27 May 1937

FROM ROBE TO MEXICO

Fortune That Vanished Fifty Years Ago

Known to Robe residents as 'Dolly,' Mrs. Mary Ann Bryant was one of the best known identities of that South Eastern town in the 'fifties of last century. She kept a small haberdashery shop and a school near the Robe Hotel, and subsequently launched out into drapery, millinery, and women's wear generally. Her business prospered, and in due course she acquired a fair amount of property in the town.

In the latter years of her life she had one special friend— a Mrs. Roberts— and when she was on her death bed in September, 1870, she sent for her. It so happened, however, that Mrs. Roberts was ill too, with a nurse in attendance. On being told that the matter was urgent, she sent along her nurse with a message that Mr. Bryant could trust her with anything she wanted to say or send. The dying woman directed the nurse where to get her desk containing valuable documents and other treasure. With the remark, 'That's right,' she was told to take it to Mrs. Roberts.

A few hours later Mrs. Bryant died and, on search being made, no will could be discovered. The estate was taken charge of by the Curator of Intestate Estates and the personal property and real estate were realised upon.

But when Mrs. Roberts was called upon to hand over the desk, she resolutely refused to part with it on the grounds (as her lawyer later put it) of donatio mortis causa. Proceedings were threatened, but Mrs. Roberts held fast to the desk and its contents. At that time there was no Circuit Court held at Robe, and the case was taken to Adelaide. The Stipendiary Magistrate (Mr. G. B. Scott), Mr. Henderson, J.P. (a bank manager), Dr. Breton, and about half-a-dozen witnesses journeyed to Adelaide by steamer. The jury decided in favor of Mrs Roberts.

The Curator was not satisfied and gave notice of appeal, and a few months later the case had to be all gone over again. At this re-trial, after the jury had been locked up for an hour and a half, the foreman notified the court that there was no possibility of reaching a unanimous agreement. The jurymen were discharged and the bench suggested to the curator that he should compromise. This he did, and Mrs. Roberts was awarded half the amount claimed as the value of the desk and contents— namely, £750.

The whole estate at the time of Mrs. Bryant's death was stated to be approximately £10,000, but the expenses of the two court cases and the amount paid over to Mrs. Roberts under the compromise reduced it to £8,180. This amount remained in the curator's hands for about fifteen years, as the relatives of the deceased had been advertised for far and wide without anyone being able to give satisfactory proof of relationship. It was believed that her husband was dead; but some persons affirmed that Mrs. Bryant had hidden her identity under an assumed name, with the result that it was impossible to trace her relatives.

Towards the end of the year 1885 residents of Adelaide were surprised to hear that a trusted and highly paid civil servant was to be prosecuted. That civil servant was the Curator of Intestate Estates, who (it later was discovered), had asked the Crown Solicitor to what foreign country ex tradition treaties did not apply, and had been told that Mexico was a safe place of refuge for an absconder. This advice he had coolly charged up to his department, and, on June 8, 1885, left for an alleged holiday trip to New Zealand, for which he had obtained leave of absence. At the end of the period of his leave he did not return to duty, and, suspicions being aroused, enquiries were instituted, which led to the discovery that there were serious deficiencies in his accounts.

Among the amounts missing was the sum of £8,180, the balance of Mrs. Bryant's estate. This had been included under the heading of "Return of Balances and Estates Under the Charge of the Public Trustee, December 31, 1884,'' in the Government Gazette of February 12, 1885, and in a marginal note were the words, "Claimed by kin." This marginal note was significant, as where a claimant appeared and substantiated his right to the money left in the hands of a public trustee a judge's order had to be obtained before any money could be paid over. In the case of Mrs. Bryant's estate, this formality had been dispensed with the curator.

In June, 1885, a Mrs. Kate Barnett presented herself at the Bank of New South Wales, accompanied by the Curator, and asked to have a cheque for £6,600 drawn by that gentleman, cashed. The money was promptly paid over, and as promptly transferred to the account of Mrs. Barnett at another bank. A draft was then obtained of the amount of £6,300 from the National Bank, payable in Melbourne.

On the following day, the remaining £300 was drawn out by Mrs. Barnett, and she sailed for Melbourne by the steamer Adelaide. Four days later the Curator sailed for Melbourne, en route for New Zealand.

A little more than a year later the story was current that a South Australian had seen the delinquent in Mexico. Two detectives were accordingly sent along to bring him back, but he was too wise to fall into the net they set for him. Having chummed up with him, they tried to get him out on a fishing excursion. But he told them that he did not like fishing. Other attempts to lure him beyond the three-mile limit (where they could have arrested him) failed. At this time, Mrs. Barnett was reported to be living with him. Some time later, however, a Melbourne society paper wrote: —

"Nearly two years ago the Curator of the Intestate Estates at Adelaide levanted from South Australia with a large sum of money, supposed to amount to £15,000. One estate he carried off in bulk to the tune of £7,000. He was supposed to have got away to America, where his early capture was for some time anticipated, despite rumors to the effect that certainly influential people in South Australia were deeply interested in his not being brought back. The other day an old friend of the delinquent received a letter from a globe-trotter, stating that he had come across the ex-Adelaide Curator in a rising city of Northern Mexico, where he is living in luxurious style; enjoys a considerable amount of popularity, and has attained the position of 'corregidor.' He owns a magnificent country estate of about 100,000 acres, on which he resides half the year, and entertains largely. He was accompanied in his exit from Adelaide by a young lady, who, however, does not appear to be living with him now for the honors of his Mexican establishment are performed by a charming daughter of the country, who, in addition to her beauty, brought her husband a substantial 'dot.' "— K.B.

How Skinflint Chose His Heir

Every country community has its mean man, and a store of anecdotes concerning him. Here are a few about one who lived in our neighborhood some 20 years back.

Skinflint used to own a property alongside that of three young English men of leisure, whom we shall call Morgans, and found much to cavil at in their easy-going methods. One morning he came over early to inform them that a goose which they were fattening for Christmas had made its way through the fence and eaten a few grains from his crop. He suggested that they had better tie the goose up or do something about it. The Morgans laughed and promptly forgot the incident.

Next morning Skinflint was over to borrow a shot-gun. A few minutes later a report rang out, and he was seen returning with gun in one hand ; and the goose in the other. Scrupulously honest, he returned both to their rightful owners.

The incident had long been forgotten when one of the Morgans asked him to bring back a box of cartridges next time he went into town. Skinflint duly made the purchase and handed over the ammunition with this remark, 'You'll only find twenty-four cartridges in the box, as I took one out to make up for one of mine I wasted on that goose of yours.'

In due course Skinflint neared the end of his life and experienced his final illness. As he was known to possess a lot of money, relatives came from every part of the State to see how the poor old fellow was getting on. Lots of them he had never seen before, and even those he happened to remember merely excited his suspicions, which were probably justified, as his will was yet to be made. Tortured by the thought of the expense his wife must be incurring in feeding the unbidden guests, he had a dinner plate put on a chair alongside his bed. On this all visitors were requested to deposit a florin to cover the cost of the meal they might receive before they went.

As the old man had to be humored, his wife used to supply newcomers with a couple of shillings for the purpose, and collect them again from the plate. This went on until Skinflint's favorite nephew heard of it and came to ask for the return of one of his own florins he had put on the plate before the custom started. This led to the old chap finding out about his wife's deception.

Far from Skinflint being annoyed at his nephew's meanness, the incident solved the problem for him. He left the bulk of his estate to the close fisted one, in the full assurance that it would not be wantonly dissipated after his death. — 'Cluny.'

Beaten By A Bottle Of Rum

At many race meetings in Western Queensland it is customary to have what is known as the Blackfellows' Race, in which, at catch weights, station horses are ridden by black boys. These are generally very popular, as very few of the riders ever attempt any tricks. The majority invariably "go for the doctor" from the start.

It was in one of these blackfellows' races, however, that a few of us were very nicely caught by a rather shrewd black boy. As a matter of fact, the incident cost me £25! I considered that a horse of mine had a second to none chance, and I felt rather pleased when I secured the services of Tommy, one of the best race riders on a big cattle station in the district. The prize to the black boy riding the winner was £2, and, all unknown to the police, of course, a bottle of rum. The boy on the second horse was to receive £1, but no rum.

Another horse owned by another station and considered to have a good chance, was well backed. It was ridden by a boy from the station named Jimmy, who, besides being a good horseman, was mission educated. As it turned out, Jimmy was far too well educated for my jockey. The race needs little description, except to say that if Tommy's reins had broken he would have probably come an awful cropper.

Jimmy won the race, with my horse second; but had Tommy let my fellow have his head it would be hard to say how much he would have won by. It was no use crying over spilt milk, so I had to do the obvious— pay up and look pleasant. I did, however, have a word to say to Tommy, but he only grinned.

But later in the afternoon a very amused station manager — Tommy's boss — who also had lost on my horse, told me all about it. It appears that Jimmy had cornered Tommy prior to the race, and had told him that if he pulled my horse and allowed Jimmy's horse, to win, the station manager for whom Jimmy rode would give Tommy two bottles of rum.

It is on record that Jimmy said to Tommy, 'Suppose me win, Tommy, Boss give you two bottles of rum. Suppose you win, you only get one bottle. Two bottles more better than one.' Evidently Tommy thought so, too, for right royally did he carry out his part of the performance. That evening at the hotel I was chaffed a great deal by those who had heard of the manner in which the black boys had taken me down, but I think I got even with Jimmy's boss when I offered to race my horse against his, owners up, for £100 a side. But he was not having any.— 'Drover.'

Remained Asleep, Though On Fire

If aborigines are not immune to pain when sound asleep, some of them must be able to endure a lot when wrapped in the arms of Morpheus. I was bringing in a mob of cattle from the Gulf country of Queensland, and when we got into some timbered country, fires used to be lighted around the camping cattle at night time. Many drovers scoff at the idea, but I have often adopted the procedure with bad cattle, and my experience has been that the mob camped better. However that is by the way.

Nugget, the blackboy horse-tailer, had been doing the first watch, but owing to two men leaving me, I had to call on the cook to do a watch. So giving the latter the first watch I transferred Nugget to the second to last watch, the one before mine.

On the second night of the new arrangement I awakened about the time I should have been called, and on looking at my watch decided that Nugget had either gone to sleep or was having trouble with a few cattle poking out of the mob. Pulling on my boots and kicking the cook's fire together, I mounted the spare night horse and rode out. The cattle were camping peacefully, but as I rode round the mob I could neither see nor hear Nugget's horse. The fires were well back from the cattle, so reckoning that the horse tailer would be found coiled up by one of them, I visited each in turn.

At the last fire I saw the night horse, and through smoke and a blaze I saw what was once Nugget, or at least I thought so. I fully expected to find the boy burnt to death. Risking disturbing the cattle. I jumped off, and grabbing the well-alight overcoat that Nugget was wearing, I pulled its wearer away from the fire. I don't know who got the greater fright, Nugget or I, as the boy awakened and, with a yell, jumped into the air, leaving the coat, or what remained of it, in my hands. Luckily the cattle were not disturbed, and grabbing Nugget, I rolled him over and over, thus extinguishing the fire that had taken control of his clothes.

It was a very frightened Nugget that the cook and I attended to after we had reached the camp; he was literally burned from head to foot. In fact, so badly was he injured that we had to leave him at the hospital in a township we reached a couple of days later.

It will always remain a mystery to me how that boy slept whilst he was being burned. Had I been on the scene a few minutes later, I realise that Nugget would have been past all human aid. The only way I can account for Nugget not awakening when he becomes on fire, was because of his paucity of flesh; we called him Nugget because he weighed less than seven stone and was as thin as the proverbial match. Nugget never went to sleep again on watch, at least not whilst he remained with me. — A.N.M.

Real Life Stories Of South Australia (1937, May 27). Chronicle (Adelaide, SA : 1895 - 1954), p. 16. http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article92483233