Fitchett/Steele

This narrative was originally published in "Life" magazine February
1910. W.H. Fitchett, Life's editor, included it in one of his books:
"The New World of the South" Volume Two: "The Romance of Australian
History.

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THE STORY OF MY FIGHT WITH NED KELLY

By SERGEANT STEELE

Sergeant Steele, the actual captor of Ned Kelly, has told the story in
Life, an Australian magazine, and the tale is worth reproducing here.

"On Sunday, June 27, I was duly informed of the shooting of Aaron
Sherrit at Woolshed Creek, and on that night I posted the men in my
charge at various bridges and crossings in the neighbourhood of
Wangaratta. I received orders from Superintendent Sadleir on Sunday
night to report the state of things in my district, and it was for the
purpose of sending a telegram to that officer that I went to the
Wangaratta telegraph office shortly after midnight. Different stations
were then reporting, and I sent my telegram at two A.M., stating that
all was quiet.

"At my instance the station-master asked Benalla what time the police
train had left, and as it was discovered that it was due, I became
somewhat anxious, and the station-master and I walked a quarter of a
mile or so along the line towards Glenrowan.

"The night was beautifully clear and frosty, and by listening intently
I could hear volley firing in the direction of Glenrowan, though the
station-master was sceptical for a time. Further firing shortly
afterwards convinced us, and I hurried back to the railway station and
sent a telegram to Superintendent Sadleir, telling him there was heavy
firing at Glenrowan; that I was starting from Wangaratta with all
available men, and advising him to reinforce from Benalla, and await
news at the telegraph office. As I was leaving the railway station the
driver of the Beechworth engine called to me that he heard a horseman
galloping along the line, but I could not hear it until, at the driver's
request I got on to the footplate.
The noise of the horse's feet clattering along the sleepers some miles
along the line towards Glenrowan could be then heard distinctly, and I
immediately hurried to meet him. I had walked nearly a mile before we
met, and then I discovered that the horseman was Constable Bracken, who
told me in a few excited sentences that the Kellys had stuck up the
police train, had wounded Superintendent Hare in the wrist, torn up the
rails on a curve near Glenrowan, and that the outlaws were wearing tin
cans on their heads.
Asking Bracken to dismount, I got into his saddle and galloped back to
the township, and, after telegraphing to Superintendent Sadleir what
Bracken told me, received a reply: "Mr. Hare just arrived, not seriously
injured,' I got my men together, and we started for Glenrowan at a
gallop.

"There were six of us in the party, and we did not draw rein for the ten
miles until we arrived at a railway crossing half a mile from Glenrowan
township. Here we hung up our horses to saplings, and proceeded on foot
towards Mrs. Jones's hotel. The moon was then within an hour or so of
setting, but in the long shadows cast by the hills, &c., surrounding the
town we could see the outline of the building while still some distance
away. There was no light in the house, and everything was calm, no sound
being heard save a whispered remark or our own footsteps, as we
stealthily marched in single file.

"We were approaching the hotel when a voice challenged us, and replying
'Wangaratta police,' Senior-Constable Kelly, who it was had spoken,
ejaculated 'Good, boys!' Kelly, with Constables Phillips and Arthur,
were three of Superintendent Hare's party, and were keeping sentry, with
the protection of a log, until daylight. In reply to my questions, Kelly
told me that there was no one nearer to the hotel than he and his
companions were, and I suggested getting closer to prevent a possible
escape of the outlaws, but he thought there was a sure chance of some
one being shot, and he showed me a rifle with blood on it, indicating
that some one had already been wounded.

"The moon had got very low by this time, and, as it was a bad light, I
said I would take up a position behind a tree that stood about
ten yards from the back door of the hotel
premises. I reached the tree safely, by making a zigzag course, but
everything was quiet inside the hotel for twenty-five or thirty minutes.
I then heard a train approaching from the direction of Benalla, and at
the same time there began a great commotion in the house, a rattling of
iron plates, and a lot of talking. The train contained Superintendent
Sadleir's party, and as the men were leaving the carriages the outlaws
came on to the front verandah of the hotel and fired frequently at them.
I could not see the figures owing to an obstructing chimney at the side
of the house, but the flashes of the rifles were visible. There were
answering shots from the police in various directions.

"About this time a woman came to the back door of the hotel and cried
out, 'For God's sake, don't shoot me! Let me go!' I told her to come
towards me and she would not be molested; and she returned to the house
for a minute or less. When she re-appeared, she said, 'For God's sake,
don't shoot me and my child!' and she ran towards the tree which was
sheltering me. I showed her the direction in which to go, and she walked
away towards the railway station. Just as she passed me I noticed the
figure of what appeared to be a man crawling along a water-channel at
the back door of the hotel, and I called to him to throw up his hands or
I would shoot. I repeated this two or three times, but the figure
continued to crawl away as if attempting to flank me behind the tree,
and as no notice was taken of my warnings, I fired. The man did not
speak even then, but he returned to the door, and as he was approaching
still on his hands and knees, I fired again.

"lt was in this way that the civilian, Mr. Reardon, received his wound,
but it can be understood how, through suspicious movements in the
darkness, and by neglect of oft-repeated warnings to declare his
inoffensiveness, he was injured. When Reardon regained the house, I
heard Dan Kelly call out, 'You dogs!' for I knew his voice well, and I
replied to him by advising him that he and his mates might as well
surrender, as it was all over with them. There was a quiet spell for a
while, but shooting was resumed by the police with more vigour than
before, and several bullets hit the tree behind which I was standing,
the position becoming so dangerous that I lay down for a time. The
shooting once more slackened, however, and there was only an odd shot
fired until daybreak.

"Some time after daybreak, and before the sun appeared, I heard some
disturbance behind me, and in the dim light I could see the figure of a
man approaching. I heard some one call to him, 'Don't come down here,
you fool, or you'll be shot!' but he came walking quietly along.
Then a constable cried out, 'Look out! It is one of the beggars, and he
is covered with iron,' and there were several shots at once fired at him.
He was then 150 yards or so from me, and in the dull light I was at first
convinced that the man was Tommy Reid a well-known district black fellow.
The figure was exactly like his at the distance in that half-light-a tall man,
with a blanket round his shoulders, and thin black legs. I called out, therefore, to
men in my vicinity to be careful with their shooting; but the deception
became apparent as the outlaw, for it was Ned Kelly, came closer, and
what I had thought was the black fellow's blanket was a fawn-coloured
waterproof cape or cloak, and black strappings on a pair of grey
trousers had given the appearance of the thin black legs. "

He was not far from me, about fifty or sixty yards away, when he threw
the cloak up over his shoulder and began firing a revolver at several of
the police who were closer to him. They ran to shelter, and fired a
number of shots at him, and I could plainly hear the bullets strike his
armour.
All this time he kept gradually approaching the hotel, moving to the
side from time to time to fire at a constable sheltering behind a tree,
and he was practically clearing a passage, as not one stood his ground,
but ran from tree to tree. He discharged three revolvers, and it seemed
to me that he was thus engaged for about fifteen or twenty minutes from
the time he made his first appearance out of the bush behind us.

"Kelly then leisurely sat down between three trees standing close
together, and I could see that he was reloading his revolvers. Some
police were quite close to him, and I called out to rush him, as his
revolvers were empty, but no one made the attempt. I then thought of
doing it myself, but first looked from behind the tree at the back door
of the hotel. Immediately I showed my head two shots were fired, but I
had determined to take the risk, and made a run towards Kelly. He stood
up at once, and resting a revolver against a tree and at the same time a
bullet, fired from the hotel, hit the ground alongside my feet. I threw
myself down, and this probably saved me, as it deceived Kelly for the
time. He thought that I was injured; but the only inconvenience I had so
far suffered was from a quantity of sand that had got into my eye when I
fell, and caused me such pain at moment that I had to rub the eye
violently, and this motion might also have misled the outlaw.

"Just at this time a number of civilians ran from near the hotel to the
railway station, and Kelly walked away from the rees, and tapping his
apron and helmet with a revolver, called out 'Come out, boys; we'll whip
the lot of the beggars!' He then levelled his revolver and fired at the
running figures, and seeing his attention diverted, I stood up and
rushed at him.

"We were then fourteen or fifteen yards apart. By some peculiarity of
fate his mare trotted between us before I had reached him, and I had my
gun levelled before he had time to take aim, notwithstanding that he
turned with great smartness. As he was levelling his revolver at me, I
fired at his leg, which I saw was not protected by armour, and he
staggered back. As he staggered, he spread his legs apart to save
himself from falling, and while he did so he exposed an opening in the
armour on his hip, and I fired a second shot at the spot. My gun was
loaded with buckshot. He then sank down, his helmet falling off and
partly supporting his head. I rushed to seize him, and as I stooped he
raised his arm and pointed the revolver backwards at me, but the shot
was discharged into the air as I grabbed his wrist. The bullet cut the
rim of my hat, and my face was slightly blackened by smoke. I at once
wrenched the revolver from his hand, and his finger becoming jammed in
the trigger guard he remarked, 'Steady, old man! Don't break my finger.'
I was holding him by the wrist and the beard, when he remarked, 'Are you
Sergeant Steele?' I replied, 'Yes,' and he said, 'I thought so.' He
apparently had doubt of my identity, because I had a beard when he last
saw me, and removed it during the pursuit.

"A number of men soon rushed to where I was holding Kelly, the first to
arrive being Constables Bracken and Kelly. One of the men said to me,
'Take your hand away, and I'll shoot him through the head,' and the
outlaw said, 'Don't let them kill me, Steele. I never hurt any of you
fellows.' another constable, who just then arrived, said, 'You killed my
comrade,' and he made a kick at the outlaw, but he missed him and struck
an end of his iron apron, making him limp away with a painful injury on
his shin. Another bystander, a representative of a Melbourne newspaper,
asked Kelly what he intended to so when he wrecked the train. Kelly
replied, 'Shoot every man that was not killed,' and I said to him, 'And
yet you are the man that now craves for mercy!'

"I borrowed a pocket-knife to cut the straps that were holding Kelly's
metal apron to the remainder of his armour. While this operation was
proceeding, several bullets came from the hotel, and I ordered the men
to form up and maintain a steady fire to protect us.

"In the rush made by the police after I had shot Kelly, they rolled him
on me as I was in a kneeling position holding him down, and portion of
his armour slightly injured me on the groin and leg, but Constable
Bracken and I were able to carry him to the railway station after he was
relieved of the armour. Superintendant Sadleir ordered his removal from
the van, where we had placed him, into the station building, as several
bullets passed through the van, and I remained as one of those in charge
of the prisoner until he was removed for transfer to Benalla.

"As indicative of Ned Kelly's pluck, I may add that when I was
travelling from Melbourne with him when he was being brought to stand
his preliminary trial, he told me that he was hidden in a bush when I
and my party arrived from Wangaratta on the morning of the capture, and
that as I passed within a yard or two of him he could have shot me in
the back. He repeated a remark that I remembered making to the
constables of whom I was in charge, and in other ways convinced me of
the truth of his statement.

"The fact showed that he was considerably outside the cordon of police
on that fateful morning, and could have easily escaped had he so
desired. When I saw him walking towards the hotel he came from the
direction of the spot he indicated, and this circumstance, and his
subsequent actions, convinced me of the truth of his statement that he
had returned in an endeavour to save his companions, and first sought to
drive the police away from the side and rear of the hotel.

"The actual capture of Ned Kelly was surrounded by a good deal of
romance at the time and since, but the account here given may be relied
upon as absolutely correct, and as plainly as I can state it."