Arthur Upfield - Death of a Swagman

Before going in he walked over to the fireplace, knelt, and felt the white wood ashes with the back of his hand and found them cold. He saw Sergeant Marshall and the squatter crossing from the house gate to the men’s quarters, and he guessed the sergeant would be making his inquiries concerning the dead swagman. Sam the Blackmailer was a certainty for the inquest the next day.

Knowing that he still had time at his disposal, Bony entered the woolshed, glanced at the inside of the heavy door posts, and eventually reached a far corner where three sheepskins lay side by side, obviously placed there to form a mattress. He lifted up each one. Nothing lay beneath them. Nothing had been left by the dead man… if there was to be excluded a half-completed game of noughts and crosses drawn in chalk on the nearer of the twowoolpresses.

A Great Day for Mr Jason

AT TEN O’CLOCK the following morning Main Street, Merino, was unusually animated, for in addition to the business people and those engaged in shopping there were men from Wattle Creek Station to give evidence at the inquest. These now were seated on the hotel bench and at the edge of the sidewalk, all of them a bodyguard over Sam the Blackmailer, who had to be kept sober againsthis will.

At ten-thirty the courthouse was packed.

On a form against the rear wall of the building were seated the Crown witnesses: Johnny, Sam the Blackmailer, the thickset man, whose name was Harry Hudson, and Bony. These were kept in order under the stern and officially cold eye of Mounted Constable Gleeson, who guarded the public entrance, or appeared to be so doing. When he shouted something like “Hip!” everyone stood up, and up to the bench mounted Mr Jason.

He was dressed in a navy-blue double-breasted lounge suit, a white handkerchief flowing from the pocket, his trousers neatlypressed, and black shoes upon his feet. His hair was parted down the centre, and his black moustache gleamed with a smear of oil. He looked an efficient public servant; the opening preliminaries proved him to be what he looked. When he sat down he wiped his glasses with the clean handkerchief, neatly restored it to its pocket, arranged the pile of foolscap upon his left, placed a sheet of it on the blotter before him, tested a pen, set it down, and leaned back in his chair to survey all the people as though it were the first time he had seen any one of them.

Sergeant Marshall conducted the case for the Crown. The first witness to be called was Sam the Blackmailer, and Sam the Blackmailer was given a hearty send-off by his fellowwitnesses, and the promise of one little drink by Johnny if he gave his evidence without stuttering. The suggestion of such a promise that young man would not have dared to make in Sam’s own kitchen.

As Mr Jason was compelled to take down in longhand all evidence and questioning, the proceedings were slow and tiresome. The cook at Wattle Creek Station deposed having given the dead man bread and cooked meat on the evening of December third, and having given him rations on the evening of December fourth. This was not strictly accurate in accordance with what Bony had been told: viz., that on the evening of December fourth the swagman had been invited in to dinner by Sam the Blackmailer. It was probable that the cook did not want his employer to know of that invitation.

“Did the deceased appear to you to be depressed?” asked Mr Jason, regarding the cook severely over his spectacles.

“No, he was cheerful enough.”

Marshall waved Sam the Blackmailer off the witness stand and then called for John Ball. Johnny related the conversation in general which took place at the men’s hut between the deceased and himself and Harry Hudson.

“What time did he leave the men’s hut that night?” asked Marshall.

“ ’Boutten as near asanythink,” replied the witness.

“Did the deceased appear to you to be depressed at that time?” asked Mr Jason.

Johnny replied in the negative.

“Did you observe which way the deceased went after he left your hut?” asked Marshall.

“Yes. He walked towards the woolshed.”

Harry Hudson, the next witness, corroborated Johnny’s evidence and he was asked the same question by Mr Jason about the dead man’s state of mind. There was elicited from this witness nearly everything that Bony had heard at the men’s dining-table the previous day. It all amounted to very little.

Bony was called, an unusual experience for him, to detail the discovery of the body, and it was noticed by many, especially by Watson, the press representative, that he was the first witness who was not frequently requested by the coroner to pause that the evidence be recorded in writing.

“What was the reason that you went to the hut at Sandy Flat?”

“I was ordered by Sergeant Marshall to accompany him.”

“Indeed! That does not answer my question.” Mr Jason set down his pen and leaned back in his chair of justice with obvious physical relief. In his full and rich voice he said: “I will repeat the question.”

“I had no particular reason, sir,” Bony stated. “I am at present in custody, and I was ordered by Sergeant Marshall to accompany him.”

“Very well.”

“Stand down, please,” ordered Marshall.

When Bony reached the witnesses’ form he found there only Harry Hudson, who announced in a loud whisper that Johnny could no longer “hold” Sam from the hotel.

Having been sworn, Constable Gleeson recited the list of the articles comprising the dead man’s swag, and in detail described how the hanging had been accomplished. He submitted the photographs he had taken. Mr Jason accepted the prints and gazed at them with great interest, much to the curious envy of the public. At the solicitors’ table sat Mr Watson, the local press correspondent. He continued to write furiously, and it was evident that he could easily outpace Mr Jason. He stopped, for about the second time since the proceedings had begun, when Dr Scott was called to the witness stand.

The first part of the doctor’s evidence corroborated that of previous witness. Then:

“The body having been taken down,” he continued, “I examined it externally and estimated that life had been extinct for from twelve to twenty hours; in other words, that death had occurred sometime the previous night. There were no marks of violence, other than that made by the ligature round the neck, and a recent injury on the back of the right hand.

“The ligature was fashioned with the deceased’s swag straps, comparatively new and one inch in width. The depression round the neck made by the ligature was hard and brown in colour, the upper and lower borders having a faint line of redness orlividity. Where the buckle came hard against the neck beneath the left ear the skin was rasped and ecchymosed, and where each buckle hole in that part of the strap had rested against the skin there was a distinct circular mark indicating absence of pressure.”

The little doctor ceased speaking, and the silence in the court was broken only by the busy pen in Mr Jason’s hand and the rustling of paper when Mr Watson flung a filled sheet away from himself to the floor in dramatic manner.

“The body having been brought to the morgue here in Merino,” Dr Scott proceeded, “I made a second external and an internal post-mortem examination. I found that the lungs were much engorged with blood, and that there were no injuries to the spinal column and cord. That would indicate that the body did not drop far when deceased stepped off the table. Actually the drop was not more than five inches. However, I found serious fracture of the larynx, theoshyoides, which is of especial importance because these injuries are very rare in hanging and quite common in strangling cases.”