8 September 1932

MURDER OF CAPTAIN BARKER

Century Old Murray Tragedy

Mount Barker commemorates Captain Collett Barker, who was murdered by the blacks while carrying out exploration work near the Murray over a hundred years ago. In the article following the story of that tragedy is told.

Death Of Captain Barker.

— A monument on Mount Barker bears the following inscription:—

'Erected to the memory of Captain Collet Barker, of H.M. 39th Regiment of Foot, who discovered the district and mount which bears his name.'

It is 101 years since the events occurred which led to the death of this gallant gentleman. In 1831 he was in charge of a settlement at King George's Sound, W.A., but was recalled to Sydney by Governor Darling. There were at that time doubts as to whether an opening existed between Lake Alexandrina and the sea, and the Governor requested Captain Barker to go into St. Vincent's Gulf on his way around and endeavor to solve the problem.

He examined the shore and then with a companion and a few soldiers, proceeded inland. It was at this time that he discovered the mountain which was later given his name.

Three days after leaving his ship he arrived at the mouth of the Murray and determined to explore the country on the other bank. The river here is about a quarter of a mile wide, and the currents meet. It certainly was not a safe place in which to swim. Captain Barker was the only member of his party able to swim, and he decided to risk it. The water was foaming and swirling, and it was with grave fears that his friends watched him set out. He had his precious compass strapped on his head. After a struggle he reached the opposite bank. His friends saw him climb over the low sandhills and watched until he was lost to sight. No white man ever saw him again.

As the day went by and his friends saw no sign of him they grew anxious for his safety. The country was overrun with blackfellows. Night came, and the soldiers lit bonfires to guide the captain back to them. Across the river the blacks built fires, too, and all night they made the air hideous with their dreadful cries and wild chantings. The whites waited another day before returning to their ship.

Two of the party decided to go to Kangaroo Island and enlist the aid of sealers who were there to help solve the fate of Captain Barker. A sealer, George Bates, and a black-gin returned with them. They went among the Murray blacks and made enquiries. They found that the captain had been speared to death. The natives said they had done it to show that a blackman had power to hurt a white man. For some time they were frightened to attack him, thinking that the compass he carried was some strange death dealing instrument. The captain had tried to get away, and managed to reach the river, but the blacks dragged him out and speared him again and again. Finally they took the body into deep water, and the strong current bore it out to sea. Captain Barker was killed on April 30, 1831. — 'R.V.H.,' Yeelanna.

Fisherman's Joke.

— Six miles from Allandale East, the extinct volcano of Mount Schank can be plainly seen. Geologists say that, when the mountain was uplifted, there were corresponding depressions in other parts of the area. A large depression occurred on the western side of the mountain.

This is now occupied by a lakelet, known as the Mount Schank Water hole. Fringing its banks there are numerous reedy islands, it is a strange fact, but, nevertheless true, that these islands move from one side of the waterhole to other. The reeds act as sails, and the islands are slowly blown across the surface by the wind. If from the south, the islands will be found on the northern side, and vice versa.

Perch fishing in the waterhole is a popular sport, and fishermen, for their own benefit, have moored one of the islands to a post. One dark night a party of fishermen set out for the waterhole. They very soon occupied the island that was tied and began fishing. They were joined by a companion, who remarked, when he had been there a short time, 'Well, boys, I've caught enough, and I'm going home.'

A strong southerly wind had sprung up, and he decided to have some fun. While the others went on with their fishing he quietly untied the wire which held the island. Chuckling to himself, the practical joker made his way homewards.

He had some supper and returned to the waterhole. Loud cries reached his ears, and peering out towards the centre, he noticed the island slowly drifting. The cries were repeated in louder tones, and the joker decided to rescue his victims. He jumped into a boat and rowed towards them. After fastening the wire securely to the boat he towed them safely to the shore. The luckless fishermen thanked their rescuer, and afterwards remarked how fortunate they were that their cries had been heard. — 'Interested,' Allandale East.

What Killed Him?

— Many years ago, when the South-East was the home of thousands of marsupials, I was returning to camp from an unsuccessful sporting stroll round a large swamp.

Crossing one of the limestone ridges I espied, about half a mile ahead, on a grassy mound, three kangaroos feeding. I stopped, reconnoitred, and noticed that by keeping to the left I could get into thick honeysuckle, stringybark and bracken, and probably within range (about 35 yards) for a shotgun.

Watching them carefully, and standing perfectly still when any of them sat up, I moved slowly through the scrub. At a distance of about 100 yards I got a clear view of them. One old man of immense size and two does. They suspected nothing. It was the old man's skin I wanted.

Approaching cautiously, stooping and crawling when necessary, the distance was gradually diminished to about 65 yards. Another 30 yards and I would be within range; but— in the wilds of Australia the bond that exists between all wild animals and birds for mutual protection is probably as strong as anywhere else in the world; consequently animals seem to rely on bird watchers as much as they do on their own instinct. In this case a mischievous minah over head gave the warning call, and they kangaroos sat up instantly.

I hoped they would start off in the wrong direction and come towards me. But they hopped away with long springs and I rose up in disgust, sending a charge of shot after them haphazardly and harmlessly, for the distance was over 70 yards. I stood watching them idly as they sped through the bracken till they stopped on the opposite slope 300 yards away, and I was turning to go camp-wards when I noticed them start off again, but only two. Where was the third? Not a sign of it, and it was standing there a few seconds ago. It was worth while investigating, and, noting the place, I hurried across.

There he was, amongst the bracken, on his back and stone dead, I was puzzled. He had hopped away unhurt and had been singled out no more than the others. On removal of the skin there was not a shot mark on him, not a drop of blood anywhere. Head, eyes, ears, ribs, after a careful examination, revealed nothing in the way of a wound. In any case No. 4 shot at over 70 yards from an ordinary gun wouldn't kill a pigeon. Internally this old man's heart and vital organs were perfectly sound and healthy. What killed him? I am still puzzled. —Mark Payne, Brighton.

Paddy Condin.

— Sixty odd years ago, near Red Creek, a picturesque sheoak glen, there lived an old man— Pat Condin. He was a mason by trade, and built the first stone school at Woodchester, since dismantled and replaced. Condin considered himself a farmer. In those days things were primitive. There were no drills— a 'seed lip,' or, as was more often the case, a piece of bag served the purpose. Instead of the disc-plough the old wooden plough was used, and an awkward, heavy structure it was.

After the wheat had been stripped and cleaned Condin used to cart it to the Mount Barker flour mill, then owned by the late John Dunn. In those days there was a place known as the Old Coffee Shop, about three miles east of the Morning Star Hotel. It was the custom of the teamsters to buy hot coffee at the shop— now long deserted and in ruins.

At the same period the Morning Star Hotel (now converted to a private residence) was having its heyday of trade, as practically all the carting went to Mount Barker. The jovial host, the late Teddy Yates, did a wonderful trade. The Morning Star was often the home of some large boasts. One evening the subject of courage was discussed. Condin, before an audience of young and old, avowed himself afraid of nothing. Some of the lads decided to try him out, and they left early to prepare. Condin left the rendezvous rather fuddled, but his old horse Polley took him safely within sight of the home slip panel rails. Then she began to prop and snort.

Condin said, 'Gone on wid ye,' as he thumped her ribs with his shillalah. He was never without this weapon. Polley still protested, as she had seen queer white shapes flitting about. Then Condin espied on his gate post a huge white head, and several other 'ghosts' moving about. Poll refused to go further. Condin dismounted and tied her to the fence. He approached his gate post, now perfectly sober, demanding, 'Begorra, who are ye?' The other ghosts in the meanwhile kept discreetly in the shadows. Pat studied the head, which was a huge melon with the mouth cut in it and two holes for eyes, illuminated from, inside by a lighted candle. Then, whack! and the shillalah shattered the head. The other 'ghosts' beat a quick retreat while Condin was still making pulp of the melon, for they knew he was quite capable of treating them all alike. They considered he had proved his courage.— 'Pansy,' Milang.

Shin Plasters Of The Fifties.

— South Australia never got so far as having 'wooden money' as once did America, but she came very near it with the 'Shin Plasters' of the fifties in the South-East.

In the early fifties Messrs. Geo. Ormerod & Co. of Narracoorte, and afterwards of Robe, were virtually the bankers of the South-Eastern squatters, in fact it looks as if they were more or less either partners or nominal owners of many stations from Naracoorte and Kingston on the north and east to Robe and Rivoli Bay on the south and west. The squatters paid their hands with orders on Ormerod & Co., and part of these were taken out in goods. For the balance another order was given for the reduced amount. As these orders were only on flimsy paper, many of them got worn or 'drowned' beyond recognition, and consequently were never redeemed.

In the late fifties the same remarks applied to Mount Gambier. One family who had been recommended to 'come to the Mount,' were told that it was a coming place, 'but,' said the friend, 'bring plenty of cash with you, for there is very little here.' It was the practice for farmers and other employers of labor, or purchasers of goods there, to give an order on the local storekeepers, and if the latter had not the change for the balance they gave an order of their own, which in turn was presented to butcher, baker, or publican, it was convenient that 'Crouch and Mitchell' was virtually the same as 'Sandy Mitchell,' who was the local first publican, and other callings besides, consequently the 'Shin Plasters' of this locality were a convenient form of 'currency.' Many of the smaller amounts were not presented for payment or exchange.— 'Tanta-Tyga,' Millicent.