3 December 1936

DEAD MEN'S GOLD DEFIES SEARCHERS

Tragedy Of Hidden Hoard Near Old Pernnana Station

Tales of buried gold— especially dead men's gold — are usually found in adventure stories like 'Treasure Island,' and belong to the days when red blooded pirates cached their loot on lonely, little frequented isles in the South Seas or the Spanish Main. One scarcely associates such fascinating tales with South Australia; but in the backblocks of this State, a drama of dead men's gold has been enacted in real life: but there was nothing romantic about it. It was stark tragedy.

The old Pernnana station, the scene of the episode, had been abandoned in 1873, when the story opens. It was then part of Angipena. The manager of the latter station was the only one who had seen the gold brought to the station homestead by a prospector, who had come there for rations to enable him and his mate to reach the next station. He told his story to a fairly large party which was taking some sheep further north, and which had stopped for the night at Pinda Water. Included in the party was Mr. W. Rogers, of Leigh's Creek, who recalled the incident some years later. Among the party also was a Government prospector, who was returning from a trip to report on the recent discovery of gold at Yudnamutana, and had also camped for the night at Pinda Water.

Mr. Rogers, in telling the story later, said that the manager of Angipena asked the prospector what sort of luck he had had during his visit to Yudnamutana. The latter replied that he had found gold there in some of the gullies, but it was fine colors; he had found nothing course, and thought that the gold was derived from some of the many copper veins showing in the district. It was very rough country to prospect, and he would not advise any one to go there looking for alluvial gold.

'This is the class of gold,' he said, pulling out a small bottle from his pocket and handing it to the manager. The Angipena boss then told him that there was much better and bigger gold to be got five or six miles only from where the party was then camped.

Three months before he had seen a nice sample of gold from the Pernnana district, where two men had been prospecting. They had been camping at the old Pernnana homestead, and although the hands knew they were there, they had not had much to do with them, and very little was known about them. The manager said that one of the two men had called at the station to procure a few rations to carry him and his mate down to the Blinman, where they could catch the mail coach. 'Are you leaving?' the boss asked. 'And did you have any luck?' 'No, we are not leaving,' the man replied, 'but are going down to buy a turnout. We had the luck to strike some nice gold. This is some of it.' He produced a sample of good, coarse gold.

'I just brought this along, thinking you would like to see it, as it was found on your run,' he said. 'I have more back in my swag, and my mate has a sample, too.' The boss saw that it was a nice sample, and the man said, 'We are coming back shortly to get some more of it; we have had a pretty rough time of it out there, having to go up to Owieandina Station for rations and carry them on our backs to the camp.' 'Where is your mate?' he was asked. 'Oh, he has gone on to Pinda Water; we intend camping there tonight. I came in to get a small bit of flour, tea and sugar; enough to carry us on to the Blinman.' 'Come over and get what you want. I suppose you want to get along,' said the boss. 'Yes; we have fairly heavy swags,' and he got what he wanted and went on his way, saying that he would come back. He did not return, however.

The Government prospector said that he would like to do a bit of prospecting there, but he had to get to the city to report on his recent trip, and he wanted a better outfit than he had for a journey of that kind. Nothing more was heard, and the Pernnana gold was forgotten for the time being.

Mr. Rogers was keeping the Beltana Hotel about 12 to 14 years later when he heard about the Pernnana gold again. James Warwick retold the story about two prospectors having found gold at Pernnana some years previously, and suggested that a party should go out to find it. His partner, T. J. C. Hawke, Cheyne, the other hotel keeper, and Rogers joined the party, in which another man was included, making five. They went past Angipena Station, where Mr. Warwick had lived for many years, and went on towards their Eldorado. Their difficulties started when they found that sheep had eaten out the feed round the wells. They were then told that the whole route to Pernnana was bare, and that the old road had been washed out; in fact, there was no road to be seen. It was impossible to get through a rough gorge with a buggy. Time prevented three members of the party from going any further, so everyone turned back, determined to try again.

The next that was heard of the Pernnana gold was some years later when two members of a mining syndicate from Charters Towers arrived. They said that they had come to report on the country, as they were interested in gold mining. The real purpose of their journey— to find hidden gold— was not mentioned. They told their story later. A man was very ill in a Charters Towers hospital. He was told that he had no chance of recovery. He said that he wished to make a confession before it was too late.

'Many years ago, nearly 40 years now,' he said, 'my mate and I were prospecting in South Australia for gold. We were at a place called Pernnana, on the Angipena run, in the north. Our camp was at the old homestead that had long been abandoned. We had very little luck for some time, and the life and living were pretty rough, but prospectors will put up with a lot of hardship in the search for gold, and we were always in hopes of striking it good, and one day we did. We struck it rich, and, of course, were both delighted at our luck. At night, in the camp, we spoke of scarcely anything else but the gold. Plans were made concerning what we should do later on.

'He was a good fellow, and a splendid mate; no one could wish for a better. We were getting a nice lot of gold together; the sinking was shallow, and everything was going along splendidly. Then a feeling came over me. I can't describe it, but it was a desire that I should have all the gold for myself. I tried to shake this horrible feeling off, but it was no use. The desire grew stronger; my mind was always planning means to obtain possession of all the gold. Of course, there was only one way to do this, and that was to do away with my mate. We used to put the gold we got during the day with what we already had. My mate used to do this every time; but whenever I would look at our little pile, the mad feeling that I must have the lot would take possession of me.

'Finally I killed my mate; foully murdered him. I was mad at the time, and was horrified at what I had done, but it was then too late. My mate was dead, and I had to dispose of the body. It was an awful task. I then burnt most of his things, and put the rest away, as though we intended coming back. I packed the gold and rolled it up in my swag, and left the other things. I wanted to get away from the place, so I camped that night at a native well, but had no sleep. Next morning I reached Angipena Station. I wanted a few rations to carry me to the Blinman. I met the overseer, and had my story ready for him, and showed him some of the gold. I got my rations, and off I went to the Blinman, where I caught the mail coach and eventually arrived in Adelaide. I took the first boat I could get for Sydney. I wanted to get out of South Australia, and I have never been there since. I could never face going back for the gold. The memory of my foul crime was always with me, day and night. I feel a little easier now that I have made this confession. These are the true facts about the discovery of the gold and the murder of my mate. The gold is there still; I have never heard or read about it being found. You had better take down the bearings and directions of the place while I have the strength to give them. They may prove a guide to some other prospector. The spot is worth finding.'

The bearings were given as accurately as possible. A chart was made of the country, but, the man was apparently out in his distance and bearing in saying that the gold was a mile west of the old station. The two prospectors from Charters Towers searched, and other prospectors, too, but without success. The task was almost an impossible one, so much had the country changed. As far as is known, no one has ever succeeded in re discovering it, and the probability is that there is still dead men's gold some where 'a mile west' of the Old Pernnana homestead. — H.

Horse King Of Territory

One of the queerest characters I ever encountered was Paddy Lenny, the uncrowned 'Horse King' of the Northern Territory. From a few mares Lenny's horses bred to hundreds, until they be came not only a handful for their owner but also for many station managers in the vast area where the horses grazed and roamed almost at will.

For a few years Lenny secured a pen at the Avon Downs shearing, and the cheque he earned there was sufficient to supply his needs for the rest of the year. But when the sheep were finally removed from Avon Downs, practically the whole of Lenny's time was spent in mustering his horses and putting them together. Lenny did not pay for one acre of country and he regarded the whole of the Barkly Tableland as his horse paddock. Times were indeed bad with the 'Horse King' when he reluctantly disposed of a horse or two in order to buy rations. The old chap would have to be on the verge of starvation before he would dream of selling one of his horses.

Once, when horse values were booming a buyer offered Lenny seven pounds a head for all the horses he could muster. At the time the old fellow must have had upwards of 500 head, but the offer was turned down flat. Had those horses been sold Lenny would have had more than sufficient to have kept him in comfort for the balance of his life, and incidentally many station managers would have welcomed the exit of Lenny and his horses.

As Lenny grew older he became childish and neglected himself in order to see that his beloved horses had the best grass available. The result was that he became ill and had to be taken to Darwin for medical attention, but a sapped constitution, coupled with old age, could not stand the strain. Paddy Lenny died in hospital in Darwin, hundreds of miles from where his horses roamed.

After Lenny's death his horses were mustered and sold under instructions from the Public Trustee. Many were missed in the muster, however, and at the present time many of the brumbies running in the Territory owe their genesis to mares that carried Paddy Lenny's brand.

Although Lenny was regarded as a nuisance and a horse crank, it is to his credit that he thought more of his dumb friends than he did of himself, and on many occasions the old chap went hungry so that he could travel his horses to better feed and water. Paddy was a genuine horse lover if ever one existed. — 'Overlander.'

Getting In First

I was helping old Joe, my neighbor, with his lamb-marking. We had just got going nicely with the job when a car pulled up on the road and a man in a grey dustcoat came walking across the paddock towards us. I recognised him. 'Here's a chap who's selling blocks of suburban land,' I announced. 'He was at my place yesterday. He can talk the leg off an iron pot and he stays for hours.'

'I'll soon get rid of him,' Joe growled, 'I'm going to get in first. You leave him to me. Don't say a word, and keep a straight face, no matter what you hear.' A minute later the stranger came-up, full of self confidence, and began his sales-talk. Joe shook his head, took the newcomer by the arm, and said sternly, 'Hush!'

Somewhat taken aback, the salesman stared at him. Joe tapped him on the chest. 'Do you know, my friend,' he said solemnly, 'that millions now living will never die? Has it occurred to you that the end of the world may be at hand, and that the great and terrible day of judgment may soon be drawing? And yet you are going about, your mind full of worldly vanities. Heed my words, you poor and miserable sinner! Go forth, go forth, through the high ways and byways; go forth and cry the terrible news! Go into that sink of iniquity, the city, where the poor and needy are oppressed and their faces are ground into the dust by the modern counterparts of the Scribes and Pharisees. Go forth and call upon them to repent, repent, repent, though you die for it!'

The bewildered salesman glanced at me I made a great effort to keep a serious look on my face, shook my head with a warning frown, and pointed towards the road. The salesman backed away from old Joe and said, 'Well, I'll call some other time.' Joe followed him up. 'Soon fire and brimstone will fall from heaven on this wicked land,' he shouted. 'Soon the great awakening will come! How will you be then? Will, you be up and watching?'

The salesman backed away, this time looking a bit scared. 'All right, all right,' he put in, 'I must be going. Good-bye.' Joe stood hurling garbled texts and fiery exhortations after him until he was driving away, then turned to me. I was leaning on the rail, almost helpless with laughter.

'No salesmen ever wastes my time,' he announced, with a grim chuckle. 'I always get in first. That religious mania talk is a new stunt. I've thought out lately, I usually pretend that I want to sell them the farm, except in the case of life insurance agents. With them I pretend to be the local agent of a rival concern, and try to persuade them to insure their lives with my company.'

I met that agent on my way home that night. He pulled up his car when he recognised me and I rode over to see what he wanted. 'What sort of a lunatic was that I struck today?' he demanded. 'I reckon that fellow's dangerous. Not fit to be at large, in fact.' 'Oh, it was only one of his bad days,' I replied. 'You don't want to take any notice of him. Call back in a few days' time and you'll find him altogether different. I spent a good half -hour trying to persuade that salesman to pay old Joe a second visit, but it was only wasting time. Joe's acting of the part of a religious maniac had been too convincing for me to do anything with him. — 'Mick O'Mulga.'