The Murder of Nellie Duffy

CHAPTER 1

A Social Evening at Carpentaria Downs

With eyes shining and dark curls bobbing to the rhythm, she thumped out the notes of the music-hall favourite. Clustered around her at the piano, the men, joking together and laughing, joined in the ribald chorus, their voices loud and lusty. Before this, it had been a sentimental ballad from her parents’ Irish homeland that they’d sung, and some of the voices were husky and many of the eyes moist before it ended. Next she might play a waltz for them or a polka, perhaps even a cakewalk, the current American dance-craze. The centre of admiration and attention, Nellie was in her element, enjoying herself every bit as much as the people she was entertaining.

Because of its isolation, seventy-five bone-jarring miles from Georgetown over the steep Newcastle Range, visitors were a rare event at the station. The sweltering summer months often brought further hindrance in the monsoon rains which swept in from the Coral Sea, for frequently the rains left in their wake devastating floods, marooning communities such as Carpentaria Downs for weeks on end.

Almost always, visitors to the station were men who had business there: cattle buyers, sales representatives, directors of the company which owned the station, or perhaps government officials from Lands or Agriculture and Stock. They came on horseback or by buggy, and very occasionally, if it could be arranged, by Sam Cousen’s coach. One thing they all had in common – they were rarely accompanied by their wives. The extreme difficulty and discomfort that the long-distance travel entailed discouraged the women from joining their menfolk on the arduous journey. For the same reason it was incumbent upon the station people to invite visitors to dine and to remain at least overnight.

The Wilsons were hospitable and generous hosts, and during dinner the wine always flowed freely. Conversation was typical of most country people – cattle prices, the high cost of freight, rainfall, or lack of it, the greed of politicians, the unfairness of the selectors of the Federal cricket team…

When dinner was over the young Aboriginal servant, Maude, would clear the remains of the meal from the table. Maudie liked being up at the main house serving meals and clearing up, especially when guests were present. She was an inquisitive girl and liked to know what was going on. One of her daily jobs was to clean the bedrooms, which she especially enjoyed, particularly those of Miss Duffy and the Missus. Miss Duffy’s was the best, because she loved to touch and examine the objects in Miss Duffy’s room – the bottles of scent, the bracelets, the photographs. She loved the feel between her fingers of the silk underclothes and scarves in the drawers. It always took her a long time to do that room. If Miss Duffy caught her prying, though, she would whip her, or give her castor oil. She hated Nell Duffy.

After dinner Maudie was usually joined in the pantry for the washing up by Maggie, the wife of Charlie the boss-boy stockman. The other two adult black stockmen on the station were Billy and Toby. Maggie and Charlie were the parents of three boys, the oldest of whom, twelve-year-old Johnny, also worked as a stockman.

When the girls finished their work for the night, about eight o’clock, they would join Billy, Toby, Charlie and the children down at the humpy, about a hundred yards from the back of the house. Maudie, it was said, was Billy’s gin.

The humpy, or gunyah as it was sometimes called, was a two bedroomed hut with a verandah, built of boree slabs. It was a very comfortable house in Charlie’s opinion.¹ Maude always slept on the floor in her dress. She liked to be up early each morning to start on the rooms. Often she would deliberately leave her broom outside one or other of the bedrooms (usually Miss Duffy’s) which gave her the chance to peer inside when she fetched the broom first thing in the morning. She liked to begin her work when most people were still in bed.

As soon as the dining room table was cleared, out would come Nell’s music. She would seat herself at the piano flexing her fingers, while around her the men begged her to play their particular favourites. She possessed a fine singing voice and sometimes sang a solo to her own accompaniment for her audience. Other times she might sing a duet with a partner, who would stand at her side attentively, ready to turn the pages of her music as they sang together in the soft lamplight their sweet nostalgic songs.

Young single women were few and far between in the outlying cattle stations of Far North Queensland, especially accomplished ones like Nell Duffy. On the occasions that visitors came to Carpentaria Downs she was therefore the light to which the men were attracted like moths. It was not for her music alone that the men were infatuated with Nellie. Although not beautiful, except for a fine pair of laughing blue eyes, she was blessed with a sparkling personality, combining a quick Irish wit with a great sense of fun and infectious gaiety. Easing the men’s loneliness and boredom with her music gave her just as much pleasure as it gave them, yet she could not help experiencing a small but enjoyable thrill of power as she listened to their entreaties. She relished being the focus of their yearning and would flirt outrageously, teasing one, then another with the most blatant seductiveness. Nellie’s special friend on the station, young head stockman Darcy Day, while proudly possessive, was nevertheless forced to put a brave face on her conduct when it became too shameless, though his pride in her popularity outweighed any tendency to become jealous.

Socially, Nell totally eclipsed the manager’s wife Fanny Wilson, who would quietly excuse herself to the guests at about nine o’clock and slip away to her room on the upper floor. Her husband often stayed later, but they did not share a bedroom. His was on the opposite side of the upstairs sitting room to his wife’s, partitioned off one of the verandahs which surrounded both floors of the house. It was next to Nell’s room.

Mr Wilson was sometimes away when visitors arrived – usually at The Oaks if it happened to be a weekend, in which case he would make it his business to return next morning to welcome the guests. In his absence Nell would hold the fort admirably. In fact his presence at a social gathering on the station seemed to put a bit of a dampener on the enjoyment of guests and residents alike.

The bookkeeper, Mr Frost, an elderly man who was the most senior of the staff after Mr Wilson, was one of Nellie’s most ardent admirers on Carpentaria Downs. He usually retired early, about the same time as Mrs Wilson, to his room in the bachelors’ quarters.

In the dining room the music and the high spirits would continue at full volume while, thirty feet or so across the yard, in his room beside the kitchen, the Japanese cook would toss and turn in his bed as he tried to sleep. He must be up by five to cook breakfast for the station while Miss Duffy could sleep on until about six o’clock.

Tonight Nellie, holding court and surrounded by her contingent of adoring males was as usual oblivious to everything else. With her back to the room she did not see Al Wilson, silently reading on the other side of the table, lift his eyes from his book once or twice, to contemplate the scene at the piano. Even if she had noticed, she would not have been able to read the expression in his eyes.

Oswald McIntyre had been aware all evening of various undercurrents present in the room among the station people. On occasions such as these he had often observed similar tensions, and knew that he would manage to turn to his own advantage whatever situation that arose. With a yawn and a brief good-night to the room at large, he retired.

It was a Harry Lauder number now, and Roamin’ in the Gloamin’ was being belted out enthusiastically. Soon she would play Stop Yer Tickling Jock, which was regarded as a lot of fun and could become quite physical. It would bring forth peals of laughter from Nell and agonized groans from the cook as he lay sleepless.

Alwynne closed his book, rose, and quietly left the room.

Nobody noticed him leave.

CHAPTER 2

Living on an Etheridge Cattle Run in 1908

Henry Wilson had been in the Etheridge area of North Queensland since 1882, at one time conducting a butchering business and later managing first Gunnawarra, and then Forest Home stations. Born near Tamworth NSW in 1851, he had a bad record in the north for alleged cruelty to the blacks. Widowed in 1883, he had married his second wife Fanny Perrott at Armidale in 1885. At the time of the marriage he was the father of four children, three girls and a boy, between the ages of nine and two years.

Fanny was the oldest of the eleven children¹ of a Police Magistrate who had taken up a selection on the rich New England Tableland in Northern New South Wales. In the twenty-five years they had been at Haroldston, as they called their home, the family had prospered. Fanny was well educated and devoutly brought up.

As the oldest child she must have had more than her share of the responsibility for the care and upbringing of her ten brothers and sisters, but she was said by those who knew her to be of gentle disposition. The Perrotts were a close-knit and loving family and as a dutiful daughter preoccupied with domestic obligations Fanny allowed herself to remain a spinster until she was thirty, and the youngest of the children thirteen years old. Perhaps the widowed Henry Wilson saw in her an ideal mother for the young children he had been left to bring up.

Henry, who at that time was known to friends as Gwarra² Wilson (for Gunnawarra) managed the station for a Mr Ewan, but was sacked in 1895 with a lawsuit³ pending against him, brought by his employer on a matter relating to the stealing of cattle. The accusation had first been made by a young black stockman⁴, who later disappeared in mysterious circumstances. No action was taken by the police at the time, although eventually, due to the efforts of Mr Ewan, the Police Commissioner insisted that charges against Wilson be laid.

In 1891 he had been involved in a previous incident⁵ concerning the killing of an Aborigine and had subsequently been committed for trial, though not proceeded against, for the shooting with intent to murder of the Aborigine, a man named Douglas.

The Tommy Ewan incident (or the Gunnawarra Outrage as it became known in police circles) was described in this way by one police source:

"It is said that Wilson kept a gin⁶; the black boy Tommy Ewan had relations with her. Wilson tied the boy to a log and castrated him. The Herberton police arrived. Wilson filled them with liquor, and at night Wilson took the boy out, killed him and burnt the corpse. It is stated here (Mareeba) that Wilson has frequently boasted of this exploit."

There was a lot more to the Gunnawarra Outrage than would appear from this brief explanation. The matter was fully reported to the police, and ultimately directly to the Police Commissioner by Mr Ewan and his solicitor.

The report alleged⁷ that during Mr Ewan’s absence on the morning of 29th July 1895, his Aboriginal servant Tommy, aged about twenty, had been seized by Henry Wilson and a companion while he was sleeping, dragged to the blacksmith’s hut and tied to a buggy wheel. There Wilson had gagged the screaming boy with a piece of wood and a handkerchief, and had proceeded to castrate him, removing one testicle. The episode had been witnessed by two other black boys, Karra and Kangaroo Hills Tommy, both reliable and trusted boys, as well as by a Mr J. M. Hollway of Herberton. Wilson seared the wound with a red-hot searing iron and poured kerosene on the wound. Hollway told a friend, James Darcy, of the incident he had witnessed, Darcy subsequently reporting it to Mr Ewan. On the same day, Wilson’s companion had taken Tommy to drive cattle to Cardwell, about twelve miles distant, although several people noticed that the young man was in such pain he could barely sit on his horse. On the road they met Henry Wilson and another friend, accompanied by two black boys, Paddy and Joe. Wilson compelled the suffering Tommy to watch the cattle at night, keeping him away from the camp. Paddy and Joe reported that Wilson asked them to shoot Tommy as he was no good. Paddy and Joe refused. Next day Wilson’s two friends got Tommy away from the main road into the bush. The cattle were left in charge of four black boys, Paddy and Joe and two others, Andy and Billy. Shortly afterwards they heard a shot, and soon saw the smoke of a fire from the same direction as the shot. Paddy said, They have shot Tommy and are now burning the body. In an hour or so Wilson’s friends rejoined the black boys but said nothing about Tommy. Tommy was never seen again. All enquiries made by Mr Ewan and people acting for him elicited the answer⁸ that the two men had killed Tommy under Wilson’s instructions. Mr Ewan’s solicitor Mr Ringrose was said to have evidence in his possession that the motive⁹ for Tommy’s murder was that the young black man had accused Wilson and others of stealing cattle. Tommy had seen the cattle stolen and said that he intended to inform the owners.

The Herberton police had been aware of the accusations over Tommy Ewan’s disappearance for a considerable time, but no action was taken. It was an open secret,¹⁰ the statement alleged, that some of the police were very friendly with Wilson, and considered the death of an Aborigine of little importance.

In response to the report from Mr Ringrose, the Police Commissioner¹¹ was said to be disgusted at the inactivity of the Herberton police and of Sub-Inspector Fitzgerald at Cairns, who considered the case trumped up by Mr Ewan for malicious purposes. As it turned out, after a comprehensive police search failed to find Tommy or his remains, charges which had been laid against Wilson had to be dropped due to insufficient evidence and no body. Wilson was sacked by Mr Ewan and the two men parted on very bad terms.

Wilson and the two men denied Mr Ewan’s allegations against them, one of them threatening to take court action.

As well as his terrible reputation of violence and cruelty, the police were well aware of Henry Wilson’s seemingly insatiable appetite for women,¹² and in a confidential letter to the Police Commissioner, one high ranking officer wrote:–

"It is commonly known that Wilson is a very lustful man. It has also been said that there has never been a governess on his station that he has not endeavoured to be familiar or intimate with…

"It has also been reported¹³ that the daughter of an outstation manager on the station, a Miss C…, left there about twelve months ago supposedly in company with Miss Wilson, a daughter of the manager of Carpentaria Downs. It is said Miss C…was then enceinte to Mr Wilson and that she was going south for the purpose of accouchement…

I am told by a friend of Wilson that he will do anything to gratify his sexual passion. He is described as a cold, callous, calculating scoundrel where girls or women are concerned, and that there is not the least chance of him ever saying or doing anything to give himself away if guilty. He would also resort to any means, even death, to destroy any evidence that he may think would be likely to come forward against him.

After Wilson’s dismissal from Gunnawarra, the family moved to Kirrama Station between Herberton and Cardwell, where they had become owners of the grazing lease¹⁴. Edgar Dowse Collins managed the station for them and later took over the lease. He became their son-in-law, marrying Henry Wilson’s eldest daughter.

In 1899 the Wilsons moved to Forest Home station¹⁵ on the Gilbert River between Croydon and Georgetown, where Henry had been appointed station manager by the giant cattle and meat organization, Queensland Meat Exporters and Agency Co Ltd. Three years later at the end of 1901, Fanny Wilson who by then had three children of her own, left her husband¹⁶ after finding him coming out of the governess’s room. The governess it seems was Nell Duffy. With her children, Fanny went south to her family home at Haroldston, where she remained for twelve months or more with her mother, who had been widowed some years previously.

The children having been removed from Forest Home, Nell Duffy no longer had a job there. She was then employed at Kirrama as governess and lady-help for the Collins family until September 1906 when she left to work for James Darcy and his family at St Ronans for six months.

Fanny returned to her husband in 1903. Soon afterwards Q.M.E.&A. appointed him Pastoral Manager¹⁷ of the entire company, and the family went to live at Carpentaria Downs.

Carpentaria Downs was the jewel in the company’s crown. The lease covered about 730 square miles, straddling the Einasleigh River, which joined the Etheridge and the Gilbert to flow into the Gulf of Carpentaria. As well as the rivers, it embraced the ravines and thick scrub of the ranges, the gold-bearing quartz ridges to the south-west and beautiful open forest country, especially to the north. To the east were large areas of black basalt known as the lava fields, which were the visible part of an immense and complex system of huge prehistoric tunnels and magnificent caves, their entrances guarded in most cases by lush rainforest.

Apart from the great beauty and the historical value which it so abundantly possessed, Carpentaria Downs was a rich and fertile grazing property. Along its river channels and creeks were good black soil flats beyond which stretched miles of undulating grassy savannah ridges. In the hilly forest country nature was generous with the variety and splendour of its gifts, a profusion of ironbark, ti-tree, grevillea, bloodwood, boree, sandalwood and other fine timber clothing the slopes.

Travellers to the area were astounded at the magnificence of the scenery, the brilliant blue skies contrasting vividly with red ridges covered with emerald green forest, where the gnarled black trunks of the ironbarks stood starkly against the bright foliage. Dotting the sandy flats were countless pointed grass-termite nests, large and small, looking like hats left behind by visiting families of witches, lending their own eerie magic to the ancient and mysterious landscape.

Enhancing the splendour of it all was the glorious wildlife: emus and brolgas, kangaroos, dingoes and wallabies the most visible. The areas around the waterholes and lagoons teemed with birds. There were kookaburras, Major Mitchells and black cockatoos, multi-hued parrots, pink and grey galahs, corellas, and all kinds of waterfowl, including black swans, wild ducks, maned geese and pelicans. Beneath the waters, on which floated blue tropical lilies, were plenty of fresh water fish and lobbies (crustaceans).

The scenic paradise which Carpentaria Downs was, and the sheer majestic beauty of the Etheridge area in which it lay were in utter contrast to the hardship endured by the people who lived and worked there. The good reports of the region from the men who led the search¹⁸ for Burke and Wills had caused rapid expansion of the pastoral industry, with cattlemen and their herds soon arriving. The discovery of gold in the area at about the same time caused a gold rush¹⁹ which was in full swing by 1870, with miners carrying their equipment scrambling up the steep Seaview range from Cardwell on the coast. The town of Georgetown was established on the west bank of the Etheridge River, and by 1898 the township called Einasleigh had developed within the boundaries of Carpentaria Downs. Situated on the banks of the Einasleigh, it had been the site of a copper discovery from which a mine had developed.

Although the Etheridge goldfield yielded considerable quantities of alluvial gold²⁰, most of the gold obtained was extracted the hard way by mining the thousands of reefs²¹ in the area. The resources of the population were taxed to their utmost in endeavouring to make a daily existence.

Gold fever was virtually over in 1907 when large quantities of alluvial gold were discovered on the Copperfield River, a branch of the Einasleigh, the site of the discovery only six miles from The Oaks outstation on Carpentaria Downs. Another gold rush²² followed immediately, the new field being given the name Oaks Rush on account of its proximity to the outstation. The town which subsequently mushroomed nearby received the name Kidston, in honour of the then Queensland Premier. Like Einasleigh, Oaks Rush was on Carpentaria Downs.

As the centre of a well-established mining area and the heart of the far-north cattle industry, Georgetown was a prosperous little town, though remote in terms of accessibility from the outside world. From Georgetown to the railhead at Almaden²³ was 150 miles by horse-drawn coach, and to Cairns a further 120 miles by train. Connections to other coastal cities were made from Cairns by steamships, or steamers as they were known.

The homestead at Carpentaria Downs was 75 miles by road from Georgetown and 25 miles from the much smaller settlement of Einasleigh. Horse-Mail reached the station weekly, carried from Charters Towers via the mines, and by a run from Cardwell.

Perhaps on account of their isolation from the mainstream of society a bond existed amongst the people of the Etheridge, born of the struggles which they endured day after day, and cemented by their dependence upon one another. Nowadays at Carpentaria Downs aeroplanes come and go regularly on the small airfield which sits beside the old bougainvillea-clad homestead, the tyranny of distance conquered at last. Yet even now the sense of affinity and comradeship which existed so steadfastly in the hearts of the pioneers of this beautiful and challenging region still manifests itself in those who have experienced life in the Etheridge.

An old memento²⁴ put it this way:–

"E for ethereal blue of the sky

T for the trade winds that blow there

H for the heat and the dust and the fly

E for enchantment I know there

R for the rose in the fast-setting sun

I for the indigo ranges

D for the drought on the parched cattle run

G for the gold and new changes

E for the Etheridge deep in your heart;

Nostalgic memories till death do us part."

As Pastoral Manager of Q.M.E.&A. Co. Ltd, Henry Wilson was responsible not only for managing Carpentaria Downs, but also for supervising the running of the Company’s other stations, including The Oaks outstation, twelve miles from the main residence. The Oaks was under the direct management of Walter Phillips, a former Carpentaria Downs stockman who lived at the outstation with his wife Gertrude, a housekeeper Miss Minnie Ford, an Aboriginal servant named Kitty and a Chinese cook.

The residence at Carpentaria Downs had been built in 1864 in the time of the first leaseholder. It stood 1000 feet above sea level on a bend of the Einasleigh River facing south towards a large and beautiful lagoon. The lagoon was a favourite fishing place for the station people and for travellers who found themselves in the area, fresh-water catfish being the usual catch. A boat was kept on the station side for fishing expeditions. Crocodiles were often seen in the lagoon’s waters and were the target for some occasional shooting practice²⁵, at least by the station blacks. The crocodiles were of the fresh-water Johnstone River variety which, although attaining a length of six to nine feet, are harmless to man.

For a long time it had been the custom for itinerants to camp by the