island, by reason of the distance not less than on account of the number of sharks, and that he must have been assisted by some confederate in a boat. The way he told ns he accomplished his escape was by getting a fellow prisoner, as a first step, to build him up and secrete him in a quantity of bricks lying near the water. There, in silence he waited the approach of night. He heard with anything but satisfaction an officer order a party of convicts to place upon the bricks a quantity of lime, in bags, a small cargo of which had been landed on the island. The order was executed, and for a short time the bushranger was under apprehensions that he must be suffocated. At dark he commenced to disentomb himself, and after many struggles succeeded. He heard the sentries walking their rounds by the margin of the island. The first idea that occured to him was to rush and tumble the , guard into the water, and swim away, but fortunately for the sentry he himself rendered this unnecessary, by withdrawing to have a chat with his comrade, during which time the bushranger glided into the water and swam three miles to a place of safety. He hated the bondage of Cockatoo and its convict company, and seemed to regard it as a place little better than the infernal regions. Besides his natural halted of confinement, another object, he said, induced him to effect his escape from Cockatoo, which was a desire to shoot his uncle, who, he affirmed, had born false ’ witness against him, thereby leading to his conviction on a charge of horse stealing, of which he was quite innocent, This revengeful purpose forsook . him as he was swimming, when ■ he formed a resolution | to shod no blood bn any account; and his

whole criminal career was free from cruelty, treachery, and bloodshed. Thunderbolt was a generous robber, if a term like that can be applied to such a criminal. He related to us how lie had occasionally visited Queensland, Liverpool Plains, the Clwyder, and other districts, in the course of his predatory life. He boasted that he was not afraid of the police, because they were no buslmren, and consequently unable to ride after him. He referred, among other encounters he had had with the police, to one 'at the Hocks, at Uralla (near the spot where he ultimately met his death), where the police, under Sergeant Granger, attacked him and his mate, and wounded him. He said his horse got bogged, and that he limped away on foot, the police not daring to follow him. He confessed to having been hard pressed at times ; particularly on one occasion by a constable named Dalton, at Tainworth, who, he said, was a brave man. On one occasion, he said, he robbed the mail of £I7OO, but he seldom had as much money as to enable him to pay his way, which he always did when possible. He had often had to endure great hardships for want of food, and more especially for want of water. On one occasion, in company with another bushranger, during a drought, they were three days without water. His mate’s horse died, and the rider succumbed, and lay down to die also. Thunderbolt left him in search of water, assuring his mate of his return, if lie found it. His own hunger and thirst increased to such a degree that he shot his horse for the purpose of driukiug ica blood, after which be collected a quantity in his boot for future supply. Wandering about for more than a day, he came at length to some sludge, and sucked the muddy water from the earth, but could collect none for his mate. I ooking about, he saw a hole covered with a piece of bark, but no water in it. He continued his starch, and found other holes, covered in like manner, and dry. At last, on lifting up a piece of bark, imagine his delight on discovering a bucket of water in a hole. After refreshing himself, he filled his boots, and travelled back to where he left his dying m itc, from whom he fjSund the breath departing. Wetting his lips, and gradually supplying him with more water, he recovered strength, and joined Thunderbolt in his journey. New England was the chief place of the bushranger’s resort. He was afraid to leave what lie deemed his safe haunts in that district, and imperil his liberty by attempting to escape to a foreign country. It was liis proud boast to say that he had never violated female virtue, or shed blood, and he regretted that he should ever have induced youths to join him. Some had joined him unasked. He himself' was 10 years of age before he had been guilty of any crime, and then ho was then led by others into it. Although in appearance he looked between 40 and 50 years of age, he stated that he was nob more than 30. It was a peculiarity of Thuuderbolt’s, that he could never rob anyone with whom he first entered into conversation : his nature would not permit him. Hence his custom was to ride up to a person he intended to rob, and without another word simply demand his money. He pretended never to have known what fear was, and instanced this by telling a story of some gentleman in New England who had made a boast that he would shoot Thunderbolt the first time he met him. A short time after, Thunderbolt met the boaster, and saw that he was armed. Boldly riding up to him, the bushranger asked his name, and he told him. He intimated that he know who he was, adding, “I am Thunderbolt.” The gentleman, he said, trembled, and fumbled for his revolver, observing which, he cried out, “Up with your arms, or I’ll blow your brains out. You were to shoot me ; now is my time.” Thunderbolt, however, assured him of his safety, and rode many miles along with him on his way. In company with one of his youthful proteges, he one day stuck-up a public-house where a number of men were drinking at the bar. He entered, and, according to the usual custom, ordered them to “ bail up.” The publican, calculating how a compliance with the demand would affect his till and cash-box, made a desperate leap, and seized the bushranger by the arras in a way that prevented him from using his revolver, the half-drunken men stolidly looking on at the struggle, without rendering assistance. The bushranger admitted this to be one of the narrowest escapes from capture he had ever experienced.