CHAPTER XVIAS POLICEMAN IN ADELAIDE
On arrival at Adelaide I called on the Governor of South Australia, then Sir William Jervois, the distinguished Engineer officer, who, with General Scratchley in Melbourne, was advising the Australian Colonies with regard to the land defences. As I was shown into the private secretary’s room I was more than surprised to meet his son, Captain John Jervois, who had been a cadet at the Royal Military Academy, Woolwich, with me. We had a long chat. I told him of my varied experiences, some of which naturally amused him much.
His father, the Governor, happened to be away, but he said he would arrange for me to see him the next day. Next morning I received a message from him to say that his father would be glad to see me, and would I lunch with them? I did so, and after lunch His Excellency, Sir William, asked me to his study. His son had told him all about me. Sir William informed me that one of the forts which he had designed for South Australia, Fort Glanville, had just been completed, that it had become necessary to raise a small artillery unit to man it, and that he thought I was just the man to raise and command it.
I must say I couldn’t help smiling. I suggested to him whether, in view of my experiences as regarded appointments, he really thought that I ought to accept his very kind offer. He said “Certainly; go and see the commandant”—General Downes, R.A. “I have already had a chat with him about you. Talk it over with him and let me know what you decide. In the meantime goand see the Chief Commissioner of Police, Mr. George Hamilton, who lives at the Adelaide Club, and who will do all he can to make you comfortable.” The result of my interview with the general was that I decided to stay on in the hopes of obtaining the appointment. He promised to recommend me for it.
Later on in the day I called upon Mr. George Hamilton at the Adelaide Club. He was a charming personality, well advanced in years. He was kindness itself to me, and put me up as an honorary member of the club. He told me that on the next day, which was the last day of the month, he would be making his usual monthly inspection of the mounted and foot police attached to the city of Adelaide. The police barracks were situated not far from the club, on the other side of North Terrace and beyond the Government House grounds. The front portion of the building was being utilized as the Military Staff Office. It was a peculiarity of the mounted police in Adelaide that they were all mounted on grey horses, Mr. George Hamilton being of the opinion that the police force was intended more to prevent crime than to punish criminals. He held that mounted policemen on grey or white horses would be seen at a greater distance, and recognized as such, better than if they were mounted on horses of other colours, and their presence being quicker recognized, would act as a deterrent to crime if such was premeditated. I accompanied him on his inspection, and that small force, mounted and foot, was a credit to South Australia.
I had been thinking seriously to myself, during the inspection, as to what I was to do while waiting for my appointment. It occurred to me that I had exhausted most means of making a livelihood that I knew of, and I recognized the fact that I could not afford to let the days go by without making some money to meet my living expenses. Walking back to the club after the inspection, I asked the Commissioner what were the pay andemoluments of a mounted police trooper. “Eight shillings and sixpence a day,” he said, “is their pay, free quarters, free uniform and travelling allowance while on duty necessitating more than four hours’ absence from the barracks.” Considering that the pay of a lieutenant of the Royal Artillery was somewhere about six and fourpence a day and no emoluments, the lot of a mounted policeman seemed a happy one. I straight away asked Mr. Hamilton whether he would take me into the force. He seemed very surprised, but I assured him I was quite in earnest. “Well,” he said, “there is a vacancy, but before I can promise you anything you must talk the matter over with His Excellency the Governor, and take his advice.” His Excellency thought it was quite a good idea, and informed me that I was to tell the Commissioner that he would be very pleased if I was taken on. So it was arranged that I should join up on the seventh of the month.
By this time I had been introduced to most of the members of the club and some of their families. But it was quite evident that if I was to become a policeman I couldn’t remain at the club, nor could I be on visiting terms with the élite of Adelaide. I therefore made up my mind to be a policeman, a real policeman, and give up social festivities for the time being. This decision met with the full approval of His Excellency and the general, and, I need hardly say, of the Commissioner. The only exceptions to this rule were that I would occasionally lunch at Government House and at the General’s home when convenient. I duly joined, and, remembering my New Zealand experience, I swore to myself that I was not going to resign until after being duly appointed to my next billet.
It is not to be wondered at that not only the corporal in charge of the barracks, but the mounted troopers under his charge, were surprised to see the Commissioner’s young friend, who had been inspecting them a few days before, joining their ranks. Only the mounted police werequartered at the barracks, the foot police lived privately in their respective districts and suburbs. I spent my first night in the barrack-room, and I was glad to find that amongst the twenty-five or thereabouts of the number of troopers, no less than six or seven were ex-officers or N.C. officers of the army or navy, and the remainder were men who had been selected from the pick of the many candidates who were continually offering their services to the Commissioner.
A word about the corporal in charge—Corporal Campbell, an ex-salt, a hard-headed, kind-hearted Scotsman. Corporal Campbell had to his credit some thirty-five years of mounted police work in South Australia. The greater number of those years he had spent in the northern districts of the then young colony. In those early days the duties of the mounted police in the far-off, unsettled districts were more than serious. They lived away from civilization, supervising huge tracts of country, necessitating travelling hundreds of miles at a stretch across uninhabited country, lacking in food and water. It required men of iron constitution and iron will to perform their duties. It wanted even more; it wanted self-confidence and a thorough knowledge of their work to deal equitably with the many points of dispute that from time to time arose between the settlers and the native tribes. Practically the mounted trooper was a magistrate. It was up to the mounted trooper to make all preliminary inquiries not only into criminal charges, but in many cases into civil disputes. Having done so it was up to him to prepare the cases for the justice of the peace before whose jurisdiction those cases had to be submitted.
The justices of the peace were men selected because they happened to hold some interest in the district. What knowledge had they of the law? What experience had they ever had of sitting as magistrates? Generally none. Consequently the justices of the peace leant for support on the mounted constables. It is to the credit of themounted police of Australia, right throughout the whole of it, in every colony, that within my recollection, covering many years, I do not remember a single case of any serious complaint against the force of mis-direction in advising the magistrates when asked to do so.
While I had made up my mind to give up all social festivities, I reserved to myself one privilege, so that occasionally I could be reminded of my old social days. Perhaps my choice was guided by my success in the theatrical profession. I took a seat in the theatre in what was the best part of the house, next to the club box, for every Friday night. I used to treat myself to a good dinner in one of the hotels, all alone, and then went forth to enjoy the play. Adelaide at that time possessed only one really first-class theatre, the Theatre Royal, in Hindley Street. On these Friday nights I used to meet my men friends, but I did not allow myself to have the pleasure of meeting their lady friends. I was a policeman, and a policeman I had to be. It was really quite quaint. Everybody knew me; they all knew who I was. But it was obviously up to me to play the game.
A pleasing surprise awaited me the Monday morning following the day I joined. Corporal Campbell informed me that the then drill instructor who supervised the riding school and the instruction in sword and carbine exercises, musketry and revolver practice, had sent in his resignation, as he was going to get married and had decided to open an hotel in the flourishing district on the Mount Lofty ranges, at the foot of which the city of Adelaide is situated. He further told me that I had been appointed drill instructor in his place, and that the rank of acting-corporal had been conferred on me. This was indeed quick promotion. Besides, it carried with it many privileges. In the first place I could have a room to myself instead of sleeping in one of the barrack-rooms; secondly, I was off routine duties, such as serving summonses, investigating offences against the Police Act, and doingnight patrol duties. My daily pay was raised to ten shillings and twopence a day, but I had to share with Corporal Campbell the responsibility of being in charge of the barracks. My short experience in the North Island of New Zealand stood me in good stead. My knowledge of military law and procedure came in most useful, as it naturally comprised an intimate acquaintance with the rules of evidence, most necessary in the preparation of police-court cases. I felt that I was fairly qualified to take on my new duties without any misgivings. Besides, Corporal Campbell kindly offered to coach me in carrying on the discipline and economic duties in connexion with the barracks, and the official correspondence with the Commissioner’s office.
One of the privileges of the drill instructor was to have his horse attended to by one of the troopers. I did not avail myself of this.
A young horse, rising four, had just been bought, one of the handsomest dappled greys I had ever seen, standing about fifteen hands three, full of breeding. I selected him for my mount, and determined to look after him myself. Cold work it was too in the early winter mornings to wash him down, groom him and keep the saddlery and accoutrements in order. I schooled him myself, and he promised to become a perfect hack and police horse. A police horse needs to be taught the best of manners. He must be thoroughly quiet, good tempered, and capable of being ridden in amongst a crowd without being frightened. I succeeded beyond my expectations in training him, and I was very pleased that he was turning out so well. After about two months, however, he rapidly developed the worst of habits. Suddenly, without any apparent reason, he would stop and refuse to move. He would do this anywhere, on a country road or in the middle of the street. It was no use plying the whip, or using a powerful spur. He would not go forward. He would rear, or lash out with his hind legs, but he would notmove on. This happened only very occasionally, but, when it did, it was most awkward, especially if I was in charge of an escort, or on a ceremonial parade. It turned out that he was suffering from a sort of horse-mania produced by having fed when young on a plant known in the district, where he was bred, as the Darling Pea. Feeding on this plant had this extraordinary effect upon horses. I was returning one day, after being on duty at the races at Victoria Park, to the barracks. As I was passing the Adelaide Hospital he stopped dead. After a few moments of gentle persuasion I gave him a sharp touch with my spurs. He reared straight up and fell backwards on the road. Luckily my face escaped injury, but my chest and back were nearly flattened out. A few days in hospital put me all right, and I returned to duty. He chose a fit place to hurt me.
The overland railway to Melbourne was then being constructed, and a very large railway camp was established in the Mount Lofty ranges, near a place called Aldgate. In this camp were congregated all classes and conditions of men, of several nationalities. I was in charge of the barracks one evening when a report came in from the foot police station that a girl had been nearly murdered. She had been found in the backyard of a small house in a disreputable quarter of the city, with her throat cut and a dagger wound in her breast. The nature of the wound pointed to the attempted murder being the work of a foreigner, probably an Italian, of whom there was a considerable number at the railway camp. I at once ordered all the available troopers out to make the necessary inquiries in the city and suburbs, and decided to proceed myself direct to the railway camp at Aldgate.
Having a fair knowledge of the language I thought I might pick up some valuable information on the way if I met any of the Italians. I started about 10.30P.M., dressed as an ordinary bushman, riding an old bay horse which we kept for these occasions, and my revolver hiddenbut handy. The distance to the camp at Aldgate was about eighteen miles, taking short cuts with which I had already become acquainted.
I pulled up at several public houses on the road in the hopes of picking up some clue. I failed till I reached a well-known hotel, the Eagle-on-the-Hill, roughly half-way to Aldgate. The landlord, whom I had to wake up, and whom I knew, told me that he had served with drinks, amongst others, two foreigners, who had ridden up on one horse, and who said they were on the way to the camp. They had evidently had a good deal of drink; he had given them some more, and they had managed to climb on to the horse again and had ridden away. He could not, however, tell me what nationality they were. This had taken place about 11 o’clock,P.M.It was now about 1 o’clock,A.M.The two men would be at the camp about this time. I could reach it comfortably about 3A.M.I got no further information until I arrived at the camp. I had hoped to make my entry quietly at that time of the morning, but I was disappointed. I had hardly got near the tents on the left of the road when a whole troop of mongrels commenced to bark furiously. I could not get into the camp without being seen, as I had hoped. However, I found my way, after inquiries, to where the man in charge lived.
When I had satisfied him as to who I was and on what business I was bent, he put his services at my disposal at once. I told him I wanted if possible to get hold of two men who had ridden up on one horse, that they were foreigners, and I suspected Italians. To my joy he told me that he had several men he could depend on who kept an eye on the camp generally for him, both by day and night, and one of them might have noticed their arrival, as the dogs were almost certain to have greeted them in the same way as they had greeted me, especially if the horse they were riding had come up to the tents.
He asked me to go with him while he made hisinquiries. The first man he roused up did not know anything about the matter. The second, however, did. He had been late himself getting home, and curiously enough the two men on the horse had passed him on the road about a couple of miles before reaching the camp. It was a moonlight night, and he had noticed they were pretty drunk, hardly being able to hold on to the horse. As they passed him they called out to him, and he recognized them as two Italians who were engaged in tunnelling, bad characters, red-hot tempered, but good workers when sober. This was indeed a piece of luck. I asked him if he could guide me to their tent. That was more difficult. He was not sure; but he knew where the ganger who was in charge of the tunnelling party hung out, and he would probably know their whereabouts.
I went back to where I had left my horse, got a pair of handcuffs I had brought with me, and took one of the stirrup leathers off my saddle. When I returned the ganger had been found and took us towards the portion of the camp where the two men shared one of the dirtiest of tents I had ever seen. By this time dawn was just breaking. I arranged with the ganger—he was a good sort—that on arrival at the tent I would go inside and would hold the two of them up. As they would be most probably in a heavy sleep this would be a simple matter. Then, having handcuffed one, I would make secure the other one’s hands behind his back with the stirrup leather and march them off to Adelaide; but in case anything went wrong inside and I called out he was to rush in to my help. He agreed. I slipped out my revolver, asked the ganger to hold up the lantern he was carrying so that I could see inside the tent when I opened the tattered flap, and, raising it, slipped inside. I had to stoop nearly double, the tent being very low, and I could just see with the aid of the ganger’s lantern.
A more filthy place is difficult to imagine. On very low stretchers covered with rags by way of bedclotheslay the two men, one on each side of me, with their heads towards the entrance to the tent. They were sleeping heavily. I turned first towards the man on my right and suddenly dropped heavily on him with my right knee on his chest, and before he awoke to his senses I had him handcuffed. I turned over to the other one, who was just trying to sit up, apparently dazed. I threw the stirrup leather, the end of which I had passed through the buckle, making a noose of it, over his head, and pulling at the end of it with all my might, I backed out of the tent, dragging him after me. It was all done in a minute, and I had them both bagged. The ganger was quite delighted as he took hold of the stirrup leather to make the man secure while I went in to pull out his handcuffed mate. This was easily done under the persuasion of my revolver.
By the time they were both outside the tent they were wide awake. We made them sit on the ground. I handed the revolver to the ganger and left them in his charge while I searched their filthy abode. I was quite rewarded. Underneath some rags which had served as a pillow to the handcuffed man I found a knife with a blade about five inches long by some three-quarters of an inch broad, such as is much in use amongst Italians. It was covered with blood, some of which had not quite dried up. I also picked up a dirty woollen comforter which he had evidently worn the night before and on which were blood-stains of very recent date. I was satisfied; I found nothing more of any value as evidence. My job was done; all that was left was to escort my two prisoners to Adelaide.
It was now daylight. As there had been no noise few of the early risers who came slouching out of their tents knew that any arrest had been made until we were nearly out of the camp, and they took but little notice. I thanked the man in charge and the ganger for their assistance, and, after partaking of some coffee at the little cottage where the man in charge lived, I started off with my two prisoners tied together, making for an hotel not far offwhere I knew I could obtain a vehicle to drive them down to Adelaide. I arrived in Adelaide all well, and by two o’clock they were quickly and safely locked up in the police station. They were duly charged and tried. The girl had recovered from her injuries, and the culprit escaped with a long term of imprisonment instead of being hanged; the other received a short sentence. My first attempt to hunt down criminals had come off satisfactorily.
Shortly after I had joined the police my good friend, Mr. George Hamilton, retired from his position and Mr. Peterswald was appointed Commissioner. Mr. Peterswald, having been Mr. Hamilton’s right-hand man, was thoroughly fitted for the appointment. He held it for many years, during which time the efficiency of the police force of South Australia was well maintained. As Commissioner I personally received from him during the time I was in the force every consideration. We had become personal friends as far as it was consistent with our respective positions, and, as soon as I received my first appointment as an officer in the South Australian Military Forces, he was one of the very first to welcome me to his house.
It was just before Christmas, 1881, that General Downes, the Commandant, sent for me to see him at his office. I walked across the barrack square to the Military Offices, and in a few minutes was shown into his room. He informed me that he had been unable to arrange with the Government to raise the nucleus of the Permanent Artillery Force which was required to take charge of the lately constructed Fort Glanville, and that, as a matter of fact, the contractors had asked for an extension of the time for its final handing over to the Government. He had, however, pointed out the necessity for a duly qualified Staff Instructor to be appointed to the Volunteer Force. Several new units had been formed throughout the colony. The localities in which the units had been raised were far distant from the headquarters at Adelaide, and, unlessthe services of some such Staff Instructor were made available, it could not be expected that they could be held together. The Government had considered his recommendation and had approved of it. He had, therefore, recommended me for the position, pending the raising of the artillery unit, and he had that morning been notified that his recommendation had met with their approval.
“I have much pleasure,” he said, “in telling you this. I have been watching your work, while you have been in the police, and instructing them, with keen interest, and, I am satisfied that you are quite capable of carrying out the duties attached to your new appointment. I have seen Mr. Peterswald, your Commissioner, and he is quite prepared to grant you your discharge from the police. Please arrange to see him, and tell him that I sent you, because I would like you to start your new duties from the first of the year.”
I have wondered, ever since that fateful interview with the general, whether there is such a thing as second sight, or—to put it another way, whether a person is permitted at times to have a glimpse into the future. While the general was talking to me, and as soon as he told me that his recommendation had been approved of, and that the appointment was actually made, I was looking at him sitting in his chair at his office desk, and I thought that I saw myself sitting in that very chair, actually in his place, as Commandant of South Australia. The vision was a passing one, but I well remember being seized with a determination to do all I could to make that vision come true. As will be seen later on, it did come true, and in much shorter time than I or anybody else could have possibly expected.
I at once, in accordance with the general’s wishes, called on Mr. Peterswald. He was delighted at the good news. He, of course, knew about it from the general. He told me I could have leave of absence up to January 1, the date on which I was to take up my work at the MilitaryStaff Office. My next business was to cable home to my father to inform him of my appointment. I knew what a pleasure it would be, most particularly to my mother, to hear the news. From the time that I had left home my only letters had been to my mother, and the only letters I had received had been from her. She always kept me fully informed of all the different doings of our large Gordon family.
Yet it is wonderful to think what a difference it makes to one’s ideas when you decide to place some 16,000 miles between all your own best friends and your solitary self. Your solitary self goes forth alone. You go into new worlds, you leave behind all the pals of your youth, all those whose friendship in after life would be an anchor to you; all those sweet girls whom you love, all those relations who always protested they were so ready and keen to help you in your troubles, but who, when the time of trouble comes, suddenly have so many troubles of their own that they really can do nothing for you; but the one whom you feel most to leave behind is your mother.
On the day following the news of my appointment I called at Government House. My Woolwich mate, Johnny Jervois, was more than delighted at the result of his advice to me to remain in Adelaide. He and I had some exciting times later on when the Russian scare occurred in Australia in 1885; of which, more presently. His Excellency the Governor, Sir William, gave me much encouragement by the kind way in which he received me, and I need hardly say that I felt somewhat overcome by what appeared to me the extraordinary kindness of my South Australian friends. With the exception of my having been at Woolwich with young Jervois, all were strangers to me on my arrival in Adelaide. My resignation having been accepted I had ceased to be a policeman, and I felt at full liberty to accept any of the many invitations which were kindly given to me for the forthcoming festive season. It was ahappy Christmas and New Year’s time. My Christmas Day was spent with the general and his charming wife and family, at their home at Mitcham, near Adelaide.
On New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day respectively I was the guest of the Governor and the new Commissioner, Mr. Peterswald. I also obtained permission from the Commissioner to invite my late police comrades to a social evening at their barracks. That evening is one of the happiest recollections of my life. During the months I had been with them I had had no occasion, either as their instructor or while in charge of the barracks, to find any fault with their work. We had been brought closely together, and, if at times a few hard words had to be spoken as regards their duties, they fully recognized that they were merited, and they bore no personal ill-will. The South Australian Police were then, and have been since, and are now, an efficient and fine body of men.
On January 1, 1882, I took up my duties at the Military Staff Office. My mind was made up not to fail, but to give effect to the vision I had, at the time of my interview with the general, which had pointed to the Commandant’s chair as my future lot.
How it was realized you will learn as you read on.
MILITARY APPOINTMENTS AND PROMOTIONS OF BRIGADIER-GENERAL JOSEPH MARIA GORDON, C.B.
1874—Joined Military Academy, Woolwich.1876—Lieutenant, Royal Artillery.1881—Police Instructor, South Australia.1882—Staff Instructor, Military Forces, South Australia." —Lieutenant Commanding South Australian Permanent Artillery.1883—Captain.1885—Major.1892—Lieutenant-Colonel on the Staff." —Acting Commandant.1893—Colonel on the Staff." —Commandant, South Australian Military Forces.1896—Re-appointed Commandant, under new Defence Act.1898—Inspector, Warlike Stores, and Military Adviser for Australian Colonies, in England.1899—Returned to South Australia, Commandant." —Special Service Officer, South African War.1900—Colonel, Imperial Land Forces." —Chief Staff Officer to all Overseas Colonial Forces, on the Staff of the Commander-in-Chief, Lord Roberts." —and commanded a Mounted Column, South Africa." —Brigadier-General, Adelaide.1901—Companion of the Most Honourable Order of the Bath.1902—Commandant of the State of Victoria.1905—Commandant of the State of New South Wales.1912—Chief of the General Staff, Commonwealth Military Forces, and First Member of the Military Board of Control, Australia.Retired, owing to age limit, 1st August, 1914.
Part II
Lord Hopetoun, Marquis of Linlithgow
Lord Hopetoun, Marquis of Linlithgow
CHAPTER ISOLDIERING IN SOUTH AUSTRALIA
On January 2, 1882, I attended the staff office and began my new duties. The general asked me to draw up a short memorandum setting out how best to utilize my time up to the end of the financial year—June 30. My special work was the instruction of the Volunteer Companies and detachments stationed in the country, as apart from the units maintained within the metropolitan area of Adelaide. It is worth while for you to study the map of South Australia. In order to carry out these duties very large tracts of country had to be covered by rail and road.
The amount of money placed on the estimates to cover travelling expenses was by no means large, so it was very necessary to work out an itinerary for the half-year, which, while enabling the units to get as much instruction as possible, would not entail any expenditure beyond that placed at my disposal. In addition to this, I was in charge of the office work in connexion with the whole of the Volunteer branch of the military forces at that time serving in South Australia. With the assistance of a smart clerk placed at my disposal by the general I was well able to fulfil these duties to his satisfaction. By the end of the week the itinerary submitted by me received approval and a fair start was made.
The Colony of South Australia was founded upon lines that differed from those on which the rest of the Australian Colonies started their existence. The Chartered Company of South Australia was entrusted by the British Government with the development of an immense tract of country stretching right up through the centre of Australia fromthe south to the north coast. The Northern Territory came under its administration. This tract of country approached in size nearly to one-third of the whole of Australia. South Australia has been called the “Cinderella” of the Australian Colonies, not only because she was the youngest, but also because of the character of her constitution. The original settlers had landed on virgin soil, untainted by previous settlements of convict prisoners. South Australia had not begun as a Crown Colony. The Chartered Company had been granted self government from the day that the ships conveying the original settlers cast their anchors off the shores of Glenelg, and they held their first official meeting under the spreading branches of the gum tree whose bent old trunk still marks that historic spot. It was on December 28, 1836, that the landing took place. Every year since that date the anniversary of that auspicious day has been set aside for a national holiday. The now exceedingly prosperous seaside resort of Glenelg hums each December 28 with joyous holiday makers. A banquet, presided over by the mayor, and attended by the Governor, the Premier, members of the Government and Parliament, is held to commemorate the birthday of the Colony and do honour to the few surviving veteran colonists who took part in the ceremony of the proclamation under the shade of the historic gum tree in 1836.
I have just looked up last year’s Press account of this ceremony, and I find the following names mentioned, there are only two dating from 1836—Miss Marianne Fisher and Mrs. M. A. Boneham, who were on that date still alive.
The capital of South Australia is Adelaide. I have travelled over many parts of the world, and venture to say I have seen every important city and town in Australia, New Zealand and South Africa. I have no hesitation in proclaiming Adelaide the best as regards situation, laying out, and climate. The genuine hospitality of its citizens is well known. Its site was mostcarefully selected and surveyed, and the city itself laid out and planned by a very able Engineer officer, Colonel Light. There was no hurry, no fuss, when this was done. Colonel Light was given an absolute free hand, besides ample time in which to complete his work. No better monument exists to his memory than the city of Adelaide itself. Colonel Light gave full consideration to the chief requirements of a city. He appears to have selected from different parts of the world the best characteristics of their cities and to have embodied them in his conception and plan of Adelaide. Nothing which could be of benefit in days to come seems to have been overlooked. The most important item, perhaps—namely, facility for a perfect system of drainage—had been evidently kept in view when the site was chosen. In after years, when it was deemed advisable to instal what is known as the deep drainage system, the best known up to date, it was found that it could be carried out without the slightest difficulty, not only throughout the city proper, but also in the numerous suburbs, which are steadily growing in population outside the beautiful park lands surrounding it. Practically Adelaide proper covers one square mile of ground, East Terrace being the only broken side. Around this square mile lies a belt of park lands averaging about a quarter of a mile wide. The suburbs commence beyond these park lands, the oldest and chief one, North Adelaide, being itself surrounded by a similar belt.
The park lands are indeed the lungs of the city. It is forbidden to erect any private buildings thereon. No portions of them may be alienated except for general purposes, such as public institutions, gardens, exhibitions, racecourses, cricket and football ovals. The rights of the citizens to their park lands are guarded by impenetrable legal safeguards. Adelaide has been at times called the “city of the five squares,” also the “city of the twin towers,” namely, those of the post office and Town Hall.In the middle of the centre square marking the heart of the city stands the statue of Queen Victoria. What city do you know whose citizens can, after a day of heat, within a few minutes’ walk from their homes be enjoying the advantages of being in the country by visiting the park lands? I know none other.
Adelaide nestles at the foot of a beautiful range of hills, the highest point of which, “Mount Lofty,” some 2,000 feet high, rises overlooking the city. Numbers of spurs slope gracefully towards the plain, whose shores the sea washes—the sea whence the cool breezes blow over the city. What a glorious sight can be seen from Mount Lofty on a full moonlight night! Stand on Mount Lofty, look up and revel in the sight of an Australian summer night’s sky, the dark but ethereally clear bluish dome overhead, myriads of little stars, blinking at the steady brilliant light of the greater constellations. Look right and left—on all sides the spurs, covered with misty haze, lose themselves as they merge into the plains. Look west towards the city and the sea. There beneath the soft and silvery rays of the moon lies Adelaide and its suburbs, wrapt in the peace and quiet of the night. Its thousands of street lights shine so clear that they seem to lie at your feet. You see deep, dark places amongst the lights; there are the park lands. Then raise your eyes and look farther west; there is the sea. It shines as a silver mirror. The soft winds from the west are blowing, and the wavelets, dancing in the light of the moon, play with her shining rays as they leap on to break gently on the sandy beach. Many times have I revelled in this sight while staying with my friend, John Bakewell, whose beautiful home is close to the top of the mount.
Colonel Light must have also kept in mind the climatic conditions. From any part of the city a drive of less than a couple of hours will take one up some fifteen to eighteen hundred feet above the sea. The railways,and afterwards the advent of the motor-cars, have brought the hills down to Adelaide and the plain, and the many and beautiful homes now adorning the crests of the ridges and nestled there might almost be suburbs. See the lovely foliage of the trees, gathered from all parts of the world. Look at the gardens, luxuriant in blooms, where the flowers revel in rivalling each other in beauty and colour and in profusion of blossoms. See the ripening fruits festooning the trees in the orchards.
It is amongst such surroundings that the fortunate citizens of Adelaide live, and there it was my privilege to spend—I say so without the slightest reservation—the happiest years of my life. Would they could come again.
You are not surprised now, are you, that the citizens of Adelaide fully recognize the debt of gratitude they owe Colonel Light? His memory they cherish. His name will ever be an honoured one. His monument, Adelaide itself, a living one which will last until the day when the last trumpet shall sound “the assembly.” His recompense, the gratitude of her citizens right up to that day.
The development of the defence system of the colony of South Australia was as follows: In its early days the British Government maintained a small garrison of regular soldiers, with their headquarters in Adelaide. This garrison was at the disposal of the local Government; the Governor was Commander-in-Chief. It was not anticipated then that troops from Australia would be required to do battle for the Empire in European wars. There was little trouble to fear from the aboriginal tribes. History repeated itself in the case of South Australia. As it had happened in the older colonies, the aborigines did not give cause for the slightest anxiety, except on a few occasions when intrepid and daring explorers went forth into the wild bush country miles and miles away from any habitation. Barracks were built for the regular garrison. On the date I started my duties the building was being utilized as an institution for thepoor and infirm. The military staff office and the mounted police barracks were adjacent to it.
So long as the garrison of regulars remained at Adelaide there was no particular inducement for the pioneers to burden themselves with the additional responsibilities of becoming soldiers themselves. Yet have you ever known or heard of any British settlement, no matter how small, which did not elect a mayor and raise a volunteer force? When the time came for the British Government to remove the regular garrison, the South Australian volunteer force was established. This took place on the conclusion of the Maori War, which was followed by the peaceful settlement of the native question in the north island of New Zealand. The British Government decided to withdraw all regular troops from New Zealand and Australia then, feeling assured that the colonists, who had already given the best and strongest evidence and proof of their capacity to direct the affairs and develop the resources of the immense territories entrusted into their hands, were more than capable of raising and organizing military units on lines best adapted to their own economic and political requirements. Thus it was that at the time the regulars were withdrawn fairly efficient volunteer forces had come into existence.
The South Australian Government retained the services of some of the regular non-commissioned officers as instructors, and of some of the officers for staff duties. At the time I joined the staff some of these were still going healthy and strong. Well I remember Major Williams, our staff quartermaster, Captain Powell, our cavalry instructor, Sergeant-Majors Ryan and Connell, infantry instructors, two of the best. They were with me then, they were under me for years; they never wavered in their zeal, nor had I once, in our long association together, ever to find fault with them or their work, not even in later days, when the holders of the public purse set the pruning knives clicking and the military vote suffered so severelyas to necessitate much extra work on the part of those who remained on the staff.
The growth of the colony steadily continued, never halting, though occasionally bad seasons checked its progress. In the ’seventies South Australia was fully established. Adelaide was becoming a rich and populous city, the capital of a great territory. A stupendous pioneer work, the overland telegraph right through the continent from Adelaide in the south to Port Darwin in the north, had been completed, some 2,000 miles through unoccupied country. The Burra-Burra copper mines had given forth their store of the copper. The Moonta and Wallaroo district was still richer in that precious metal. Even now there appears to be no end to the wealth of metal lying below the ground waiting for the pick of the miner. Millions of acres of wild bush land had been turned into rolling grass plains on which millions of sheep browsed in peace. In the settled districts along the Northern Railway line to Port Augusta paddocks after paddocks of smiling and rustling wheatfields waited for the harvesting machines each autumn time.
The question of the advisability of establishing the Defence Force of the colony on a sounder footing was taken up by the Government, which came to the decision that it would be in the best interests of the forces to appoint a regular Imperial officer, thoroughly efficient and up to date, who should be entrusted with the reorganization, administration and instruction of the Defence Department and the forces under its control. This decision met with all-round approval. Politicians, Press, members of the then existing forces and the public generally all concurred. A request was sent to the Imperial Government, asking for the services on loan for five years of an officer possessing the qualifications referred to. The selection fell on Lieut.-Colonel (now Major-General) M. F. Downes, R.A., C.M.G., who is still alive and well in Melbourne, and whose constant friendship I have had the privilege of enjoyingfrom the date I first took up my duties under him. He lost no time on his arrival in carrying out his instructions, and submitted a scheme for the Government’s approval. The general lines of his scheme were as follows: The military forces were to consist of (a) an efficient administrative and instructional staff; (b) a number of regular (permanent) artillery units to man the forts and maintain them in a state of thorough efficiency; (c) a force comprising all branches of the service, inclusive of departmental and non-combatant corps on a partially paid system; (d) the maintenance of a volunteer force to meet the requirements of outlying districts; and (e) the encouragement of rifle clubs.
The only part of this scheme which requires some little explanation is the partially paid force, the backbone of the scheme. General Downes proposed that instead of the three months’ continuous training carried out by the Militia at home, the partially paid units should be paid by the day, the maximum number of days being fixed by Act of Parliament. Eight hours a day or over constituted a full day for purposes of pay; up to four hours, half a day; and two hours or less, a quarter day. A proviso existed that a few days of continuous training in camp should take place each year. The original number of full days in the year first approved of was, I think, twenty-four, and the rate of pay 5s. a day. Whole holidays, of which there are a good many in the colonies, were available for full day, half-holidays and Saturday afternoons for half-day, and all evenings for quarter-day parades. By the time I joined the general’s staff his system had been in force for over three years, was giving satisfaction to all concerned, and similar conditions of service were later on adopted in every one of the Australian colonies.
The itinerary for the half-year ending June 30, 1882, which General Downes had approved of, kept me continually on the move. The days in between myjourneys in the country were fully occupied with the compilation of reports and other administrative duties. It was all a new experience to me. I travelled hundreds of miles. The residents in the outlying districts offered me every hospitality. Horses, of course, were always available. Kangaroo and wallaby hunts, shooting and fishing parties, were arranged to fill up the time in spare days. The wild turkey is indeed a wary bird; he wants a lot of stalking, especially in the open salt bush plains. An ox or cow was often made use of to approach this knowing bird. It was considered an excellent day’s sport if we bagged a brace or two.
Six months sped by. Then came the day when the general informed me that the Government had approved of the raising of the Regular (Permanent) Artillery unit. Fort Glanville had been completed, the guns mounted, and the contractors had handed over the fort to the Government. I remember the general’s kind words to me so well. He told me he was pleased with my work, that he had reported upon my success as staff instructor to the volunteer force, that he had recommended me for the position of Lieutenant Commanding the Permanent Artillery unit, and that the Government had approved.
So at last I had got appointed to my own branch of the service—once again I was a gunner. I took up my residence at the fort, where there was barrack accommodation for about thirty men and quarters for one officer. Within three weeks I had got together a first-class lot of young men, and the general came down to inspect us. An efficient gunner is not made in a day, no, nor even in a year, so that for months I had little time for play. In addition a most interesting and difficult piece of work came my way. The fixed defences, recommended by Sir William Jervois and General Scratchley, consisted of three forts, one not far from the mouth of the Port River, a second one approximately half-way between the mouth of the river and Glenelg, and the third one near Glenelg.At that time there were not sufficient funds to undertake the completion of the whole scheme. The centre one, Fort Glanville, was considered the most important, and had therefore been constructed first. The plans for the other forts had been prepared at the same time as those for Fort Glanville.
The coast from Glenelg to the mouth of the Port River is very low, a continuous ridge of sandy dunes fringing a beautiful sea beach from which the waters recede far at low tide. The mail boats anchored in the open roadstead; passengers landed at the Semaphore jetty, cargo being placed in barges and towed up the river to Port Adelaide. It was a most unsatisfactory arrangement, and many have been the times that I got wet through when meeting the steamers. In particularly rough weather baskets had to be used to get on or off the ship. When it was too rough and dangerous passengers had to be taken on to the next port of call. For years the question of providing proper harbour accommodation had been before successive Governments, but the vested interests at Port Adelaide and other political reasons had successfully blocked the project. About the beginning of 1882, however, a company was formed, which acquired a large frontage to the sea from the boundaries of the Semaphore northwards to the mouth of the Port River. This company obtained the right to construct a harbour. It was called the Largs Bay Company. It built a first-class up-to-date hotel on the foreshore, constructed a fine jetty, and a railway leading into Port Adelaide, with the view of diverting the landing of the passengers from the old Semaphore Government jetty to Largs Bay. All this will probably be of little interest to you, except that it supplies a reason for the influences that were brought to bear on the Government to construct No. 2 Fort. If the outer harbour was to be constructed, its protection was necessary. Hence I was instructed by the general to revise the original plans of the Fort and adaptthem to the new fortress guns, which had superseded those existing at the time of the construction of Fort Glanville. To plan forts, to obtain the widest scope for the fire power of their guns, is fascinating work to a gunner. I revelled in it, and in a few weeks I was ready with the revised plans. The plans were approved of, and the contract was let for its construction. Largs Bay Hotel then became my headquarters.
The time came when the building of the Largs Fort was advanced enough to push on with the mounting of the heavy guns, which on arrival had been stored at Port Adelaide, some three miles away. The hauling of the guns and carriages and their assembling and mounting was excellent instruction to my young gunners. In revising the plans of the Fort I had made provision for barrack accommodation for a larger body of men.
Fort Glanville has now for some time past been dismantled. The proposed fort near Glenelg was never built, though two 9.2 inch B.L. guns, which were imported at great cost as the result of the Russian scare, are still lying buried in the sand hills on the proposed site.