In this chapter I continue the history of stockkeeper Hart, with the last I heard of him, and how he escaped and provided for it in more ways than one. I have mentioned what care he took of the horses I had given him to use in his work. I now add other particulars showing how well he laid his plans.

His habit was to draw his pay from me monthly, and from the first he returned the greater part to me to deposit the same in a Bank for him, but desired me to lodge it in my own name. To this I at first objected, but at length gave way.

After a time he asked me to supply him with a stout double-barrelled gun and ammunition, so that he might shoot game ; he also said he was afraid of the blacks. He was very successful in bringing in stray cattle for neighbors, as well as my own, and frequently got rewards, which he gave to me to be added to his savings ; and so he continued to carry on until he had been with me about eight months.

As a further proof of how careful and thrifty he remained, although he had frequent occasion to visit town, on my business, he was at all times sober and respectable in his conduct as far as I had the means of judging from observation or report, I mention these trifling matters, as some may think them, to show how much self-denial and restraint was exercised by him in carrying out his plans to get away before he was sought for. The wonder to me is how he waited so long, with such a heavy reckoning to pay if caught.

At the time above mentioned, on one of his attendances in town, before he returned to the station, he came and informed me he had found at the Post-Office a letter from an uncle in good circumstances at the Cape of Good Hope, who had written to him in answer to one he had sent him, and in that pressed him to come without delay, and live with him. As at this time there was a vessel in Port Adelaide from that colony I believed his tale.

He made on this a most pressing application for me to excuse him the remainder of the time of his engagement, that he might get to a fresh colony where he would be far away from a prison population, and be under the care of a near relation ; so I consented to his request, on the condition that he found a good man to take his place, and asked him if he could name such a one, on which he gave me the name of Bob Moorhead, whom I knew to be a first-class bushman and a good stockkeeper.

I accepted him as a substitute, so the two men went out to muster the cattle, and I followed. The cattle being found all right, were handed over to the charge of Moorhead, of whose previous history I knew something, as related to me by the gentleman who brought him down with him from New South Wales, so far as that he had gained a conditional pardon and freedom, for his general good conduct as a prisoner, and for the exemplary services he had rendered when accompanying Major Mitchell, Surveyor-General, in his explorations in the Province of New South Wales, but he was not at liberty to leave the Australian Colonies.

Shortly after my return to town, after handing over the cattle to the new stock-keeper, Hart waited on me with great glee, to tell me he had succeeded in obtaining the situation of steward on board the ship which had brought his letter from the Cape, to return with her to that port. He was dressed smartly in ship costume, and appeared no more as a bushman. He now received from me his money in sovereigns, about eighty pounds, with the most grateful expressions, not at all called for.

After this he frequently managed to meet me, and took every opportunity of addressing himself to me in public places, especially if any policeman was in sight; but he kept on board ship some days before the ship sailed, and I saw him no more.

Within a month after this the herd of cattle arrived for me, down the Murray, which I had ordered from the same stockholder who had brought down Hart on his previous trip, and had re-commended me to employ him. From him, to my amazement, I heard the following account of the crime Hart had committed immediately before he joined him.

Hart's previous employment had been with a squatter on a cattle station on one of the upper branches of the Murray, who engaged him knowing him to be a runaway convict. With this employer he had remained about two years, when a herd of cattle were heard of, as going down the main stream of the river. At this time, on his obeying the order to bring his master's horse ready for him to mount, and after he had fastened the horse to the rail in front of the "government house," as the hut used by the owner or manager, is called; he entered the room where his employer was sitting, after his breakfast, and petitioned him, in return for his services, to give him an old stock-horse with saddle, &c; to enable him to overtake the party with cattle going down the river to the new colony.

To this his master replied, "No, you rascal, I will send you in to the Government." On this Hart made a jump to a corner where stood a loaded rifle, and shot his employer dead. He then immediately rushed out and mounted the tied up horse, and rode for his life, but there was no fear of his being immediately pursued, as the assigned and freed men sympathised with him. He had served this employer for nearly two years, and had only received in return rations and bush clothing. One mounted man from the station started immediately to report the circumstance to the nearest police— some miles to the east —while Hart was escaping to the west.

These particulars I heard from my friend, who brought me the cattle; also that Hart on overtaking him on his previous trip, when he came within one day's journey of his party, destroyed the horse on which he escaped in a thick clump of bush, and joined him on foot. I felt greatly shocked on receiving such news of a murder committed by a man who exhibited such a different character whilst in my service, and who had been so faithful and true to me; but I had now the key to explain his action in leaving his money in my hands, in connection with his great care of the horses, especially one of them ; also in his obtaining from me a valuable gun, which he left in the hut, and where also were found capacious saddle-bags which he had made a leather cover for the gun, and other articles useful on a long journey.

So I concluded his original intention was to have gone away overland, if the chance of the Cape voyage had not presented itself in place of the original plan he had designed; which if he had carried out, his conscience would have been clear as to any injury done me in what he would have taken away, viz., the horse, gun, &c, as the money I held would about cover their value. I may mention he had frequently offered to buy from me the best of the two horses, named Browny, but I would not sell him.

I must now give an account of Moorhead and his fatal end. I have to relate circumstances of a most shocking nature, for he also had committed murder. I have shown that at the muster of the cattle I was alone with these two men, who had been guilty of such heavy crimes, but I must say that from their conduct and language, such actions as I afterwards learned they had been guilty of I could not have imagined to have been perpetrated by either of them.

I do not think Hart had made a confidant of Moorhead as to the crime of killing his master when he rode away from the station, or that he told any of the men in the party with whom he came down, as most of them returned to New South Wales to bring down the second mob, as one or other of them if they had known of the murder he had committed would have jumped at the reward which they would well know would be offered ; for although I have found some honor among thieves, it is the exception and not the rule.

I have also special reasons to think he had not told Moorhead, For some time Moorhead went about his work to my satisfaction, but found him getting more and more morose and melancholy, and, to tell the truth, I myself became somewhat uncomfortable by being alone with him, and in consequence engaged a hutkeeper. But I did not find the storekeeper to get better in his mind even with company, and fortunately for myself I proposed to him to go into town for a few days, after he had got the cattle together, and see if a change would improve him.

The news of the crime his friend had committed appeared to have stirred up reminiscences of his own crime, and together had preyed on his mind. Well, he carried out my instructions, and left the station for the town, and put up at an hotel in Grenfell-street; and there remained only a few days, when, as he did not appear at the breakfast table one morning, a servant was ordered to go to his room, and as no answer was obtained to a summons given to him, and his door was found fast, a forced entry was made, and he was found dead, with his throat cut by his own hand.

Recitals of the miserable careers of fellow-creatures of the prison class are painful to give, but in relating occurrences of the first days of the colony, some of these sad tales should be given, in the hopes that the young may be deterred from leaving, by a first step, the paths of rectitude, on reading examples taken from real life, proving how next to impossible it appears to be to return and eradicate the stains, and get rid of evil habits thus acquired.

The opinion I formed of these two men, from the necessary intercourse I had with them, was that neither of them had originally got into trouble, as they call it, by ordinary depredations. I soon found Moorhead appeared to be in a most uncomfortable state of mind, commencing from the time the news came down the river from New South Wales, which was soon followed by confirmation, but by ship, with the notice of the reward of £500, offered by the Governor of New South Wales for the arrest of Hart, for the murder of his master.

Before this news came down Moorhead had shown me the conditional pardon on parchment he had gained, granted him by Governor Darling, setting out that he had been sentenced to death in India for the crime of — (here was an erasure), which had been commuted to transportation for life to Sydney, in consideration of circumstances, &c, and an account of his good conduct as a soldier, &c., &c.

Moorhead explained the word had been worn out by being in a fold of the parchment, and confessed he had killed a Lascar in a quarrel about a native woman, and that the man had attempted to stab him, but he wrested the knife out of his hand, and with it inflicted a death wound. He also showed me high testimonials from Sydney Government Officials, and here ends the career of Moorhead.

I now return to relate the successful completion of the work undertaken by Sergeant N— , as described in the last chapter, and in procuring evidence to convict Green, and Wilson. Having recovered the two stolen horses he brought them to the publican L —, at whose house they had been sold, and the escaped convict Morgan back to Adelaide. Morgan, it will be remembered, had been sentenced to death for his share in the attack on our Sheriff, Mr. Smart, but the sentence was commuted to transportation for life to Van Diemen's Land, his native country, from which he escaped, and commenced bushranging in Victoria, where he lost an arm in an encounter with the Port Phillip police, and was finally hunted down by Sergeant N—.

With this complete array of evidence our officer returned to Adelaide, and arrived at the Port early enough to prevent the release of the prisoners. Ill luck fell against them; for on this day only an order had been obtained for their release on small bail. They thus were soon presented again before the Police Magistrate, and committed for trial at the next Criminal Sittings, where also Morgan was present to be used as a witness.

The interchange of news and passengers in these days was so infrequent and uncertain, and Sergeant N—'s work had taken such a long time to perfect, that it was felt the men Green and Wilson should be let out on bail, and as no information had been received by our Government of the Sergeant's success until he brought the news himself. They were in due course tried by Judge Cooper.

On the day of their trial, I was at the Court; before the business commenced. In the absence of any public Court House, the Judge had fitted up a large outer room, now part of the Bushmen's Club House. Here, before the doors were opened, I saw the prisoner Morgan, in charge of the police, pacing backwards and forwards under a verandah, like a wild beast in a den ; and here an instance of his extraordinary character was manifested, for on his perceiving an officer of police in uniform approaching, on recognising him he called out, 'Ah, Alford !' in a jocular manner, holding up the stump of his shattered and unhealed arm, ' you cannot handcuff me round a gum-tree now, as I have been winged since I saw you,' alluding in this joking manner to the horrid position in which he was left after being arrested by Mr. Alford at the fisheries at Encounter Bay, as related in Chapter II.

Such an instance of nonchalance and hardihood is no fiction, although it exceeds anything I have heard or read of (especially when it is known that Morgan was at this time still under age, and was at that place and time to appear before the Judge, with the probability present to him of return to imprisonment for life) that he should under such circumstances call attention to two such dreadful occurrences in his short life.

I had it from good authority that after his arrival in Adelaide, when the Colonial Surgeon examined Morgan's arm and found he could not do anything for him, he himself gave the information that, after the bone was shattered, a shepherd cut off with a knife the part of the limb hanging by the sinews.

Perhaps the most striking feature in his conduct was that he exhibited in his manner to Sergeant-major Alford no malice against him who had been the agent in fastening on him his grievous punishments. I have before mentioned that he was the son of convict parents, and what may we suppose his bringing up had been ?

Many other circumstances have been related of him ; one I had from good authority, viz. that when at Encounter Bay he was said to be crossing between the mainland and Granite Island with a whaler, both the worse for drink wading along the ridge of connection, when they both staggered into deep water, Morgan released himself from the grip of his comrade and was saved, but his mate was drowned.

Before this occurrence, something similar happened at Adelaide to a man of the same name, and some say it was this Morgan, but for that I have no certain authority; but there is no doubt that two men crossing the River Torrens when in flood by a fallen tree, at mid-stream, wrangled, and both fell in and here the man of the name of Morgan escaped; and the other was carried away by the flood and perished.

It has been supposed, but I think with-out foundation, that Morgan was a relation of the notorious bushranger Morgan, who so long and with such impunity defied the police of the neighboring colonies, and was at length shot down in a treacherous manner, as men of his class would say, but a man who outlaws himself must take the consequences.

At the Criminal Sittings on the 7th November, 1840, Green and Wilson were brought up for trial as before mentioned, and on the overwhelming evidence produced against them were found guilty of horse-stealing and sentenced to transportation for life. Morgan was brought up as a witness to prove the sale of the horses, but his evidence was not admitted or required.

He was subsequently returned to Van Diemen's Land, and it is to be hoped he fell into good hands, for there was little hope that he would recover from his wound or long survive it. No information has been met with as to what happened to him after he left this colony the second time.

Having in this and the previous chapters given the closing scenes in the careers of some of the men who had left the old country for their country's good, and who had found their way to this new land, as they supposed for their own benefit, but not having learned in their transition state that honesty is the best policy, suffered accordingly, for the present I must leave the histories of such characters, and give a few chapters, as promised, on the natives, in which will be related some sad experiences of our earliest days in colonising South Australia.