West Australian 14 September 1934, page 29

Interesting diaries, containing details of life in the North in the eighties, and written by one who was a trooper with the first police gold escort sent to Halls Creek goldfield in 1886, are in the possession of Mr. S. P. Sweeny, of Collie. They were compiled by His father, James Sweeny. The Gold escort, it is related, left Derby for Hall’s Creek on August 4, 1886, under the command of Warden C. D. Price. Acting Inspector Finnerty was second in command and the other members comprised Sub Inspector Troy, L. C. Thomas (warden’s clerk), Sergeant Sherry, Corporal Keen and Troopers Brophy, Cornish, Mallard, Buckley, Forbes, McAtie and Sweeny, besides acting as a gold escort, the duty of the party was to establish a police station and Warden’s Court at Hall’s Creek. In addition, as there was a great deal of poverty among the men who rushed to the goldfield, Warden Price had to arrange a system of Government food supply for the needy.

Police Escort Sandstone, WA – Coach driver Andrew Blake – Photo SLVIC

To transport the necessary stores, drays and horses were purchased at Derby. For these, the Warden faced some stiff prices. The diaries showed that he paid W. Livingstone £300 for a dray, four horses and harness, and J. Youngerman received £280 for a similar outfit. In each case, a teamster was engaged at 8 shillings a day plus keep. What turned out to be a bad bargain was made when the Warden paid £80 for one horse, £46 for another, and £48 for a spring dray. The £80 horse was killed crossing a stream, the other animal died, and the dray was smashed beyond repair. In Derby, the Warden paid 11/8d for 10lb. of sugar. 9/2d for five pounds of potatoes, 6/- for two pounds of tea, 5/6d for three pounds of honey, 3/8d for two tins of milk and 3/6d for a bottle of pickles. Flour cost him 1/- per pound in many instances.

On the road by horse and cart – Photo SLWA

The diaries indicate that the party’s progress was very slow over the rough terrain, and the teams continually seemed to be in trouble. On many occasions, waits of a day or more were necessary to rest the horses. The Warden held court at various camps and settled petty disputes. One instance is given of a fine of £3, which was imposed on three men for causing trouble in a camp. Two men paid their fines, but the third refused. This caused more trouble for the police because the only way to detain the man was by setting a guard over him. However, the fine was paid, although

the police were strongly suspected of paying the fine themselves to save the extra work.

Inspector Finnerty and Sub-Inspector Troy were kept busy searching for new water holes. Owing to the heavy traffic on the road, the known supply was overtaxed. There were many instances of horses watered from buckets filled by scooping with a tin from the bottom of a well.  After travelling for 45 days, the party arrived at Seven Palm Springs, and their first depot was established there.

Swampers on the track – Image SLWA

Considerable Sickness: The suffering and privation amongst the fortune hunters must have been very great. Doctor Langdon seems to have had a busy time attending to the sick, but they must have been a hardy type. There are many instances quoted in Trooper Sweeny’s diaries of men harnessed to wheelbarrows, and one instance tells of two men tied with ropes to a spring cart, pulling alongside their jaded horse. A man who had been under the care of Doctor Langdon, receiving treatment for blistered feet, tried to exchange a gold watch, a rifle and his dog for a pair of old boots, but not even the policeman owned a spare pair. A man named Lake, while shooting at a hawk, had his hand shattered when the gun burst. The doctor was absent from the camp, and the police had to attend to the case for two days. When the doctor returned, he amputated the man’s hand. There were no drugs to help with the operation. The man was given a glass of brandy and watched the doctor do the job. Only two women in the fields are referred to in the diaries. The first to arrive was a

Mrs McNeil, who was known as ‘Old Mother Sudden Death,’

but though hard at driving a bargain, she was not as hard as the name implies. There are many instances of her kindness to down-and-out prospectors. The other woman was young and handsome and was known as ‘The Mountain Maid.’ She arrived at Hall’s Creek in the company of several Afghans, and her stay in the camp was short, for the police took her back to Wyndham for her own safety.

An Early Murder:  The only serious crime reported in the diaries is the murder of his mate by a German named Frank Hornig. He took to the bush and gave Sub-Inspector Troy a long trail to follow, but the Sub-Inspector made his arrest. It was whilst searching for Hornig that Trooper McAtie found the remains of J. Mansfield. Mansfield worked his way to Halls Creek as a ‘swamper’ with the police party, but while prospecting, he apparently became lost and died of thirst only about 400 yards from a water hole. The police, once their base was established at Hall’s Creek, acted as mailmen. In doing this work, they suffered many hardships. One instance is given of Troopers Brophy and Sweeny having to wait 10 days in an isolated spot for the mailman from Wyndham. He was delayed by rain, and the troopers were forced to stay for 10 days on four days’ rations.

Royal Mail on the road, Fitzroy Crossing to Halls Creek, 180 miles, 1921 – Photo SLWA

The Truth Perth – 30 March 1930, page 7

When the Law of the Outback is Swift and Ready
Another Nor’west Tragedy

It was practically suicide! He would never weather the dry, continuous sun storms. Day upon day the sun beat mercilessly down upon the waterless stretch, and night after night the moon shone with its creamy coolness from an utterly cloudless sky that was but a mockery of the day that had gone and the same dry, torrid day that was to come. He might get there, but if he did it would be more good fortune than good management. So, Manager Castles of Lambo Station, told Patrick Carney when the latter voiced his intention of making the trek from Lambo Station to Margaret River Station.

It was only a 36 mile trek, but the odds were against any man making it, and particularly against Carney, for he was reputed to be no bush traveller and not a good walker. It has the reputation, in the dry season, of being one of the driest and worst travelling stretches in the Kimberleys, and in December last, it was at its worst. But Carney was strong-headed. He had made up his mind to make the trip, and refused to accept Mr. Castles seasoned advice.

It was Carney’s death decision.

He perished, after a hopeless battle with thirst, on the mocking banks of a dry river. A few days later the weather broke. The sun that had killed Carney — and how many others — was beaten back by a thick bank of black clouds, and a storm came and brought with it seven inches of rain. It brought relief to thousands of cattle grazing in that area, and the hope of a prosperous season to roundabout station holders, but to Carney it brought nothing but a wet bed for his corpse. Was it one of Fate’s ironic tricks— that rain, deliciously cool and wet,

Dripping on to those black and swollen lips, and then dripping, un tasted, away again ?

Two days earlier Carney would have sold his soul for one sip of it. It was a month nearly before what was left of Carney was found and not before Constable Hamilton of Hall’s Creek and his search party had also suffered, certainly to some degree, some of the privations that accounted for the deceased. To find a man who was lost somewhere along a 36-mile stage, the police party found it necessary to cover approximately 400 miles. One has only to hark back to the search for the lost giant aeroplane last year to realise the difficulties of finding a lone man in that amazing country. Constable Hamilton, however, took his formidable task merely as a matter of course, and his report, in the form of a daily log, is a story of courage and privations told with the utmost simplicity. And because oi that simplicity it forms, in the reading of. it. an advertisement of inestimable value to the force to which he belongs.

Lost – English Illustrated Magazine 1892

Here is the journal written day by day; written each night by camp fire light after many weary hours in the saddle. Hamilton was stationed at Hall’s Creek, and the first entry is made immediately after the news had reached him that Carney was missing.

West Australian 16 January 1930, page 9

Jan. 4.—Took tracker Jack and proceeded to Lambo Station, where we arrived at 10 a.m. Mr. Castles, manager of Lambo, told me that natives had found a swag hanging in a tree near the road about 14 miles away. We found the swag, and identified it as Carney’s. Carney had left Lambo about December 17. His boots were found rolled up in the swag, and he had apparently proceeded wearing pair of Chinese slippers which he was known to have had with him. He had taken his water bag and billy can with him.
We proceeded to Margaret River Station, where the manager, Mr. J Egan, said Carney had not put in an appearance. Mr. Egan said he had not reached any of the soaks along the Margaret or Laura Rivers, for he had men camped, along there, and none of them had seen the missing traveller. Mr Castles told me he had strongly advised Carney against the trek, for it was a 36 mile stage and dry. He had, in fact asked him to stay on until he could get a lift for the 108 miles. (This last entry indicates the distance the constable travelled on the first day. A similar entry appears at the end of each day’s report.)

Jan. 5.—Conducted exhaustive search within a three mile radius of the spot where the swag was found but could find no tracks, 22 miles.
Jan. 6.—Recommenced searching at 6 a.m. with tracker, two natives, and Mr. Castles. No success. 27 miles.
Jan. 7.—Owing to water shortage, Mr. Castles had to take the boys with him and shift his cattle some distance to a soak. Tracker and I continued, and about 400 yards from the road crossing of the Laura River we saw where Carney had dug for water. The spot was quite dry, and he had obviously been unsuccessful. His footprints were now visible, 34 miles.
Jan. 8.—Started again at 6 a.m. Following tracks, found nothing else, 30 miles.
Jan. 9.—Today horses at end of their tether owing to scarcity of feed and water. Saddled up and went to Lambo to get fresh mounts. Had to return to Hall’s Creek. Heavy rain set in and delayed.
Jan. 21.—Started again with four horses and four mules. According to a report from Mr Egan, of Margaret River Station, natives had found Carney’s body, 22 miles.
Jan. 22.—Reached Lambo, 22 miles.
Jan. 23.—Mr. Castles was away today, so awaited his return to Lambo.
Jan. 24.—Went to junction of Lambo Creek and Margaret River. It is not far from here that the body is said to have been found, and we should come upon it tomorrow. 25 miles.
Jan. 25.—Found the body three miles down the river bank. It was in a very decomposed condition, but was easily identified. It was stripped of clothing We buried it close by,  23 miles.
Jan. 26.—To-night we are camped by the river. 24 miles.
Jan. 27.—Still trekking back. 24 miles. Jan. 28.—Started 6 a.m.. and arrived at Hall’s Creek Police Station at 2 p.m. with plant all in good condition. 24 miles.

That is’ Constable Hamilton’s story of the finding of the body of poor old Patrick Carney. It is a bare, official, uncoloured report. Although the journal contains no highlights, no mention of the hundreds of little extraneous and untoward incidents that must have happened during such a search in such country, the writer of it, with his lack, of wordy description, cannot hide the true value of the feat. It was excellent work even though it was every day duty.

It is good to know by this and other incidents that across the vastness of the State, that the great North-West is so efficiently policed. Those men in blue up there carry with them responsibilities, and invariably they see them through. And so, along the Margaret River bank near its junction with Lambo Creek there is a little new made mound of earth, and beneath lies Patrick Carney, aged 38, a station cook and a native of Glasgow, Scotland. It is said he has no relations here, but up North he has mourners in plenty, for he had a happy disposition and was popular roundabout. He died painfully. North of Capricorn thirst is a fatal malady. Sometimes a day without water is sufficient to send a victim mad, invariably two days without it means the end. Carney should never have attempted the trip. He died of thirst on a parched and hot river bank. Had he delayed his start for two days it was possible he would have drowned at the same spot. Such irony!

Patrick Kimberley CARNEY – died on about 17th December 1929, 3 miles North of the 18 Mile Yard of Margaret Station on the East back of the Margaret River. His remains were not found for almost a month. He was 38yrs old and was a stockman and a musterer’s cook. He was buried on the 25 Jan 1930 where he was found by Constable Hamilton (Reg 1601) and Frank Castles.

Grave of Michael Tobin – Monument Australia – Photo Chris McLoughlin

Michael TOBIN died on the 7th of April 1907 aged 33 years at Wadda Waddah Well or No 40 Well on the newly proposed stock route from the Kimberly called the Canning Stock Route. He was buried on a sandy ridge 250 metres from well No 40. His burial was confirmed by A G Clifton and H M Lawlers, witnesses present at the burial were Joseph Tobin (his brother) and Alfred Wernam Canning. His death was registered by Alfred Wernam Canning, Officer in Charge of the survey party on the stock route. Robert Shaw Moody marked the tree at the head of Tobin’s grave after helping to bury him. His death was registered as Pilbara 11/1907.

Tobins Grave and blazed tree in 1940 – Photo SLWA

Tobin was the foreman of the Government boring party for the Wiluna Kimberly Exploration Expedition (W.K.E.E) and was speared by a native, Mungkututu, causing his death. Born circa 1874 in Burra Burra, South Australia he was the son of Irish parents, Michael Tobin and Mary Anne nee Hickey (later Kelly). He was a member of the first survey expedition led by Alfred Wernam Canning in 1906. Which was doing a preliminary survey for the stock route from Wiluna to Halls Creek. Lake Tobin was named in his honour. He had lived in WA for 13 years.

An old bloke, Robert Shaw Moody, a practically unknown pioneer, stepped back out of history to return to the Halls Creek he had known as a wild frontier town near the beginning of the 1900s. Early in 1906, the government decided to send a party to explore the so-called desert country between Wiluna and Halls Creek. The idea was to establish a stock route along which beef could be taken from the East Kimberly to the Goldfields. Canning was made the leader of the expedition which left the Wiluna on the 29th of May 1906 and headed north to Halls Creek.

Expedition Members: Front row – Tom Burke – Michael Tobin – Hubert Trotman
Back Row: Joseph Tobin – Alfred Wernam Canning – Edward Blake (Cook) – Otto Baumgarten – Photo: Geological Survey WA & TROVE

Rob Moody was a member of that expedition which explored the route and also the second expedition which established the watering places. It was on the first trip that Tobin was fatally speared by a desert Aborigine called Mungkututu near one of the native wells. He was approaching Mungkututu to question him about the water in the area when the native stabbed him with a spear, wounding him in the head. The spear passed through his temple and out through the lobe of his ear entering into his shoulder. Mungkututu, who was armed with several spears ran away a few yards, then turned and hurled his spear at Tobin, who raised his rifle at the same time and fired, killing him. The spear struck Tobin in the chest and he died some hours later in great pain. His final word was just ‘Goodbye’, he  was buried beside the claypan the next day. Canning was to say:

“The Expedition was a success which was only marred by the sad loss of Mick Tobin who had worked though with the greatest intelligence and goodwill, his death being a great shock to the party with whom he was a general favorite.”

The second Canning expedition erected a marble cross encased in galvanised iron on Tobin’s grave. The grave is on the east side of the tree and on the other side the letters WHEE for Wiluna Kimberly Exploration Expedition are carved. The men were unable to install the cross on the upward journey as they had to continue on for stores, so they dug a deep hole and buried the cross temporarily covering it with heavy steel and well material. One their return they found local natives had dug up the cross and had chipped flakes off it to use as spear heads. To prevent further damage, using two old buckets, they then encased the cross in a U shaped frame. They then built a fence around it.

Canning Exploration Party leaving Day Dawn 7 May 1906 – Photo P Strugnell – TROVE

About the Canning Stock Route:

East Kimberly cattle suffered from a disease transmitted by ticks called red water fever. A total quarantine was placed on the cattle which meant that they could not be driven South through disease-free country. Pastoralists of the East Kimberly successfully lobbied for an inland stock route. Alfred Wernam Canning, a contract surveyor, was appointed surveyor in general. Canning’s deputy, Hubert Stanlake Trotman, with whom Canning had a farming partnership, assembled the survey team which left Day Dawn near Cue on the 7th of May 1906 and met Canning at Wiluna.

The local police loaned canning an Aboriginal tracker named Charlie, and the party left Wiluna on the 29th of May 1906. They overlanded roughly 1500 kilometres through the Gibson, Little and great Sandy deserts, over sand hills running roughly east and West.

The Late Michael Tobin – Western Mail 3 Aug 1907 pg 3

On completion of the 14-month survey, Canning reported to the Department of Lands that it would be possible to establish a stock route. In 1908, Canning was selected to lead the well-sinking expedition. Henry William Beamish Talbot, a West Australian Government geologist, travelled with the well-sinking party. Again, Hubert Trotman supervised the arduous task of packing the camels. Throughout the survey, he had the job of finding Aboriginal guides to help find water for the party and their stock. The Canning Stock route is now part of the Heritage Trail network. A project for community participation devised by the Western Australian Heritage Committee. A Commonwealth and State bicentennial project.

Mungkututu’s Headstone – located near Tobin’s. However, Mungktutu wasn’t buried there,he was buried that evening 1½ -2 miles away on a large sand ridge, slightly north of west from the well – Photo by Phil Bianchi

References:
Work Completed Canning – A Comprehensive History of the Canning Stock Route 1906-2010 by Phil Bianchi
Western Australian Lonely Graves – by Yvonne and kevin Coate – TROVE- Monument Australia

The first commercial find of gold in Western Australia was made on 14 July 1885 at Hall’s Creek in the Kimberley District, and the Kimberley Goldfield was proclaimed in the following year, on 19 May 1886. This discovery, and the dramatic rush that followed, marked the beginning of our gold-mining industry, which was to transform Western Australia over the next 15 years from an impoverished colony into a wealthy State. The centenary of the industry in 1985 coincides with a time when gold is again the most buoyant element in our mining industry, with expanding exploration and production, and excellent prospects for the future.

The Kimberley gold story began with the exploring expedition of Alexander Forrest in 1879. He traversed the district from west to east into the Northern Territory, and on reaching the Pine Creek gold-mining settlement commented to the manager of the mine, Adam Johns, on similarities between the rocks at Pine Creek and some of those seen by his party in the Kimberleys. This inspired Johns to mount an expedition to the area, with his mate Phil Saunders as leader, the others selected for the party being James Quinn, and Crawford, an Aboriginal man.

Saunders and Johns chartered a cutter from Port Darwin to Cossack, arriving there on 26 July 1881. The party found some signs of gold at Nickol River, 19 miles south west of Roebourne, and on the Ashburton River, but neither find was considered payable. They also found copper mineralisation at Whim Well (now Whim Creek) and Balla Balla, before returning to Roebourne and setting out for the Kimberleys on 11 April 1882.

During their journey through the Kimberleys in August-September 1882, Saunders’ party observed signs of gold at several localities, the best being in the headwater tributaries of the Ord River, in the general vicinity of the present Halls Creek. However, there was a lack of water in this area to allow adequate panning for gold, and by that time Johns had become seriously ill, and was barely able to see or walk. He developed a form of paralysis, and it became imperative to push through to the Northern Territory as rapidly as possible so that he could be treated. Consequently Saunders was unable to prove whether the gold he had found in the East Kimberley was workable. The news of Saunders’ find reached the press, and the Colonial Secretary in Perth telegraphed him to obtain confirmation. Saunders replied by telegram dated 19 November 1882 from Yam Creek in the Northern Territory, announcing that he had

“found gold on head watershed of Ord River, not payable. Believe payable gold exists, auriferous country extends north west and south east of Forrest’s track”.

Saunders’ telegram aroused considerable interest in the Government, and there was debate as to the best means of following up his report of gold. One suggestion was that the Government should secure the services of a geologist to accompany the survey team that was to visit the Kimberley in the following winter. The other was that Saunders lead a prospecting expedition to the area, and the Colonial Secretary wrote asking if he was prepared to do so. He responded with a detailed proposal for a party to prospect throughout the Kimberley. The reaction to this proposal is not recorded, but it seems clear that his plans involved a greater expenditure than the Government was willing to incur. It was instead decided to secure the services of a geologist to accompany the Kimberley survey party, and Edward T Hardman was selected for this purpose.

The above plaque commemorates the first discovery of payable gold in Western Australia by Charles Hall, John Slattery and party on 14th July 1885 near this site Erected by the Shire of Hall`s Creek in association with the Hall`s Creek Sports Club, which conducted the Hall`s Creek Gold Centenary Run to mark  the occasion, and unveiled by the Hall`s Creek Shire President, Councillor Doug Dixon on the 21st July 1985- Monument Australia

Hardman was born on 6 April 1845 at Drogheda, Ireland. He graduated in mining from the Royal College of Science, Dublin, and was appointed as a geologist in the Geological Survey of Ireland in 1870. When the need arose for a temporary Government Geologist to be appointed to Western Australia, the Colonial Office chose Hardman for the position. He arrived in Perth in March 1883, just in time to join a new Kimberley survey party led by John Forrest.

This survey was confined to the West Kimberley district, and Hardman found no positive signs of gold there. The following year (1884), he participated in H.F. Johnston’s survey, which covered an extensive area from the West to the East Kimberley. Hardman panned traces of gold in many watercourses in parts of the East Kimberley, distributed over about 230 km along the Elvire, Panton, Ord, Mary, and Margaret Rivers. He claimed that the auriferous country covered an area of some 5,000 km², and found the most encouraging indications along the headwaters of the Elvire River, where there were also many potentially auriferous quartz veins.

In his report on the 1884 expedition, Hardman complained that he had received little assistance in his work, as the surveying aspect of the expedition had priority. “But had I had even two men to assist me, and render me independent, for a few days at a time. I believe I should now be able to report definitely as to the existence of payable gold in Kimberley, whereas I can at present only point to the strong probability of this”.

The River at Halls Creek – 1920 – Photo SLWA

Hardman’s report and accompanying maps aroused great interest, and several prospecting parties set out for Kimberley in early 1885. One of these, with Charles Hall as leader, accompanied by John Slattery, Alexander Nicholson, Joseph McCague, John Campbell, and August Pontt, left Roebourne for Derby in February 1885. From Derby, they headed due east for the headwaters of the Ord River, and on 14 July 1885 obtained their first payable gold (about 10 oz in nuggets) at what they named Hall’s Creek. Hall and Slattery then left the rest of the party and returned to Derby, where on 8 August 1885, they formally reported the discovery to the Government Resident, Mr Fairbairn, before proceeding to Perth to inform the Colonial Secretary.

The discovery of payable gold by Hall’s party was in an area shown on Hardman’s map near the head of the Elvire River, where Hardman recorded finding widespread traces of gold in alluvium, associated with many potentially auriferous quartz veins. It is not certain whether Hall had access to Hardman’s map of the area, although this does seem probable, in which case it should have led him directly to the area of the discovery.

As soon as the Hall’s Creek discovery became known, the Kimberley gold rush began, well before the goldfield was formally proclaimed on 19 May 1886. The rush of prospectors from the southern parts of Western Australia, the eastern colonies, and New Zealand reached its peak in mid-1886. Most arrived by sea at Derby and then had to embark on a slow and hazardous trip of nearly 600 km to Halls Creek, commonly travelling all the way on foot. Others landed at Wyndham, and although their overland trip was shorter (about 400 km), the track was rougher and harder on men, horses, and equipment. Others again arrived overland through the Northern Territory, from as far away as Victoria.

Of the estimated 6,000 to 8,000 men who arrived at the ports, many were ill-prepared for the remainder of the journey to Halls Creek and had to turn back because of illness, fatigue, the breakdown of overloaded carts, or the death of their horses. Equipment and stores were often jettisoned beside the track, so that most people arrived at the gold diggings with inadequate equipment and stores for a prolonged stay. The majority of those who joined the rush had no previous experience in gold prospecting. They were ill-prepared for the privations of life in the outback Kimberley, far from the comforts of home. There were also many clashes with the Aborigines, commonly with spearing of diggers, followed by reprisal raids.

Illness and disease at the diggings were rife, and the First Warden, C.D. Price, who arrived on 3 September 1886, reported that “great numbers were stricken down, in a dying condition, helpless, destitute of either money, food, or covering, and without mates or friends, simply lying down to die.” Further, on 10 December 1886, he reported that

“A large number of deaths have occurred lately, fever, dysentery, scurvy, and general debility  being the cause.”

By early 1887, the rush had virtually ceased, and by February, the number of men on the field had dwindled to about 600. However, Warden Price maintained that there was still a bright future for the goldfields through underground mining of gold-bearing reefs. He stated in his annual report that “there is every reason to expect a prosperous future at no distant date.” Price said further that “the whole of the miners are enthusiastic in the praise of Mr Hardman; every case when he has marked on his plan that auriferous deposits would be found the result has proved the correctness of his opinion. Nowhere else have they found more than colours. I am sure it would be gratifying to Mr Hardman did he know in what estimation his plans and report are held by practical miners and how desirous they are to obtain them.”

However, despite the early promise of several underground mines, Halls Creek never prospered. The mines did not live up to expectations, as the ore petered out at depth. The peak year for gold production was 1887, amounting to 4474 ounces, and from 1890 the field went into steady decline, with production falling to 892 ounces in 1896 (the figures quoted being for unrefined gold bullion). Total production to 1896 was 23,373 ounces (unrefined), compared with a total to 1985 of only 30,763 fine ounces (refined), or about 38,500 bullion ounces (unrefined). This is a mere 0.04 per cent of the State’s total gold production to 1985.

Even though the Kimberley field was never more than a minor gold producer, its discovery and development marked the foundation of our gold-mining industry, and as such, constitute one of the turning points in the history of Western Australia. The Kimberley gold rush drew world attention to the colony and its gold prospects; many of the diggers who joined this rush afterwards moved on to take part in the successive major gold discoveries at Southern Cross and the Pilbara (1888), the Murchison (1891), Coolgardie and Dundas (1892), and Kalgoorlie (1893), which were to have such a profound effect on Western Australia’s economy.

Halls Creek, 1914 – Photo SLWA

Recorder (Port Pirie, SA, 23 August 1938, page 1

References:  The Halls Creek Society – WA Museum – TROVE – National Library of Australia – Mindat

Daily News 21 October 1955, page 5

Jandamarra aka “Pigeon” led one of the first rebellions of the Australian
Aboriginal people armed with firearms in Western Australia.

Jandamarra or Sandawarra, known as Pidgeon had been one of the best and most trusted police trackers in the West Kimberley.

When Jandamarra’s close friend, an English stockman named Bill Richardson, joined the police force in 1894, Jandamarra was employed as his native tracker at the police outpost in the abandoned Lillimooloora homestead. Unusually for the time, Jandamarra was treated as an equal and the pair gained a reputation as the “most outstanding” team in the police force at that time. However, one of Jandamarra’s captives had talked him into turning against the white man and convinced him that they could be driven from the North-West. So Jandamarra murdered his boss and friend, Constable Bill Richardson, as he slept.

Windjana Gorge on the Lennard River, sacred to the Bunuba people of the Kimberley District, is where on November 16, 1894, Pigeon’s band of 50 warriors fought 30 heavily armed Kimberley police to a standstill. Pigeon escaped without a major injury, but his uncle, Chief Ellemarra was killed. Image SLWA

By mid-1894, Pidgeon and a gang of native outlaws he had collected had armed themselves with guns taken from their dead victims. But the police were on the job too. Pidgeon and his gang were cornered in five caves in beautiful Wingina Gorge, and one by one they were killed or wounded. The wounded escaped from the caves through a blowhole, and Pidgeon was hidden by his mother in the Cave of Bats, a sacred spot in Tunnel Creek. One of the tributaries of the Lennard, Tunnel Creek had cut a tunnel 50 feet high,  and about the same distance wide at its greatest point, right through Napier Range. It is an awe-inspiring place, the home of bats and pythons. The creek which runs through it is infested with crocodiles. The Aboriginal people were in awe of Pigeon; they felt he had magical powers and could

“fly like a bird and disappear like a ghost”

They were convinced that he was immortal and that the only person who could kill him was an Aboriginal person with similar magical powers. Here in the caves Pidgeon recovered, while the police patrols intensified through the wet season and the other members of his gang were harried throughout the ranges. As the wet ended, he tried to lead other forays — but most were interrupted by patrols working on information from the many natives who now held tribal vendettas against the swashbuckling gang members. Surprised on the march to attack Fitzroy Crossing and loot wagons bringing arms and supplies for the new police station, Pidgeon and his men were trapped in a cave without an escape hole. But the resourceful outlaw dug his way through the wall into a waterhole through which the gang crawled to freedom, to scatter again into the hills. Pidgeon attempted to kill another white man soon afterwards.

Hunting alone with his woman, Cangamvara, he came upon an old prospector named Williams camped at the Fitzroy River. For diversion he pinned Williams thighs together with  a spear instead of shooting him immediately. Williams, who had been sleeping in his tent, let fly through the flap with his rifle, not expecting to hit anyone but hoping to frighten his attackers. The bullet glanced off Pidgeon’s skull and stunned him. The crazed outlaw spun around and crawled his way to cover, helped by the startled Cangamvara. He recovered to see Williams sitting up on his stretcher hacking away at the spear-shaft with a knife. He seized his rifle and aimed at Williams head — but the old greybeard picked his gun and fired again through the tent-flap, hitting Pidgeon on the head again. Even the unsuperstitious Pidgeon could stand no more of that. He beat a hasty retreat back to the hills. Williams was eventually found flyblown and nearly dead, but the tough old prospector recovered, to fossick another day.

Police activity increased towards the the middle of 1896 as a growing number of tribesmen holding blood vendettas against members of the Pidgeon gang informed patrols of their hideouts. One by one Pidgeon’s gang were being captured or killed in skirmishes with patrols and in fights among themselves. Even Pidgeon was not immune from blood vendetta as Marawon — the warrior whose wife Cangamvara should have been by tribal law — constantly informed the police of his hiding places and whereabouts. The most bitter blow early in 1897 was the capture of Cangamvara by Inspector Ord, who had taken charge of the patrols. In a last desperate bid to strike a crippling blow Pidgeon summoned the remnants of his gang for an attack on Jack Collins. Oscar Range station. He planned to kill the men there and with their rifles and ammunition, attack Fitzroy Crossing at a time when police patrols were widely scattered. Besides Jack Collins and Fred Edgar at the homestead, there were Alf Maynall, on a visit to buy stock, and a newly arrived stockman, Tom Jasper.

Jasper was to be the gang’s last victim.

Confident that no native could catch him sleeping, and that he could “lick a dozen Pidgeons,” Jasper refused to camp in the homestead and pitched his tent about 100 yards away. The overjoyed killers found him sound asleep as they noiselessly surrounded the homestead. Pidgeon wanted them to wait until the house was completely surrounded before killing Jasper. But the tribesmen were overcome by bloodlust and they crowded into the tent and slaughtered the sleeping stockman with bullet and spear. Alarmed, and guessing what had happened, the men in the homestead sent out a volley of fire, killing one outlaw and wounding another before the mob retreated to snipe from the hills.

A scene from Jandamarra’s War, a 2011 Australian television documentary filmed on location in the Kimberly, Western Australia.

By mid-morning both sides were exchanging long-range shots when Constable Plimer’s patrol, summoned from Fitzroy Crossing by a stockboy, dodged its way into the homestead. Warned by telegraph by Pilmer, Inspector Ord hurried to Oscar Range, capturing Pidgeon’s mother on the way. At the same time Plimer’s patrol crept out of the homestead to harry the gang among the rocks and spinifex where they hid until nightfall. Three more outlaws were wounded before Pilmer returned to the homestead, expecting a full scale attack in the darkness. When none came he and his patrol crept out about 3 am to get behind the gang’s position. But Pigeon had moved his men further back. As Pilmer moved to their camp a bullet shot into the ground behind him. Swinging his rifle round, he saw the silhouette of Pidgeon in the starlight on the crest above. Constable and ex tracker fired shot for shot before Pilmer, sidling to cover, took a charge of buckshot in the thigh. Most of it fortunately hit his revolver holster.

That was the gangs last stand. The patrol brought the camp under two fires. Demon was shot through the head just as he was aiming at  Pilmer, and Bangarra and Bunnamurra were killed before the crippled survivors scurried into the hills in too much haste and fear to cover their tracks. The patrols pressed hard on the tracks of the killers. For Pidgeon the end was in sight. Half-starved and desperate, he had only a fanatical desire to kill yet more whites as he hurried towards his ‘Cave of Bats’.

But even this refuge was guarded on both sides of Napier Range. It  was the combined patrols of Constables Buckland, Chisholm and Anderson which  overtook Pidgeon a bare 100 yards from the entrance to Tunnel Creek, where he was returning alone to seek once more the sanctuary of his cave. Limping and emaciated he ran towards the dark opening. But galloping horsemen cut him off and he scrambled up to the top of the range to disappear into a hole with pellets from one of the trackers shotgun in his back and a rifle bullet in the thigh.

He lay there in a pool of blood until night came. Then he crawled through subterranean passages to the one doghole the patrol had not found. He hobbled out into the starlight. When dawn came the trackers found his blood-spots on the rocks. Within 20 minutes they saw him ahead, dragging himself along with the aid of a stick and his rifle. A bullet answered their call to halt. Then another. Then, slowly, another. It was his last cartridge, and Pidgeon dropped, fatally wounded. The dying outlaw struggled to sit up as the trackers warily approached. He was cursing them and gasping out a challenge to give him more ammunition so that he could continue to fight. Sandamara, whom the whites called Pidgeon, was wounded 13 times in all, the killer who had terrorised the Kimberleys for nearly three years, was dead. He died next to the burial ground of his tribe, ‘The Cave of Bats’ and other smaller grottos by the mouth of  Tunnel Creek. Today, there are dozens of skeletons hidden on the ledges and in crevasses. Most of them have been scattered by wallabies and lizards. Any one of them could be Pidgeon’s.

There have been two books written about Jandamarra’s life – Ion Idriess’s Outlaws of the Leopold  and Long Live Sandawarra by Mudrooroo. There was also a documentary filmed by the ABC called – Jandamarra’s War.

Ion Idriess’s Outlaws of the Leopold

Sunday Times –  22 September 1940, page 10

CESS RODERICK,
OOBAGOOMA, KIMBERLEY

‘TIL SHE DROPPED HER STRIDES’

This story is an extract from the book “‘Til She Dropped Her Strides” by Roger Garwood and Trish Ainslie published in 1991. The book was one of a series which documented the traditional lifestyles in the Australian outback which were under threat from an increasingly modernised society. 

Cess Rodrick, Cess to his mates, is an eccentric hermit. He lives under the shade of a giant boab in the middle of an army firing range, formerly Oobagooma station. A large family of much loved pigs, his only permanent company, are all named after politicians.

Cess under his Boab Tree with some of his pigs. © Roger Garwood

The story goes, that couple of young hunters were, unbeknownst to them, at Cess’s water hole and were feeling a little trigger-happy. As they sat there one of the old pigs came to quench his thirst. Within a few seconds it was stone cold dead – a bullet through the head.

Cess, disturbed by the rifle fire, appeared from out of the bush, clad only in a ‘cock rag’. He took one look at the dead hog and strolled over to the happy hunters. Jabbing his old 303 rifle firmly into the rips of one of them he announced, “Young man, do you realise that you’ve just shot Doug Anthony?”

The young blokes fled and reported Cess’s actions to the local police and were told,

“What d’ya expect if you kill one of Cess’s pigs?”

Cess was not wearing a naga or ‘cock rag’ when we found him but a pair of threadbare King Gee’s. Modesty was of no consequence – his balls were swinging a little below the short’s lower limits. His feet were bare and an old cotton cap topped him off. A grey beard travelled in several directions. His wrinkled, tanned, skin was clinging to his bony figure, more as an act of faith than an essential of life.

His camp was a well kept clearing. On one side was a large leafless boab. In the shade of its trunk was an old iron bedstead. In the centre of the clearing a vintage Land Rover rested on the remains of its tyres. Floodwater from the recent wet season had left the vehicle standing on mounds of dried mud. The back of the vehicle was covered with a corrugated iron sheet which endeavored to protect a variety of large flour tins. Cess was testing all brands of plain flour.

His kitchen consisted of a few sheets of tin supported by empty flour drums. On the sheets were more drums which contained the essentials of a bush life. Salt, flour, tea and sugar. Also a few soot black billies.

He was pleased to see us and as we spoke he busied himself brewing tea over his campfire, the only solid structure in sight. Small mud walls supported the hot plate.

This was a long way from his native Sydney.

“Yes, Sydney. I was born right on Sydney Harbour, 1910. The bridge is there now, the north pylons. Nelsons point over the other side.

“Sydney changed in my short time there. I was only there for a few years before I went to the bush [but] I was there all the time the bridge was being built, right down there in Clarence Street, working for the war service homes commission. The back window overlooked all the shipping. There we were, six stories up. You could see the overseas liners and cargo boats. We was there and never took much notice of the bridge going up.

Cess in his kitchen © Roger Garwood

“Eventually they got the arch up and oh!! everyone threw parties. Then they used the arch to build the rest of the bridge, you know, hang things off it.

“I used to know the people around the Riverena there. A bloke rang me up one day and said ‘Go and see…’ I forget the name of the people. I went into this office in Melbourne, a very nice polite little bloke, beautifully dressed – and he had a typist! Anyway, this old bloke bashed me ear, took me to lunch and then put me on the ship to Fremantle! He sent me to his property over at Carnarvon. “That was a good trip.

The tucker they dish up on the ships… First class mate”.

“I lobbed into Carnarvon and things altered drastically. I tried to find out how the hell to get to this so and so place. The publican says ‘I’ll show you, the mail driver that goes there – you better see him”. So I saw the mail driver and he says, ‘Come and give us a hand and I’ll tell you.”

“I worked for him for two days for nothing’ – loading him up. Then he says, ‘We’re going first thing in the morning, you’d better camp here tonight’.

“Away we went to the next day, took us all day to get to the bloody station. Rough roads with that big load of stuff. We had a three ton International, big pumped up wheels. Four by ten tyres, that high, great big ones. And we pulled two trailers!

“I had my first blooming camel driving experience on the station. I had to get the camels and yoke ’em up, about twenty-six of ‘em and deliver the bore drain – a bore drain about thirty miles long through six paddocks. “Did the whole lot in a day. The old camel, he walks along – except when he gets near the acacia bushes, he’ll drag his mate over and they’re all getting the drain. Those acacia bushes, they love it.

“I stayed there for about four years. It was great property that place, a real good’n.

“The old boy, he folded up and went home to Victoria. The manager bloke, he said, ‘You’d better have a go at this’. I said, ‘Oh I think it’s time I moved on mate, I’ve had enough’. All the hard work. Christ! I was about half the weight I am now … Like a bloomin’ kangaroo dog’s pup!

Oobagooma is remote, on the flat country north of Derby. Bob McCorry is one of Cess’s few visitors.

“I headed out there after one wet. He was still there, now he’d lived out there from October to April with nothing, only bull meat. Anyhow I said to him, ‘How the bloody hell did you survive?’

“Wicked plagues of grasshoppers’, he said. ‘When the green grass comes, after a few inches of rain, then the grasshoppers come. Before they get wings they hop’.

“He used to render the bull meat down and get the fat out of it. He’d catch handfuls of these little hoppers and throw them into the boiling fat and that’s how he’d eat them!

“He never had any contact with the outside world. We used to save all the newspapers for him and once every six months he goes through them and give us a burst on the state of the country. That’s how he got the name of all the politicians for his pigs!

“He’d leave tea in matchboxes in tree stumps in certain areas. He leaves them along the way, these little extra stores, matchboxes or tobacco tins.

“He hated penning cattle or donkeys or anything. He didn’t like you taking anything off the country. He chucked a big mob of donkeys once. Some Americans wanted to shoot them for pet food … they got about five cents a pound. Anyway he walked in, saw all these donkeys in this paddock and let them go.

“I mustered one time and had some big old-age bullocks in the yard, not many, fourteen or fifteen, and he let them go. He thought they should die in the country”.

NOTE:

We photographed and interviewed Cess Roderick in 1990. The quoted text is a direct transcription from our conversations with him. Other material was told us by Joe Napier who would drive to see Cess every few months. We visited Cess a few months after the book “Til She Dropped Her Strides” was published in 1991. He had moved from his camp to an aged care facility in Derby.

Cess wearing his at’ – © Roger Garwood

He didn’t want to live in the building but was allowed to make a camp – without his family of pigs – in the grounds of the facility which is where we were able to give him a copy of the book and a some of the photographs we had taken. He looked at the pictures of himself and said:

“Who’s that?”  “It’s you Cess.” we replied. “Oh … I thought some bugger ‘ad pinched me ‘at” he said. We drove back into Derby and something dawned on me. “Do you know why he said that?” I said to Trish.  “No”  “Well Cess hasn’t got a mirror, He hadn’t got a clue what he looked like until he saw the pictures!”

‘TIL SHE DROPPED HER STRIDES’ by Roger Garwood and Trish Ainslie

Many thanks to Roger Garwood for sending me this ‘Ripping Yarn’.