27 September 1934

HAUNTED HUT ON KANGAROO ISLAND 

How A Ghost Mystery Was Solved

Some years ago, a friend and I spent a week camping on Kangaroo Island. In an isolated spot we came upon a deserted two-roomed hut. It was obvious that it had not been occupied for many years. Being secluded and ideally situated for sporting we agreed that it would be a splendid place to stop. The nearest habitation was a farmhouse about a mile distant. 

Leaving our knapsacks and rugs, we made our way to the farmhouse to obtain eggs, butter, &c, also to enquire whether any one would raise objections to our camping in the hut. In response to our questions, the farmer said that the hut did not belong to anyone in particular. Nobody would mind us camping there; but he hinted that he would not advise us to stay at the hut.

Naturally, we wanted to know why he did not think the hut would be a good place to stop at. He made several evasive replies, and, at last, in a rather shamefaced manner said, "Well, to tell you the truth, the place has the reputation of being haunted." As to whether he believed the tale or not, he declined to commit himself. 

He readily told us the story of the place. Prior to the outbreak of the war in 1914, the land on which the hut stood had been taken up by a young man, of whom little was known. It was thought that he was building up a little place to which he could bring a bride. On hearing of the war he immediately enlisted. 

Thinking that the adventure would last but a few months, he simply unhitched his horses, and left his belongings just as though he were knocking off for a few days. After telling his neighbors that he would be back for certain as soon as ever the war was over, he set out to do his bit. Strangely enough, considering the nature of his adventure, he seemed quite positive that he was coming back. 

Months dragged into years. The war ended, but still he did not return. Having neither relatives nor friends, it is probable that he would have been completely forgotten but for his hut and farming implements, which remained just as he had left them; only that now, the machinery was red with rust and the hut surrounded with rank vegetation. He was remembered as 'the man who was coming back.' 

Gradually, a rumor spread that there was something queer about his hut. Some said that the spirit of the man who was coming back had returned.  People who had camped at the hut told strange stories, and the place had become so shrouded in mystery that no one would camp near there. 

Though neither my friend nor I are of a particularly nervous nature, we could not but be impressed by the tale as it was told to us by the farmer, with every evidence of good faith. 

After taking leave of our newly-made friend, we returned to the hut, and had a good look inside of it. There was every indication of a hurried departure. Various household articles stood or hung in their places as though they were in every-day use but they were covered with cobwebs and the dust of years. The hessian ceiling had given way in places. The floor was strewn with litter. The unpainted woodwork of the windows and door were moss-grown and rotting. 

Outside there was the same disorder and decay. A horse yard with fallen posts and rotted rails. Feed boxes which had fallen to pieces as the nails rusted out of them. We went across and examined a plough which stood as though waiting for the horses to be hitched into it. The wheels had sunk into the ground and grass had grown up through them. Despite our holiday spirits, we could not but notice the air of desolation which hung over the place.

However, the day was far advanced, and heavy clouds threatened rain. We decided to camp in the hunt and chance the consequences. With the aid of an ancient broom we soon cleared the place of dust and cobwebs. We stacked the lumber out of the way and kindled a roaring fire. 

The hut took on a much cosier appearance, particularly after we had partaken of a hearty meal and settled down to a comfortable smoke. Having done a good deal of walking that day we retired early. 

Somewhere around midnight I was awakened by my friend shaking me vigorously. "Listen!" he said, and his voice sounded eerie and unnatural. I listened. I distinctly heard footsteps coming towards the hut. "Someone's coming," I said. "Perhaps it's someone from down at the farmhouse." 

"No, it isn't," my friend replied. "I've heard someone moving around the place ever since we turned in." We lit a candle, and I even plucked up sufficient courage to open the door and have a look out, but not a sound broke the stillness. After a while we put out the light and dozed off to sleep. 

When we woke again the sun was high in the heavens. We had a pleasant day's sport. When we returned to the hut it was almost sunset, therefore we decided to spend another night there. We did not turn in until after 11 o'clock. Naturally, with the daylight we had almost for gotten the previous night's happenings, but, lying there in the darkness, thoughts returned to the strange experience. 

Not long after midnight, when I was dozing off to sleep, I suddenly heard someone walking about outside. I was wide awake in an instant. With a chill creepy feeling playing around by scalp, I sat up and struck a match. My friend also was wide awake, and had heard the footsteps. 

"There's something dashed queer about this joint," he said. "I reckon we'll shift from here tomorrow." We lit the candle, and talked for a time, trying to think out a possible explanation. After a time we again put the light out and tried to get some sleep. 

About half an hour later I could have sworn that I heard someone walk past within a few yards of the hut. I called out, "Who's there?" but there was no answer. We were not disturbed any more that night, and we stayed in late in the morning to make up for our lost sleep. 

When we had breakfasted and had a walk round in the broad light of day our timidity of the previous night seemed bordering on the ludicrous. Indeed, so courageous did I become that I suggested that we should stay another night, and I would wait for the spook with a gun. We had a look for tracks, but the ground was so hard that we could not see our own. We enjoyed another day's sport, and again returned to the hut shortly before sundown. 

At 11 o'clock, my friend said that he was going to turn in. He enquired whether I had changed my mind about clearing up the mystery. For some reason, I did not feel half as enthusiastic as I had been in the morning, but, of course, I did not admit that. I took my gun, and went out and sat in a bush near the hut. 

After about an hour's wait, I was thinking of giving it up, when suddenly I heart footsteps approaching. Presently they stamped within a few yards of me. I could dimly see a strange shape which, it was obvious, was no earthly man. I raised my gun and fired. 

I was about to dash into the hut when my friend came rushing out to see what had happened. This gave me fresh courage. I walked to where the object had been when I fired. There was something lying on the ground. Greatly surprised I struck a match, and the whole mystery was explained. It was a large wallaby.— A.H.B.

Mock Inquest At Port Adelaide

On December 28, 1853, what appeared to be the body of a man was noticed floating near an overseas boat, the Royal Shepherdess, at Port Adelaide. Most of those who saw it thought that some unfortunate man had met death by drowning. However, on being removed from the water the body proved to be a dummy. 

A jury of 'highly respectable men' was assembled with alacrity beyond all precedent and, the foreman having expressed to the coroner a desire for a post mortem examination, the aid of a surgeon was obtained with equal promptitude. 

The examination went to show, very convincingly, 'that the deceased met his death from natural causes, and not otherwise.' A large quantity of mud was said to have been found in the stomach, also, that on removing the scalp the cranium was found to be empty. 

The effigy was then paraded through the streets of Port Adelaide, attended by 22 'priests in full canonicals' and followed by several hundred towns people. 

After this, with all the solemnity of a funeral, the body was removed by boat to one of the ships and hung to the fore yardarm for some time. It was then cut adrift and allowed to float with the tide until, with a cleverly assumed sympathy for the memory of the deceased, several of the mourners brought it ashore and placed it in a coffin. 

Bearers carried it to where a shallow grave had been prepared. A burial service was read and, with much well-simulated grief, the remains were duly interred. Then all the ships in the port dipped their ensigns, and the 'sorrowing' crowd dispersed. 

The idea of the strange performance originated in the strong feeling of resentment excited by the Collector of Customs who, when speaking in the Legislative Council, had designated Port Adelaide 'a mud hole.' — A.H.B.

Some Ghost

When I was a child there was one room in our home at Kadina which for some reason was never used. For many years it remained empty, but later it was furnished, largely with furniture not required elsewhere, and used as a spare room. 

Among the furniture was an old fashioned whatnot, on which was the usual array of china ornaments so dear to the hearts of the past generation.  

One afternoon my mother had occasion to visit one of the neighbors, and on return home about dusk was surprised to hear strange noises in the spare room. Although considerably frightened, she bravely tried to open the door of the room, only to find it apparently locked. 

She therefore ran outside and met my father, who was on his way home from work. He went inside to investigate, but was also unable to open the door. He therefore decided to try the window and, after having removed the wire screen, was able to enter the room. 

There he found my young brother's pet billy-goat leaping about the room and generally having a gay time. In his tour of inspection the goat had evidently overturned the whatnot, which had jammed the door.

How the goat found its way into the spare room, in view of the fact that it had to pass through the kitchen, dining-room, and a passage to reach it, and also had to open a wire door at the back entrance, is still rather a mystery. The amusing incident, however, seemed to dispel the hoodoo on the room, which later became my bedroom. — 'Cuckoo,' West Coast.

Woman's Curiosity Exposes A Fraud

For many years a small weatherboard shop stood on the site now occupied by the Grand Hotel, Millicent. It was occupied by a man who suffered from consumption, and three other men conspired to insure his life for a large sum with one of the leading life assurance companies. 

To secure the necessary doctor's certificate one of the men was examined in his place, some false declarations were made, and a policy was eventually obtained. 

Shortly afterwards the man left Millicent, but the conspirators kept the premiums paid up, and contributed to his keep. Eventually he died, and arrangements were made to collect the life assurance. 

The conspirators, however, were by this time also living in different towns, and correspondence had to pass by wire and post between them. One of them was staying at a boarding house, and, having received a telegram, crumpled it up and threw it into the fireplace. 

His land-lady, being of an inquisitive turn of mind, straightened out the telegram and read the contents. The matter eventually found its way into the hands of the police, and there followed one of the most interesting court cases in the history of the State. 

The conspirators were eventually convicted, and spent some time in the Stockade as a reward for their misplaced ingenuity. — 'Tanta-Tyga,' Millicent.