12 September 1935

RIDDLE OF OSMANLI'S TREASURE

Bars Of Gold Disappear From Wreck

Robberies of bars of gold would seem to be more in keeping with Victoria's gold rush days than with the fifties of last century in this State, but there is a riddle of one such robbery, which has never been solved.

Just before the Osmanli left Melbourne for Adelaide in December, 1853, a passenger named Marks deposited two bars of gold, and about 100 ounces of loose gold in the captain's safe. Three days later, a few minutes before midnight, the vessel ran ashore at D'Estrees Bay, Kangaroo Island; but the passengers were all landed safely, although several of them had practically nothing but their night-clothes to wear.

When the captain decided to abandon the vessel, he ordered a steward, Nathaniel Gray, to take the valuables, including Marks's gold, from the safe in his cabin, and take them ashore with him. He then left the cabin and went on deck, having instructed Gray to lock the safe and return the key. A few minutes later Gray appeared on deck with a carpet bag, which he said contained Marks's gold. It was closed and apparently locked.

The captain, hesitating to abandon the ship, was eventually forced into the last boat by the cook, and, with the valuable carpet bag on board, he and the rest of the crew reached the shore safely. When Gray saw Marks on shore he told him his gold was safely within the bag, and Marks entrusted it to his care.

In the afternoon, while the men went along the coast in search of water, the bag was given to Mrs. Helen Tinline, who returned it, apparently, in the same condition as she had received it, to Marks on the evening when he returned. Later, when the gold bars were reported missing, she said that the only happening connected with the bag was that a cabin boy had carried it from one encampment to another, but that he was accompanied by her and her husband, so that he could not have taken anything from it. It was very heavy, she said, and appeared to contain something which rattled against a tin box. That evening Marks slept with the bag as a pillow. He did not have a key, and he believed it was in Gray's possession. The bag was handed over to Gray again the next day, but presently he called Marks into his tent, and said he had forgotten to place the bars of gold in the carpet bag, and handed him the loose gold. On being told that Marks would charge him with robbery when he arrived in Adelaide, Gray replied, 'Look after the second mate and the second steward.'

In the afternoon the Osmanli was boarded, and food and clothing were obtained by the passengers and crew, who proceeded to make merry with beer, spirits, port and sherry. Most of them became more or less drunk. The salvaging of passengers' luggage went on, too, and carpet bags, portmanteaus and boxes were brought ashore, though most of them had been opened and plundered to a certain extent.

The vessel had run aground at five minutes to midnight on the Friday, and on Sunday, after water had been obtained for the stranded passengers and crew, the chief officer, Gooch, set out in a boat with a volunteer crew for Port Adelaide. Before they left the wreck, each person was thoroughly searched for the missing gold.

They partly sailed, partly rowed, until they came in touch with the Tamar, making for Port Adelaide. This vessel took them in tow, and they arrived in port on Tuesday. The Yatala was sent immediately to pick up the Osmanli's complement.

As soon as he arrived in Adelaide, Nathaniel Gray was charged with having stolen 79 ounces of gold valued at £300, belonging to Marks. This he stoutly denied, but was committed for trial at the Criminal Sessions in the ensuing February. The most interesting evidence at the police court enquiry was given by the captain, who refused to believe that Gray had stolen the money. 'I would have trusted him with £5,000,' he said. 'He came from England with us as second steward, and was promoted to first. He has had property worth £60,000 entrusted to him, and we have not noticed a penny shortage.'

The ship's carpenter, Robert Davidson, said that he saw a carpet bag lying near the companion skylight before leaving the wreck, and threw it into the boat. It would have weighed about 70 or 80 lb. He said he remembered Gray's saying something about his having forgotten to put some gold into the bag. The captain stated, further, that much plundering had taken place after the wreck, and that papers and banknotes which had been left in the safe were missing.

Gray said he remembered having taken the bars from the safe, but did not know whether he put them in the captain's bag or in his own, which was in the cabin at the time. He thought he had put the gold in the captain's bag.

When the trial came on in the Criminal Court, most of the witnesses, including Mrs. Tinline, had left the State. Corporal Dyke, of the metropolitan police, went so far as to say that he had reason to believe the gold had arrived by the Yatala when the crew and passengers were brought from the wreck. He was severely admonished by the judge for making that statement. No new evidence was advanced, and the defence was able to bring out several discrepancies when cross-examining witnesses for the prosecution. The judge pointed out to the jury that when a third party was admitted to be in possession of the stolen property (as Mrs. Tinline had been), it was usual to produce that third party. The prosecutor's statements, he added, varied on different examinations The Jury acquitted Gray, and so ended the riddle of the Osmanli's gold. In the end, apparently, the authorities were no nearer a solution of the problem than they were at the beginning. — C.V.H.

A Hangman's Predicament

Owing to the difficulty of preserving secrecy in a small community with regard to the identity of the hangman, it was never easy in the early days of the colony to find anyone willing to fill the position. When a man could be found to undertake the job it was necessary to protect him from being recognised by the crowd which always attended public executions. The hang-man usually appeared in a mask, and at times even padded his body grotesquely in order to disguise his figure. The identity of those who officiated at the hanging of Magee and others in the early days rarely leaked out, but in 1847 the secret was betrayed by the hangman's own indiscretion.

A man named Thomas Donnelly had been tried and sentenced to death for the murder of a native near Rivoli Bay, and the Sheriff accordingly looked about him for some thick-skinned individual to act as a hangman. He found the man he wanted in a sailor known as 'One-Eyed Armstrong,' who had been working for a time as hut keeper on a sheep station, but was now desirous of returning to England. On the day of the execution Armstrong put on a mask, did what was expected of him, and received immediate payment for his services.

It had been arranged that he should stay quietly at the gaol for a day or two before shipping on board a vessel bound for England, but, instead of adhering to this plan, Armstrong could not resist the temptation of visiting some of the Adelaide hotels. He got hopelessly drunk, and talked garrulously of the part he had played in the execution of Donnelly. He was subsequently arrested for drunkenness by a policeman who found him under a verandah in Morphett street, and on the following day appeared in a crowded court to pay the customary fine of five shillings.

Armstrong was by now a marked man, however, and was followed about the streets by a growing crowd, the boys assailing him with cries of 'Jack Ketch.' To his consternation he found that no shipping master would allow him to sign on, the sailors threatening, if he dared to do so, to throw him overboard.

Followed by a hooting crowd he visited a servants' registry office in a fruitless search for employment. The mob now began to display an ugly temper, and Armstrong claimed the protection of the police, who ac-companied him to the gaol, where he hoped to escape from the threats and execration of his persecutors. The governor of the gaol, however, declined to admit him, and he was therefore escorted to the police station and locked up for safety. Here he remained quietly for a few days, waiting for public excitement and curiosity to die down and give him an opportunity to slip away into the country, where his identity would be unknown. He was not heard of again, and must have been glad, after this short but unpleasant taste of notoriety, to retire to the obscurity of private life.— 'Jeepee.'

Looking For Father

An aunt of mine, who lived in the Adelaide hills many, years ago, numbered among her friends several German settlers, whose quaint expressions often caused her much amusement.

One winter's evening, as she sat by the fire, there was a loud knocking on the front door. On opening it, she was confronted by a tearful young man, who exclaimed, 'Mine fader! Mine poor fader! Have you seen mine fader? I've lost mine fader.' She assured the grief-stricken young fellow that she had not seen the missing man for several days.

Between sobs she learned that the young man's father had accompanied him to the Adelaide market that day and, having imbibed rather freely, the son had deemed it advisable to make him a bed in the bottom of the German waggon for the return journey. The jolting over the rough roads had caused father to be thrown out on the roadway, and the darkness of the night had prevented his son learning of the fact until he had reached home, where-upon he had immediately returned in search of him.

My aunt accompanied him along the road in search of the missing man — the young fellow exclaiming occasionally that 'Mine poor fader might be dead — killed.' They had not gone far, however, when they met 'Fader,' somewhat breathless and vituperative, but none the worse for his experience.— 'Peggotty.'

'Golden Spuds'

We were going from Tailem Bend to Murray Bridge to try our luck there, and camped one evening at a little gully. While I boiled the billy, Kenny went off to a neighboring farmhouse to get some food, our supplies having run out. The farmer's wife gave him a bulky parcel, bound up with several yards of twine. She refused payment like a lady, and after thanking her profusely, Kenny jogged back to camp with visions of a rare banquet.

Smiles lit his face like sunbeams as he unwound the parcel by the fire; but suddenly he stopped, his eyes fixed as if fascinated, on seven raw potatoes. There was nothing else.

'Been doing a bit of farming?' I observed, as he seemed to have forgotten me. Kenny dropped the paper and picked up his pannican. 'I was wondering if that woman laughed,' he said, and lapsed into thoughtful silence.

Next morning he took the potatoes down to the creek to wash them, and while doing so noticed something shining in the sand. As soon as he lifted it he gave an excited shout. It was a five-ounce nugget of gold, but the most diligent prospecting failed to reveal another color. 'Well, they were golden spuds after all,' said Kenny, as we rolled our swags up again. But not for me, for he shook hands and wished me luck at Murray Bridge, then turned back to Tailem Bend.— F.G.

Impressing the Minister

A young woman organist at a country church was particularly anxious, not long ago, to make a good impression on a visiting clergyman. The organ is pumped by a somewhat obstinate old sexton, who has his own ideas as to the length of an organ voluntary. He has on several occasions been guilty of 'shutting off the wind' when he considered that the organist had played long enough.

On the Sunday in question the organist, thought to forestall any such occurrence by an appeal in writing to the sexton, which she prepared and handed to him in the early part of the service. The old fellow received the note and thought that it was intended for the minister. Despite the organist's frantic beckonings, he went straight to the pulpit and delivered the note. The astonished clergyman read this message out to the congregation:— 'Kindly blow away this morning till I give you the signal to stop.'— A.D.

What Easter Implies

An old Cornishman, who had recently taken up teaching at Sunday school, was placed in charge of a class of boys whose ages ranged from six to nine. The lesson on this particular Sunday dealt with Easter and its significance, which the old fellow took great pains to explain. When he had finished he began to question the boys on what they had learned.

'Now sonnies,' he began, 'what do you think of when I mention Easter?' There was silence for a time; then a small voice piped, 'Hot cross buns.' 'You young scoundrel,' roared the Cornishman, rising with hands clenched wrathfully. 'All ee think about is ee damn guts.'

Two Cornishmen became involved in an argument while at work. One be-came so heated on the question that he shouted, 'I'll bet you three to one.' The older Cousin Jack immediately became indignant. 'To hell with you and your three for one,' he exploded. 'When I bet I want pound for pound.'— A.B.

Real Life Stories Of South Australia (1935, September 12). Chronicle (Adelaide, SA : 1895 - 1954), p. 14. http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article92326239