Early Aboriginal Murderers” Millbong Jemmy” and His Misdeeds
Flogged by Gilegan the Flogger
David Petty
Jemmy’s Capture and Death
“Dead Man’s Pocket”
An Old Prisoner’s Story
Found in a Wretched State
Weather-bound with the Murderers on Bribie Island
Their Explanation
” Dundalli” the Murderer
Hanged in the Present Queen Street
A Horrible Sight
Dundalli’s Brother’s Death
A number of white people were murdered by the aborigines when my father was a boy, and some of the incidents I have already told you of. He knew all the black murderers of those early days well, and had many a yarn with them. One of them was well-known as “Millbong Jemmy.” Now this man’s native name was really “Yilbung “-pronounced in English, “Yilbong.” He first put in an appearance at the missionary station at Nundah. (Nundah means “chain of waterholes.”) Jemmy was taken in hand with some others to be converted. He got on very well for a good while; could say the Lord’s Prayer, and the missionaries thought him a model. He had only one eye, this “Millbong Jemmy,” having had the other burnt when a child, but he used it well, and always kept it open and on the lookout. His name ” Yilbung “-meant “one-eye.”
One night, having noticed where the missionaries kept the flour and tea and sugar, Jemmy made arrangements with some of his mates to be ready at a certain time to help him carry some of these rations. When the missionaries were all asleep, he helped himself to a good supply, and also to the loan of one of their nightgowns, then made off to the bush to his mates, not waiting to say good-bye. In the morning when the missionaries got up, they found that their rations had disappeared, also Jemmy and the nightgown. There was a great to do about this, and going into town the missionaries reported they had been robbed by the blacks.
“Millbong Jemmy” made his way down to Amity Point on Stradbroke Island, and got the blacks there to mark his body, so that he would be taken for one of them. The Stradbroke people had different markings to all other tribes. Theirs were larger and more raised, and were cut in with sharp shells across the body from one side to the other, about one inch apart, and reaching right down to below the waist.
Jemmy stayed still his cuts were healed, then he left Stradbroke and came back to Brisbane, thinking the whites would not know him again. However, it was not long before he got himself into mischief. One day he stuck up old Marten, the miller, at the old windmill, and took a bag of corn meal. He robbed the mill several times after this, and they failed to catch him always, so a policeman was told off to hide in the place, and watch for Jemmy when he came for his bag of meal or corn. He wasn’t particular which it was, but always took the first he came to.
For a day or two the policeman watched, but no Jemmy came, till at last one mizzling sort of day he appeared. Marten, the miller, called to him, “Come on, Jemmy, here is a bag you can have.” In went the darkie, thinking all was right, but as soon as he got hold of the bag, the constable pounced on him, and Marten helped to try and get him down. They hit him on the head, but Jemmy picked up an old rusty knife and stabbed the constable in the chest. As luck would have it, however, the latter had on a thick pea-jacket, and the knife only bent and did no harm. Then the constable beat the blackfellow on the shins with a baton, and that soon brought Jemmy to his knees on the ground, and they were able to put on a tight pair of handcuffs, and tie him up with a rope.
Word was sent for the soldiers to come, and ten or twelve marched up to the Windmill. Father, boy-like, seeing the redcoats marching, followed them to see what was on. Arriving at the Windmill, the soldiers were all formed up in line at each side of the doorway, and “Millbong Jemmy” was brought out well tied up and handcuffed-a constable on either side, holding him. To my father it seems as though it were but yesterday when he saw the soldiers and the con- stables march off with their prisoner from the Windmill- the present Observatory-and wend their way down the hill. Jemmy was lodged in the cells that used to stand where the Town Hall is now, and next day he was tried and condemned to twenty-five or fifty lashes. After the lashes he was to exist on bread and water for twenty-four hours.
The old archway where the prisoners were always flogged stood a little further up Queen Street than that part which Messrs. Chapman and Co. now occupy. “Millbong Jemmy” was tied to the triangles there, and Gilegan, the flogger, punished him, but was only able to make brown marks on his dark skin. During the flogging it is said Jemmy called to his mother and friends to save him. Afterwards he was taken back to the cells to do his twenty-four hours, and was then set free, and given a shirt and pair of trousers, marked with the Government brand-broad arrow. His wrists were much cut with the tight handcuffs.
“Millbong Jemmy” after his release took a stroll up to the soldiers’ barracks where now the present Treasury Buildings stands. He walked in and looked about him with his one eye. The soldiers or “diamonds” chaffed him, saying, “Hello, Jemmy, you good fellow now, no more steal?” And Jemmy was emphatic in his agreement. All the same, he kept his weather eye open, and, seeing a little box with tobacco in it, watched his opportunity, and when the soldiers’ backs were turned, helped himself to a pound, then cleared out and made his way to the Petries’ garden on the bank of the river. There he came across the old gardener, Ned, and gave him the tobacco in exchange for a dilly of sweet potatoes.
The next my father heard of “Millbong Jemmy” was that he had been stealing at Eagle Farm, then again at “Yawa- gara “-Breakfast Creek. Later, sawyers working in the scrub near the present Toowong Railway station-” Baner- aba”-spoke of his thieving, and other Government sawyers at Canoe Creek (Oxley) made the same complaint. He was a notorious thief. He was the only blackfellow my father knew who was not afraid to travel at night, and all alone, and would be heard of one day at one place, and then perhaps again the next day twenty miles away. He was blamed for the murder of Mr. Gregor and Mrs. Shannon, the sawyers at North Pine, and several other murders. Father often met “Millbong Jemmy” in the bush at Bowen Hills, and had a yarn with him, and gave him a piece of tobacco. To the white boy he seemed kindly enough. He never would own that he had killed anyone, but admitted he had often stolen, saying he did not see any harm in taking flour when hungry, and that as the white men had taken away his country, he thought they should give something for it.
About this time Davie Petty, who owned a cutter, was in the habit of using it for going down the Bay for oyster shells for making lime, and also for carrying firewood with which to burn the shells. One day he and his man were getting wood just at the mouth of Norman Creek, when the blacks came upon them, and the white men, thinking it better to be off, ran to the cutter. The man got on board first, and Mr. Petty handed him the tools, then the gun-muzzle foremost. As the latter was pulled down the cock caught in Petty’s shirt cuff, and the weapon went off, shooting the man through the body. The owner of the cutter then got her out into the stream, and, dropping anchor, put the wounded man into the boat and pulled up to the wharf at the Colonial Stores.
This all happened about four or five o’clock in the afternoon. Father remembers seeing them put the man on an old door and carry him so to the hospital, the poor fellow saying, “Little did I think, when loading my gun, that it was to shoot myself.” The white boy followed the procession, and in the hospital got up on to the window-sill and watched the doctor as he dressed the wound and took out the slugs. All the time he heard the poor man repeat again and again, “Little did I think, when loading my gun, that it was to shoot myself.” When the doctor had finished, and was put- ting in some stiches, the man expired.
“Millbong Jemmy” was blamed for being one of those who frightened David Petty and his man. Eventually ten pounds a head was offered for the capture of some of these aboriginal murderers. A short time after the above event (1846), Jemmy made his way to the scrub at “Tugulawa ” (Bulimba), to where some sawyers were at work. One of these sawyers afterwards told my father the following:-
Seeing Jemmy coming, and knowing that a reward was offered for his capture, they called to him, “Come on, Jemmy, and have a pot of tea and something to eat,” and as soon as he was fairly seated and eating, they suddenly caught hold of him, and tried to tie him. But he struggled and fought manfully, almost getting free, and managed to pick up his waddy and strike one of them. Then they got him to the ground, and one of them seizing a gun shot him through the head. After that he was bound and put on the bullock dray, and taken to the settlement, dying, however, on the road up. Before his arrival word spread of his capture, and that he was being brought in, and Father and a number of others started off down to the Government wharf (Colonial Stores) to see the much-talked of Jemmy. They waited till the dray appeared on the bank of the river at South Brisbane, and saw the driver back up as close as possible, then take the body by the leg, and pulling it off, let it fall like a log to the ground. A boat’s crew of Moreton Island blacks were waiting at the old ferry to put the body in a boat and bring it across to the north side, and these men did not seem by their long and solemn faces to relish their job. The body was taken to the hospital-the site of the present Supreme Court.
The last my father heard of ” Millbong Jemmy,” the “great thief and murderer,” as he was called, was that his head had been cut off and boiled free of flesh, so that a cast could be taken of it.
There is a place on the Caboolture River known as the “Dead Man’s Pocket.” It got its name this way. Three natives of twenty-five (to be referred to later on), who all in after years possessed my father’s brand on their arm, were responsible for the death at this place of one white man, and at the same time the attempted murder of another. The survivor, who was left for dead, was one Peter Glyn, an old prisoner, and Father saw this man afterwards when he had come out of hospital, The story he told ran thus: A party of white men left Brisbane in a boat to go to the Caboolture River to look for cedar timber. At the mouth of the river they picked up three Bribie Island blacks, thinking they would be of use in guiding them to the timber that grew in the scrubs. Leaving the others, two of the white men went off with the natives, while the rest stayed to take care of the boat. A big strong blackfellow-Dr. Ballow, the whites called him-walked first through the scrub, and, following him, came Peter Glyn, then two more natives, then the other white man, Peter Grant. Both the men carried guns, the first one having a double-barrelled one.
Travelling along in this fashion for some distance through the lonely scrub, Peter Grant perhaps turned over in his mind all the tales he had heard of the blacks, for he grew afraid. Calling out to Glyn, he warned him to beware of the natives-they intended to hit him. Glyn turned round and answered: “If you are frightened, it is no use you coming. You had better return to the boat, and I will go alone.” However, they continued as they were for some time. Then once again Grant’s feelings got the better of him, and he called out as before. Turning suddenly in response, Glyn’s gun struck the black in front as he turned, and the weapon went off, the charge of shot grazing along the fellow’s back, causing a flesh wound. Maddened by this, the blackfellow tried to wrest the gun from Glyn, who sang out to Grant to shoot the beggar, and he would then quickly do for the other two. However, Grant seemed unable to move, and stood still like a statute while his life was taken, and all the time Glyn’s hands were beaten unmercifully in order to loosen his hold on the gun. They continued to hit him on the hands and the head till he lost consciousness.
Coming to himself, Glyn saw Grant lying dead beside him, with a log across his body, and he tried to rise and walk. But his hands were so much bruised and swollen that the poor wretch could not use them, even to fix his trousers. which had fallen down somewhat and acted as a regular hobble to his legs. So there was nothing left for him but to crawl as best he might, and it seemed to him that he went this way many miles, his misery increasing with the hours. For the unfortunate could not even cast off the clothing which hobbled him. He was in this wretched state when found. He lived through this only to meet a not very noble death in the end, some years afterwards. Through being somewhat the worse for drink, he fell from a fishing boat into the river (near Messrs. Thomas Brown and Sons’ present warehouse), and was drowned.
About a week or two after this murder, Father went to Bribie Island to look for a boat which had been washed away by a flood. He started from Petrie’s Bight, accompanied by his young brother George, two blackfellows, and a half- caste boy, called Neddy. At Bribie Island no blacks were to be seen, but fresh tracks appeared everywhere. Father sent off one of the old men accompanying him to follow the tracks, and tell all he came across not to be afraid, that friends were there. In a very short space about thirty turned up, some with fishing nets, and they were just delighted when they saw Father. Going into the water they got their nets full, and then the shining treasures were emptied out at his feet. So the visitors all had a good meal of nice fresh fish.
On telling the natives what he had come for, Father was informed that there was a boat lying on the outside beach, and that in the morning they would go with him, and bring her round into the passage. Then nothing would please them but that they must move their camp to near that of the visitors. In the morning three volunteers were ready to render assistance, and Father did not know till some time afterwards that they were the very men concerned in the Caboolture murder. And he was without firearms! When they got round the beach to where the boat lay high and dry, it was found to be the one sought for, not much damaged; only a few planks split in the bottom. As luck happened, there was not much of a sea that day, so the three blacks after launching the boat walked in the water beside her, keeping clear of the surf, and pulling her ashore to get rid of the water now and again, as she leaked a lot. And so on till smooth water was reached in the passage.
When the boat was hauled up on to the beach and turned upside down, the damaged bottom was examined, and the blacks suggested a whitish clay as a remedy for the cracks- they used it for their canoes. So Father went across with some natives to the mainland (Toorbul Point) to obtain some, leaving his brother and the others on the island with the blacks. They were all right on his return, and the clay was a success. When dug from the ground it was soft and pliable, but after the blacks had worked at it with their hands, it became quite hard, and could only be removed from the boat in the end with a hammer and chisel.
That night a regular gale blew from the south-east, and there was no hope of returning to Brisbane. It kept up, and at the end of three days the Petrie brothers’ supply of rations, which was gradually diminishing, ran out, and they had nothing left. The blacks, finding this, were very good; they brought plenty of crabs, oysters, fish, and a fern root they used to eat (“bangwal “), also the small fruit we call “geebung.” (The correct native name for the latter is “dulandella.”) Thinking of everything, the kind-hearted creatures even offered tobacco !
After living for ten days on this sort of diet, the younger Petrie, and also the half-caste, grew quite sick of the food, and could not eat much; in fact, they did not feel at all right. My father, however, enjoyed things thoroughly. He thought, though, that under the circumstances it would be better to send his brother across to the mainland, and let him walk to Brisbane with Neddy and two or three blacks. They could then also give the information there that Father was all right. So with some extra blackfellows to bring back the boat, the party started off, but had not gone far when another boat hove in sight sailing down to the island. Seeing this the party returned, and Father had the boat hauled up on to the beach, and then he and his brother and Neddy hid behind it, leaving no one to be seen but the blacks. He watched from behind and saw the boat come sailing along, and when it got to within fifty yards of the shore, the sail was pulled down, and a man in the bow of the boat stood up with a fig of tobacco in his left hand. This he held up, trying to induce the natives to swim out for it. Father noticed he kept his right hand in his coat pocket, and, seeing this, and that the party were afraid to land, showed himself with the others.
There were but two occupants in the boat, these being my grandfather’s men sent to look for the lost ones. When they landed they said there was a report in circulation that the little band had all been murdered by the blacks on Bribie Island, and, “if we had not seen you when we came along, we intended shooting some natives in revenge.” They meant to coax out men into the water for tobacco, and then shoot them with their loaded revolvers.
That night for tea there was meat and bread, etc., and so everybody brisked up, and things were lively. The blacks were got to show off some of their games, and they were very merry too. Next day the wind changed, and the return to Brisbane was prepared for. Father asked the three blacks who had helped with the boat to journey with them to his home at Petrie’s Bight, and he would get the black- smith there to make a tomahawk each for them. They agreed, and the whole party started off, with the recovered boat in tow. The wind was fair, and they landed before dark at Breakfast Creek. The three natives were told to come in the morning for their presents, which they did, and while standing near the blacksmith’s shop waiting, a Mr. Williams appeared in the yard. As soon as the blacks saw him they took to their heels, and ran as fast as they could into the bush. This Mr. Williams was one of the party who went to Caboolture for cedar timber, and he recognised the three natives as those who had accompanied his companions into the scrub, murdering one of them.
The next day Father went out to the aboriginal camp at Bowen Hills, and took with him the presents he had pro- mised the three natives. Arrived there these three came up to him, and when he had presented each with a tomahawk, he asked why they had run off the day before? “Because,” they answered, “the man who came into the yard was one who was in the boat at Caboolture when we killed the men there, and we thought he might catch us.” They then told how it had all happened. They said they had no thoughts whatever of murder, until the white man got frightened and the gun went off, then, thinking they would be shot if nothing were done, they did not hesitate to act promptly. Another aboriginal murderer, known of as “Dundalli “- the native name for the wonga-wonga pigeon-hailed from Bribie Island. Like “Millbong Jemmy,” he was said to have had a hand in the murder of Mr. Gregor and Mrs. Shan- non, and the sawyers at North Pine; also Gray, on Bribie Island, and others. Father remembers when he was captured. A brickmaker named Massie engaged this man, and the darkie was cutting down a tree for him when surprised. The scene was somewhere in the present Wickham Street, Valley, between the site of the Byrnes statue and the Brunswick Street corner. The police had hidden near by, and a black- fellow (Wumbungur) of the Brisbane tribe was sent on to catch “Dundalli.” The pair had a struggle, then the police appeared on the scene, and after a great deal of trouble secured him.
“Dundalli” was tried and sentenced to death, and the day he was hanged (5th January, 1855), my father was there in the crowd. The hanging took place where now the Post Office stands, and the Windmill (Observatory) Hill was simply lined with blacks, some coming from Bribie (“Ngunda tribe), and others of the Brisbane tribe. When “Dundalli ” got up on to the gallows he looked all round, and, seeing Father, appealed to him in his own tongue. Then he noticed the blacks up on the hill at the Windmill, and called to them (still in his own tongue), telling them that “Wumbungur” was the cause of his being taken, and so they must kill him. The cap was put over his head then, and the bolt was drawn, but owing to Green, the executioner, misjudging the length of rope according to the drop, the unfortunate man’s feet came down upon the coffin beneath. Then as he bounded up into the air the coffin was taken away, and the executioner, catching him by the legs, bent and tied them upwards, and so hung to him till he died. It was indeed a horrible sight, and one that Father devoutly hoped he would never see again.
“Dundalli” had a brother, “Ommuli” (which meant the breast), who was also a great murderer, and was connected with his brother in some of the same misdeeds. He was one of those for whom a reward was offered. A man called Isam, a native of the Isle of France, undertook to catch him. This man was a prisoner in the early times, but had got a ticket-of-leave. He lived with the blacks at Amity Point (“Pul-an,” the natives called Amity), and he had a boat, and used to catch fish and salt them for sale. He also caught turtle and dugong. Once a week he left his home at Amity and went to Brisbane to sell whatever he had, returning with rations.
One night this man, with four or five of the Amity Point blacks and two or three constables, started off to where the natives had a camp–a little above the present Wickham Terrace Presbyterian Church-in quest of “Ommuli.” At that time, of course, it was all wild bush round about. Isam took with him half-a-pint of rum and a tinpot to treat ” Ommuli” to a drink, and one of the natives had a rope with a noose at the end. Coming near to the camp, the constables and most of the blacks waited hidden while Isam and two others went forward. They found “Ommuli” in his hut, and Isam sat down alongside him and commenced to talk to him, and brought out the rum, while all the time the native with the rope hidden in his shirt stood ready watching. Seeing his opportunity at last as the pair talked away together, this man threw the rope over the unsuspecting blackfellow’s head, and then, getting it down over his arm, drew it tight, and with the assistance of the blacks, who rushed out at this moment from their hiding place, dragged “Ommuli ” along the ground.
An awful row began then; the blacks of the camp threw spears and waddies at the others with their victim, and a constable got speared through the arm. Still Isam and the Amity blacks would not give up ” Ommuli,” and they dragged him right down the hill, passing over the ground where the church is now, and on to cross over the creek that used to run up Creek Street. Pausing on the site of the present Gresham Hotel, they had a look at their victim, and found that his arm had come free of the noose, and the rope was tight round his neck. Of course, it goes without saying -the man was dead. So they took the body to the hospital, and that was the last of the unfortunate “Ommuli.”