DIGITIZED BY PETER KILLACKEY THE BUSHRANGERS - MICHAEL HOWE James Bonwick - 1856 This attrocious bushranger, described by BENT in 1818 as "the last and worst of the Bushrangers" flourished in the reigns of Governors DAVEY and SORELL. SYME, the other historian of his exploits, informs us that he was originally a sailor in the merchant service. Here his love of adventure was not sifficiently gratified; he sought engagements in scenes of danger, and participation in deeds of blood. He therefore entered on board a man-of-war, in delightful expectation of pointing a gun at an enemy, or of cutting down some unfortunate being with his cutlass: thus gratifying the brutal propensities of his fallen nature under the sanction of human laws. But he had no notion of the restraints of discipline, nor inclination for its pains and penalties. The service was then no bed of roses, and boatswains were not like gentle swains of sylvan groves. Coarseness of speech, brutality of manner, hard fare, little glory, and less pay formed the lot of the British tar. Howe, like many others, found his dreams of licentious revelry and warlike strife sadly disturbed by the realities of a frigate life. His spirit was not a yielding one, and his enterprise and courage soon relieved him from his ship-board slavery. He deserted. We are not suprised at his next appearance as a highwayman. That same love of adventure, with the same want of moral principle, made him a roving robber. But the arm of justice reached him. His crimes were sufficiently notorious to merit a ride to Tyburn; but a flaw in the indictment saved his neck, and he was forwarded to a hulk en route for Van Diemen's Land in 1812. Assigned to Mr. Ingle, a merchant and stockholder, he showed as little symptom of submissiveness as before. Though a convict he would be no man's slave; "for," said he "I have served the King." He disappeared from the camp. The colony was oddly-governed then by the good-humoured but incapable Colonel Davey. Annoyed with the depredation of the runaways, he tried the military doctrine of martial law, under whose severe penalties he placed the whole island, because he could not catch a few Bushrangers. Governor-General Macquarie, at Sydney, disapproved of these violent and unjustifiable measures. The sapient Davey then tried the virtues of an amnesty. All naughty bush boys who surrendered themselves before a certain day were to be forgiven. The plan was thoroughly successful. Desiring at least a Hobart Town holiday, and a rest from their labours, every Bushranger came in; Howe with the rest. The Governor was satisfied, and so were the theives. When tired of their vacation, these gentlemen of the woods betook themselves to their old occupation, and the country was thrown into the greatest disorder by their predatory inroads. Michael Howe sought the companionship of kindred souls, and enlisted under the banner of one Whitehead, the leader of a party of twenty-eight brigands. Numerous were the robberies, and not bloodless the conflicts, in which they were engaged. They broke open homesteads, and burned barns and stacks. A party of military and civilians engaged them in open combat. The Bushrangers retreated to the cover of a large hollow tree. In the conflict on shot pierced the cheeks of Captain O'Birnie, and passed through his toungue; while Mr. Carlisle, a settler, was kiled. After the total destruction of Mr. Humphrey's premises, the robbers attacked the mansion of Mr. McCarty's, New Norfolk. They wantonly threw in the volley of shot before their approach. But a secret enemy was near. Apprized of the threatened visit, some soldiers of the 46th lay in ambush. When the Bushrangers had discharged their pieces, the military rose and saluted them. Whitegead, the captain, fell mortally wounded. His last request was that Howe should cut off his head, to prevent any one obtaining the promised reward for its capture. McGuire and Burne were taken and executed. Howe was now the captain of the gang. In his marauding expeditions he was attended by a faithful native girl, called Black Mary. Their head-quarters were near a marsh, about fifteen miles west of Oatlands, still known as Michael Howe's Marsh. There was little romance and less sentiment in this connexion. It was not exactly a parallel with Byron's hero and Haidee in the Grecian Isle; nor was it like the pure and beautiful life of Seeward and his wife, with their dog fido, on the island of their ship-wreck. Black Mary was useful she brought tidings of scouts, collected provisions, and watched while Howe slept. The boldness of the robber's attacks was only equalled by the stealthiness of his approach and the rapidity of his flight. A hundred miles were soon passed in Dick Turpin movement, and new outrages occurred many leagues from the haunt in which his pursuers expected to find him. Yet even then he contemplated a season of repose, and had indulged visions of some fairy spot, in whose safe seclusion he might enjoy his plunder, and pass his days in the culture of a garden, the adornment of a home. In his knapsack was found a list of articles required for his distant and hermit retreat; among these we notice seeds, fruits, and flowers. That human tiger, Tamerlane, could weep at a tale of distress; and Michael Howe, the hardened ruffian, took pleasure in the delicacy and purity of flowers. He was a strict disciplinarian before the dispersion of his gang. The oaths of obedience were administered upon the prayer book, and the lash was employed to correct irregularities. Oddly enough, he completed the character of his quarter-deck government by occassionally gathering his worthy brotherhood of theives, and authoritatively, if not solemnly, reading aloud a chapter of the Holy Scriptures. It would be curious to know his favourite writer, and whether he finished the scene by the bestowal of his blessing. Robin Hood had his Friar Tuck, and some of the Spanish and Italian banditti have been scrupulously mindful of the claims of their patron saints; but never before was a captain of robbers known so solicitous for the Biblical instruction of his cut-purse company. But this chosen and pious confederation were rudely scattered by military parties of the 46th. Separated from his mates, but accompanied by the faithful Black Mary, Howe was hotly pursued. The soldiers were gaining upon them as the strength of the native girl diminished. From caprice, vexation, or fear, the Bushranger turned upon his lagging fellow-fugitive, raised his musket, fired, and severely wounded her; she was immediately seized. Howe, casting aside his gun, and flinging off his knapsack, rushed into the scrub, and was quickly out of sight. The ransacking of that knapsack revealed the superstition of the owner. It contained a primitive-looking book of kangaroo skin, upon which were recorded, in letters of blood, his most important dreams. This hunted convict of the forests of Tasmania had his Book of Fate, as well as he who scaled the Alps and conquered the Pyramids. Black Mary was highly incensed at the treatment she had experienced from her paramour, whom she had loved so well, and served so long. The instinctive feeling of the savage arose within her breast--she would be revenged. Healed of her wounds, she led the bloodhounds from haunt to haunt, from the cave in the mountains to the hollow tree of the lonely gully. As a scout, her natural subtlety, her experience with the banditti, and her lust for vengeance, made her a most formiddable foe. So pertinacious was the persecution, so determined was the pursuit, so successful the harassment, that the chased lion was compelled to come to terms. Powerful in the prowess of his arm and the terror of his name, he proposed a conditional surrender. He wrote the articles of this remarkable document, and sent them by one upon whom he could confide. The letter was addressed to the "Governor of the Town," and subscribed by himself as "Governor of the Ranges." Strange to say, the "Governor of the Town," entertained the proposals, and actually sent Captain Nairne officially to treat with a proscribed Bushranger. This might have been believed of some well organised Black Band and a feeble Italian state; but future historians would be skeptical of the story of a British officer of rank, controlling a whole colony, holding such a conference with a single ruffian. Well might Mr. West exclaim, "Society must have been on the verge of dissolution, when letters and messages passed between Government and an outlaw." An assurance of his safety being guaranteed, Howe relied upon safe conduct, and repaired to the rendezvous. The preliminaries being settled, he walked to town. There he was nominally in confinement while giving information that should lead to the capture of the others. But the intelligence was not satisfactory, the gang increased in force, and Howe was mistrustful and forest sick. He heard, too, of repeated conflicts between the soldiers and his men, and he could not bear the inactivity of his life, and the shame of his submission. Permitted, under the plea of ill health, to wander about under the surveillance of a constable, he was not slow in placing himself once more at the head of a party. A conspiracy brought the gun stock over the head of one, and a knife across the throat of another. One hudred guineas reward were now offered for Howe, one hudred for Watts, his lieutenant, and eighty and fifty for seven or eight others of the club. One after the other was captured, till only Howe, Watts, and Browne remained. Browne surrendered, and Watts plotted against his leader to save his own life. Leaguing himself with Drewe, a stock keeper, the artful traitor prepared his plans. Returning after a brief absence, Howe suspected his fidelity. Before coming to an explanation, they agreed each to knock out the priming of his gun. Drewe, most probably an old confederate or thief friend, advanced with Watts, and a reconciliation took place. A fire was lighted, at which their meal must be prepared. While Michael stooped down to apply the bush bellows, his mate leaped upon him, and, with the other's help, secured his hands. Thry took from him his pistols and knife, and told him to prepare for the gallows. In marching order they advanced towards town; Watts first, with a gun, the bound victim in the centre, and the stock keeper behind. Watching his opportunity, Howe gave the Samson snap of his cords, drew forth a concealed dirk, stabbed Watts in the back, siezed the falling man's gun, and shot Drewe in the head; but while preparing another and finishing charge, the wounded wretch managed to escape, and after a great difficulty reached Hobart Town with the news. He was sent to Sydney out of the way of vengeance, and shortly died of his wounds. Again at large, with an addittional hundred upon his head, and no confidence in comrades, Michael henceforth led a solitary life, worried and chased as a wild beast. Clad in raw kangaroo skins, and with a long, shaggy, black beard, he had a very Orson-like aspect. Badgered on all sides, he chose a retreat among the mountain fastness of the Upper Shannon, a dreary solitude of cloud-land, the rocky home of hermit-eagles. On this elevated plateau,--contigous to the almost bottomless lakes, from whose crater-formed recesses in ancient days torrents of liquid fire poured forth upon the plains of Tasmania, or rose uplifted in basaltic masses like frowning Wellington;--within sight of lofty hills of snow, having the Peak of Teneriffe to the south, Frenchman's Cap and Byron to the west, Miller's Bluff to the east, and the serrated crest of the Western Tier to the north; entrenched in dense woods, with surrounding forests of dead poles, through whose leafless passages the wind harshly whistled in a storm;--thus situated amidst some of the sublimest scenes of nature, away from suffering and degraded humanity, the lonely Bushranger was confronted with his God and his own conscience. Yet it is possible for one to dwell near the glittering Needles of the Alps, and have no appreciation of majestic beauty; to witness the rushing waters og Niagara, and to hear no voice of Diety in their roar; to bask in the sunlit loveliness of rosy Cashmere, and bend the knee to the blood-spattered image of the Thug. When busy memory, in the repose of evening twilight, or amidst the wild mountain dance of tempest fires, would revert to deeds of hooror, or call up the softer shades of guiltless childhood, did no sigh expand that powerful chest, or tear bedew that passion-furrowed countenance? Dr. Ross, more than twenty years ago, wrote his reflections upon a visit to that locality: "With remorse of the most horrible robberies and murders upon his conscience, he was here left to himself to contrast the native innocence and serenity of God's works with his own wicked heart, added to the hourly dread of apprehension. The tumultuos laugh, the heated exhilaration of companions in sin to drown reflection, were wanting to him. The silent laugh of nature must have incessantly read him a lesson that would harrow up the soul." But his days were numbered. He had constructed a hut in a secluded little mountain valley (which was found five years after his death). The floor was neatly laid with bark, a huge honeysuckle sheltered it in rear, and a sweet stream trickled below the grassy slope in front. A visitor in 1823 compared the place to the Valley of Rasselas, and was charmed with its scenery. He was awestruck when standing at the brink of a neighbouring basaltic precipice, 600 feet deep to the dark abyss, through which a silvery line indicated the path of the Ouse, or Big River. He found the hut tenanted by the wife of one of Mr. Lord's stockmen.Interrogating her as to the loneliness of the situation, he received for a reply these words of mystic import: "Nothing troubles me, except when I awake at night, and my cow comes to haunt me." The traveller wondered at her fears about the ghost of her cow. But the poor woman meant the spirit of Michael Howe, or Mike Howe as he was popularly called; deeming the H superflous, she pronounced the name of this terror of settlers as my cow. The manner of the Bushranger's capture will be best told in the language of one of the captors, quoted by Mr. West from the Military Sketch Book. We merely premise that Worrall was then a transported None mutineer, and Warburton was a companion of the kangaroo hunter and stolen goods receiver. The conflict here narrated took place on October 21st 1818. "I was now,' said Worrall, "determined to make a push for the capture of this villain, Mick Howe, for which I was promised a passage to England in the next ship that sailed, and the amount of the reward laid upon his head. I found out a man of the name of Warburton, who was in the habit of hunting kangaroos for their skins, and who had frequently met Howe during his excursions, and sometimes furnished him with ammunition. He gave me such an account of Howe's habits, that I felt convinced we could take him with a little assistance. I therefore spoke to a man named Pugh, belonging to the 48th regiment, one who I knew was a most cool and resolute fellow. He immediately entered into my views, and having applied to Major Bell, his commanding officer, he was recommended by him to the Governor, by whom I was permitted to act, and allowed to join us; so he and I went directly to Warburton, who heartily entered into the scheme, and all things wee arranged for putting it into execution. The plan was this:--Pugh and I were to remain in Warburton's hut, while Warburton himself was to fall into Howe's way. The hut was on the river Shannon, standing so completely by itself, and so out of the track of anybody who might be feared by Howe, that there was every probability of accomplishing our wishes, and scotch the snake, as they say, if not kill it. Pugh and I accordingly proceeded to the appointed hut. We arrived there before daybreak, and having made a hearty breakfast, Warburton set out to seek Howe. He took no arms with him, in order to still more effectually carry his point, but Pugh and I were provided with muskets and pistols. The sun had been just an hour up, when we saw Warburton and Howe upon the top of a hill, coming towards the hut. We expected they would be with us in a quarter of an hour, and so we sat down upon the trunk of a tree inside the hut, calmly waiting their arrival. An hour passed, but they did not come, so I crept to the door cautiously and peeped out. There I saw them standing within a hundred yards of us in earnest conversation; as I leaned afterwards, the delay arose from Howe's suspecting that all was not right. I drew back from the door to my station, and in about ten minutes after this we plainly heard footsteps and the voice of Warburton. Another moment, and Howe slowly entered the hut--his gun presented and cocked. The instant he espied us, he cried out "Is that your game?" and immediately fired, but Pugh's activity prevented the shot from taking effect, for he knocked the gun aside. Howe ran off like a wolf. I fired, but missed. Pugh then halted and took aim at him, but also missed. I immediately flung away the gun and ran after Howe; Pugh also pursued; Warburton was a considerable distance away. I ran very fast; so did Howe; and if he had not fallen down an unexpected bank, I should not have been fleet enough for him. This fall however, brought me up with him; he was on his legs and preparing to climb a broken bank, which would have given him a free run into the wood, when I presented my pistol at him, and desired him to stand; he drew forth another, but did not level it at me. We were then about fifteen yards from each other; the bank fell from between us. He stared at me with astonishment, and to tell you the truth, I was a little astonished at him, for he was covered with patches of kangaroo skins, and wore a black beard,--a haversack and powder-horn slung across his shoulders. I wore my beard also as I do now, and a curious pair we looked like, After a moment's pause, he cried out "Black beard against grey beard for a million!" and fired; I slapped at him, and I believe hit him, for he staggered, but rallied again, and was clearing the bank between him and me, when Pugh ran up, and with the butt-end of his firelock knocked him down, jumped after him, and battered his brains out, just as he was opening a clasp knife to defend himself." Thus finished Michael Howe. His head was cut off and triumphantly exhibited in Hobart Town. We are told that "the countenance betrayed the lineaments of a murderer truly horrific." Syme, his historian, says:--"During his long career of guilt, Michael Howe was never known to perform one humane act." The Rev. John West was more charitable in asserting that he was "not wanting in those equivocal virtues which are compatable with a life of violence and guilt." Long was the rejoicing upon the fall of this Black Douglas of Tasmainian households. Even so late as twenty years ago we find one of our island poets referring to the theme in his laudatory remarks on Governor Sorell. The extract is from the "Hobart Town Magazine:"-- There may be some whose minds may not yet recall, How much he laboured for the good of all;-- Bushrangers scattered over the young land, Soon met their death-blow from his iron hand. Murderous banditti! But the daring crew Fell with that fiendish monster, MICHAEL HOWE. Michael Howe's reputation as a notorious bushranger brought him ill-gotten fame long after his death. His entry can be found in many of Australia's history books including the Dictionary of Australian Biography printed in 1949.