Highway Robbery!

Whilst I'm on the subject of bushrangers - and in particular Owen Suffolk - his autobiography describes one other story of derring-do which falls within the broader auspices of this blog. Like the exploits of the previous post (BAIL UP!) this escapade involved horse-theft and robbery at gunpoint however if the author is to be believed, it also involved a police chase and a daring escape.
And that, at the moment, is the problem. I can find no mention of the affair - at least as described by Suffolk - in the local papers or indeed from any source other than Suffolk's autobiography (Owen Suffolk: days of crime and years of punishment).

The face of a bushranger: Owen Suffolk, 1829

The tale begins a short time before the Portland Mail Coach hold up when Suffolk and his two compatriots (Christie Farrell and Harry Dowling) were teaching themselves the "bushranger's trade". According to Suffolk, he and Dowling were both well educated and of a somewhat romantic bent, so the mystique of a bushranger's life appealed to them as much as the pecuniary potential.
Rather than paraphrase, I will give Suffolk's version of their first foray into highway robbery:

Before parting that night, Christy, Dowling and I had agreed to meet in three days, each armed with a pair of pistols, and properly mounted at a place called the Back Creek, distant some dozen miles from Geelong. I had sufficient money by me to purchase the pistols. Disguised as an old man, wearing false grey whiskers and large goggle-spectacles, I made a purchase at a gunsmith's shop in Geelong for "that dear boy of mine who would go to California."
The mayor of Geelong's stable furnished me with a saddle and bridle, and a grazing paddock near Bates' Ford provided me with a tolerable steed.
I was first at the rendezvous; but I had not long to wait, for very soon Harry and Christy, splendidly mounted, galloped up.
They had been more thoughtful than myself, and had brought with then a flask of brandy, a couple of cold fowls, &c. I left them to the brandy, but I appropriated a whole fowl by way of a set-off.
We were not long inactive, for shortly after we had finished the fowls and their concomitants, a gig, driven tandem fashion, taking an up-country direction, passed by us. We were soon in pursuit, the gig was quickly overtaken, our pistols were presented in the true Turpin style and with a courtesy worthy of Macaire the gentlemen were requested to resign their valuables into our safe keeping. They had the good sense to comply without giving trouble; but unfortunately they travelled with very little cash in their possession and their watches were silver and antiquated. Politely returning to them their cheque-books, and promising to keep their watches by way of memento, we permitted them to proceed upon their journey. After this valorous exploit we separated, agreeing to meet in Geelong the next day.
It so happened, however, that I was very far from being satisfied with such a poor commencement, and I formed the resolution of doing something singlehanded before returning to town. Towards the evening I stopped a horseman and obtained from him about thirty-three pounds in notes. I hadscarcely finished searching his clothes (for I had made him take off his outer garments) when up rode two mounted police. They were not more than one hundred yards distant when I first saw them, as a bend in the road had prevented me from seeing them before. I was in my saddle in a minute, galloping swiftly across the plains. The police followed, and the "swell" whom I had robbed joined in the pursuit. I looked back every now and then, but the horses seemed well-matched. If I could not leave my pursuers behind, neither did they seem to gain upon me. Once they fired at me with their carbines, but ineffectually. After about an hour's gallop I came full upon the Moorabool River. It was a perfect torrent; and the bridge had been swept away by the fury of the stream. My horse was beginning to flag; and I saw at a glance that if I attempted to follow the course of the river my pursuers would be able to cut me off. Cross the stream I must. The bank was quite precipitous, and about six feet above the level of the stream. My horse at this made a dead stop, and then, maddened by severe spurring, plunged with a bound into the seething waters. We were carried rapidly down the river, and before I had reached the middle of it, the police, too frightened to follow, were firing upon me. Night by this time had well set in, and it was the darkness tat proved my safety. With daylight they could not have missed me as often as they did, for as I was at least a quarter of an hour in reaching the opposite bank, they each fired several shots - the exact number I could not tell. As it was, both myself and my horse escaped unhurt. On reaching the opposite bank I waved my hat, gave a shout of defiance, and galloped off with the full assurance that they would not risk crossing the river. Before daylight I made my way into Geelong, and was snug in bed while the Geelong police were riding all over the country after me. I met my two brother knights the evening after this adventure, and for some time Harry Dowling and myself amused the public and tantalized the police by writing letters and verse to the papers, assuring the former that they would find us zealously industrious, and inviting the latter to catch us if they could.

Police officers on the Ballarat goldfields making an arrest

A grand tale indeed, but one which may owe more to Suffolk's oratory skills than to fact. Having read his version of events, I naturally went looking for corroborative evidence. I hit my first stumbling block when I could find no sign of a Back Creek within the general vicinity of Geelong. There is a creek of that name however, about 12 miles from Ballarat, near the town of Scotsburn on the Midland Highway. Maybe he got his towns muddled.
Next, I searched the newspapers of the day for any reports of highway robbery which fitted the description given by Suffolk. Nothing. Nor was there mention of the mayor (at that time, Dr Alexander Thomson, resident at Kardinia House on the south bank of the Barwon in Geelong) having lost a saddle and bridle or of a horse stolen from Batesford (quite a distance to carry that much equipment before acquiring a horse on which to place them!).
My third approach was to check for reports of a flood at about this time - the Moorabool was, he claimed, "a seething torrent" and the bridge had been "carried away by the fury of the stream". Which bridge? None that I could find were reported as flood-damaged. In fact the papers claimed that two periods of rain in early and mid-March had saved the district from a severe drought, there was certainly no discussion of a flood.

Russell's Bridge over the Moorabool River possibly during the 19th century,
a bridge at this point dates to the early 1850s.

As for a six foot leap into the Moorabool, well that was possible, the riverbanks are quite steep in places. Taking 15 minutes to cross the stream, coming out in one piece and still in control of his mount? That I'm not so sure about. Granted, the Moorabool had not at that time been dammed and may have flowed more strongly than today, but it is not a big river.
A little more rifling and I finally came across a report of robbery on a public highway leading from "Mr Yuille's property" (the vicinity of Lake Wendouree in Ballarat) and Buninyong on 28th March, 1851, in which Mr Michael Cavenagh was held up at gunpoint by two assailants and relieved of his horse, its tack and his other valuables. One of his assailants it later transpired, was Suffolk.
 I also found an article in the Geelong Advertiser published after his trial for the mail coach robbery which, in part, included a letter written by him (but not named as such) in which he boasted about robbing Cavenagh, much as he described in his book. The Advertiser it seems had not deemed the content worthy of publication until Suffolk's notoriety had been revealed.
So, was this robbery the basis of Suffolk's writings? It is the only likely event I can find on record but there is no mention of an escape from the law or a daring river-crossing. Dramatic licence? Perhaps. Or maybe the second hold up and subsequent chase didn't come to the attention of the press, however if it was anywhere near as dramatic as Suffolk describes then that seems unlikely.
Assuming for a moment that such a chase did take place after the robbery near Ballarat and that Suffolk as he claimed, galloped for an hour before coming upon the Moorabool, he must have been riding either south or south west towards Geelong (his eventual destination).
But where was the missing bridge? In 1851 there were significantly fewer bridges across the Moorabool than there are today. In fact within about 30 miles of Buninyong there were only one or two bridges which I can tentatively identify. One, described as a "hand bridge" over the Moorabool near Lal Lal Falls on the way to Corduroy Bridge (Clarendon) was reported as swept away in 1855. Another was Sharps Bridge on the road of the same name a few miles past Meredith.

The current version of Sharp's Bridge

Either way, this would still have left a relatively lengthy ride (25 miles or more) back to Geelong before dawn with a rather tired horse. Not impossible I guess.
Well at this point I have to admit defeat. I have tried everything I can think of but am still not convinced that the events described above occurred at least in some form. I will continue searching, but for now, this blog needs to be posted.
Either way you have to admit that the Convict Poet spins a darn good yarn!

BAIL UP!

Last year I posted about an escape from the Old Geelong Gaol (Jail Break!) by career criminals Christie Farrell and Josh Clarke in 1889. I also made passing reference to an incident much earlier in Christie's career: the robbery under arms of the Portland Mail.
This sensational hold up had everything. It featured a dashing but disguised bushranger with a criminal record and a flair for poetry, wielding handguns whilst shouting phrases such as "Bail Up!" and threatening to blow peoples' brains out. It also took place not too far from Bruce's Creek.
The following is my interpretation of events, taken mostly from the newspapers of the day (The Geelong Advertiser and Intelligencer and The Argus) and from Owen Suffolk's autobiography written during his final stint in an Australian jail in 1866.
The fateful event took place on the 19th May, 1851. The mail coach, its passengers and driver had stopped at the Leigh (now Shelford) to collect the mail and presumably to change horses. From there it followed its usual route towards Bruce's Creek (Bannockburn) and was travelling slowly, about a mile past the creek on the road to Geelong when Suffolk and his two accomplices struck.

The current (Pilloud's) Bridge across Bruce's Creek at Bannockburn

Whilst Farrell remained hidden, Suffolk and the third member of their little gang - Harry Dowling - intercepted the coach. Suffolk leapt to take the horses' heads, ordering the driver to "stand" and threatening to kill him if he did not. He also threatened to "shoot the first man who moved a finger" whilst Dowling ordered the passengers to raise their hands and get down from the coach. It was Suffolk who then bound their hands with their own kerchiefs (and in the case of the driver, with a belt taken from the driver of the Melbourne coach during an earlier hold up, to whom it was suggested he return it) before ordering them to re-embark and himself driving the coach about half a mile into the bush. The passengers were once again offloaded then tied to trees, at which point Dowling unhitched the horses and saddled one using a passenger's saddle and tack whilst Suffolk proceeded to rifle through the mailbags looking for cash, cheques and other valuables. That done, he also ordered the passengers to empty out their pockets.

Farrell it seems remained out of sight during the whole affair whilst Suffolk and Dowling were heavily disguised. By his own account, Suffolk was attired thus:

I had on three loosely fitting blue shirts or jumpers over a complete suit of clothes...my legs were encased in a pair of large gaiters which reached up to my hips. My head was placed inside the network of a rainbow comforter, which was secured against falling off by being fastened with a ribbon round my neck - one end of it hanging far down my back like a Chinaman's tail. A large sou'wester on my head, and a pair of light blucher boots, the soles of which were ornamented with as sort of scroll done with copper tacks, completed my costume.

This description which was not dissimilar to that later given by the witnesses in court is however somewhat at odds with a later illustration of the event by GD Bruny. Suffolk himself was somewhat bemused by media reports at the time which described him and "Farrell" variously as:
"a tall raw-boned Irishman [he was English] ill-becoming a suit of black" and "as two beardless boys of gentlemanly appearance, whom no one would have suspected of such crimes."
An account of the affair published some 48 years later by George E Boxall in his book "History of the Australian Bushranger" makes interesting reading when compared to Suffolk's own account and the reports from the media of the day.*


Depiction of Suffolk and "Farrell" waiting to bail up a coach, although from
the evidence of the witnesses and Suffolk's own description they were neither
mounted nor dressed in such fashion at the time of the hold up near Bruce's
Creek whilst Harry Dowling rather than Christie Farrell assisted Suffolk
to rob the coach.

All of this served to highlight Suffolk's own contention that witnesses could easily be misled by casual similarities and a few preconceived ideas. He argued that the bulkiness of his clothing and the concealment of both his and his accomplice's faces during the hold up meant that the witnesses could not have made an accurate identification of their assailants.

This fact later had serious consequences for Farrell, despite his remaining unseen throughout. In any case, the job was complete and the trio returned to Geelong, Farrell on foot and the other two riding the horses taken from the mail coach, which they then turned loose outside of town.
The following evening, in true dashing style, Suffolk decided to attend a performance at the Theatre Royal. However, having muddied his own boots en route, rather than return home to change, he elected to purchase another pair from an establishment he called "the famous Yellow Slipper". [My research shows that this was actually the Red Boot shoe shop in Moorabool Street, located opposite the Market Square.]

View of Geelong in 1861, taken from the corner of Kardinia and Malop Streets
looking south west. Malop Street crosses the bottom of the picture, Moorabool
Street runs to the left with the corner of the Market Square before it. The
Red Boot shoe shop, still in business some ten years later is the second store
from the left on Moorabool Street

At the store, he was surprised to be served by a former compatriot from Cockatoo Island. Knowing his history, this now reformed character was immediately suspicious of Suffolk's apparent affluence. Without letting on their previous acquaintance, the shopman (George Percy Simmons), along with his boss and the mailman from the hold up who recognised Suffolk's distinctive boots, informed the police and headed for the theatre. Suffolk saw them and quickly slipped out but Simmons also recognised Farrell as an associate of Suffolk and assuming he was the other assailant from the hold up, the three tried unsuccessfully to corner him before giving up and leaving it for the police.
The following day, Farrell and Dowling decided to distance themselves from the scene of the crime by taking the steamer to Melbourne. Suffolk advised against this as he claimed it would be watched by the authorities and chose to remain at the lodging house where they had been staying.
In the event, he was proven correct and Farrell, having been identified by Simmons, was arrested at the dock as he attempted to leave for Melbourne. Dowling, who of course was unknown to the storeman and happened to be carrying Farrell's share of the spoils remained undetected and made his escape.

Corio Bay, 1850 from Western Beach showing a steamer moored at the Steam
Packet Wharf

Suffolk's downfall came soon after as when questioned, Farrell gave the address at which he had been staying and so it was a simple matter to corner Suffolk at Guise's Lodging House (in James Street) the following morning and make the arrest.
Seeing the officers approaching through a window and hoping to hide evidence, Suffolk placed a watch stolen from the mailman under a pillow in Farrell's room after which he was duly arrested.
Until their case came to court a few days later, Suffolk and Farrell were lodged in what was then the Geelong Gaol, known to history as the South Geelong Gaol and located back from the banks of the Barwon at the corner of Balliang and Yarra Streets. Their first appearance to face the charges saw them brought before none other than police magistrate Captain Foster Fyans along with C N Thorne JP and Leiut Addis.
Then, on 21st June they faced a jury and the resident judge of the Geelong Circuit Court. In a noble attempt, in keeping with the theme of dashing gallantry, Suffolk quickly admitted his own guilt and made an eloquent argument in defence of Farrell's innocence . He admitted to hiding the watch and brought the young daughter of the house to the stand where she gave evidence that she had moved the handguns used by Suffolk to the drawer of Farrell's room as there was no available drawer in Suffolk's. When cross-questioning the storeman Simmons, Suffolk made a fair attempt to discredit the witness by quizzing him as to the length of their acquaintance and to their joint tenure on Cockatoo Island.
His efforts however, were all to no avail as the jury found both men guilty, sentencing them to ten years "on the roads", the first three to be served in irons. And so, despite having remained hidden and taken no active part in the holdup itself (assuming we can trust Suffolk's assertion that he was assisted by Dowling not Farrell), Farrell was convicted whilst Dowling escaped justice.
No doubt further confirming Suffolk's opinions as to witness veracity, one of the passengers indicated that he recognised "Farrell" by his voice.

A mail coach which I am guessing would have been similar to that travelling
the Portland to Geelong Route

*Below is an extract from George E Boxall's History of the Australian Bushrangers, 1899.

On June 23rd the mail coach was bailed up at Bruce's Creek, between Portland and Geelong. The coach, with three passengers on board, was going down hill to the crossing-place, when two men stepped from behind gum trees, presented their pistols, and cried "Bail up." The driver, William Freere, instead of complying, began to flog his horses, but before they could respond thir heads were seized by one of the bushrangers, while the other put his pistol to Freere's head; and threatened to blow his brains out. The coach was taken some distance off the road, and its occupants were tied to trees. The robbers went very leisurely through te letters, and when all that was of value had been abstracted one of the bushrangers took a saddle and bridle belonging to one of the passengers (Mr. Thomas Gibson) and set it aside with the remark, "Ah, this is just what I wanted." This bushranger was dressed "in a black suit of fashionable cut, and wore black kid gloves." He was afterwards identified as Owen Suffolk, while his companion was Christopher Farrell. Suffolk took one of the coach-horses, put the saddle and bridle on, and mounted. Farrell jumped on the other horse barebacked. The tied men begged hard to be let loose, offering to swear that they would not give information to the police, or move from the spot until their captors were away, but their supplications were only laughed at. The road was at that time but little frequented, and the next mail, which might possibly be the first vehicle to pass, would not come for a week. Moreover, they were out of sight of the road. The struggle to get free was therefore a struggle for life, and it was a severe one. Mr. Gibson was the first to get one hand loose. After this the rest was comparatively easy. In less than an hour they were all free, and they walked straight to the township at Bruce's Creek to tell the police. The robbers were caught in Geelong a day or two later. Suffolk was strolling along the beach near the wharf, and Farrell was found in a boardinghouse not far away. They were sentenced to ten years' penal servitude, the first three in irons.

It is easy to see how legends arise and misconceptions develop over the years. In his own version of events, Suffolk explicitly states that:

After securing all that seemed worth securing, I untied the mailman, and then, having released him from the tree, I fastened his hands behind him in a peculiar fashion, telling him that as soon as I knew we were out of sight he could set to work to undo one of the others, a task which I knew would take him some little time to perform with his own hands tied as they were. 

Hardly the life and death struggle described by Boxall, however it does not precisely tally with the version of events given by the mailman who made no mention of Suffolk telling him he could free himself once the robbers were out of sight.
In true Robin Hood style however, Suffolk also claimed to have returned via mail a sum of £5 to one of the passengers from whom he had taken two sovereigns. The man had pleaded poverty and a gravely ill wife when confronted by Suffolk who, on making later inquiries, discovered this to be the case. It probably would not do to dwell on how the extra £3 were obtained, but perhaps not surprisingly, according to Suffolk, this witness refused to testify at his subsequent trial.

Jail break!

As I alluded to in my post A model prison there were numerous escape attempts at the Geelong Gaol over the years, several of which were at least for a time, successful. One of the most daring - and which conveniently had at least a little relevance to the Barwon - happened at 1:30am on Tuesday 8th October, 1889 when Frederick "Josh" Clark and Christopher "Christie" Farrell made their getaway. This was no spur of the moment decision, but an escape which was months, possibly years in the planning. Both men had arrived in Tasmania as convicts under the old transportation system and with the arrival of the gold rush had made their way to Victoria where both are separately documented as preying upon those returning from the gold fields. By 1889 both were recidivist criminals with extensive records. Farrell was over 60 and Clark was of a similar age. By 1888, both men were serving 14 year sentences in Pentridge Gaol in Melbourne - Farrell for the attempted murder of a police officer during his arrest at Fitzroy in 1887.
Through what the media of the day referred to as "systematic malingering" both prisoners had convinced authorities that they were frail enough to warrant transferring them to Geelong Gaol which at that time was being used as a hospital facility for aged and infirm prisoners. Once there, the pair appeared to behave in an exemplary fashion for some months with Clark working in the blacksmith's shop and neither attracting any untoward attention. Until that was, they made their bid for freedom.

The west wing, ground floor. Farrell's cell was at the far end, second from the left.
Clark's was third from the end on the right

In the early hours of the morning, with only two warders on duty and only one of those on watch, Clark called out to Warder Cain that he needed a drink of water. Cain brought the requested water and passed it through the bars to Clark who occupied cell 13. As he did so, he was grabbed from behind by Farrell who had escaped from his cell - number 7 - which stood almost directly across the hall. Clarke quickly emerged from his cell then Cain was pushed inside and restrained. They then took the warder to the cook's room where they left him gagged and bound to a bed, awaiting discovery by his sleeping workmate and the morning shift.


Cell 13 from which Josh Clark escaped. Without the iron bar
across the trapdoor it is easy enough to reach the exterior lock

Authorities later suspected that a key had been passed to Clark from outside - possibly via his window - or as suggested by the media, Clark himself may have produced the key during his time in the smithy in anticipation of their escape.* When the opportunity arose, he called the warder, then whilst Cain was getting the requested water, Clark secured his own release by the simple expedient of opening the trapdoor in his cell's main door, reaching through and using the key on the lock. Once free he quickly unlocked Farrell's cell before returning to his own and waiting for Cain to return.

Christie Farrell occupied cell 7 at the time of the escape

In any case, with the warder out of the way, the pair headed for what the papers described as a partially completed wing (presumably some renovations or an extension were underway but I can find no mention of such). There, they climbed an unfinished wall and made their escape and despite the feverish attempts of the police to recapture the pair, it seems that Farrell and Clark managed to slip through the net of those searching for them.
However, whilst their escape from the gaol had been planned in detail, neither seemed too sure of what to do next - or that is what Farrell wanted the police to think. Realising that every road out of town was being closely watched they travelled by night and hid during daylight. Not having been free in the town for the last 36 years, Farrell later stated he struggled to gain his bearings, but by daylight, they found the Barwon and followed its bank. They struggled up and down hills and stayed out of sight - not an easy task if the photos below are an accurate depiction. At some point they decided to head for Ballarat.


The view from Queen's Park in 1880

 There is no mention of exactly how far they followed the river, but it would be reasonable to assume that they stayed on the north bank at least as far as Fyansford as this was the easiest point to cross the Moorabool and leave the district in the direction of their intended travel. However, progress was slow and by Wednesday evening they were still near Geelong.


Near Queen's Park, 1882. It is easy to see why the escapees felt they travelled
constantly up and down hill

Prior to Clark's recapture but after his own, Farrell claimed to have left Clark at this time on the Barwon Flats "in a moribund state" and headed to Ballarat alone to look for some old mates. (As far as I can ascertain, the Barwon Flats were the low-lying area of land near today's Moorabool Street Bridge and including Belmont Common and surrounds).
Meanwhile, the search for the pair continued unsuccessfully throughout the rest of the week, despite reported sightings. Information concerning a pair of suspicious travellers at Meredith on the 13th October, proved false when the "suspicious looking men" reported to police were found to be "a pair of Indian hawkers".
However things were not quite as Farrell would later have had the authorities believe. Clark was anything but moribund and had not been left on the banks of the Barwon gasping his last. In truth, the pair had travelled as far as Buninyong together, presumably living rough and avoiding the main road. At this point, they had a falling out over the fact that Farrell refused to exchange his prison clothing for less incriminating civilian attire - a decision which was ultimately responsible for his downfall. Understandably, he did not have a change of clothes available and was reluctant to draw attention to their whereabouts by stealing some as suggested by Clark.

A depiction of the well-known bushranger Harry Power in 1880. This prison
uniform would be similar to that worn by Clark and Farrell. Note the
button-up legs for ease of use when in irons and the arrow
stamp on the leg with the letters P and D, marking the wearer as a felon

As a result they went their separate ways, Farrell to Lake Wendouree to look for his old mates and Clark to Ballarat where he was given food by an ex-prison mate who worked in a bakery. Still not trusting Farrell, Clark made haste to get out of the district and headed north west out of town.
Farrell meanwhile, discovered that his mates had moved on in the 12 years since he had last seen them and like Geelong, found Ballarat much changed. His next move was to head for New South Wales. His first attempt to locate the road which would take him towards the border in fact saw him heading back towards Geelong! Realising his mistake, he returned to Lake Wendouree hoping to pick up the correct road and to get back into the bush. At this point he was soaking wet from recent rain and had not eaten in four days being, he later claimed, too proud to beg and not into petty theft.
Regardless of their intentions, neither man remained at large for long. Farrell was the first to be recaptured at Lake Wendouree on that morning of 16th October. As he tried to make his way out of town, two young men saw him and became suspicious. He had found an old overcoat but was still wearing his uniform. He had attempted to disguise his pants by covering the broad arrow insignia with cloth. In the end, it was the distinctive cabbage tree hat marking him as a prisoner which gave him away.

Example of a cabbage tree hat. These were made by prisoners from
palm fronds and could be sold to earn money. Worn by the working class
across the country, a black band on Farrell's hat marked him out as an
escaped prisoner.

The men quickly informed Police Constable Muldarry who approached Farrell and questioned him as to his identity. Farrell gave a false name, denied being one of the escaped prisoners and refused to accompany the constable to the station, at which point he produced a knife stolen from the gaol. Muldarry was wounded in the ensuing struggle, but with the help of the two informants was able to subdue Farrell who at the time stated: "I wish I had done for you, and then I would be hung, and then it would be all over; I am tired of my life." He was taken back into custody where he had his first meal in four days, was interviewed and returned to Geelong by train.
Farrell's statements to the contrary notwithstanding, the authorities thought it likely that Clark was also somewhere in the Ballarat area and in this they proved correct. His re-arrest however, took a further two days by which time he had travelled some 20km or so north west of Ballarat and had holed up in an unoccupied hut near Mount Boulton. Like Farrell, he was spotted by a pair of boys who felt that something was not right and, all too well aware of the reward on Clark's head, made haste to tell the authorities in the form of Mounted Constable Tobin (or Loton depending on which newspaper report you believe).
Under cover of darkness, Tobin and a young man from the locality approached the hut where the constable forced his way through the locked front door. On his own, with the young recruit slow to appear on the scene, he forced a second door and struck a match. On seeing a figure he believed to be Clark on the bed, he quickly attempted to restrain him. This resulted in a struggle during which Clark tried desperately to reach the mantle piece where he had placed the second knife from the gaol. Tobin however, managed to handcuff Clark and had subdued him before his assistant arrived on the scene. Once restrained, Clark denied he was the escaped prisoner from Geelong but was forced to admit his identity when Tobin pointed out his identifying tattoos.
He too was taken back to Geelong where both men received an extra two years on their sentences as a reward for their efforts.
A subsequent inquiry into the escape was held on 31st October, 1889 which saw the governor of the gaol reprimanded and the warders on duty demoted - this despite Farrell's saying that the warder Cain had fought like a lion and should not be punished for is failure to prevent their escape. The whole affair was a litany of lax procedures, poor maintenance and general ignorance stretching all the way to the top with the warders claiming that requests for maintenance were ignored and the governor blaming a lack of staff and worn facilities capable only of containing infirm prisoners, not dangerous criminals such as Farrell and Clark. The external walls of the gaol were not manned at all during the night and only two warders shared night duty inside the building.
In a classic case of stable doors and absconding horses, thirteen prisoners sentenced to long terms were transferred to Pentridge and the cells were immediately fitted with external metal bars which would have prevented the prisoners from opening their outward-swinging doors even if they had managed to obtain a key. In fact, Clark's cell was already fitted with an external bolt but it was not standard practise to use it.
Afterword:
By the time of his death in Geelong Gaol on 4th August, 1904, Clark who had arrived in Tasmania in 1847 at the age of 18, had amassed sentences equating to 85 years and 7 months and had spent more than half his life in gaol. He was 75 years old. When inside, he was generally a model prisoner. Outside he was a known sneak-thief, burglar and receiver of stolen goods. He also went by the names of Josh Clark and Joseph Clark, but was most commonly known as Josh. In 1891 whilst occupying a cell on the top floor of Geelong Gaol, Clark made one last, unsuccessful escape attempt, but was discovered when he or a cellmate dropped a brick as they were attempting to cut their way through the exterior wall.
Like Clark, Farrell was also transported to Tasmania, arriving in 1848. By 1851 he was in Victoria and had turned bushranger at which time he and the well-born Owen Suffolk (aka George Mason and known as the Convict Poet) teamed up to form the "Suffolk Gang". They held up two mail coaches including the Portland-Geelong coach which they bailed up near Bruce's Creek in May, 1851.


Depiction of Farrell and Suffolk waiting to hold up a mail coach, by GD Bruny

Of the 48 years he spent in New South Wales and Victoria, he was at liberty only for about two years in total. More than half of the years he spent in custody were served in irons. After the escape attempt in 1889 he remained in Geelong Gaol, dying at the age of 70 on 1st September, 1895. Like Clark, he also used a number of aliases including Thomas Connors, Charles Farrow and Charles Shaw, the latter being the name he gave to Constable Muldarry at the time of his arrest in Ballarat.

*In 1923 a large brass key which proved to be a master key from the era of Clark and Farrell's escape was found when grounds west of the Geelong Supreme Court were being cleared. Its rough-cut appearance suggested that it was an illegal copy and it was widely believed that this was the key used by Clark and Farrell in their escape. A version of events described in the gaol display has an elderly Clark claiming that he threw the key into the grounds on his way to court however, it seems highly unlikely that having been found in possession of such a key, Clark would have been allowed to keep it. A report in the paper a few days after his arrest indicated that he was found with a skeleton key on his person which had been cut from a penny. At the time the authorities were quick to point out that the make of the key was not such as could have been made in the gaol.
UPDATE: on 2nd September, 2016 the Geelong Indy newspaper published an article indicating that what appeared to be a ball and chain worn by 19th century prisoners had recently been discovered on a farm near Bannockburn during an excavation. The article speculated that it could have been shed by Clark or Farrell as they made their escape from the Geelong Gaol and headed towards Ballarat.