Having been reported as efficient to the Chief Inspector by the drill instructor in my mounted and foot drill, I was in structed by the chief to hold myself in readiness and proceed to Gumeracha for duty under Cpl. Tracey on the following morning. I left by royal mail coach, with kit complete for my destination. I had a box seat by the side of the driver and the way he handled those ribbons and his horses— for he would bring them up at the various townships en route in a swinging canter — won the admiration of his passengers. In those days the mail coaches carried a guard, who upon approaching the various townships would tootle on his horn a loud blast, to give notice of the mail's approach.

Without doubt the scenery viewed along the road to Gumeracha was most picturesque. The beauties of this little township reminded me of some of the little rural villages had seen at home! It consisted of a police station, Courthouse, and post office, which were in the main street adjoining each other. There were also the various business places such as a blacksmith and saddler's shops, where all the local quidnunes assembled and discussed politics, and what they would do were they in Parliament, for in their opinion the country was going to the dogs, and it wanted men of their understanding at the head of affairs to save it.

In addition there were stores and two hotels. During the time I was at Gumeracha I boarded at one of these, and found it most comfortable, well kept, and homely. I was soon made at home; the inhabitants of the surrounding districts were most sociable and hospitable. That night in the bar parlour of the hotel, I met quite a number of the townspeople who no doubt came in to see the young trooper. Among them was a fine old Scotchman, the local butcher, who, while enjoying a wee drop of whisky, dearly loved to spin yarns about his old friend Bobbie Burns, and his old cronies.

The Runaway Sailor.

My chief was constantly receiving complaints about the manner in which the landlord of the Highbury Hotel (a German) was conducting his house. Billiards and cards were being played on a Sunday evening, and men, some under the in fluence of liquor, assembled outside of the hotel to the annoyance of churchgoers. I was therefore instructed to let my beard grow and not shave for a week, after which I was on a Saturday to make up a sailor's swag, proceed to the Modbury Hotel, and stay the night. I was well known to the landlord, a highly respectable man, having stayed there on previous occasions, on my rounds patrolling the district.

On the Sunday afternoon while the landlord and his good wife, were having their afternoon nap I got myself up to resemble a sailor, and with a rough swag on my back, made my way through the garden of the hotel to the Highbury Hotel.

I cautiously made my way to the stables, assuming the role of a runaway sailor, for at that time numbers of sailors deserted their ships and made their way towards the River Murray where they would get employment and good wages on the river boats.

At the stables I came across the ostler, who on seeing me exclaimed. 'Hullo, old chap. What ship did you run away from?' I at once put my finger to my lips and said 'Hush! for heaven's sake; don't put me away.'

'Oh,' he said, 'you're all right with me; I'll look after you; but there's a —— called Tacey; you'll have to look out that he doesn't see you, for he's a terror after runaway sailors.'

I said, 'Who's this fellow, Tacey?' He told me he was the trooper stationed at Gumeracha; I said, 'Oh, hell; I'm off.' He said to me, 'Wait a bit; I'll go and have a look around, and see if the coast is clear.'

After a while he returned and told me it was all right. 'But,' I said, 'there might be some other police about that you do not know.' He told me not to be alarmed, for he could always smell them a mile off. Whatever peculiar odour there was about policemen that betrayed their calling I have failed to detect to this day.

Anyway, I said, 'You're a darned good sort; let us shake hands on it. Look here, I've got a bob or two; is there any chance of our getting a couple of pints of 'sheaoak.' That's what sailors called the Australian beer in those days. "My oath there is,'' he replied. I handed him a 2/ piece. He returned with a couple of pints of beer and my change. By this time it was getting near teatime, and I was anxious to make the acquaintance of the landlord. I asked if the 'boss' was about. He replied, 'That's him coming across the yard towards us.'

The ostler spoke to him, and told him that I was a runaway sailor. I spoke to the landlord, and asked if I could get a feed. He looked me up and down, and abruptly told me he did not supply food to tramps.' 'Oh,' I said, 'I've got money and am willing to pay for it.' He walked away and took no further notice of me.

The night was setting in cold. The ostler took a large log of wood to replenish the fire in the billiard room. I followed at his heels with my swag. The landlord intercepted me at the door, and told me I could not go in there, as it was for "gentlemen only." I was determined not to be kept out, and pushed past him, and went and sat near the fire. Men were coming in by twos and threes, and commenced to play billiards and cards. There was a trapdoor leading from the bar to the billiard room by which the drinks were supplied.

After some time the trap door was opened, and the landlord exclaimed in a low voice 'Put out the lights; it vas the police; put out the lights quick.' After having been in darkness for a time the trapdoor was again opened, and the landlord then said it vas a false alarm; it was not the police after all. 'Now, boys, vat vas the drinks?' he asked. Various drinks were ordered, and the landlord was told to bring in his as well, which he did. Neither he nor any one else offered the poor runaway sailor a drink.

The Interrupted Drink

While they were all enjoying their liquor I had unrolled my swag, took out my uniform cloak, walked up to the door of exit, and put it on. 'Gentlemen,' I said, 'stay where you are; this is no false alarm; the runaway sailor, whom you supposed me to be, is taking a hand in this. I am a police trooper' (taking my pocket book out); 'I want your names, please; don't make any trouble, or I will be under the necessity of calling in Corporal Tacey.'

The landlord and the men were dumbfounded. The expressions of astonishment on their faces were a picture to witness. The landlord exclaimed, 'Mine Gott: you vas only joking. Come and we will have all a little supper together.' I replied, 'I don't want your supper; you may keep it, and give it to the next poor runaway sailor who may ask you for a feed.'

I opened the door and whistled. Before the last sound had left my lips all the men had disappeared like a lot of rabbits down their warren. They evidently thought I had whistled for Corporal Tacey. I then wished the landlord good night, and proceeded on my way to the Modbury Hotel and turned in.

The next morning I made up my swag, and appeared at breakfast in the suit or clothes I had come to the hotel in on the previous afternoon. Two of the landlord's boys remarked that they had seen a runaway sailor with a swag, going across the garden on the Sunday afternoon. The father said, 'Poor fellow, I hope he has got away, and that the police have not caught him.' I replied, 'I hope go too, for some of the poor fellows have a very hard life at sea.' I saddled up, and wishing them good-bye returned to my station and reported to the officer in charge the result of my trip.

I had the pleasure of serving the landlord shortly afterwards with summonses to appear at Court, for I had not the slightest sympathy, for one who would deny a feed to a man, as he had done me. Needless to say, he was fined heavily, and those who were present, just nominal fines, as the charge was not pressed against them. Although wireless was not in vogue then, it went all round the district how the landlord had been caught by the sailor trooper, and he was much chaffed about it. Before I had left the district he sold out, and I am pleased to say was replaced by a better man, more worthy to hold a licence.

Ex-Military Officers as Troopers.

In 1878 and 1879 the Police Barracks was a kind of 'rest home' for ex-military officers of the British Army, who joined the police troopers to recoup their health, so they said. No doubt it was their finances that required nursing, for they were men who had, as the saying is, over run the constable at home, and service in the police troopers gave them breathing time to get their affairs in order. Remittances from home, together with police pay, helped them to tide over for a time, for, like Micawber, they lived in hopes of something better turning up.

We had two of these ex-captains in the Police Barracks during the time I was stationed in the central division. I got intimately acquainted with Capts. A. and B. They were gentlemen of birth and education, university men. There is always something that denotes the English gentleman! Their source of complaint was that pay day occurred but once a month instead of weekly.

Capt. A. had come to South Australia with one of the Governors of this State. They had been comrades in the same regiment. If not on duty Trooper A. would leave the barracks dressed in a belltopper, kid gloves, and walking stick, as if he had just been turned out of a fashionable Bond street tailoring establishment, and saunter down to the Adelaide Club, of which he was either an-honorary member, or, if not, had, at all events, free access to it. He would return to barracks more often after midnight than before, and it was evident that he had been having a good time, which he invariably did when it was his night off, for he was always brought to the barracks in a hansom cab by a considerate cabby.

One morning, as he did not answer to the roll call at stables, Sgt. Campbell, who was then barracks master, on finding him in bed, asked him in pretty explicit and forcible language why he was not at stables. Trooper A, who had hardly recovered from his previous night's jollification, and was barely awake, replied, 'O, dim it, Sergeant. It is the fault of the confounded groom of mine for not awakening me in time; call the roll, Sergeant, call the roll; I'll be there presently.'

The sergeant, who was a Highlander, and had a temper as ignitable as brimstone, roared out at the top of his voice, which could be heard all over the barrack square, 'Groom be damned. You scions of blue-blooded aristocracy come here without your grooms, so you will damn well have to groom your own horse, and, by God, if this occurs again I'll carpet you before the chief.' Trooper A, replied, 'You are a dimned fine, fellow, Sergeant, but you are so devilsih peppery; what do you say, as the canteen is opened, to a whisky and soda?' The sergeant being Scotch, I am rather inclined to think the offer was not refused.

On finding that I was a native of Jersey we became quite chummy. He showed me a photograph of a group of officers of the 64th Regiment with their names and rank, and in which he, as captain, was included therein, and which had been taken while they were garrisoned in Jersey.

Trooper A was slightly hard of hearing, but could hear quite well when the boys chaffed him at the mess. They thought he could not hear them, but he was as deaf as a post when he did not want to hear them.

A Fenian Scare.

About this time there was a Fenian scare, and from information mysteriously received it was said that a plot had been discovered, that the Fenians [Irish Republicans] were going to set fire to the public buildings and principal warehouses in the city. Precautions were being taken by the heads of the Police Department to frustrate these evil designs. All out-station men available were called in for duty. Foot constables and troopers, of which Trooper A. was one, were stationed in places of vantage watching these buildings.

Officers and sergeants visited the men at all hours during the night to see that they were at their various posts, and were thoroughly vigilant. The nights were extremely cold and bleak. Trooper A, no doubt finding the place where had been posted such, retired to a more comfortable spot, and to keep himself alert helped himself, not wisely but too freely, to a flask of whisky, which he had taken the precaution to provide himself with against the inclemency of the weather and catching a cold.

Sgt. Innes, who happened to be the officer visiting him, could not find him where he had been posted on duty for the night. On searching for some time he heard what he thought was some one playing tunes on a nasal organ. He cautiously approached the spot whence the sounds came for fear that it was a trap being laid by the enemy. After considerable manoeuvring to outflank the supposed enemy he suddenly flashed his bullseye lantern on the object whence the mysterious sounds were coming from, to find to his astonishment that it was Trooper A., fast asleep.

The sergeant's wrath and indignation were aroused beyond description, when he found that Trooper A. had committed such a serious breach of duty. He thereupon shook him violently and asked him in his Irish brogue what he meant by going to 'slape' at his post.

Trooper A. by this time was awake, and seeing who it was, at once rose to the occasion and exclaimed, 'H-u-s-h, H-u-s-h!' at the same time pointing to the top of a high wall. By this time the sergeant's wrath was at high pitch, and he exclaimed, 'Phwat the devil do you mane with your 'Hush!' You're drunk so you are; I arrest you. Come along wid me to the police station.'

Trooper A. was now thoroughly alert, and walked along with the sergeant to the police station, where he was charged with having been drunk while on most important duty. Trooper A. called the watch house keeper and others present to witness that he was thoroughly sober.

Next morning he was informed to report himself at Commissioner Peterswald's office at 10 a.m. Punctually he appeared before the Commissioner. Inspector Sullivan and Sgt. Innes were present. The sergeant reported the facts as to how he had found Trooper A., who upon being asked by the Commissioner what he had to say to this serious charge, assumed a most indignant attitude. He said that it was a most monstrous and unfounded charge, and that as a fact he was thoroughly sober, and on the qui vive [on the alert], realizing the importance of being so. He had, prior to the sergeant coming up to him, been intently watching two men who were acting in a suspicious manner, and being slightly hard of hearing, as the Commissioner was aware, did not hear the sergeant until he was near him. Had it not been for the arrant stupidity in which Sgt. Innes had acted in coming up to him roaring like a mad bull, he would without doubt have captured both of these men, as he was about to call upon them to stop or he would shoot. The noise made by the sergeant so distracted his attention that the men in the meantime escaped over the wall.

'Now, sir, continued Trooper A., 'as one officer and a gentleman to another, I can speak to you. Do you for one moment suppose that I, who have held a commission as a captain in the British Army, would be guilty of this offence? The idea, sir, is most preposterous, for by the army regulations it means being court-martialled and shot.'

The Commissioner turned to the sergeant and asked him if, after hearing Trooper A.'s explanation, he thought that he had not made a mistake. He replied, 'No, sir, he was drunk and snoring like a pig.'

Trooper A. asked that the watchhouse keeper be called. Upon appearing, he was asked to state the condition that Trooper A. was in when he entered the charge made against him by the sergeant. He replied that to all appearances the trooper was thoroughly sober. The Commissioner then said. 'I think there has been a mistake made; the charge has not been proved.'

Needless to say Trooper A. was not called upon to do any more of this duty, but something more congenial was found for him at the barracks. Shortly after this the Governor's term expired, and Trooper A. resigned from the police force.

Capt. Burton. Bart.

Capt. Burton, who was also in the service at this time, was in charge at Hallett, while the railway line was being constructed from there to Jamestown. It was marvellous the way he controlled the navvies there, for sometimes when a fight was about to take place he would appear among them and say, 'Now, you bally fools, I do believe that you were going to fight, and then I would have been under the painful necessity of locking you all up. Now, don't be stupid fellows, come and have a beverage.'

'My oath, we will Captain,' for that was what they called him. They would all proceed to the hotel where Trooper Burton would tell the landlord to supply them with what they wanted. He was quite a hero among them, and woebetide any one who insulted him, for he would get it hot from the rest of them. He was only a short time in the service, for he subsequently left for the old country, having come into an Irish baronetcy.

Gen. Gordon, who at one time commanded the South Australian Mititary Forces was also a police trooper and drill instructor at the mounted barracks.

Lovers— and What Happened!

It was customary on the arrival of a new Governor and other special occasions, where two men were at outstations, for the junior to be called in for duty at the barracks. Having them called in for duty on one of these special functions, I had been told off for night duty as a mounted patrol to one of the suburbs, and on my return for barracks shortly after 11 o'clock, nothing having occurred which required police intervention. I was riding a thoroughbred horse called Leamouth, which the Police Department had bought from a military officer of that name. He was very tractable, but rather nervy, and would shy at the least thing. I was coming to barracks at a good trot.

Near the Destitute entrance near the barracks, a couple of lovers were spooning at that corner. My horse, seeing them, shied violently, and bounded across the road. In doing so his forelegs locked, and he fell on his side, crushing me under him. He at once got on his feet, and made it a full gallop for the barracks. The young man, seeing that it was a trooper who had met with an accident, showed more discretion than valour, for he cleared off as fast as his legs would allow, leaving his young lady behind him. She certainly, I must say, behaved in a more considerate and humane manner, for she at once came to where I was lying, and asked if she could render me assistance.

I was unable to rise; my right leg had been broken at the ankle by the stirrup iron. I asked her to go to the barracks, which were only a couple of hundred yards away, and inform the authorities that a trooper had met with an accident and had broken a leg. She did so without delay, for within half an hour, I was conveyed in the police trap to the Hospital.

Dr. Gardner, a most skilful surgeon, was then house surgeon, and fortunately for me he was on night duty. I was placed in a bed, and examined by him, when he found I had received a Pott's fracture he at once set it up in splints. On my right hand, in a bed, was an Irishman, a cabby, who had been brought to the Hospital that morning, having fallen out of his vehicle on to his head in a drunken state.

I received every care and attention from Dr. Gardner, and I am pleased to say that it was due to his skill that I have never suffered to this day from the effort of this accident. The nurses were then of the old style; uniforms had not been introduced at the Hospital, but the patients were well looked after. About eight weeks later I returned to barracks and resumed light duty.