24 August 1933

HOW A FUGITIVE FROM JUSTICE REACHED ADELAIDE

SMUGGLING CONVICTS IN THE EARLY DAYS

All sorts of ruses were adopted by undesirables in the early days to enter South Australia, then regarded in the other colonies as a Land of Promise. This article shows how one such person came to Adelaide.

In the early days, there was a constant seepage of ex-convicts and hunted criminals into this State from the penal settlements in New South Wales and Van Diemen's Land. The presence of such characters in the community was an ever-present source of worry, the more so since, when Hindmarsh left in 1838, taking with him the original marines from the 'Buffalo,' the forces left to uphold law and order consisted of 18 hastily enlisted constables among a population of some four thousand.

Notices were constantly issued, warning colonists to be on the lookout for undesirables. Not infrequently reports came in of deeds of terrorism committed in out lying homesteads by desperadoes. But, menaced as they were, time has wrapped their exploits in an atmosphere of romance, as witness the movements of 'James Thompson.'

James Grant, alias Thompson, was a clerk in the Ordinance Stores in Hobart Town, who made use of his opportunities to embezzle a large sum of money. The fraud was detected, and it became imperative for him to leave the colony. There was, in those days, only one way to do this.

In a waterfront tavern he met one Nelson, master of the brig Emma, of the South Australian Co.'s fleet. Closeted in a private room, away from the stir of the bar, they drained their tankards, and Grant made his proposition. The regulations required that the masters of all ships clearing from the Port should present to the authorities a list of the passengers and crew. It was also necessary for passengers and crew to have permits to leave. By checking the permits against the list, the authorities controlled the only means of escape.

So Thompson had to circumvent the regulations somehow. His plans were made in the true vein of romance. Some dozen miles down the coast was an inn, owned by a man whose love of justice was not a pearl of great price. Thither Thompson repaired, and lay hidden for two days, while the Emma was loading. Meanwhile, Nelson suborned his chief mate.

On the day of sailing, the Port officials came on board, vised the Emma's papers, and the vessel, going out with the tide, dropped down the Derwent in the late afternoon. From the bridge, the master watched the land slipping past until, about 8 o'clock, the expected shorelights hove in view, and, half an hour later, he dropped anchor. He signalled the land through the cabin portholes, and soon, out of the night, came the plash of oars and the creak of rowlocks. Then a skiff materialised, nosed into the shadow of the vessel, bumped, and grated alongside.

From the stern of the ship, a muffled figure clambered into the Emma's waist, and the fugitive and the master shook hands on the gently rolling deck. The anchor was weighed again, and in due course Thompson reached Adelaide. He soon left for New South Wales.

The circumstances of his arriving here make one wonder how often the same or something similar occurred. After all, fugitives from justice arrived in numbers, and naturally the details of successful escapes would not have been made public. We only know as much as we do about this instance because the story had a sequel.

It happened that when Grant came aboard the Emma, one of the crew who had not been suborned was in a position to see all that happened. Nelson, the master, by way of explanation, told him that the man, being secretly taken on board, was a poor fellow whom he was assisting to reach South Australia. But when the Emma, on the South Australian Co.'s legitimate business, arrived back in Hobart Town, this sailor informed on his captain, and Nelson was arraigned on a charge of violating the Port regulations. He advanced the plea that he was short-handed and was forced to take on an extra seaman. Although ably defended in court, and strongly supported by the chief mate, he was found guilty and fined £50. It is doubtful if, even then, the Hobart authorities were aware of the identity of the fugitive. — 'Kestril,' Norwood.

Real Life Stories Of South Australia (1933, August 24). Chronicle (Adelaide, SA : 1895 - 1954), p. 16. http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article90889238

'Mad Louie'

In the early days a certain family lived between Wirrabara and Murray Town. There were five sturdy lads, and when they grew up were regarded as the champion shearers of the world. It was usual for them to do several hundred sheep in a day. It was often remarked how beautifully the animals were shorn, as smooth as if a plane had been run over them.

One day something upset one of the brothers. He took his shears and ripped a sheep's stomach up full length. The poor beast was dead on the spot. He was tried, given six months, and later released because he was not normal.

A few years later, two men were driving along a road about 9 p.m. It was moonlight. Suddenly, a tall figure ran across their track, stark naked. One of the party whispered, "Who was that?" The driver answered, "Oh, it was only Louie." Some time after the same two men met at a blacksmith's shop. To their surprise, along came Louie.

He said to the blacksmith. "Give me something to eat." The smith replied, "Go over to that house." While speaking, he put down an adze he was using. Louie picked it up and gave the unsuspecting owner a bang with it on the back of his head, which floored him. Louie rushed past the prostrate man towards the house, which was owned by Mr. Fox.

Mr. Fox, junior, saw him coming. He knew trouble was brewing. His mother and sisters being in the house, he turned the key in the locks. Louie ran around the house several times, then went to the tank, ripped off a sheet of iron, pulled off a batten, and went to the house, where he battered to pieces the neat little panes of the windows. Fox put two cartridges in his double barrelled gun, a few more in his pocket, and clipped out by the door. Louie made towards a haystack, with Fax after him. Fox shot the culprit in the legs, and brought him down, where he fought like a tiger, and several men had to be employed to keep him at bay while one man drove to the town for the police. The residents were glad, as the news spread that Louie was captured at last. 'E.H.,' Brooker. W.C.

"Mad Louie" (1933, August 24). Chronicle (Adelaide, SA : 1895 - 1954), p. 16. http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article90889236

He Wasn't Going To Be Fooled

Many years ago my father was building a stone house. He asked one of the neighbors' sons to give him a hand for a week, and promised him 20s. At the end of the week father gave him a sovereign and said, "Here's a shilling for your pay."

A few days later the man came back and asked for his wages. "But I paid you on Saturday," said father. "Yes. but you only gave me a shilling," said the man. "Wasn't it a yellow one, I gave you?" "Oh, yes, it was yellow, but you said you would give me twenty shillings." "Don't you know that a yellow one is worth twenty shillings?" said father.

"You can't tell me that," said the man, "I want twenty shillings." "All right," said father, "you give me the yellow one and I'll give you twenty silver ones." The man gave father the sovereign and went off satisfied. He had never before seen a sovereign.— 'Eldeebee,' West Coast.

He Wasn't Going To Be Fooled (1933, August 24). Chronicle (Adelaide, SA : 1895 - 1954), p. 16. http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article90889247