24 May 1934

SOUTH AUSTRALIA'S FIRST COURT 

What Constituted Burglary In 1837?

On May 13, 1837, when the colony was four months old, the first session of gaol delivery was held in the offices of the Resident Commissioner. A Grand and Petit jury was empanelled and the first seven offenders in South Australian legal history came up for trial, before Sir John Jeffcott, the first Chief Judge. 

It was in every way a memorable proceeding. It marked the establishment here of that most keenly fought for and most jealously guarded of an Englishman's rights— trial by jury. That at a time when the neighboring colonies had not thought it expedient to introduce such a system. 

It was remarkable, too, that a colony so young should be able to compose such juries. In his address, his Honor spoke of this; of his desire that the benefits of Grand Jury should be extended to the infant colony; and of his original doubt as to the possibility of securing a sufficient number of intelligent gentlemen to undertake the responsible duties of jury men. 

"And among the many interesting and novel features that the foundation of this colony presents," continued Sir John, "it is not the least interesting that, within four months of the landing of the Government and the first settlers on these shores— shores hitherto untrodden by the foot of civilised man — there were found means of assembling together & number of gentlemen capable of constituting a Grand and Petit Jury who, in point of respectability and intelligence, are, I will venture to say, not inferior to any similar body seen in the mother country."

In glancing through the details of the charges, one finds a clear-cut picture of Adelaide as it was:- a city of tents and insubstantial huts, with the Buffalo still anchored off Glenelg, and a rudimentary police force supported half-heartedly by the Buffalo's marines. 

And, in the record of its crimes and vices, more than in the list of its achievements and virtues, the present can make its surest contact with that motley population of gentlemen and laborers, of drunken sailors, naked savages, and escaped convicts that walked the rutted tracks beside the first surveyor's peers and mingled in the coffee-houses and inns. 

There was the case of one, James Gordon, a negro, who had recently arrived from Van Diemen's Land. He was on trial for entering the dwelling house of a Mr. Crisp, and stealing a silver watch. The evidence was complete, but Mr. Crisp lived in a tent. The point at issue was whether a tent constituted a dwelling-house within the meaning of the statute governing the case. The point seems trivial. But his Honor considered it of the first importance to the security of life and property in the province to resolve that a tent was a dwelling-house within the meaning of the statute. 

"The point at issue," he said, "is whether the huts and tents in which the great body of our population now reside while more permanent accommodations are getting up, are to be considered dwelling houses for the purpose of burglary. Upon the subject, I have no hesitation in saying that a tent or hut in which the owner or his family or his servants resides by day and sleeps by night, and which is in fact his fixed though temporary residence, is to be considered to be a dwelling house within the meaning of the law."  [See also Tents As Dwelling Houses]

There were also interesting features about two cases of riot and rescue. The prisoners were Burt and Chandler, both seamen. The evidence showed that on March 22, Burt and several other sailors were seen on the brow of a hill near the deputy surveyor's hut in a state of intoxication. The prisoner held by one hand a native to whom he offered drink from a bottle, and from time to time patted him on the back to encourage him to drink. 

To prevent the offer of spirits to the native, the advocate-general, who happened to be passing, went up to the prisoner and requested him to desist from interfering with him. Instead of complying with this request, the prisoner and some companions who came to his assistance became very riotous and abusive, and threatened the advocate general with their sticks. 

That officer then directed Mr. Hill, a constable of the province, to take the prisoner into custody for drunkenness. Hill left to get help and the prisoner went to a tent set apart for the sailors of the Buffalo. A sufficient force having at last been collected by Hill, the Advocate General put himself at their head and went to take the prisoner into custody. 

The prisoner was then surrounded by about 20 sailors, into the midst of whom the Attorney-General went and captured the prisoner, who remained in his custody for three or four minutes. During the interval the sailors of the Buffalo, armed with sticks, surrounded the Advocate General. During the ensuing wrangle the prisoner escaped. 

He was again taken, and Mr. Hill was heading him away when the second prisoner, Chandler, came behind Hill, and with a stick struck him a violent blow on the temporal artery, by which he was felled to the ground and dangerously wounded. At the request of the officers of the Buffalo, and to prevent bloodshed, the Advocate-General then withdrew, on the understanding that the prisoners would be forthcoming. 

That gives a very vivid idea of conditions in 1837. Burt was fined 20/, and Chandler £5, both with imprisonment pending payment. His Honor said that he had intended imprisoning Chandler for two years, but as he was a marine of the Buffalo, he thought it best to let the Buffalo take him off for good. — 'Kestrll.'

Stories Of Kangaroo Island

One of our early settlers at American River had an overmantel which was struck by lightning in a severe thunderstorm. On the mantelpiece, not far from the dressing table stood a vase flaunting gaily colored roses. When the storm passed it was discovered that the lightning had in some way reflected the roses in the mirror, and their print was left behind on the surface of the glass like a design. So alarmed was the owner at this unusual occurrence that he vacated the house and never again lived in it. 

One old lady living in these parts declared that she once heard the voice of God. She was stone deaf, deeply religious, and firmly believed that before she died she would hear her family speak. In this, however, she was disappointed. One day, while she sat sewing, she thought she heard a voice calling, "Francis, Francis, the children." Seeing the little ones playing happily under a large tree some little distance from the house, she at first took little notice. But again came the voice, and so insistent did it seem that she went out and called the young ones to her. The children had scarcely reached her side when a large limb from the gum tree fell, just where they had been standing. 

A Church of England parson of these times once offended his congregation by walking out of the room in which his service was held, immediately after he had preached a rather fine sermon, and going down on his haunches, flapped his arms and crowing three times like a rooster. He then retired to change his cossack. 

A Chinaman, Folf Sun, was quite an identity at American River. He always seemed to have plenty of small cash, and when many of the South Australian banks crashed, it became a common practice to take notes to the old Chow to change. Thus, when he died. Folk Sun had a large roll of notes, all useless. Local legend has it that the Chinaman was buried with a belt of gold sovereigns, and although the re-opening of his grave has been broached more than once, the exact spot is not known. 

One old resident solved the eternal question of how to dodge the wife. He was a fisherman by trade, and extremely lazy! Yet his wife would force him to work at a reasonable hour. He would accordingly sail out a considerable distance from the land, drop the anchor, go below, and turn in. Returning home late in the afternoon he would be loud in his complaints at the poorness of the fishing.— Wynnis J. Hughes, American River.

'Strike Me Pink'

I witnessed an amusing incident at Innamincka races some years ago. I noticed a bushman trying to converse with a blackboy on horseback ready to start in the next event. The bushman employed all his persuasive powers of pigin English to try to induce, the blackboy to speak.

'Wot naem dat fellah ponee? Yah tinkit ponee runnem quick, fellah? Yoh tinkit ponee runem moh quick nuther fellah ponee? Yoh nun friten tel mee boyh. Sposin ponee win, yoh tel mee, I gifh yoh chillin. Don yoh bee friten, boyh, mee guid fellah. Mee nah dingbat. Yoh tel mee stra. I givh yoh plentee tukkar, schert, panz. Cum ahn, boyh.' The blackboy never stirred a muscle, nor made the slightest attempt to re ply. The bushman continued to talk pigin English, but getting no response, eventually turned away. He found himself face to face with the owner of the horse. 'Ollow, Jak,' exclaimed the bush man, 'Ize jus bin torkin tuh this ere blak kow. Ee dosen understan that lingo, orh ees def as a pose. Whar did yoh git im frum.' Jack addressed the blackboy, 'Why didn't you answer this man, Charlie, when he spoke to you?' 

'Well, it was like this, boss. Judging from the way he talked, I didn't think he understood much English. He spoke a kind of gibberish, hard to follow, I thought it would be difficult to make him comprehend. I didn't feel inclined to make a lot of explanations, nor enter into a conversation with an illiterate.' The bushman stood with his mouth open. 'Strike me pink,' he exploded, 'ee nose tha ——lingo betteren me.' — 'P.O.P.,' Norwood.

Stranded On The Nullabor

He was returning with his wife, by car from Western Australia. They were crossing the Nullabor Plains at the time of the big flood, and became stranded miles from anywhere. It was an unpleasant position. But they had some food and a thermos of tea. It was only a matter of waiting until tomorrow. 

Tomorrow came, but the water did not go down. Instead it reached the bottom of the car, and things were floating past —rabbits, and all the wild-life of the plain. Once a huge mound came floating towards them; as it drew closer it was found to be a camel. 

The sandwiches grew less, and then ran out. The tea was gone long ago. The water rose higher, and they had to keep their feet on the seat. Then they discovered there was a piece of dry ground about a quarter of a mile to the left, evidently higher ground, although the plain had looked so flat. On this were swarming rabbits, lizards, birds, and every living thing that could escape the water. 

There at least was food, and any part of the car that was burnable went to cook it, for there was no wood of any description on the little island. By carefully hoarding this fuel, the traveller was able at least to singe his wife's rabbit for each meal, and if he ate his raw she did not know, it, as he always had his meal before he waded back to the car with hers. 

This lasted for seven dreadful days. Then the water went down enough to get in touch with help, and a camel team came and hauled them out.— 'C.B.'

Extraordinary Experience

I recall being on a sheep station in the north a few years ago. My mate and I had just finished lunch when he remarked, "What a strange sky. I almost think were in for a storm." Then, "Here it comes," he added, as a heavy patter fell upon the tree-tops. "If we don't hurry up, we shall get a soaking." 

He had scarcely uttered the words when me storm broke, but without a drop of rain. It was a heavy shower of great green locusts, which fell about us. All around not a glimpse of the ground could be seen. The sun was blotted out by the great living cloud, swirling about us with the sound of a mighty rushing wind. Nothing was visible fifty yards ahead. 

Having mounted our horses we galloped through it all, with bent heads, trusting to the instinct of the horses to get us home. The latter could hardly keep their feet on the slippery sheet of locusts spread over the sun-dried patches of the plain. At length, after a hard gallop of some miles, the storm was left behind, arid the sun was visible again. Looking back we saw the yellow light reflected from the vast retreating cloud, which continued to sweep towards the south. 

"A man wouldn't want to experience that twice in a lifetime," my mate remarked, as he jumped down from his horse.— A. Daly.

What Might Have Been

Not long after leaving school my sister and I had to draw water for the horses and cattle out of a deep well. One day, when the rest of the family were away from home, a cousin, watching us, thought she would like to go down the well in the bucket. She was not the least bit afraid, and even stood in the bucket on the planks at the top of the well. 

But we would not let her go down. We went on with our work, and when the next bucketful was brought nearly to the top the rope broke, and down went the bucket to the bottom of the well. Good luck for our cousin.— 'Wattle Blossom,' Port Germein.