Geraldton Guardian 12 September 1925, page 3
Crooks at Crooked Shoot Mine by C.P.J
‘Coo-oo-ey! Coo-oo-ey!’ sounded faintly through the semi-darkness of a cloudless night, which enveloped the ‘Crooked, Shoot’ gold mine, situated in a hollow between two low-lying hills in a remote part of the Murchison Goldfields. A field of mulga spread as a carpet over every part of the surroundings gave the spot an appearance of isolation, which was only partly true, for the glimmer of the light some distance off marked the spot where the small town of Rayton stood.
The Crooked Shoot mine had not been long in operation, and the clearing-off process, which takes place around every mining site, had not yet taken place. On the south side of the mine the whitewashed roofs of the iron buildings which constituted the manager’s house and offices, could easily be discerned in the sombre field of bush. On the veranda of the office, the familiar Australian call was heard by Jack Gordon, the bookkeeper, and a friend, as they sat smoking and conversing on topics of the day. ‘Now what in the world is the matter,’ said the former as he strained his ears and paused for a moment, listening for a repeat of the call. A few seconds later the call was repeated, and the location was determined by the listeners. ‘It sounds as if someone is in trouble near the dam,’ said Gordon, as he rose and commenced running down a pad towards the mine battery, which was in full swing, and making a noise loud enough to drown any ordinary noise in the near vicinity.
Cyanide Workers 1903 – Photo SLWA
Without pausing at the battery, the two men quickly passed on and wending their way between stacks of firewood, lengths of mine timber, and across water races were soon at the dam. On arriving at a spot where a plank crossed part of the dam, the runners were surprised to see two very much bedraggled men, arm in arm, standing waist-deep in the slime which usually may be found in an enclosed space known to all persons connected with mining, as the slime dam. Gordon immediately broke into a roar of laughter, which almost caused him to lose his balance and slip into the ‘quicksand.’ His friend, whose name, by the way, was Johns, and was known by the distinctive appellation of ‘Slimy,’ through having had considerable experience in the process known as cyaniding, wasted no time in mirth but proceeded to rescue the unlucky two by reaching out to them a piece of timber to grasp. In turn, the men were thus dragged to solid ground and escorted as quickly as possible to the engine room, where they got rid of their grimy lower garments and put on miners’ dungarees, borrowed for the occasion.
Both men were well-known to Gordon, one being Bill Sutherland, as an employee on the ‘Crooked Shoot,’ the other Tom Jenkins, filling a similar position on a claim adjoining the mine property. As they went through the process of changing, Gordon laughingly ‘chipped’ first one then the other on their sorry plight, and asked how they had strayed from the narrow path. Sutherland, the elder looking of the two, who was in a merry mood, apparently brought about by libations of liquor obtained at ‘the pub’ about half a mile distant, guffawed loudly, swore fluently, and spat viciously as he related how he and his companion had ‘seen several planks’ and tried to walk along the one which was not there!
Having produced a bottle from an inside pocket of his much-soiled coat, Jenkins invited all to drink. On Gordon and the others declining he placed the neck of the bottle to his lips and helped himself, then passed the bottle to Sutherland, who ‘did it justice,’ and having said goodnight, the two left the engine room. Jack Gordon, who had listened to Sutherland’s explanation was not quite satisfied. It seemed to him the reason given was a bit too thin. Sutherland, who worked on the day shift that week was frequently occupied building the wall of the dam and knew every turn in the track around it. Again, why had they endeavoured to walk across a narrow plank when they could by a slight detour, have avoided the narrow pathway?
The explanation regarding the ‘several planks’ might have been true, if they had been very drunk, but were they? As they left the engine room they did not appear to be incapable of walking a 12-inch plank. The manager of the mine, being absent for a few days, Jack Gordon was in some measure filling the position of manager and felt the responsibility. On retiring for the night, he quickly fell into a sound slumber from which he was suddenly awakened by ‘Get up Gordon, the mine has been robbed.’ In a bound, he was out of bed and at the door of his room, where he met the night watchman, who informed him that the door of the strong room had been forced open and a large quantity of amalgam removed. Gordon hurriedly dressed and arrived at the scene just as the sun was rising. A careful examination of the door and search for footprints were to no avail. No unusual signs other than the trails of slime left by the two rescued men of the early part of the night could be found anywhere.
Kalgoorlie Western Argus 10 December 1901, Cyanine working Mulline.
The amalgam which had disappeared was from a partial clean-up of the plates and was left in the strong room, to be added to another parcel which, would be recovered a few days later before being smelted. The Rayton policeman, accompanied by a native tracker, spent many hours following tracks, which ended at the men’s camps where no evidence could be obtained. In a few days, the matter ceased to be an absorbing topic, and men came and went to work as usual and the cleanup which took place was a record poor one, being some 100 ozs short of the average for a month.
The day after the occurrence Sutherland reported that he had lost his watch (a silver mounted one) and he felt sure that it must have dropped from his pocket whilst he and Jenkins were struggling in the slime dam. As it was a valuable one, he asked permission to recover it by walling off that portion of the dam and draining the water off the portion left, which could then be shovelled back into the dam. As this was not in his day’s work, he did the work generally between his busy spells on the dam, and after his usual shift was completed. A few days before completing the work of digging over the spot, Sutherland was attacked by influenza and had to go into the hospital. The man who took his place attended to the work of building the wall of the dam and left the extra work, which was being done by Sutherland well alone.
One night, whilst rain fell heavily the dam overflowed, breaking away at the spot where the new wall had been constructed. The next morning extra hands were put on to fill the gap, which was done by shovelling up drained sand nearest to the ‘break’. Whilst doing this one of the shovelers, who was known as ‘Scotty’ Mills, uncovered the mouth of a canvas bag which was tightly tied with string. Gripping the bag with both hands Scotty endeavoured to pull it from the sand but was forced to desist as it was securely held by the weight of sand. He then resorted to digging around it so that it could be more easily removed, at the time jocularly remarking that he had ‘come on some treasure.’ His mates rested on their shovels and looked on with idle curiosity whilst the bag was being extricated. On giving his shovel an extra heavy jab into the solidly baked sand Scotty felt the shovel strike some metallic substance, which on being removed proved to be a silver-mounted watch. ‘It’s Slimey’s ticker’ said Scotty as he held the watch by its chain. Sutherland was another who was nicknamed ‘Slimy’, the name being applied on account of the work he performed.
Having examined the watch and noted the dent made by the shovel, and the result of its few weeks of immersion, attention was centred on the bag, which was so far uncovered that it was easily removed from its sand bed. ‘Phew! It’s not empty by any means,” said Scotty, who dumped the bag down abruptly to rid it of a clinging coat of sand. As he did so the fact that the missing amalgam had been found struck the men in an instant. Whilst Scotty went to the mine office to report his find the other men conversed freely.
‘It looks bad for ‘Slimey’ said Jim Osborne,
As he picked up his shovel and recommenced shovelling: ‘Guess I wouldn’t be in his shoes’ said another, and the worst of it is he is too ill to be told about the find.’ Jack Gordon was greatly pleased on receiving the bag to find it contained a quantity of amalgam equal to that which had disappeared, and he felt sure that it was the same. How it got there seemed fairly evident. Sutherland and Jenkins must have dropped it when crossing the plank, and whilst endeavouring to rescue it either stepped into the slime or fallen in and were unable to get out again, without assistance. The fact of Sutherland’s watch having been found to his mind, strengthened, rather than weakened his belief. Sutherland could easily have made a good reason for his request by dropping his watch at the spot at any time. The manager, who arrived a few hours later, became convinced that Jack Gordon’s suspicions were right and gave the police instructions to proceed with the matter. Jenkins could not be found. One of his late mates said that
“he had snatched his time and done a bunk” ‘
and he could not say where he had gone. Warrants were issued for his arrest, and that of Sutherland, to be effected when he was sufficiently recovered. Within a week Sutherland became so ill that the police asked him for a statement, which he gave in a very matter-of-fact manner, stating that he and Jenkins had a night out and were a bit groggy on their pins. Whilst crossing the plank following one another he had jumped on the plank when part of the way across to give Jenkins a shock, with the result that they both overbalanced and fell in. They did not call for assistance for some time as they hoped some of their mates might come along, also they knew that the sound of their voices would not be heard near the battery.
Half an hour must have elapsed before they were rescued. They were then feeling very cold and were quite sober. On being told his watch had been found he expressed pleasure, but denied all knowledge of the canvas bag and its contents. A day or two later Sutherland died and was buried, with a strong suspicion of guilt hanging over his name. Jenkins was never arrested, his whereabouts becoming a mystery that the police could not elucidate. Six months after the robbery mentioned, another robbery took place. On this occasion, several bars of smelted gold were taken from the mine safe, and Jack Gordon fell under suspicion again and was discharged.
A detective came on the mine as one of the staff, taking a position rendered vacant through a move-up on account of Jack Gordon’s dismissal. Days passed by and Jack felt that his movements were noted at every turn. He had protested his innocence and refused to leave the locality. Weeks passed by and the only excitement worth recording was the result of a crushing from a prospector claim formerly regarded as a ‘duffer.’ A recent cleanup gave 500 oz from 58 tons of stone. The lucky owner received congratulations all around and became a man of some importance – although he was hardly known before.
Then one day both he and ‘Slimey’ Johns were arrested for gold stealing, the detective having successfully traced a series of thefts to them, including the ones which had taken place on the Crooked Shoot Mine. Johns admitted that he had placed the canvas bag containing amalgam in the slimes dam and had been unable to locate it again through it having been trampled on by the two intoxicated men, Sutherland and Jenkins. His confession cleared the names of two, one dead and the other missing; and also, that of Jack Gordon, who was reinstated in his former position.
SUTHERLAND William C – 73yrs, died 8 Apr 1921, Reg Black Range 1/1921, ANG, Buried Youanmi Cemetery.
Moya Sharp
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