CONVICT LIFE IN NEW SOUTH WALES.

New Zealand Times, Volume XXX, Issue 4546, 15 October 1875, Page 3

CONVICT LIFE IN NEW SOUTH WALES.

(From the Taranaki Ilerald.)

From the stories of convict life related by the Kev. P. P. Agnew, at the Odd Fellows' Hall, Taranaki, ive select that of Dan the bushranger. On Cockatoo Island, at the mouth of the Paramatta River, the convicts had to sleep in a set of pigeon holes cut out of the rock. No less than 120 men were thus huddled together, like bottles in a wine-bin, and their sufferings in the hot nights of the terrible climate of New South Wales were very great. One night, when the men could not sleep by reason of the heat, the sentinel who guarded them, armed with a loaded musket, said to them : " Look here, men, I have been a soldier for twenty years, and have never got promotion ; why should I attempt to prevent your escape t" Hearing these words, the prisoners called a public meeting, and voted Dan, who was amongst them, to the chair. Dan said : " I do not believe in that soldier, but suppose we make an attempt to escape." Now, the only place by ' wliich this could be effected was by a window, but that was very strongly barred. There were some very skilful men among these prisoners, who worked at their trades outside the prison, and one of these proposed to construct an instrument by which the bars of the window could be thrust apart, so as to permit the men to pass between them. In six weeks the engine was completed. It consisted of two short bars of iron or steel, which screwed into each end of a cylinder, and by the revolution of this cylinder they were made to project or retire. It had much the appearance of a telescope. One night, when the moonlight was partially obscured by cloudß, and the sentinel who had promised not to prevent their escape was again on guard, the attempt was made. The instrument was applied to the bars, they opened out, and Dan made the first I attempt to s;et out. But just as he got his head out the sentry cautioned him, saying there was

someone coming. When all was again still Dan made another attempt, but this time he received a sword cut across his breast. The treacherous sentinel had incited the prisoners to endeavor to escape in order that he might appear to be the detecter of the affair, and so gain promotion. Between Dan's first and second attempt to escape he had secretly alarmed the guard, and it was from the officer's sword that Dan received his wound. The result of this affair was that the prisoners were punished, and the sentinel was made a corporal. I had Dan after that in the central prison, and I had him taught book-binding. He was a tall, lithe, fair man, with a hand like that of a lady. As a bushranger he had succeeded in obtaining £BOOO. With this sum hs escaped from the colony, but he soon spent the whole of it in low company in England. Returning to the colony he again obtained a considerable sum, and again escaped to England, where he spent it all. Now he was in prison for making a third attempt to follow his old profession. As his chaplain, I asked him if he thought he coidd be honest if he were again restored to liberty, or if he would attempt to rob me if he met me on the road. He replied, that should I meet him, he would advise me to get quickly out of the road, for he believed he should be tempted to rob his own father if he had a chance. One day he stole a very fine colt, and as he was riding off with it, he met another bushranger, who accosted him thus: "Dan, you have got a beautiful colt, but I don't think he will stand fire." "Yes he will," said Dan, firing off one of his pistols over the animal's head. But the other bushranger complained that Dan had not tried the animal fairly, and incited him to fire off his other piece. Dan fired, and as soon as he had done so the other bushranger pointed his piece at him and told him to stand and deliver. And so Dan lost his beautiful colt. But Dan followed the man for three weeks, and at last ran him down at a low shanty of a publichouse. Coming upon his victim unawares he covered him with his piece, and cried out, " Stand and deliver." His reprisals amounted to the sum of £I7OO. When Dan got his liberty he again took to bushranging, but this was his last business, for in it he met with death. There were many excellent traits in this man's character—much chivalry—that if he had been wisely dealt with, the Government might have made him a useful member of sooiety. When it was known that Dan was again on the road, the whole district was in terror. The Government offered £3OO for his capture, dead or alive, but the New South Wales police failed to take him. At last three mounted policemen, from Melbourne, headed by George Flower, were employed on this service. Flower was known as one of the bravest and most honorable men in the force. These men tracked Dan to a solitary hut on a creek, kept by two disreputable women.. They had a black with them, and to him they gave their horses while they approached the hut on foot, from three different points. Dan's horse, bridled and saddled, was hitched to a post outside the hut, and the sagacious animal, conscious that its master was in danger, gave the alarm. A woman came out of the hut and screamed. Dan rushed out, mounted his horse, and rode past his pursuers, who discharged their carbines at him without effect. The police mounted and pursued, but in endeavoring to leap a creek, abreast of each other, the weight of their horses brought down the bank, and they all fell in the creek, and by the time they extricated themselves Dan had escaped. The police then spread the report that George Flower had been drowned in the creek. Dan now took up his residence in a very beautiful spot on the edge of the bush, and one lovely sprinsr morning, when the acacias were all in blossom, the dew upon the grass, and the air full of fragrance, Dan, as he sat on a rock with his head on his hand, and his rifle across his knees, was suddenly accosted by a stranger, armed, who represented himself to be a brother bushranger. The two men talked of the police —of George Flower, who was drowned in the creek, and they smoked their pipes together. Then the stranger asked Dan how he would act if George Flower were alive, and had hit upon him as he the stranger had done. Dan replied that he would fight him fairly. Then the stranger told Dan that he was George Flower, and had come to take him, but he was willing to fight him fairly. Dan sighed, and said that one of them must die. The two men then shook hands together, with tears in their eyes, when Dan said: "I do not care to die but I dread being buried. If I fall," said he, " let the eagles fly over me; let the stars shine on me; let my bones bleach on the grass, but do not bury me." "That is just my own • feeling," said George Flower. " If I fall, Dan, let me lie, and place my carbine under my head." The two men then retreated twenty-five paces. Dan fired first, and the ball passed through George Flower's whiskers. Flower then fired, and Dan fell on his face, dead.