THE BOSS IS COMING!

Harry Power, before making the acquaintance of Ned Kelly, had “put up” a rather heavy criminal record, and had been convicted several times of various offences, chiefly horse and cattle stealing; but imprisonment apparently served only to whet his appetite for further wrong-doing, and he became known as a confirmed law-breaker. The police had reason to know that he was a remarkably "smart" man, a splendid rider, a skilful bushman, and daring and reckless to a degree. When at liberty, he gave the police great trouble to catch him, and when caught, he gave his gaolers all they could do to keep him—in fact, more than they could do on one occasion, just prior to the commencement of his bushranging career, with which we have only now to deal.

He was undergoing a term of imprisonment in Pentridge Gaol, and was, with other prisoners, engaged during working hours in drawing rubbish in a small go-cart from the stockade outside the gaol. Power's work was to assist in “drawing” the go-cart. There was a large heap of rubbish where the cart-loads had to be tipped; and as one of the loads which he had helped to draw was being emptied, Power quickly and quietly—without the knowledge of the sentries, although some of his fellow prisoners must have observed his movements—slid under the rubbish as it was shot down, and at once became part of the heap. The other prisoners drew the cart back, leaving Power 249concealed beneath the rubbish, and as they moved off for another load the sentries solemnly escorted them, ignorant of the fact that one of the "beasts of burden" was missing from the team. It was only when the men were being subsequently mustered that Power was missed, and immediate search was made for him, but without avail. He had seized a favourable opportunity, crept from his hiding place, and hurriedly made off.

The first concern of the escaped convict was to obtain a change of clothing, for he knew that such a thing as uninterrupted liberty while wearing gaol garb would be an impossibility. He stole a suit of clothes from the first farmhouse he came across, and at once decided to turn bushranger; but for this calling firearms as well as clothes were needed, and his next concern was to procure the requisite "shooting sticks." For some time, however, he was unable to find what he wanted, and he started his bushranging career without gun, pistol, or revolver. Arm himself he did, nevertheless, but his solitary weapon was such as modern bushrangers, at least, would not think remarkably effective, although it was formidable enough for his purpose. Finding the blade of an old sheep shear, Power fastened it on a long stick and made a kind of lance, and with this he operated with some success. Before long, however, he came across an old traveller who possessed a revolver, and from him he took the more effective and easily handled weapon, at the same time relieving the traveller of his money.

Thus equipped, he proceeded to raid the country in a systematic manner, and committed so many robberies on the highway or from settlers' houses that his name speedily became a terror to travellers and persons living in isolated localities in the Beechworth and other districts. He had secure hiding places in the mountains, and having secured some of the best horses procurable—of course, he did not buy one of them—he would go backward and forward, sometimes riding fully seventy miles in the day, and completely baffling the police.

Some very sensational stories were told concerning the bushranger's operations when in full work on the road. One of these stories is worth re-telling. On one occasion he had "stuck up" several carriers on the Seymour Road, and. one of them refused to hand over his money, saying that nothing in the world would induce him to part with it. Power remonstrated with him, and said if he allowed him to pass without giving up his money, others might refuse to hand over theirs when bailed up, and his occupation would be gone, and the people would say he was afraid to shoot a man. "I will, therefore," said he, "give you five minutes to think over the matter, and if after that time you still refuse, I will have to shoot you." Power then went behind a tree, and said he prayed to God to soften the man's heart; at the end of the stipulated time he went forward and again demanded the money, when the man handed it over without a murmur. This story is given on the authority of Superintendent Hare, who declared that he heard it from the bushranger's lips.

Profiting by previous experiences, Power did not make a close confidant of any man or woman, and after his capture he attributed his immunity from arrest to his practice of working “on his own hook”. Being a thorough bushman, and well acquainted with the district, be did not need any guide or assistant in his nefarious work. For nearly two years he "held the bush" unhindered, although the police maintained an untiring search for him. At last information was supplied to the head of the Victorian police which was considered reliable, and as it was made by a man who was known to be intimate with the bushranger's haunts, special arrangements were made for surprising Power. Who this man was is not to this day known to the public, for one of the conditions of the compact entered into by him to lead the hunters to Power's hiding-place was that absolute secrecy as to his identity should be preserved. In their reports the police called this man L— (Ned’s uncle, Jack Lloyd), and we shall refer to him as L— in the future.

A squatter had been stuck up and robbed by Power, who took from him, in addition to other valuables, a much-prized gold watch. Subsequently the bushranger sent a message to the squatter to the effect that he could have the watch back for £15. Upon hearing of this offer the police officers who had command of the search parties in that locality determined to put the genuineness of the offer of help made by L— to the test. The Victorian Government had offered a reward of £500 for Power's apprehension, and the police promised L— that he should have the whole of this amount if he conducted them to the bushranger's hiding-place and enabled them to make the capture. After much demur, L— consented, and the party started from the squatter’s station into a lonely, mountainous part of the country, properly armed, and having the £15 which was to redeem the stolen watch. The party consisted of Superintendents Nicholson and Hare, one trooper, a black-tracker, and the mysterious guide; and it is just here that difficulty confronts the historian, whose chief desire is to set down nothing but the truth. Two accounts of the course taken and the things done by the party during this expedition have been published—one by Superintendent Hare and one by Superintendent Nicholson. In the narrative given by Superintendent Hare all the glory attaching to the expedition belonged to Superintendent Hare. In that given by Superintendent Nicholson many of the statements, pretensions and claims made by the first writer are disputed, and whatever glory there was has been equally divided, even the black-tracker receiving his fair share. The reader will be interested in the story of Superintendent Nicholson, as he told it in a letter to one of the leading Victorian papers so late as February. 1892. Mr. Nicholson introduced his narrative by the following letter to the editor:

"Sir,—I have endeavoured to condense into the following narrative every fact of importance connected with the capture of Power, the bushranger, omitting nothing, exaggerating nothing, and making no statement that is not capable of being verified on oath if necessary. I deeply regret that such a proceeding should have been forced upon me by the erroneous and misleading statements put forth by Mr. Hare in the third chapter of his ‘Last of the Bushrangers.’ But to have allowed these to pass without notification would have been to acquiesce in the falsification of history."

And this is the story as told by him:—

The guide (L—), assisted by the sergeant, led us through the ranges, avoiding paths and traces of settlement as much as possible. Towards the end of the second day we camped in a secluded gully within six miles of the Quinn's place, and L— was promptly despatched there with the view of visiting Power's hiding-place if possible. He was provided with £15 in bank notes, which were first initialled by Mr. Hare, and with which he was to obtain from Power a certain gold watch and chain. The following evening after dark L— re-appeared in our camp and handed me the watch and chain, indicating thereby that he had been in Power's company. The same evening at Mr. Hare's special request I entrusted him with the watch, so that he might have the pleasure of returning it to the squatter. L—, who was a man of few words, laconically stated that he had lingered at the Quinn's both coming and going, lest he should awaken their suspicions, and had succeeded in being taken to Power's retreat on the range opposite their house, where he had an interview with the bushranger. We timed our start so as to pass through Quinn's place not earlier than 2 a.m.

The Quinn's house was situated on the edge of the King River, and on a flat lying between it and a crescent-shaped range. Immediately under and along the range and between it and the flat, ran a lagoon which was connected with the river by anabranches and other channels. The first and largest portion of the flat which we had to traverse was covered with timber and scrub, and the lesser portion, upon which the house was situated, was fenced in and under cultivation. These people had also fenced across the Government cattle track along the river; and further, the bridge across the lagoon, giving access to the range, was enclosed within their horse and cattle yards. We started from a point near the river, and when we began to cross the first five miles of the flat we found that our difficulties were only commencing. Owing to the heavy rain the flat itself was almost covered with water; the channels across it were full, and in many places deep, and the river was in a roaring flood, so that we could scarcely hear each other speak; and we had the timber and scrub to get through in the intense darkness which prevailed. We failed, but extricated ourselves, although with difficulty, and finally we were compelled to retrace our steps to the point whence we had started. After a short rest and consultation I decided that as no further time could be lost we must take the river as our guide, and this we did, keeping as close to the bank as possible. After a severe struggle of over five miles we were at last rewarded by being brought up suddenly by Quinn's paddock fence. The portion of it I first recognised in the dark was that which projected over the bank into the river to keep the cattle out of the cultivation.

This in my opinion, was the most trying work we had to perform during the expedition, and here Sergeant Montfort particularly was of great use. We dismounted, planted our horses in the scrub, and after getting over the fence we cautiously passed the Quinn's premises, crossing the bridge and reaching the foot of the range without causing any alarm. After proceeding along the base of the range, looking upwards for Power's camp fire, but without catching the faintest glimpse of it, our guide, old L—, who had for some time been showing signs of succumbing to cold, fatigue, and terror, now collapsed, and declared himself unable to proceed one step further, and equally unable to recognise the hill on which was situated the outlaw's lair. We also were then suffering from cold, fatigue, and want of food, and the night was still very dark and wet. I, therefore, proposed that all the party except myself should lie down and rest, and I undertook to watch, and to awaken them at daybreak. They lay down on the ground. After they had had a short sleep signs of approaching dawn appeared. I aroused them, and, although they had slept saturated with rain, they were all considerably refreshed, and one of them jocularly spoke of having dreamed of food. We resumed our search, silently and carefully scanning the shallow gullies on the side of the range from there upwards to where the gullies ended at the crest.

Here I received just such valuable aid from the blackfellow as I had expected. The range was clothed lightly with timber and scrub towards the top boulders, and rock cropped up, whereas at the bottom, amongst the finer soil, were some very large trees. I was looking among these latter for a hollow tree stump which had been described to me as "Power's Watchbox" by young Ned Kelly, whom I had left behind me under the care of the police at Kyneton. (Old L—, I believe, also knew of this.) At last my attention was attracted by the stump of a large tree, the small branches and leaves apparently sprouting from it being brown, withered, and dead, offering a striking contrast to those of the other stumps, which were alive and green. Springing towards it, I found the withered branches came away in my hands, disclosing peep-holes cut in the hollow trunk, which they had served to mask. Inside was some dried grass strewn on the floor, but no bed, as Mr. Hare describes. At this time the blackfellow, who had been keeping near me, recognising that I had made a discovery, sprang towards me and looked at the tree.

Without speaking I glanced back to old L—, who was feebly following us, and I pointed to the stump; he silently signalled with his head and outstretched arms an affirmative gesture and disappeared. I never saw him again. It was then just daylight, and the mist was rolling up the hills, rendering it almost impossible in some places to distinguish it from smoke; but Donald, after one look, pointed straight up the gully, and, with dilated eyes and nostrils, uttered in a suppressed tone "Moke! Moke!" Notwithstanding what Mr. Hare has asserted in his published narratives, he was certainly not present when the above occurred, and he had no opportunity of examining the hollow tree-trunk until after Power's arrest. Superintendent Hare and Sergeant Montfort were at that very time exploring a short distance off, and near a small swampy flat partially bordered with ti-tree, and on a lower level. I attracted their attention by a low hissing whistle. but knowing that there was not an instant to be lost, as Power might wake up at any moment, I did not wait for them, but commenced running up the gully. whilst Messrs. Hare and Montfort followed, making a short diagonal cut to get on my line, thereby leaving the tree-stump behind them, and at some distance on their left. As I ascended, a defined track became plain, and I then observed some distance above me a thin column of smoke rising among some boulders. A little more, and a few yards to the left of the line I was following, the small fire and a few cooking utensils around it appeared in view, close to a large boulder; and straight before me, what might have been taken for a small thicket of leafy green scrub, but the straightness of one or two of its outlines, as well as a foot in a clean worsted stocking projecting from the end next to the fire betrayed its artificial character. These were on a small plateau or shelf on the side of the range. With a twist of my shoulders, as I ran, I got rid of my loose peajacket, which was soaked and heavy with rain, and quickened my pace. The thicket was broadside to me, its entrance and the foot facing the fire.

Apprehensive lest the owner of the foot should escape either by the rear or far side, I waved my right arm to Superintendent Hare and Sergeant Montfort, who were still behind and below me, to go round, whilst I made a dash at the entrance, and throwing myself into the gunyah upon the prostrate body of the occupant, I seized and held him securely by the wrists until the Superintendent and the Sergeant appeared almost immediately, the former catching the man by his legs and Sergeant Montfort by his ankles. With one simultaneous heave we swung our prisoner outside, and then the Sergeant quietly handcuffed him.
The little structure, although low and narrow, was well put together and comfortable. It consisted of a good tough frame covered with blankets, and these were skilfully covered and concealed by leafy twigs and branches. There was a neat floor of small saplings about six inches above the ground upon which straw and blankets were spread. When I entered, Power, apparently asleep, was lying on his back, dressed excepting his coat and boots.

His revolver was loose by his side, and his double-barrelled gun loaded and cocked was slung from the ridge pole, the trigger within easy reach of his hand, and the muzzle sweeping the entrance, and not the track up which we had come, as Mr. Hare inaccurately states — indeed the track was at right angles to the gunyah. If any member of our party had attempted to draw Power out of his retreat by the ankles, as Mr. Hare describes, the rash experimentalist would have been blown to pieces. Fortunately, Power was unconscious of our approach owing to the ground being saturated by days of heavy rain, and therefore our footfalls were noiseless. Had there been any touching or pulling of Power's legs before his wrists were secured—in short, had not the whole thing, after the blackfellow sighted the smoke, been done at a run, our party would have probably returned at least one short of its number, for although Power, after finding himself surprised and overpowered, did not behave to us like “a desperate ruffian”, as Mr. Hare designates him at the commencement of his historical romance—on the contrary—yet he was certainly not a man to be trifled with. We all partook of some of his breakfast, and hurried away, Sergeant Montfort and Donald to where we had planted the horses. More than once at this time, Superintendent Hare, very much elated, surprised me by seizing my hand and wringing it most effusively.

Mr. Hare would have it believed that he undertook the duty of escorting Power past the Quinn's house, and armed with Power's double-barrelled gun. This is one of the many amusing occasions upon which Mr. Hare borrows his facts from his imagination. He carried a light single-barrelled rifle of the Lancaster pattern, and wore a revolver as well. Before marching Power off I examined his gun, and finding it in good order armed myself with it, carrying it at "the ready" and at half cock. I also had my revolver. I led the way, followed at from six to ten yards by Superintendent Hare, with Power close in front of him. When near the house I observed three men standing near the porch, and another man known as "Red George" outside. I halted, turned round, and addressed Superintendent Hare and Power in a firm and distinct tone of voice, as follows:— "Mr. Hare, if any attempt is made to rescue the prisoner, or if he attempts to escape, shoot him." Then turning towards the men about the porch I gave them to understand by my gestures how I was prepared to deal with them if necessary. We resumed our march, and for an instant a large bush intercepted our view, but when we cleared it and the porch came in sight again the men had disappeared, and in their places stood three rather tall women in black, who silently stared at us, but we caught sight of the men behind them, peeping over the women's shoulders and under their arms. We passed on without exchanging a word. Poor Power gave his friends an inquiring wistful look, to which came no response.

We soon reached a spot outside the fence, where we were glad to find Sergeant Montfort, Donald, and the horses safe and sound and ready to proceed. I directed the sergeant to lead us to the selection of one W. Lally, from whom I hired a good horse and spring cart, and that evening we all reached Wangaratta with our prisoner, after another long dark ride; and although Sunday I was able to announce by telegram our success to the Chief Commissioner thus:— "Wangaratta. Sunday.—Power, alias Johnstone, was arrested this morning at 7.30, in the King River Ranges, on the Glenmore Run by Superintendents Nicholson and Hare and Sergeant Montfort, and is now in the Wangaratta watch-house.—(Signed) C. H. Nicholson." This telegram was published by the Melbourne press next morning. On arrival we found that our clothes, as well as our hands, were turned one uniform colour, owing to the continued rain dripping upon us through the gum-trees for so many days. Whilst warming and drying ourselves before a blazing fire at the police quarters our plight became known to some of the inhabitants, who most kindly and considerately sent us clean, dry clothing, which we shared with Power. The latter, after being thoroughly dried, warmed, and refreshed, was provided with a comfortable bed in the watch-house. An armed sentry was placed on duty and we all gladly went to rest.

Subsequently, when Mr. Hare was confined to his room under the care of Dr. B. Hutchinson, then of Wangaratta, suffering from the effects of cold and exposure he had undergone, I drew up the official report of the affair by his bedside, and I directed him to append his signature next my own. In fact I could hardly refrain from asking Sergeant Montfort from doing likewise, only doing so would have been contrary to discipline. I here repeat that what was alluded to in my report and characterised in the press as "indistinct" and "vague" arose from my desire to avoid causing any invidious distinction being drawn between us three, as each had done his best, and each had contributed to the success of the expedition as far as his opportunities would allow, and again I was embarrassed by the necessity for avoiding any allusion which might lead to the discovery of the identity of our guide, L—, for this at that time would probably have cost him his life. After escorting our prisoner to Beechworth, I returned to Melbourne in company with Superintendent Hare. Soon after, on a vacancy occurring, I was transferred to the charge of the metropolitan district not as promotion, but by right of seniority, and also through being deemed suitable for the office.

From Wangaratta, Power was removed to Beechworth, where he was placed upon his trial for highway robbery, convicted, and sentenced to fifteen years in Pentridge Gaol. And this time the authorities took particular care of their prisoner. He served about fourteen years of the sentence, and was then released. He had evidently been quite cured of his bushranging proclivities by prison diet, prison quiet, and prison work, for he did not again transgress in that particular direction. After his release he found employment, and earned an honest livelihood, although he did not manifest any desire to keep the past hidden from public gaze, as he frequently "fought his battles o'er again" when in the presence of those who sought to learn from his own lips the story of his bushranging experiences. About six years after his release he left Melbourne under engagement with the showmen speculators who had fitted up the old convict hulk “Success” and floated her over to Sydney. Journeying overland he reached the Murray River, near Swan Hill, but he got no further, for one morning his dead body was found in the river. [continued]