William Day was an old convict, sent to Van Diemen's Land from the old country under a heavy sentence. Having gained his liberty he made his way to New South Wales, and joined a motley crowd on the "rush" to the Turon goldfields. He settled at Sofala, where between blacksmithing and fossicking he managed to live in comparative comfort, it being generally understood in the locality that he had amassed quite a little fortune. But the old instinct was still apparently strong within him; he joined a man named Wilson, alias Doyle, with whom he shared an unenviable reputation on the diggings—it being currently believed that one or both of them had been concerned in the murder of Trooper Codrington on the Bathurst-Turon road some time before—and the pair set out on a journey across the mountains.
In the mail coach on its journey from Bathurst to Sydney in June, 1859, there were only two passengers, one of them no less a personage than the Hon. L. H. Bayley, Attorney-General for the colony, who was returning to Sydney from Circuit work in the west; but the mail bags contained nearly £5000 in bills, cheques, notes and cash, sent from the country banks to head quarters, or from country business men to Sydney merchants.
The mail was slowly ascending one of the long hills nearing Mount Victoria, on the Blue Mountains, the two passengers walking some distance in advance, as was the custom, when suddenly the driver, William Andill, who was at the horses' heads, was startled by the appearance of Day with a gun and a peremptory order to stop. The unarmed driver could but obey, for the hill was too steep to permit of escape. The next order was "Chuck out the mail bags." "I must not do that," said Andill, "if you want them you must take them yourself." All this time the bushranger, who had a piece of blanket or bag over his head, with a hole cut in it to see through, kept his double-barrelled gun presented. Three times he repeated the order, and was disobeyed: at last he said, "I have asked you three times: I don't want to shoot or murder you; but, by God, if you don't give me the bags I will." Andill then got upon the box and threw the bags out, the gun being pointed at his head the whole time. When all the bags were on the road in a heap, Day, still keeping his gun at the "ready" and with a large horse-pistol sticking out prominently from his belt, ordered the driver to proceed. Without waiting for a second bidding he did so, and reaching his two passengers, pulled up and informed them excitedly that he had been robbed. "Yes," answered the Attorney-General, "we saw it all." The bushranger, who still kept his gun levelled in their direction, then threatened that if they did not move on at once he would shoot them; they hurriedly climbed into their seats, the driver gathered up the reins, and pushed his well-rested steeds forward on the hilly road.
At the time of the "sticking-up" there was a road-party working on the mountain road, a few hundred yards distant, but they did not take any notice of what was going on; about a mile further on the road was a company of about a hundred Chinamen, travelling from Sydney to the Turon diggings. But the bushranger had done his work before they arrived on the scene; and it is not likely that they would have interfered had they arrived in time, seeing that they were all "new chums", and altogether ignorant of English. The Chinese in those days were frequently to be met with travelling in hordes; they trotted along the road in single file, with huge mushroom hats, baggy trousers and sandals of every conceivable pattern, balancing their basket-poles on their shoulders and jabbering cheerfully to each other as they jogged.
Passing this crowd of gold-hunters, the driver tooled his team to the toll-bar on the road, about a mile distant, where information of the robbery was given to the keeper, Mr. Shepherd, and then the coach proceeded on its way to Hartley, where there was a police station. Several mounted troopers happened to be at Hartley at the time, and Andill conducted them to the spot where the robbery had taken place; but the bushranger had disappeared and left no tracks.
As soon as he had seen the coach well on its way, Day lowered his gun, gathered up the mail-bags (it was a heavy load, but he was a remarkably strong man), and plunged into the bush, making for the retreat which he and Wilson had arranged upon. After leaving the road he was joined by Wilson and the load was divided, the two men pushing on as fast as possible across a very deep gully, using a primitive sapling bridge to reach the opposite side, and destroying the bridge after crossing in order to throw their pursuers off the scent. They then penetrated a thick scrub and there cut open the bags and bundled the contents into a heap for sorting, subsequently selecting all the letters containing anything of value and putting them into one bag.
Having thus lightened the load they penetrated further into the mountains, tree-marking as they went for the purpose of making the road to the "plant" more easy to find. Reaching a favourable spot, where the scrub was very dense, they proceeded to examine their booty further, and at once picked out all the red-taped registered letters and placed them apart. After they had "gone through" the bag, and counted the cheques, notes, watches, jewellery and other valuables, they supplied themselves with some silver and a number of the notes, replaced the rest in the bag, and "planted" it carefully in a large hollow log. The letters which had contained money they burned, together with the cheques and other papers which were not negotiable; and having also concealed their firearms and obliterated their tracks, crossed the bush for Bell's line of road, which they followed past Bowenfels to the Mudgee-road, intending to put up for the night at Walton's public house.
Day had previously stayed at this house, and was on good terms with Walton; he was, therefore, somewhat disappointed on entering to find that Walton had sold out to a retired sergeant of police, named McGregor, who had been stationed at Hartley. When they entered the landlord and some of his customers were talking about the mail robbery, news of which had reached them during the day—for the place was only about 12 or 14 miles from Hartley, and the robbery had been committed at about 8 o'clock in the morning. Turning to Day, the landlord asked him if he had come up the road. "Yes", said Day. "Did you hear aught about the coach being stuck up?" added McGregor. "Yes," replied Day, "but a man was taken up at Hartley for speaking of it, and I don't wish to talk about it as I might be taken up myself." This set the landlord's wits to work; he soon became suspicious of his customers, and when he showed them to the bedroom which they were jointly to occupy, he quietly locked the door and sent his servant post haste to Hartley for the police.
At an early hour next morning Chief-Constable Armstrong and Trooper Moran arrived at the house, and McGregor told them his suspicions. At once proceeding to the room they found Day and Wilson in the act of dressing, and straightway began to question them. A bundle of notes was found on Day, as well as a pistol capped and loaded, and a knife; between the bed and mattress there was a letter. Wilson had about seven pounds in money on him. They were at once arrested and taken to Hartley, and their boots, when compared with the tracks, were found to correspond exactly.
The letter which had been discovered in the bed was an ordinary business letter, preserved by Wilson from the heap that was burned. Day subsequently declared that Wilson had kept it for the purpose of betrayal after they had returned to the diggings, intending to place it in Day's hut and inform the police that he believed him to have committed the mail robbery, when they would of course search the place, find the letter, and arrest him; and when he was Out of the way Wilson would return to the mountains, "spring the plant", and disappear with the treasure. That Wilson (who had fallen out with Day on the very morning of the robbery, which accounted for his absence when the mailman was stopped) intended treachery was abundantly proved before many hours had elapsed.
At Hartley the two men were locked up in the cells, and there kept until the arrival of Captain Battye, Superintendent of the Western Patrol, who was on his way to Hartley when he heard of the capture of the robbers. Battye, who was a skilled thief catcher, at once enquired if any of the stolen property had been discovered in the bush, and receiving an answer in the negative he determined to keep the prisoners in the locality while search was being made, knowing that it would be a difficult matter to gain a conviction unless some of the property that could be identified were produced. Having interviewed the prisoners he determined upon making an experiment with Wilson, who had given signs that he would not be averse to turning Queen's evidence, provided such turning would secure him immunity from punishment. He accordingly took Wilson out of the cell in the afternoon of the second day, and having supplied him with a horse started with him into the bush, ostensibly to search for the hidden treasure. But Wilson was not quite prepared for the "splitting" process, and night came on while they were still in the bush, having discovered nothing.
Captain Battye then told Wilson that he intended to camp out in the bush until the missing bags were found, and the man, who evidently had no desire to lie sub jove frigido in that inclement season of the year—he was lightly clad and the party had no blankets with them—at once raised an objection. "It can't be helped," replied the gallant captain, "here we are and here we'll stay until I find those bags; and I mean to chain you to a tree when we camp for the night." Then turning to one of the troopers who accompanied him he enquired if he had the chain ready. Agreeable to previous arrangement, the chain was produced, and Wilson came to the conclusion that the threat was not an empty one. The party continued their ride for a few miles further into the bush, and then the crestfallen prisoner gave in. He confessed to his complicity in the robbery, and revealed the position of the concealed booty, but explained that it would be impossible for them to reach the spot on horseback, or even to get near it.
Rejoicing at the success of his ruse. Captain Battye then decided to return to Hartley for the night, intending to form a foot party to search the locality pointed out by Wilson. The start was made early next morning, the search party consisting of Captain Battye, the Police Magistrate (Mr. Thomas Brown), the Chief Constable (Armstrong), Sergeant Middleton, Trooper Bagnall, and the prisoner Wilson; three black trackers also being with them. The party rode as far as the top of Mount Victoria and then sent their horses back to Hartley, going into the bush on foot, with Wilson as their guide.
The search occupied the whole day, the distance covered being over thirty miles, in the rough country where the Grose has its headwaters; but nearly everything was recovered, and the party returned to Hartley after nightfall, almost worn out, but elated with their success.
Two days afterwards Day was brought up before the Hartley Bench, and Wilson was the chief witness against him. The informer told the whole story, stating among other things that he and Day had lain in wait for the mail for eight consecutive days, and that on the day before the robbery they had arranged to "stick up" the gold escort as it passed the same spot, and in fact had the mail covered with their guns when they saw mounted troopers behind it, and fear prevented further action. Day declined to ask any questions, and was then fully committed to take his trial at the Assize Court at Bathurst to be held in the following month.
Up to this time Wilson had not been formally proceeded against for his part in the robbery; but in order that he might be legally kept in custody until Day's trial, while yet not committed, he was from time to time brought before the bench of magistrates and remanded. He was remanded once too often. He was kept at the lock-up, and allowed to take exercise in the yard. One day he took advantage of this, climbed the paling fence surrounding the lock-up, and disappeared. It was nearly dusk at the time, and, although mounted troopers were out very shortly after the alarm was raised, scouring town and country, search was fruitless, and Wilson was never recaptured.
Day was convicted and sentenced to seven years' hard labour, serving his sentence on Cockatoo Island. On the whole he was a ''good conduct" prisoner while there, and received such indulgences as his orderliness among a disorderly crew merited. But if he had not taken life before, he took a life on the island. He had been appointed overseer of one of the prison working gangs, and enjoyed immunity from slavish work. His previous knowledge of prison discipline stood him in good stead, and he was able to shape his conduct with a constant eye to indulgences; but on one occasion he took part in an affair which might have cost him his position, if not his life. A group of the convicts were spending a portion of their "airing" time in "yarns" about the native blacks and their weapons, their skill in throwing the spear being chiefly dwelt upon. Day was present and boastfully said he could throw a spear as well as any blackfellow, as he had learnt the art when at the blacks' camp in the bush. One of the convicts named James Heald questioned his ability, when Day dared him to stand at a certain distance before him while he threw a long strip of Kauri pine, much like a spear, and about II feet in length and an inch in thickness. Heald did stand and Day threw the piece of wood, there being a space of about 60 feet between the two men. The missile, propelled with great force and precision, struck Heald in the face just below the eye and inflicted a terrible wound. The convicts managed to hide the occurrence from the authorities until Heald's death made it impossible. An inquest was then held, but as it was sworn that all that Day did was done in "sport" and that Heald contributed to his own death by engaging in that "sport", very little was made of the matter. Heald's removal from the prison yard and cells made one convict less—that was all.
Before the full term of his sentence had expired Day was released, and shortly afterwards he returned to the old locality near Sofala and resumed his dual calling—that of blacksmith and digger—which he followed until old age and infirmity had robbed him of his vigour. For many years he lived in comparative solitude. He died in 1898, in Bathurst Hospital, having sought admission there when he realised that he was sick unto death.
Source: The Bushrangers (1915, April 13). The Farmer and Settler (Sydney, NSW : 1906 - 1955), p. 7.
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