28 July 1932

A MAN, A FISH, AND A SUMMONS

NAMING THE BLACK RANGES

White attended a mystery dinner. He was curious to find out who was paying for it. He didn't know that he was his own host, and the host of the others who were present.

Bridegroom Disappears.

— In the early days of Millicent a wedding was arranged to take place on the morrow. The bridegroom visited the bride the evening before. Putting a question as to whether she really cared for him, he received what was to him a most unsatisfactory reply. He left the scene in a very despondent mood.

In the early hours of the succeeding day he woke his room-mate by calling out in an agonised tone, 'My God! What have I done, what have I done?' The mate gave an answer which might be considered out of place here, turned over, and went to sleep. When he awoke the 'bridegroom' had gone.

It was many months, if not years, before he was heard of, and then he was in a distant part of the country. When news of the bedroom incident got abroad, followed by his nonappearance at the ceremony, many concluded that he had committed suicide. If the bride knew he was not going to appear she said nothing. Friends and parson turned up at the church in due course, and waited until well into the afternoon. It was not known how the 'bridegroom' got away, nor the direction he took. — 'Tanta Tyga,' Millicent.

Blacks and the Sheep.

— In 1861 my great-grandfather, the late Daniel McGhee, was shepherding on the Petna run, which was owned by the late Mr. Price Morris. One day he was out with his flock, when he saw fires start up all around him. Guessing it to be the work of blacks, intended to set the sheep scattering into the scrub, where they could kill them, he started another fire, which he kept beating out with his coat, until he had a space burnt big enough on which to drive his flock. He just had time to drive the sheep on to the cleared space when the other fires crept up. A few of the sheep got scorched, but none were seriously harmed. This presence of mind saved both himself and his sheep. — A. E. Haines, Wilmington.

Wedding 65 Years Ago.

— One very sold winter night a marriage was celebrated in a small house in a quiet part of Goolwa, called 'Boult Town.' After the ceremony and the supper a small party sat round a fire in the big old fashioned fireplace. The young men of the town thought it their duty to carry out the traditional tin kettling.

They stood a mason's scaffold plank up at the door, and put all the tin they could find against it. They next knocked at the door, and when it was opened the whole lot fell inside. After things had quietened down the boys put one of their gang an the roof with a bucket of water which he poured down the chimney, and then slipped away.

In the mean time the bridegroom had loaded his shotgun with saltpetre, and when the water came down the chimney, put out the fire, and scattered the ashes over the party, he rushed out in time to see the lad running away. He shot at him, and the charge penetrated his back and legs. But the lad kept running with the aid of his mates, until they got him near where the public pound now it. It was scrub in those days. They took his clothes off, laid him on his back, and struck matches while the best 'doctor' of the gang picked the saltpetre out with a penknife. I do not think there is one person now living who was concerned in the episode. — B. H. Dodd, Goolwa.

'Whiteman's Firestick.'

— Too much cannot be said for the courage of the pioneer's wife. My aunt was amongst the first to settle with her husband in the Cowell district. Many are the tales she tells of the natives. One of the best is this:—

She was alone in the house, and was walking outside from the kitchen, when a dark form blocked the doorway. It was a blackfellow, and he demanded flour, sugar and baccy. Being told that she had none, he grew menacing. She advanced to the door, where a loaded gun was always kept.

A spear hurtled across the room, just missing her and lodging in the pine wall opposite. Just then uncle arrived home from the township, where he had been for supplies. He saw the perilous position of his wife, and attracted the blackfellow's attention, thus giving my aunt a chance to get the gun. She fired it over the native's head. The noise scared him so much that he ran off like a shot to join his tribe. Natives are deadly afraid of 'whiteman's fire stick.' — 'Debly,' The Oakes, Cortlinye.

Joke That Miscarried.

— In the old days there were some inveterate practical jokers in the southern towns. The three principals in one affair can be called White, Black and Brown. White lived at Victor Harbour, Black at Port Elliot, and Brown elsewhere.

The two former were tradesmen and friends. The latter was a greengrocer, who visited the different townships. White and Black were both at Middleton one day, the former having gone up by the old horse tram, in which he intended returning. Brown, with his vegetables, and a man in a cart with fish, also came along. While the fisherman was temporarily absent, Brown helped himself to a fish, popped it into his cart, and covered it with a bag. White saw this, and waiting an opportunity, took the fish, slipped it into his bag and put it on the tram by which he was returning home. Black, who was working on a building close by, had seen what happened, but said nothing, so White carried away his prize.

Next day, however, he received a summons to appear at the Port Elliot courthouse on a charge of having purloined a fish, or, in the alternative to forward the value of the fish, plus costs, the sum demanded being mentioned. It was, of course, a bogus summons issued by Black to obtain the necessary document and impress. White was aghast at the idea of appearing in court on such a charge. He accordingly wrote a letter of apology, explained that his act was intended as a joke, and forwarded the money. He heard nothing further, and concluded all was well.

Some time later Black visited Victor Harbour, looked up five or six of his friends, including White, and invited them to a dinner a mutual friend was giving at the hotel that evening. All invited accepted. One or two were curious to learn who was providing the feast, and were informed that they would know later. The party had a really good time. At the close of tie function one guest remarked, 'Well thanks to someone for a jolly good dinner. I would like to know who it was.' Looking around the table, he caught White's eye. 'You need not look at me,' said White, 'I know nothing about it.' 'Yes, friends, he does know something about it,' said Black, 'White is the man who has stood this little treat.' White vigorously repudiated this statement, but Black drew the summons from his pocket, and related the story of the fish. The little company was convulsed with mirth in which White heartily joined. — 'Tommy Rough,' Victor Harbour.

The Black Ranges.

— Except for people living close to the Black Ranges, few know the history of their naming. Extending from Anlaby Station to Emu Downs, these ranges were the sanctuary of the blacks forced to leave the surrounding country after the Government had purchased, and opened up most of the northern portion of the Anlaby Estate.

The leaders of this unknown tribe, living near the middle of the ranges, were troublesome fellows and caused much annoyance to the boundary riders by helping themselves to any stray sheep near the foothills. As a result, police quarters were established within a few miles of the camp of the tribe. One trooper was continually stationed there as a safeguard for the riders, and the few settlers who had taken up their allotted farms. Blacks often visited the newcomers, and as their requests for 'baccy' and flour were generally granted, settlers and natives were generally on good terms.

The police were less fortunate. After the blacks had been punished several times for misdoings their bad feeling towards the troopers increased. One day news came that the blacks had killed a trooper near their camp. No evidence as to the actual murderer was available, so it was decided to round up the tribe and arrest the leaders. The blacks knew of the approach of the troopers, and prepared an ambush, which resulted disastrously.

The police, armed with firearms, easily held off the natives, and the conflict ended with many dead blacks and one trooper injured by a club. The settlers were ordered to bury a dozen dead blacks, and as many others were supposed to have been injured. The chief was not found amongst the dead, but is said to have died from wounds some time later.

The remainder of the tribe lived in an old boundary rider's hut for a time, but a settler burnt it down, as the natives were a nuisance on his property. As more white people began to establish themselves on their holdings, the natives left, and were soon forgotten. The trooper's grave, surrounded by railings, still remains a desolate spot in a paddock near the scene of the tragedy. — 'Fossil,' Ngapala.

Couldn't Find The Mine.

— Late in 1861, Captain Pasco and Mr. Fred Frost pegged out the Blinman mine, and in November, 1862, they passed our house with a big staff of men to open it up. Seven or eight days later Captain Pasco came to our house to see my father. He said, 'Damme, Ned, we be in some fix, me son; we canent find the mine.' My father replied, 'Why don't you get old Pegleg (father of the lad that found the mine) to show you.' 'Why, he do be along with us every day, me son,' said the captain, 'and he bain't know no more about it than we do, and I want ee, Ned, to go to Mount Deception station and fetch the boy Mark (Blinman) to show us where the mine be.' — C. E. Roberts, Blinman

Miraculous Escape.

— Most residents of Port Germein will remember my story. On December 19, 1922, I had taken a load of wheat to Germein to be unloaded at Darling's wheat shed. I led Bert Davey's old horse (which was used on the whip for drawing wheat to the top of the stack) out of the way, to let another loaded waggon pass.

Something startled the horse, which trotted off. A chain with a hook was attached to the horse. This swung round and caught my foot, throwing me to the ground face downwards. I was dragged out of the shed, across two sets of railway lines in the street, and down the road for some distance. With presence of mind I kept myself propped upon my elbows. I also kept my legs together as much as possible, kicking all the time to free myself.

At last the chain slipped off, leaving me free, badly shaken and scratched. My coat and shirt sleeves were worn right through, and my arms skinned and bleeding. Arriving at my home, in Baroota, I related to my wife the thrilling incident, without mentioning to whom it had happened. She was naturally shocked, and enquired who the unfortunate man was. For answer I lifted my arms, showing my ragged coat sleeves. — 'R.S.H.,' Buckleboo.