Bushranger Gold

By David Cairns Of Finavon

A true story.  In 1853, Australia was rocked by the robbery of £6,000 of gold from an escorted shipment on a country road heading from the McIvor gold fields to Melbourne,  Within days, 400 men were searching the bush for the audacious bushrangers who numbered between 6 and 15 depending on who was telling the story.  Despite aboriginal trackers and extensive searches, they could not be found.  The full weight of the constabulary was thrown behind the case and a round up of possible suspects began.   The leader was a man by the name of Joe Grey.  He disappeared and was never heard of again.  Or was he?  The ship that some of the bushrangers intended to use to escape to London left Melbourne and was never seen again.  Mystery upon mystery.  And then there is the involvement of one of Australia's most famous bushrangers, Frank Gardiner.   This is a fast-paced true story of a daring robbery in the rumbustious times of the Victorian gold rush and what happened next.

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Cairns Of Finavon
• Release date: Jan 6, 2024
• ISBN: 9780645978803

Book preview

Bushranger Gold

Bushranger Gold

The McIvor Private Escort Robbery

David Cairns of Finavon

Finavon Press

Contents

Introduction

Further Reading

Measurements

Preface

Prologue - the Bushrangers

1. George Melville

2. John & George Francis

3. The Reckoning

4. George Wilson

5. Bill Atkins

6. Frank Christie

7. The Syndicate

8. The Duffing

9. Racing

10. Ready For Market

11. End Game

12. Justice

13. Gaol

14. Joe Grey

15. The Diggings

Planning & Execution

16. Research

17. Hiring

18. Reconnoitre

19. Prelude

20. Ambush

21. Rumours And Confusion

22. To Melbourne

23. Searchers

24. A Strange Affair

25. Closing The Net

26. Subterfuge

27. Momentum

28. Breakthrough

29. Mopping Up

30. Suicide?

31. Approver

32. Committed

33. Trial

34. Approver’s Evidence

35. Recalling The Ambush

36. Closing The Case

37. Closing Statements

38. Summing Up

39. Verdict

40. Sentence

41. Execution

42. Reflection

43. Aftermath

44. Emigration

Afterword

The Mysterious Joe Grey

Frank Gardiner

The Mystery Of The Madagascar

Acknowledgments

Also By

Copyright © 2020 by David Cairns of Finavon All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Introduction

The events covered in the following pages, including the McIvor Private Gold Escort robbery, all happened, pretty much as described - as far as is possible to confirm from existing contemporary records, although even these sometimes contradict each other.

In 1853, the Private Escort robbery was an outrageous event that shook up the government and society - if you like, the ‘Great Train Robbery’ of its time.

The main characters all existed and their stories as related here are factually correct in the main although, to create three-dimensional characters from the historic word, I have embellished and invented along the way.

Frank Gardiner, who is central to the story, went on to become one of Australia’s most famous bushrangers - other authors have written about his exploits at length, although none have covered the period when he went missing; the period covered here.

I have used the place names of the time and provided footnotes where the present-day location exists, so it is possible to physically trace the events in today’s Australia.

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The mystery of the Madagascar and the identity of Joe Grey have remained just that, mysteries, to this day.

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David Cairns of Finavon

Gold Coast, Australia, 2020.

Further Reading

If you enjoy history brought alive, check out the author’s other books:

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DOWNFALL: BOOK I OF THE HELOTS’ TALE

My Book

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REDEMPTION: BOOK II OF THE HELOTS’ TALE

My Book

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THE CASE OF THE EMIGRANT NIECE

My Book

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Book I of the Major Gask mysteries

A Readers Choice Book Awards finalist

5 stars

NEWS, VIEWS & FREE STUFF

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Measurements

The currency in use in the British Empire in the nineteenth century was Sterling: pounds, shillings and pence. Twelve pence equalled one shilling and twenty shillings (or 240 pence) equalled one pound.

Pounds were expressed by the £ symbol, shillings by ‘s’ and pennies by ‘d’ (derived from the Latin, denarius). One pound, one shilling and one penny was written as £1 1s 1d.

In everyday speech one shilling and sixpence would, for example, be referred to as one and six and written as 1s 6d or 1/6, five shillings and ninepence would be referred to as five and nine and written as 5s 9d or 5/9.

A guinea used to be a coin in circulation up until 1813 worth one pound and one shilling. Luxury goods were often priced in guineas even though the coin itself was no longer in circulation.

A sovereign was a twenty-shilling coin, a half-sovereign, ten shillings. A crown was five shillings, half a crown was two shillings and sixpence, the florin was a two-shilling coin, other coins were sixpence, a groat (fourpence), a three-penny bit (pronounced thrupny), two pence (pronounced tuppence), a penny, a halfpenny (pronounced haypny) a farthing (a quarter of a penny) and a half farthing (an eighth of a penny).

While relative values are very difficult to measure against contemporary times, to be considered lower middle class as an example, you would have needed an income of at least £100 to £150 a year – or about 40 shillings to 60 shillings a week.

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The British Imperial system came into use in 1824; common measures:

½ pound (written lb) = 225 grammes 1lb = 450 grammes

1 inch = 0.025 metre

1 foot (12 inches) = 0.1 metre

1 yard (3 feet) = 0.3 metre

1 mile (1,760 yards) = 1.6 kilometres

1 pint = 0.568 litre

1 gallon (8 pints) = 4.5 litres

Preface

BARKER’S CREEK

20TH JULY, 1851

At the foot of Mount Alexander, ¹ a nuggety, grizzled hut-keeper looked out over the bushlands that stretched forever in front of him. Mile upon mile upon mile of open land where sheep, cattle and horses roamed in unfenced runs under a punishing sun.

Tom Peters, for that was his name, had been employed on William Barker’s Mount Alexander station for a while now, looking after the sheep on Barker’s run. It didn’t pay much, but then there was nothing to spend your money on when you were in the bush and he made enough to do what he wanted to do with his life. On his trips into town to buy supplies and enjoy time at a pub drinking, smoking and sharing stories, he would catch up on the news and gossip, then head back into the bush once more. Yes, Peters was happy enough with his circumstances.

Today, he was walking along a gully, intending to meet up with the shepherds at work with him, and he stopped to light his pipe, settling down on a nearby rock overlooking a small creek as he did so. It was at this moment he noticed something flash as the sun broke free of a shuttling cloud. His curiosity peaked, he put his unlit pipe and tobacco back in his pocket and walked over to check it out; perhaps someone had lost something? He crouched down and dug his fingers into the dry earth. As he disturbed it, the sun glinted again on multiple specks. He collected another pile of earth in both hands and stood up to examine it more closely.

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Then he let out a long, low whistle. He was certain. While he had never worked the goldfields, he had seen this before at the pub when a digger from Clunes had boasted of his luck. This was gold. And unbelievably it was just lying here on the ground.

He had heard stories of gold finds in California of course and also to the east in New South Wales and further south at Clunes and Buninyong, but dammit, Forest Creek and Mount Alexander wasn’t a gold field, it was bush, grazing land, nothing more.

Peters squatted down again and scooped up handfuls of earth, picking out the gold specks and even a tiny nugget. He carefully placed each speck, each nugget in a neckerchief that he had been wearing. With each minute his excitement built, butterflies in his stomach began to flutter and the smile on his weathered face grew wider, displaying the few tobacco-stained, yellowing teeth that he still owned.

The rest of the day continued in like manner and was filled with imaginings of how he would live as a rich man.

That evening in the men’s quarters, Peters was sitting with several of the farm hands around a fire, all smoking and drinking.

What’s up wi’ you, Tom? asked Bob Keen, one of the shepherds. What d’ye mean? he replied.

Well you’ve been sittin’ there all smug and smiling; there must be summat up Keen responded.

Peters shrugged then pulled out his neckerchief and displayed his finds to his mates with a barely concealed look of triumph.

So? What d’ye think ye ‘ave there, Tom? asked John Worley, another shepherd.

Gold! And more to find! Peters exclaimed, although his confidence was a little shaken when his mates seemed unimpressed.

Another man examined it and exclaimed,That’s Fool’s gold Tom, this is grazing land, not a goldfield. If you want to be a digger you should head to Clunes.

The others laughed and, faced with this reception, Peters snorted with disgust and threw his find away before accepting the beer that one of his mates offered him as a salve to his wounded ambition and pride.

Inevitably the story soon reached the ears of the landowner, William Barker. He too downplayed the find, worried that if the story gained any legs he would lose his farmhands in a gold rush, Fool’s gold or not.

Over the following weeks Peters thought again about his find and discussed it once more with three of his closer mates, two shepherds and a bullock driver, Worley, Keen and George Robinson. He felt and argued that if it was really gold, wouldn’t they kick themselves when someone else found it? Surely, better safe than sorry.

What did they have to lose? So, spurred on by stories of other finds in other parts of the colony, Peters and his mates returned to the gully.

It’s over ‘ere. Peters pointed to the rocks where he had made his discovery and Worley, Keen and Robinson followed in Peters’ foot- steps expecting to find nothing, but curious to lay this fool’s errand to rest.

Peters reached the area and began looking over the ground. Nothing. He expanded his search beyond the ground where he had initially made his find. It was a cloudy day, so there was none of the flashing that had first caught his attention and he began to wonder himself whether he had been mistaken.

You’re sure this is where you found it? Worley asked. Yeah. I’m positive. It must be ‘ere somewhere

Let’s split up. We can cover more ground that way suggested Robinson.

So the four men headed off to the different points of the compass, eyes scanning the ground and, with each passing minute, hope and optimism began to swither to pessimism.

We’re wasting our bloody time Keen mumbled to himself when a shout from behind made him turn. I think I’ve got something called out Worley.

The other three men quickly converged on him. In his hand he held a small nugget.

Is it gold?

Dammit, I’m pretty sure it is Worley responded, but I’m no engineer so I suppose it could be fool’s gold.

Each of them then began scouring the ground around, scratching the surface with mounting anticipation. In less than five minutes another shout, Here’s some more shouted Keen as he scooped earth into his hands and began sorting out specks of gold.

I told you exclaimed Peters triumphantly, I told you I found gold. It’s just lying around waiting to be picked up.

Encouraged by the initial finds, the four men continued to scrabble amongst the dirt. Every now and then someone would whoop with joy and turn to the others with a huge grin on his face.

Soon enough they had collected more of the gold sparkling under the sun that had broken through the cloud cover, or iron pyrites, what- ever it was. After spending the good part of three hours in their search they had each collected small pile of flakes and nuggets.

The sun was at its zenith. Mid-day. Worley straightened up, stretched the creases out of his back and, noting the time of day, called out, If we head into town now we can make it before the assay office closes and find out whether this really is gold. The others readily agreed and the four of them hurried off to town with their now not inconsiderable collection of specks and nuggets.

Boots thudding on the wooden veranda of the assay office, they went up to the counter and laid their treasure out for the assay clerk to weigh. At the back of their minds they were all a little concerned that they would be turned away with an admonishment to ‘stop wasting my time’ but the clerk carefully took the sample and poured it onto his scales.

Fifteen ounces exactly. That’ll be.. and he picked up a pencil, licked the lead and scribbled on a notepad, Thirty seven pounds, ten shillings.

None of the men said a word. Truth to tell, they were struck dumb at the enormity of what was happening to them. The money was paid over and they left the office almost stealthily as if worried that the clerk would soon realise he had made a mistake, not a word having been said.

Outside, they looked at each other. Wide smiles broke out on every face and then, with a whoop of delight, Tom Peters was engulfed by the other three in a frenzy of hugging and back slapping that had passers-by looking on with not a little concern.

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So it was that a few days later, the four men quietly made their way to the gully to start seriously going about the process of collecting their fortunes in the alluvial deposits.

However, it was impossible to continue operating in stealth mode and one evening Barker angrily confronted them. With a reddened face, coloured by anger, he peremptorily sacked them and ran them off his land for trespass for good measure, threatening to ‘get the Constables onto them’ if he ever saw them again.

Sitting around their campfire the same night and angered at the thought of losing a fortune, John Worley (who was able to read and write) spoke up, I think we should write to the newspapers and tell them about the gold. Don’t know about you, but I don’t want to get into trouble with the law for trespassing, but think about it, if others know about the discovery we can join the rush. Barker can’t chase everyone off.

They talked about this unexpected idea for a minute before slapping Worley on the back and enthusiastically agreeing with him. He took pen and ink to paper and began scratching:

DEAR SIR. — I wish you to publish these few lines in your valuable paper, that the public may know that there is gold found in these ranges, about four miles from Doctor Barker's home station, and about a mile from the Melbourne road; at the southernmost point of Mount Alexander, where three men and myself are working. I do this to prevent parties from getting us into trouble, as we have been threatened to have the Constables fetched for being on the ground. If you will have the kindness to insert this in your paper, that we are prepared to pay anything that is just when the Commissioner in the name of the party comes.

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JOHN WORLEY

Mount Alexander Ranges, Sept. 1st, 1851.

Once written, Worley read it out to the men. They all agreed that this did the job and Worley resolved to mail this to the Melbourne Argus the very next day.

A week later, Worley eagerly bought a copy of the 8 th September edition of the Argus to find his letter squeezed between the announcement of a new weekly newspaper, the Banner of Victoria, and an obituary for the editor of the Victoria Colonist. Worley read it out aloud to his colleagues with great satisfaction (although they were all confused that the article placed the location of the discovery at somewhere called Western Port ²).

Notwithstanding the confusion, within a month of this announcement a stampede of men descended on the district. About 8,000 diggers inundated the shallow alluvial beds that Tom Peters had discovered and the creeks and gulleys around the Mount Alexander site.

By the end of the year there were about 25,000 men and some women frantically seeking their fortune (to William Barker’s extreme chagrin)

1 Mount Alexander near modern day Castlemaine

2 The discovery was near present-day Castlemaine (Mt Alexander Goldfields) at Specimen Gully in today's Castlemaine suburb of Barker’s Creek.

Prologue - the Bushrangers

1

George Melville

NEW SOUTH WALES

1845

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THE MAN TOOK A DEEP BREATH - and jumped. The cold, foam- flecked sea closed over his head and the shock part-stunned him as he fought desperately to reach the surface and breath in the life-giving air. As he surfaced, the cries of gulls, the crack of the wind in