Chapter IX: "specials" and Others

"Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time."

--SHAKESPEARE.

It was not often that any of the "Specials" were sent out to work as farm labourers, because they were suited for anything but hard work; so they were generally made constables. Conspicuous amongst these was a man named Fred ----, who, it was said, forged the largest cheque which had been forged on the Bank of England up to that time. This was a well-educated man. He could read and write French, Spanish, and Portuguese, and had once been interpreter for the Court of India. He had not been in the country long before forgery commenced to worry him again. For this, a sentence of two years in the Port Macquarie Iron Gang was given him, and he became the worst man in it, for he fretted. When a man gave way to the hardship, he became the victim of insects, and this was the case with him. Small wonder at any man giving way to the hardship in such a place, for it was nothing but hard work, hunger, and flogging, the floor to sleep on, and one blanket as a covering. After this man had finished his two years in the Iron Gang, he was sent to a road party for about six months, and then became a constable on a salary of 3s 3d per day. While a constable he wrote to his father, who was a shareholder in a coal mine at Newcastle-on-Tyne, England, and received a reply to the effect that if he could get good characters from the Police Magistrate and a clergyman, he would endeavour to get him his freedom. Besides this, his father sent him £1 per week, which with his salary, amounted to nearly £2 weekly; but here the pen and ink was introduced again, and he forged the very man's name who was paying him the £1 per week. He was then locked up, tried, and committed, finally being sentenced to Norfolk Island for life. This ended his career in Port Macquarie.

Punishment appeared to be no warning to some of these men, and it seemed that 'just as the twig was bent, the tree inclined.' The misery that this fellow suffered the second time he was committed should have been quite sufficient, for most of those who had a taste of the Iron Gang did not return to it any more. It must have been severe when the authorities sent Charles ---- from Sydney into the Gang for 12 months, as punishment for the murder of M----, on the Hunter River, and afterwards burning him to ashes. In this case there was no evidence except the murderer's own word, but they declined to hang him on that, both in this country and in England. He was as quiet as a sheep in the Gang, but, notwithstanding this fact, the boss took good care to keep out of his way.

L---- was a Jew, and a very old hand in the country. Originally he was sent to Moreton Bay, but having found Captain ----, who was killed by the blacks there, he was shifted to Sydney, and was practically a free man at that place. But he could not keep out of trouble, and for an offence was sent to a road party in Port Macquarie, from which he did not get his liberty for about 22 years, and when it did come, the news was too late. He was working in a party on the road leading from the coast to the table-land (the New England Road) when his ticket-of-leave became due, but a few minutes before the news of his freedom arrived, he was killed by a log rolling on him, and was buried in the vicinity of the camp. His fellow-workmen cut a stone and erected it on his grave, as he was very much liked by all the men on the road, but someone afterwards removed the stone and used it for grinding purposes. Every day, as soon as this poor fellow had finished his work, he would retire to his bunk and sit with a needle and thread making cabbage-tree hats. These hats were always saleable, and making them was the only means by which a man could earn a few pence to buy tea, sugar, and tobacco.

Tom P---- was one of the first men sent to Port Macquarie when it was made a Settlement, and he was a most peculiar individual. Pigs seemed to be his whole existence, for he appeared to love these animals. He possessed some 'grunters' nine or ten years old, besides cattle and horses. Tom used to sleep with the pigs, and even with this precaution against thieves it was not infrequent that he lost one. Teddy H---- went out to Tom's abode one night and stole a pig. When he returned another fellow went for one. While the second thief was in the act, however, of getting his pig, Tom sat up amongst them, and said, "How many more of you are coming to-night?" But they earned these pigs, for they had to carry them about a mile. Anyone who saw Teddy the next morning after this could swear that he had made a rise--for he had such a corporation--and it was then a password among the men, "Hulloa! Teddy made a rise last night." Then they said to Teddy, "Have you got any more for to-morrow, Ted? Perhaps you could give us a leg!"

"Go for it yourselves, you crawling hounds," he returned, "and chance it. I'm not going to shake it and give it to you fellows that are frightened of your own shadows. If they grab me I must put up with it like the rest of you."

Then they used to say to him, "Have you got any cabbage or spuds to sell, Teddy? We want some onions, too!"

This was how they questioned him, because he had robbed a garden, and was proved guilty by the police smelling the onions in his breath. So poor Teddy got "50" on what was termed the "Broad Bean Racket" (robbing a garden). But what did these men care? If there was a garden handy, "50" or no "50" they would be into it, as they never got any vegetables except by stealing. They were merry as crickets, too, when they had had a good 'blow out.'

A number of the Government men were assembled in a hut at a place known as the "Stockyard," about a mile from the barracks, one Saturday afternoon. It was their intention to have a good feed, and they had a big plum "duff" cooking; besides this, by some means they got some wine. Three of the number, thinking there was not enough for everyone to have a decent allowance from, decided to make another pudding out of pipe-clay. This was done, and, at a given signal, two of them pretended to start fighting outside, while the other was to remove the pudding from the pot when nearly cooked, put the pipe-clay padding in its place, and take the wine also. All at once the cry was raised, "A Fight! A Fight!" Everybody rushed out to see it, and then the business was done. The cook afterwards went to see how the pudding was getting on, and saw the water discoloured with pipeclay. "Dear me," he said, "the sugar has all evaporated." It was not the sugar that had evaporated, though; it was the pudding. One old fellow who was nearly three feet across the shoulders was sitting by, and when he became aware of what had taken place, he made his usual remark, which was: "Well, well, well! capitally done!" They did not try feasting in a crowd again.