5 July 1934

EARLY BUSHRANGING EXPLOITS 

Exciting Night At Crafer's Inn

The opening of the overland cattle tracks in 1838-1839 facilitated the ingress to this State not only of cattle, but also of much less desirable characters. Escaped convicts and ticket-of-leave men found their way over, and frequently the Government of New South Wales allocated the services of convicts to drovers about to attempt the crossing. 

The Van Dieman's Land settlements were also a fruitful source of these unwanted additions to our population, and some of the most exciting incidents in the early annals of the police force are connected with them. They were a constant source of terror to outlying settlers. 

Thus in January, 1840, a German settler named Pffender, living on the Para River with his wife and family, was surprised about dusk by three desperadoes, Curran, Hughes, and Fox, who posed as honest hunters - hungry after a day in the bush. Their arrival was heralded by the dogs, and Mrs. Pffender, who was inside the cottage at the time, sent her daughter to find out who was coming. 

Her husband, deceived as to the nature of the men, hospitably brought them inside and asked his wife if she had anything to give them to eat. She cautiously brought in bread and butter on the pretext that there was nothing else in the house. They ate this and then asked for a dozen eggs. Mrs. Pffender brought them six, after which they demanded wine. This was brought, and they drank it, saying that they would wait till the moon rose before returning to town. 

Hughes then began showing the Pffenders his gun and those of his companions, adding that they were loaded with ball. He then offered to sell his gun to Pffender, but the latter refused. At this, two of them went outside and, on returning. Hughes asked how much they had to pay, putting his hand into his pocket as if to take cut money. But all he produced was a piece of paper and, after giving the others their guns, made as if to leave. 

Mrs. Pffender, however, said she expected them to pay. All three re-entered the room, and with their guns drove Mr. and Mrs. Pffender and their daughter towards the bed and ordered them to lie there, saying that they wanted to get their money. 

Mrs. Pffender denied that there was any in the house, upon which Hughes took up the lamp and, holding it to the thatch, threatened to set the place on fire unless they handed over whatever they possessed. It was rather a foolish threat, and Curran decided to have the money with out firing the thatch. 

Accordingly, he went to a chest which was not locked and took out some clothes. He next went to another chest which, was locked, and was about to break it open when Mrs. Pffender volunteered to get the keys and open it. Finally they opened a third box and took out a coat and waistcoat. As they took the things they threw them to Fox, who was standing guard at the door. Before leaving they overthrew the bed, but, finding nothing, took a piece of rope and left, saying that it would be good to tether the horses with. 

As soon as they left, Mrs. Pffender tried to escape to give the alarm to her neighbors. As she went through, the door, she was roughly pushed over. This probably saved her life, for as she lay on the ground, she saw one of the men deliberately raise his gun and fire at her. The charge missed, and, finding herself unhurt, she ran round to the back of the house and hid in a shed. 

A month passed, and information came that the three men, who had been unsuccessfully searched for, were at Crafer's Inn in the Tiers, as the Mount Lofty Ranges were then called, but no steps were taken to apprehend them. Mr. Crafer was in Adelaide, and on his return home found that he had been robbed of some beer by two men then in the house. He was also satisfied that three other men whom he had seen in their company were the three desperadoes in question. 

He immediately mounted a fresh horse and rode back to town, leaving a Mr. Hardman and a groom on guard, with strict instructions to trace the suspects if they left. On his way, Mr. Crafer called at Mr. Gleeson's, who accompanied him to the city. On reaching the city, they found that Inspector Inman was out of town with a party of police. 

Gleeson went off in a vain search for him, and after four hours' delay, Crafer succeeded in enlisting the help of two men. They arrived back at the inn at half-past one in the morning. Hardman and the groom then reported, and. the little force staged a round up in the early hours, capturing the two men who had stolen the beer, as well as Fox and Hughes. Curran got away. 

The four captives were then brought to town and lodged in custody, Mr. Crafer making the trip for the second time that night. From Adelaide, he and Sub-Inspector Edwards set out again after Curran. They slept at the inn through what remained of the night, and next day set off along the Mount Barker road. From information gained by Crafer they concluded that their quarry had taken refuge in the new tier (over towards Mount Barker). 

Accordingly Edwards and Hardman rode over, but failed to find their man after a diligent search. From there they searched several stations, and at last came to a survey party led by a Mr. Cross. Edwards, who was unacquainted with the appearance of Curran, asked Cross if he had seen any strangers or had taken on any new hands. He said he had not, but Hardman, who was doing a little investigation on his own, suddenly pointed to one of the survey party and said, 'Here is the man we want.' Curran owned up and was taken into custody. The three men were tried and condemned to death, although in Fox's case the capital sentence was afterwards commuted to transportation. — 'Kestrel.'

Jock Goes West

This dog answered to the name of Jock. He was passionately fond of his master, a young lad. 

The lad took ill, and was removed to the hospital. Jock would visit this institution daily. 

On several occasions he watched his chance and crept in under the lad's bed, only to be put out again by the nurses. Then would insist on lying on the doormat, and no one could shift him. 

Word was sent to the lad's brother to take Jock away, as the lad grew worse, and the dog's whining was considered too much for him. Jock was taken home and put on the chain. He refused food or water from any member of the family, and after a few days the dog's owner died. 

So Jock was let loose, as starvation was feared. He followed his master's remains from the hospital to the cemetery, keeping a close distance from the hearse, so he was put on his chain again. 

But his whinings becoming unbearable, he was let loose once more. He made his way straight back to his master's grave, and would lay on it night and day. He did this for five days. 

Then one morning the lad's brother found Jock dead on the grave. 

— J. H. Berriman.

Needle In The Heart

A well-known farmer, near the Marble View Ranges, on the West Coast, set out to kill a fine big steer for meat. 

On dressing the animal, he went to catch hold of the heart. Removing the liver, something pricked his hand, but he did not find the cause until his wife set about to prepare the heart for a meal. On cutting it open, she found a fair-sized bag needle through the heart, almost extending from one side to the other. 

This, surely, does away with the theory that directly anything touches the heart, life is ended. Evidently, in this case the needle acted as a plug. The beast was nice and fat. It was supposed that the steer picked up the needle in some loose hay, the barb having been dropped when hay chaffing. — J. H. Berriman.

Bush Surgery

A youth had been hired to a squatter for 12 months. He wanted to leave, but his master would not hear of it. 

Next day the lad was bitten by a snake. He went to the home station, showed the marks of the fangs in his leg, and implored them to send him at once to the nearest town. The squatter was away, but the overseer got over some men from the woolshed, who held the patient down while he excised the bitten part with a clasp knife, and applied a cautery in the shape of a flat iron sizzling hot from the fire. 

Every howl of the patient was smothered in doses of brandy and ammonia. He was half-drunk when the operation was over. 

The squatter came in, looked at the leg, and decided that not half enough had been cut away. He had him held again, and cut away a few more slices of flesh, pouring a tablespoon of gun powder into the wound, which he managed to explode after considerable difficulty by means of a red-hot poker. 

By this time the lad had consumed nearly a bottle of brandy, and drowsily smiled at the worst they could do. But it was essential that he should be kept awake until the doctor, coming from 20 miles away, had arrived. So he was trotted up and down between two lusty shearers till he threatened to fall asleep in their arms. 

The humane squatter, watching his symptoms and dreading the fatal effects of sleep, had a rope put round his waist, and with a 'one, two, three and away,' he was slung head over heels into the icy cold waters of the creek. He came out wide awake, and nearly sober. 

Every time sleepiness appeared, in his eyes the ducking was repeated. The doctor came some hours later, and, strange to say, found him alive. He still lives, although rather tender about the calf, and tearfully declares that he will never again prick himself with pins to make people believe he was bitten by a snake. He was an ingenious youth, but he didn't get the discharge he sought.— 'Kestril.'

It Wasn't 'Mac'

This is a story of how a man, working on an overseas boat visiting a South Australian port, nearly found himself made responsible for a strange woman and two children. 

Several years previous to this happening, a young girl fell in love with and married a good looking young Scotsman called 'Mac.' The couple lived happily together for several years, and had two children. Then, apropos of nothing, the husband completely disappeared. The young wife was heartbroken. 

Her husband had appeared as usual when he left for work. Exhaustive enquiries proved futile. After a while the wife relinquished hope of ever seeing her husband again. 

One day, about four years later, she and her brother, while walking in the street, were amazed to see a man whom they both immediately took to be 'Mac,' watching them from the doorway of one of the foreign shops in the town. When the man saw them stop short and stare at him, he turned and hurried away. The brother pulled himself together and followed. The man boarded a large overseas vessel lying at the wharf. 

Enquiries from the captain proved that the man had signed on in England, but apart from that, very little could be ascertained concerning him. Brother and sister interviewed the man, whom they now swore to be the missing 'Mac,' in the presence of the captain and a police officer. 

However, the man declared them to be mistaken. He had never set eyes upon the woman or her brother before, neither had he previously visited that particular town. Exasperated, the police officer enquired of the woman if her husband had had any mark by which she could positively identify him. Yes, he had, she said— an anchor tattooed on his chest, and also one toe missing from his left foot. 

It was then revealed that the man did actually have an anchor tattooed on his chest, but— for which he must have thanked Heaven— he was possessed of his whole ten toes. This proved beyond doubt that, in spite of a most remarkable likeness, he was not the missing 'Mac.'— M. E. Maitland.