John Saul Turner known, as’ Old Jack’, died on the 15th of February 1896 aged between 54 and 57 years, 2 miles southeast of Cement Creek at Mount Margaret. He was found on the 16th of February 1896 and later buried by WP McCormack and Police Constable Lionel Bradley from Menzies.
He was a prospector who died from thirst. A cyclist employed by Charles Wright Douglas and Co, who had just returned from Mount Margaret, reported that on the 16th of February he found a dead man 2 miles southeest of Cement Creek and about 7 miles from Mount Margaret. His description was as follows, age between 50 and 60, height about 5 feet 2 inches wearing corduroy pants, a white linen shirt, new shoes, a brown tweed coat, a felt hat and had been dead about 5 or 6 weeks the body had turned black. He had a grey goatee beard.
Image by ChatGPT
A bridal with a leather headstall and rope and reins was in his hand. The cyclist, Nicholson, reported the death to the registrar at Menzies. Turner was found dead in the Bush 22 miles northeast of Pindinnie on the 16th of February 1896, the deceaseds mate, William Partick McCormack, was informed of the death at Eucalyptus he and travelled from there in ordere to bury the body at Camel Creek (Latt 26°50’43”S Long 120°21’53”E).
Ten days earlier, Turner had left his camp at Eucalyptus, 7 miles east of Pindinnie on the 10th of February riding a donkey and bound for Pennyweight Flat, Pindinnie via Pikes Gully. He had work waiting for him there but he took no tucker or water with him. Mistaking the road, he went on the Mount Margaret track and so perished, he must have let the donkey go when in his last extremity as he had the bridle still in his hand.
Turner was popularly known as ‘Old Jack’, he was physically strong but occasionally suffered from rheumatics and gout, it’s believed that he formerly kept a hotel in north Queensland.
John Saul TURNER was born on the 29 Jul 1842 at Bracebridge, Lincolnshire, England to Saul TURNER and Eleanor Woodroffe BAUMBER. It was not know if he was married but it was said he had a son, Edward.
Laverton and Beria Mercury 12 February 1904, page 3
In Memory of John Saul Turner ‘Old Jack’
Who tragically lost his life at Cement Creek on the 15th of February, 1896.
These lines were written by his mate, William Patrick McCormack.
Far in that desert land out back,
Where the mulga stretches wide,
Where many a wand’rer missed the track,
And many a hero died—
Tis night out by Lake Carey’s side;
The sun’s last slanting ray
That gleamed across the desert waste,
Has died in gloom away.
A death-like silence there prevails,
No life there cheers the eye.
Nought breaks the terrible stillness
Save the night bird’s’ mournful cry.
The summer moon appears at last,
And a thousand clouds o’erhead,
Like a phantom army flitting past,
As o’er the flats their shadows sped.
But hark! there comes a footstep—
A voice it murmurs low:
“Two days now since I missed the track,
I can no further go.
I ‘ve searched the bed of yonder creek,
Each waterhole is dry.
No strength I’ve left to further seek—
I’ve wandered here to die.”
He lay down on the dusty ground,
And wiped his fever’d brow.
“I wonder if they’ll track me here;
I feel I’m dying now.”
What were thy thoughts, my old mate Jack,
When away out there you died,
What visions floated through thy brain
As you neared the great divide.
Did a thought fly back on memory’s wings
To a peaceful little home
In milder climes, far o’er the deep,
Across the ocean’s foam
Ths school, the church, the brook, the green —
Boy mates of earlier years—
A loving mothers last embrace—
A sister’s parting tears.
And she who since her childhood’s days
Had kept her plighted vow—
What would she say, my old mate Jack,
Could she behold you now ?
As yonder purpling western sky
Proclaimed the coming day,
With one brief gasp and quivering sigh
Jack’s soul had passed away.
Ah, do we ever think of those
‘Mid this life’s rapid changes
Whose bones be whit’ning on the reefs
In those far-off western ranges?
Brave men, who, perished in their tracks,
In their mad search for gold
While others, speared by hostile blacks—
A story often told,
So let us, in our heart of hearts,
Reserve a meed of praise
For those brave hearts who led the way
In Margaret’s early days.
Sadly, McCormack himself would pass away less than a year later, a victim of Typhoid Fever at Eucalyptus. Upon hearing of his brother’s illness, P. J. McCormack journeyed 185 miles from Coolgardie, but arrived too late to say goodbye. He found instead a touching tribute in progress — friends of his late brother erecting a fence and memorial, a lasting testament to the memory of their beloved comrade.
Grave of William Patrick McCORMACK at Eucalyptus
Photo Jill Heather – GPS Lat/Lon 29º 10 69S – 122º 09 68E
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