7 May 1936

PETRIFIED ABORIGINE OF NARACOORTE CAVES

Remarkable Story Of Theft And Re-discovery In London

The Naracoorte caves have long been one of the show places of South Australia, but, popular as they are, they would prove an even greater attraction if they did but still contain the petrified body of the aborigine found there in the early days. That body has had so many stories told about it, some of them mere legends, that it is difficult to determine now which of them are true and which are fiction.

A parched and lime-covered body of an aborigine was found in what is known as the Big Cave, soon after it was discovered. It had been perfectly preserved, but weighed only 19½ lb. For some years it remained in the cave, but in the early sixties a man went to the Penola Hotel carrying a strange looking bundle, which was comparatively light for its size. There were floods in the district at the time, and, although he made several attempts to get a conveyance to take him out of the town, he eventually had to leave on foot. He gave no information regarding himself, or where he was going. Many people saw him trudging along with the bundle slung over his shoulders, wading through water up to his knees. He reached Mount Gambier and stayed at an hotel, where he was thought to be an itinerant musician carrying a harp.

The first person to discover the mistake was a servant, who peeped into the bundle while the 'musician' was out. With a shriek of horror she rushed to the landlord, telling him that there was a dead man in one of the bedrooms. The 'harp' was uncovered to reveal the crouching figure of the 'petrified' aborigine. The musician made off, but the police captured him, and he was eventually brought up for trial before Judge Gwynne on a charge of larceny.

People of the district then began to take a real interest in the relic, and the story was told - supposedly supported by the blacks - that the blackfellow had crept into the cave, after having been wounded in a tribal fight, and had died there. The same influences which formed the stalactites and stalagmites in the cave caused the body to be covered with lime and preserved.

When the 'musician' was tried before Mr. Justice Gwynne the jury brought in a verdict of 'not guilty' on the direction of the judge that the evidence had shown that the body, as removed, was largely composed of lime and earthy matter, and that things which savored of the land could not form the subject of larceny. With due ceremony, the body was returned to the cave by residents of the district, and iron bars were placed between the floor and ceiling of the cave to prevent further thefts. But in those days the caves were not under the same careful supervision as they are now, and once again the body was stolen.

Twenty-five years ago a well-known South Australian was travelling by train to Mount Lofty, when a stranger opened conversation with him by remarking, 'You knew the South-East, didn't you?' The other replied that he did. 'Do you remember the black-fellow of the Naracoorte Caves?' the stranger asked. 'Well, I am one of the two men who last took away that black fellow.' 'I was a good deal younger then than I am now,' he continued, 'and a friend and I made up our minds to have that blackfellow. If you would like to read it, here is an account which I have written relating all the circumstances, and which I had thought of publishing.'

He handed over a long manuscript giving full details of how he and his mate after the court trial had schemed for the removal of the aborigine's body. They had obtained a cart and travelled with it through the bush, which, was then very sparsely settled. They got possession of the aborigine and made off from Naracoorte towards Strathalbyn. To reach there they, would have to go through little frequented parts of the country and cross the River Murray. After they had taken the body some distance they came upon several bush-men who told them that someone had stolen the body, and said that the police and the people of the district were searching for it. The two men then took a roundabout course through the bush, avoiding all settlements, and worked themselves into such a nervous and excited state at the news of the alleged chase that they lost their heads.

Every night when they camped they made a point of carrying the body some distance from, their camp and hiding it, in case they were surprised by the search party before the morning. The stranger's friend became almost frantic with fright and he became even more scared when his companion played a joke on him. After the body had been hidden one night, the stranger who was telling the story went out by himself and removed it. Having done this, he made an excuse for his companion to go out and put an additional covering over it. He was dumbfounded when he found that the blackfellow had disappeared. On another occasion they had just pitched camp, the body being in the cart and well covered with hay, when a mounted constable rode up and said that if they did not mind he would camp with them for the night. They were even more apprehensive when he fastened his horse to their cart and the animal immediately began to eat the hay. They were expecting every moment that there would be a discovery of the body. Other arrangements were made, however, and the threatened disaster averted.

Deciding that it would be too risky for them to proceed to Strathalbyn, they made for Melbourne, and reached there with their package without further trouble. Arrangements were made for them to take the blackfellow to England; but they fell out, and the informant's mate made off with the body.

Many years later, the man who told the story went to England with his wife for a trip, and they were taken aback in a London thoroughfare to see a placard on a building stating that 'The Great Australian Curiosity, The Petrified Blackfellow,' was on exhibition. They went in and took seats in the back, of the hall. The room was fairly well filled, and on the platform were the doubled up figure of the aborigine and a lecturer, who related how the blackfellow had been removed by himself and a friend from the caves at Naracoorte. He gave a long and interesting account of the whole proceedings. The visitor and his wife waited until the others had filed out and then went and spoke to the lecturer, who however, said that he did not know him. No matter how hard, he was pressed he would not admit even the slightest acquaintance.

Some time afterwards, the visitor, on his return to Australia, read an account of how the aborigine had been seized in distress for rent and sold for £30. After this it is believed that the body was taken through America as a side-show. It is said to be now in a museum in London.— H. A

Mounted Constable's Intuition

A crowd had gathered at a small wayside hotel in south-western Queensland a few days before the annual race meeting. As is still the custom in the outback, it was then a case of 'hail fellow well met.' We passed the time card playing and talking of likely winners at the forthcoming race meeting.

One night, whilst we were having a drink in the bar, a stranger walked in and asked us to drink up and have one with him. Nothing loth, we did so, the stranger passing over to the publican a cheque for a fairly large amount. On noticing that the cheque was made 'payable to order,' the publican asked the stranger to endorse it, which the latter did.

In the mean time the publican had gone to his room to get the necessary change, and immediately on his return someone said, 'Fill them up again.' After the drinks had been taken, and the publican had commenced to wipe the glasses, the stranger asked for his change. A request on the publican's part for the cheque, and a search by all hands, failed to locate it. It had not blown away; there was no wind, and I suppose each grew suspicious of his neighbor. I know I turned my pockets out to show that I was innocent, but in reality I did so, thinking that someone might have been playing a practical joke. Eventually the publican handed over the change due, saying he would send a blackboy to the station, from where the cheque was issued, and arrange to have payment stopped.

When a mounted constable was told of the incident next day, he asked who was present at the time of the cheques' mysterious disappearance. After hearing all the names, the constable merely nodded his head and said, 'I'll take a bit of a ride.' Within three hours he was back with the cheque and had as a companion, not the stranger, but one of our company of the night previous.

Sherlock Holmes could not have done better than that constable. Arriving at the camp of one, whom we will call Brown, and whom the trooper evidently suspected, the latter dismounted and said he wanted to search the camp for stolen property. Brown was filling his pipe at the time, and as the constable tethered his horse and walked across. Brown casually threw away an apparently empty tobacco tin. 'Ill just have a look in that tobacco tin first,' remarked the trooper and, picking it up and opening it, he was rewarded by finding a neatly folded cheque covered over with tobacco. 'You win,' came from the disgusted Brown, as he began to roll his swag. Incidentally none but the policeman even suspected Brown.— A.N.M.

A Master Bushman

The greatest bushman I ever came in contact with was Harry Readford, popularly known as "Starlight" and the "White Bull," owing to his reputed association with the cattle stealing episode at Mount Cornish in the seventies. In the late nineties Readford, myself and two black boys were making for the Robinson River country in the Northern Territory. At that time Myall blacks were very bad and woe betide the luckless white man who wandered off the beaten track.

Owing to flood waters we were compelled to deviate from our course, and finally we entered country where the Myalls were in force. Leaving the two black boys in camp one day, I rode with Readford whilst he surveyed the country. After a ride of several miles, Readford on climbing a hill, pointed out the direction we would have to follow, incidentally remarking that if all went well we would arrive at our destination in six days.

Quite satisfied about his bearings, Readford led the way back to our camp, where we found that our two black boys had cleared out, leaving us with pack horses but greatly depleted rations. I suggested following the two boys, but Readford would not listen to this, saying that we would pack up and start as soon as possible. In order to avoid the Myalls it was necessary to travel by night and camp during the day, taking turns in watching for wandering blacks. Never will I forget those night rides nor the anxiety I spent whilst keeping watch during portion of each day. But all else was superseded by my admiration for this master bushman's uncanny leading during the nights, when without a compass nor, any moonlight to assist, he rode on as thought following a well beaten road. Time and again we had to deviate in order to avoid the camp fires of blacks or rough country or creeks, but this mattered little to Readford. Eventually on the late afternoon of the sixth day from the night of starting we rode up to a small homestead on the Robinson River, after the most nerve-racking journey I have ever made. Later I often heard old bush men who knew Readford declare that he would be capable of bushing an aborigine in his own country, so great was the admiration they felt for his uncanny skill as a bushman. — A.N.M.

Real Life Stories of South Australia (1936, May 7). Chronicle (Adelaide, SA : 1895 - 1954), p. 15. http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article92339154