Confession of Burgess

Date: 7 Aug 1866 [unknown]
Location: Nelson, New Zealand

The Nelson Evening Mail. FRIDAY, AUGUST 10, 1866. CONFESSION OF BURGESS.

It is the confession of Burgess, the murderer, written in my dungeon drear, this 7th day of August, 1866. To God be ascribed all power and glory in subduing the rebellious spirit of a most guilty wretch, who has been brought through the instrumentality of a faithful follower of Christ, to see his wretched and guilty state, inasmuch as he has hitherto led an awful and wretched life, and through the assurance of this faithful soldier of Christ he has been led, and also believes, that Christ will yet receive and cleanse him from all his deep dyed and bloody sins. I rely on the invitation which says, Come now and let us reason together, saith the Lord, though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool. On this promise I rely, He has told me Christ will pardon me who am deeply dyed with the blood of my fellow-creatures. He has shown me the inestimable value to be derived from fleeing from the wrath to come. He tells me that in order to attain this, I must unburden myself before God, just as I am, a guilty wretch. He says that Christ will cleanse me if I but go to Him, humble and contrite, of the various and unheard of crimes of which I have been guilty. Thus humbled, I will now unfold to you the heinous sins that have been committed on the part of the prisoner Sullivan. He has been guilty, in order to save his wretched and miserable life, by trying to sacrifice the lives of others, to save his own, but it shall not be done, justice shall be done the murdered men who have been sent hurriedly out of this world, at the expense of my own immolation on the altar of justice, and held in execration and odium of my fellow creatures while time continues, as a most bloody murderer. Therefore, all you that are here assembled listen, and while you listen, weep. The confession of the murders of these men who have been foully murdered among you. Before I bring the scene of this bloody drama vividly before you as it was enacted, you must accompany me to my revelations of the first time I saw the prisoner Sullivan. It will only be a synoptical view I shall give you, because it is very distressing to me to furnish you with more, for I have not facilities afforded me even to give this; for it is written in the dark and on my knees, so you will only have a brief account. But it is the truth you will thus have, for I have no further motive than the furtherance of justice in this my bloody confession. It can do me no good in a worldly point of view, it is not done thinking I shall be able to save this miserable life of mine; no, but the reward I look for on earth is the execration of my fellow-creatures while this world continues. I trust I shall be rewarded by God, for I offer my vile body at any moment to atone for what I have done; but it is made to disabuse the public mind of the prejudiced and guilty statement of the prisoner Sullivan, and to spare the effusion of innocent blood being shed. For the murderer Sullivan will go to any length to save his own life, since there is undeniable proof of his guilt. I will now proceed to put you in possession of the truth. I was walking in the streets of Hokitika one day with Kelly, when he drew my attention to a man who passed us. He said, I think I know that fellow; if so, he is an old schoolmate of mine; his name is Sullivan. He said, such a character. No more was then said. In a few days Kelly came to me and said, I was right the other day, that was the same party; I left him just now, at the Rose, Thistle, and Shamrock Hotel. Come up; which I did, and then I saw Sullivan sitting in the parlor. We amused ourselves, playing at cards, for the most part of the evening. Sullivan began playing a man for money. Sullivan began cheating. Words ensued between them, they went outside to fight, and Sullivan gave the man in charge for robbing him of half-a-sovereign. The man was locked up, and I said to him what is this you have done? He said, do you think I was going to let a wretch like that beat me? That was the beginning of our acquaintance. Shortly after this we became on very intimate terms; so much so, that I took him with me to effect several robberies, two in particular, one being the banker of Rosstown, named Kerr, which was not accomplished. I may mention here, that Sullivan, at the time of our first intimacy showed me the bottle of strychnine referred to in his statement, and brought by him from Melbourne. I said to him, what made you bring the like of this with you? He said, you don't know the value of this. Who knows but what we may require this in some big thing we might do. These were his words to me, as near as I can now recollect them. The other robbery was Mr. Fox, the banker, at the Grey. At this time I was meditating robbing the banks at Okarita, in order to effect which I said it would be necessary to procure some troopers' clothes if possible. I watched my opportunity and robbed the camp at Hokitika of the same. I took four revolvers and their cases, sword belts and cartouch sashes with their pants. After I effected this, I said I must be very steady for some time, or the suspicion would fall on me. I said, to provide against any accident happening from neglect or other mishap, I should provide myself with a competent witness, so with that I proposed taking the man Chamberlain, now in charge at Hokitika, to go and see the Maria ship as she lay on the beach a wreck, on the way finding some of the property taken from the camp, this was done on the way. I kicked the sand where they were planted, and thus exposed them. Chamberlain picked them up and gave them to me. I said, look about, there might be something else. Shortly after, I was taken on suspicion, and searching my dwelling they found two revolver cases belonging to the camp, the revolvers I had lent that night just before, I was arrested for the robbery. At the investigation, Sullivan came up with Chamberlain, and swore he was with me when going to the latter, which resulted in my acquittal. This is but a specimen of his abilities since he has been in custody. He has tried to make himself useful at the surface of all the truth and justice for he has given information against this said Chamberlain, whom we gulled in believing we found those cases, which the man really thought we did. With him he has charged Mr. Carr, the constable, against whom he knows he had a greater antipathy than any man in the force. Perhaps this is the way he has chosen to pay him out. After I was discharged I said, I must leave Hokitika, for a while at any rate; so with that we proposed to go to the Grey. We arrived on Saturday, 26th May. I took up my residence at the Provincial Hotel. Sullivan began drinking, and spent what money he had, which was very little. He left the Greymouth township on the Sunday night, and did not return till the Tuesday following late in the day. During this time Mr. Dobson, surveyor, was murdered. He came to town and sent the man Wilson, now charged with the murder of Mr. Dobson, to find me, and tell me to go to the bridge. I went to the bridge indicated, and there I saw Sullivan. He told me he had made a great mistake in stopping a man whom he took for a banker, who turned out to be only a surveyor. He said he was such a nice young fellow; after we stopped him we could not let him go, so I took him off the road about 100 yds, and then I burked him, meaning choked him. He said laughing, as I was taking him in the bush, did you think I was a banker? Here is all I have, some £6 odd. He said he had buried him, compass and all: for he had a compass with him. He has since been found, by Sullivan telling where he was buried. Mark the atrocity of his acts. He has since charged an inoffensive man, Wilson, with complicity in the murder, who is as innocent as the babe at its mother's breast. Sullivan said, where is Tommy? meaning Kelly. I said he is over at Cobden. Well, he said, what is to be done? I told him that since lie had been away I had heard there was a banker at the Buller, and I thought of sending for a man I know at Hokitika, and ask him if he would come with us, and put the bulk of the notes away for us. He said a good idea. So with that I sent a note to Hokitika then and there to Levy, asking him if he would come. He replied to the letter, if it was worth while he would. Come he did. We shipped by the Wallaby; but before leaving I asked Sullivan how much money he thought we might want to take with us. He remarked, oh, you have got plenty. I said when we get there we might have to wait. I said I would go and get £10 more at all events. We arrived at the Buller, and there found it was untrue about a bank being there, so it was settled that we should go to Nelson by the Wallaby, and from there to Havelock and to Picton. We came here, as you have heard, on the 6th June. We reached Canvas Town, as you also know. But before leaving the Wallaby, Sullivan brought away with him the cook's large knife, with which he charges Levy with doing. I asked him what he wanted with that thing? He said, I would rather have it and a revolver than all the number of arms you could give me; armed with these I am a battery of defence, or something like it. After we returned from Canvas Town I told Levy we should not go any further that day, so he might as well run up to Deep Creek, and see what sort of place it was. He went, and after he had gone we learned that Havelock was such another place as Canvas Town. We said if we were going to Picton it would not do to go by the road, for there were no wayfarers travelling, and the residents on the road took great notice of all who passed; so that the best thing we could do was to return back to Nelson, and proceed by boat to Picton. This was settled. During the time Levy was away we ground the knives, as Sullivan has said in the evidence. I cleaned the guns and pistols, but did not load them as Sullivan said. Levy returned on the Sunday afternoon; he brought with him a newspaper, but for the life of me I cannot say if it were a Marlborough Press or not. I knew it was a newspaper. It contained nothing regarding the bank at Picton. I asked him what sort of place it was he had been to. He said there was about 30 or 60 people there; he should imagine, he remarked, he knew a great many of them. He stopped at Mathieus' public house, whom he also knew. He said Mathieus asked him, during the evening, how things were progressing on the West Coast. He told him. Mathieus replied he was going to-morrow himself, and some more friends by Tuesday. I told him we were going back to Nelson in the morning; that Picton was a great distance further, I believed, than it was to Nelson. He laid down, when me, Sullivan, and Kelly went out, when I said, we will intercept these people on their way to Nelson. Levy says that the publicans are storekeepers and everything in the buying line I remarked, another thing, they are going to the West Coast, and it is likely that they will buy up all the gold they can. Kelly said do no such thing—we did not come here for to do that—you could have done that where you have come from with greater certainty of having something for your trouble. Well, I said, that is right enough, but we did not bring money sufficient with us, we may have to remain in Nelson a week, and then wait perhaps at Picton. He said, I have got almost £16, besides what you have, and that will see over three or four weeks nicely. Well, I said, I shall put these people up, who will be any the wiser that it is me, I will keep secluded after I have done it, so I'll do it. He said, it is just like you, you won't be reasoned with, I should like before you set this road on fire to be at Nelson. I said, that you can do; these people don't start till to-morrow, by that you can reach Nelson, we shall go as near it as possible. Sulllivan said, I think it is the best thing we can do, who knows what gold they might bring down with them; so, Dick, you and I will do it, let them go on to Nelson, it don't want us all. So next morning we started. Sullivan said in his statement in Court, to save the boat-hire we waded through the river. Now, in the first place there is no boat but a Maori canoe, which can only take one of us over at a time, in consequence of the then state of the river, which was that low that we crossed it without wetting our boots as high as the ancle; we all had big boots on. Mr. Jervis can disprove what Sullivan said about crossing the river, for he was looking at us. We proceeded on our way without anything happening till we reached three miles the other side, that is this side of the Pelorus Bridge, there we stopped and had some dinner. While leaving it, an old man came by, carrying a shovel, going on to Nelson; as he passed he gave us the time of day, and passed on. There was no remark passed whatever about the old man. After dinner we proceeded on our way, Sullivan as usual in front. We went for some distance without stopping. In journeying on, I walked principally with Kelly, who tried all he could to dissuade me from having anything to do with these men. I got offended at his continued importunities, so I went ahead and overtook Sullivan and the old man, who were sitting down near a bridge. I put my swag down, which consisted of fire-arms, and joined them shortly after. Kelly then came up. Kelly said, well, I will wish you good-day. I said, so long. Levy also said, good-bye, master (meaning me). They then passed on. When they were gone, Sullivan remarked to me, he thought the old man held it. I poohed the notion, the cant term for held it, meaning he possessed something. He said allow me to know, you must not go by outward appearances. Shortly after the old man picked up his bit of swag and went on; we followed not long afterwards; we went some distance. Sullivan still in advance a good way from where I came up with him; he had overtaken the old man who did not walk very fast, they were in serious conversation, I heard the old man in reply to a question say, he had been working at Wilson's, cutting flax, at so much the acre, we then preceded the old man up the range; when Sullivan said, I don't like that old fellow. I noticed when I overtook him this last time that he shifted the position of his knife, he partly knew who we were; so since we are going to do these people over (his very words) I think we had better prevent him doing us any harm hereafter. I said very well; so with that we put our swags in the bush. I turned back, and met the old man coming up the ridge. Sullivan was in advance of us; he said to the old man, did you see a knife lying on the road, for I have lost mine out of my sash. He said, no; by this time I was up close with him. I pulled out a pistol, I had taken out of the swag, and which was empty, but I put some pieces of paper in the chamber of the cylinder. I told him I thought he had some gold, he assured me he had not. Sullivan said, let's see; he then caught him by the arm; at this time the old man put his other hand to his knife; when I took hold of his wrist I took the knife from him. I said come down here. He replied I won't, and then sat on the ground. He said, are you going to murder me? I said, what an idea to enter your head, come on down the gully. He refused to go, I took him by the throat, when he said, I'll go; I'll go. So with that we took him down the hollow some 60 or 80 yards, on the lower side of the road. The old man said, if you murder me, I shall be foully murdered. We made him sit on the ground. I then took him by the throat, I held him till he was nearly dead. When I released my hold the confined air came bubling up through his mouth, when Sullivan drew his fist and struck him a severe blow on the abdomen. Sullivan took the old man's shovel and raked a hole just below where the old man lay. We rolled him over: he stopped in the hole with his face downwards. We covered him up and left him. When we regained the road, Sullivan said, that is a nasty bit of work for nothing, but it was not for what he had, he might have done severe mischief. We went about a mile, and then camped for the night, at Franklyn's Flat I believe if is called. We camped in one of the old skeletons of an old hut. We had no tent, but the fly of one. Kelly and Levy had the tent. We had no billy: that was with Kelly. We made shift with what we had. Before I laid down I loaded the guns and pistols; in the morning we started early towards Nelson; we went to where the rock crops out alongside the road; I must mention this was the place we stopped at the first night we left Nelson for Canvas Town; we put our swags in the bush, and cleared a place to take the horse off the, road. We then took up our stations; Sullivan remained behind the rock, because that gave him a view of the road the men were coming; he could see a distance of six hundred yards or more; he was looking down a descent. I crossed the road and took up my position. I had command of the road from Nelson; we remained secreted some time when a horseman passed, shortly after men with cattle from Nelson, and then some Maories on horseback; the day was getting advanced when we changed positions, in consequence of mine being in the shade, and Sullivan's in the sun; we remained like this till Sullivan came from his covert, and said, here is a young woman and a fellow carrying a swag, I'll put them up. I said, no; he said, I will; I replied, if you do—with that they rose the incline and came along—I wish to God I had let him stop them, then these men would not have been murdered—for I should have shot Sullivan, for when he persisted in his demand, I rose my gun, and sure as he had stopped them he would have rolled over a dead man, for in my hand a gun is a formidable weapon of destruction; so Ann Fulton, for such it was who passed, I saved you from a worse fate than death, but that would have followed, so when you hear the fate you thus escaped, you, if no one else can speak on behalf of Burgess the murderer—who now solicits your prayers on behalf of his guilty soul. After they passed, Sullivan remarked, you are a fellow; I made some answer about mothers and sisters of your own. Shortly after a horseman was coming in the direction of Nelson, it was Mr. Birrell; we were getting impatient, when we saw four men and a packhorse coming. I left my covert and had a look at the men, for Levy had told me that Mathieu was a small man, and wore a large beard, and that it was a chestnut horse. I said, here they come. They were then a good distance away; I took the caps off my gun, and put fresh ones on. I said, you keep where you are, I'll put them up, and you give me your gun while you tie them. It was arranged as I have described. The men came; they arrived within about fifteen yards when I stepped out and said, Stand! bail up! That means all of them to get together. I made them fall back on the upper side of the road with their faces up the range when Sullivan brought me his gun, and tied their hands behind them. The horse was very quiet all this time, he did not move. When they were all tied Sullivan took the horse up the hill and put him in the bush. He cut the rope and let the swags fall on the ground, and then came to me. We then marched the men down the incline to the creek—the water at this time barely running. Up this creek we took the men. We went, I dare say, 500 or 600 yards up it, which took us nearly half-an-hour to accomplish, then we passed to the right up the range. We went, I dare say, 150 yards from the creek. There we sat down with the men. I said to Sullivan, put down your gun and search these men, which he did. I asked them their several names, they told me. I asked them if they were expected at Nelson, they said no, if such their lives had been spared. In money we took £60 odd. I said, is this all you have, you had better tell me. Sullivan said, here is a bad go. I said, what's on that packhorse, is there any gold, when Kempthorn said, yes, my gold is in the portmanteau, which I trust you will not take all. I said we must take you away one at a time, because the range is steep just here, and then we will let you go. They said, all right, most cheerfully. We tied their feet and took Dudley with us. We went about 60 yards, this was through scrub. It was arranged the night previously that, it would be best to choke them, in case the reports of the arms might be heard from the road, and if they were missed they would soon be found, so we tied a hankerchief over his eyes. Then Sullivan took his sash off his waist and put it round his neck, and so we strangled him. Sullivan, after we had killed the old man, found fault with the way he was choked. He said, the next we do, I will show you my way. I said I never did such a thing before. I have shot a man, but never choked one. We returned to the others when Kempthorne said, what noise was that? I said it was caused by the breaking through the scrub. This was taking too much time, so it was agreed to shoot them. With that I said, we will take you no further, but separate you and then loose one of you, and he can release the others. So with that Sullivan took De Pontius to the left where Kempthorne was sitting. I took Mathieu to the right. I tied a strap round his legs and shot him with a revolver. He yelled. I then followed with my gun in my hand, I sighted Kempthorne who had just risen to his feet. I presented my gun and shot him behind the right ear. His life's blood oozed from him, and he died instantaneously. Sullivan had shot De Pontius in the meantime and then came to me. I said, look to Mathieu, indicating the spot where he lay. He shortly returned, and said I had to choke that fellow, he was not dead. Returning to the road we passed where De Pontius lay. He was dead. Sullivan said this is the digger, the others are all storekeepers, let us cover him up and should the others be found, they'll think he done it and sloped, meaning he had gone. So with that we threw the stones on him, and then left. This bloody work took nearly an hour and a half from the time we stopped the men. Sullivan says in his guilty statement, I returned in the space of a quarter of an hour. You could not rush the place where the men were murdered under that. We searched only the portmanteau or box, and there we found the gold belonging to Kempthorne—some 46 ozs. We repacked the horse, when a horseman passed going to Canvastown. I left the horse and went behind the rock there. I heard a footman speak with the other. I heard the word, no. They then parted. The man passed in the direction of Nelson. I told Sullivan what I heard. He paid no attention to the men passing because I asked the men if there was anyone belonging to them behind. They said, no. We then led the horse along the road. We did not proceed far when Sullivan threw the two shovels down the gully. One was our own, the other belonged to the old man who was murdered. We went about half a mile, or it might be more. The reason we took the horse away was to mislead any one knowing the spot where the deed was done. On the road Sullivan threw the gun produced away. It was his own, he brought it with him to the Grey. He also put his shirt foul with the blood of Mathieu off the road, and hid it behind a dead log. It was nearly a new shirt, it had a slight rent on the right arm. We took the horse down the gully and there shot it. It was not Levy who was afraid to lead it down but Sullivan. We then proceeded on the road and did not stop till we reached the old chimney this side Maungatapu range. When we had done these bloody deeds there we kindled a fire, not to make tea, but to read the letters and other papers we took from the men, which we kept; kindled with the papers. There I undid the swags and put the gold in them, and threw the powder I had in my pocket away, and the pepper which was in the handkerchief with the remains of the cooked fowl, which we killed belonging to the Maories at Canvas Town, in consequence of Mr. Jervis having no meat. Here he planted the satchel and gold bags. We then journeyed on. When we came within a mile of the first accommodation house of Nelson, I heard someone speaking, when Kelly said, is that you, Dick, when I said yes. I remarked, how is it you did not reach Nelson. He said, I got too tired and could go no further, so Phil and I drew in off the road and covered ourselves in the bedding. Going along, Kelly asked me if I put these people up. I said yes, but did not tell him I had murdered them. He said, I did not like to be seen on the road, so I waited till it came dark and I was going to start. He said, how much did you get from them. I said about £300. He remarked, I would not have had it happen for as many thousands. He said, they will reach town to-morrow. It was arranged between me and Sullivan before we came unexpectedly on these men, meaning Kelly and Levy, that when we reached town, I must take charge of Levy. In case these people should be missed, we can tell Tommy we put these people up. There is no fear of him, besides we should be away as soon as possible. We must not let that Jew know anything. Do you know, Dick. I don't like him, so we must mislead him, and tell him we put a fellow up and got some gold. Accordingly we did so. Levy never knew till he was arrested, that the men had been murdered. Coming to town, a man came out of the Accommodation House, distant from Nelson about four miles, with a light in his hand, because the dogs had given the alarm of our coming. We hid ourselves and he returned to the house. When we were passing the woman looked out, but without a candle in her hand. She called a little dog, and we passed by, but she could not tell if two or four men passed, but there were four. We reached town, and separated. I told them to meet me at the port in the morning. I asked Levy to take me to some retired place. He said, I am at a loss where to take you; I am almost as great a stranger as yourself. At all events, we went to the Italian's oyster saloon, kept by Leonard. Levy asked him, by way of introduction, how far it was to Collingwood. He then asked him about some acquaintance of his, and finally asked him if he could accommodate us with lodging, which was accorded after a little more conversation. In the morning I met Sullivan at the place appointed. I said, we will sell the gold. Come on one side, and we will alter the amount in the bags. I took one bag, and Sullivan the other. I took mine to the Bank N.S.W., Trafalgar-street. I had on a dark reversible coat and plush hat. He went, I believe, to the Union Bank with his. We met, me and Sullivan. He produced a bank receipt for the amount of his gold, which came to £100 and odd. He said they asked him where the gold came from? He said from the Grey. He sold it under the assumed name of Clarence Evereste. I produced a bank receipt for the amount of gold I sold, which came to £70 odd. They asked me no name, but where the gold came from. We met, me and Sullivan, and divided the money. He said, there is some more gold I kept back to sell with the large nuggets we got off the persons of these men. I will go and sell them by and by with gold mixed. I said, all right; I'll go and change myself with that. I had a bath and altered the shape of my whiskers, which were at this time full all round the face. I got them split at the chin. I then cleaned myself, and we all met at the lower end of Bridge-street. I told them when I sold the gold it was the easiest place to be done I ever saw. [It is understood the Bank of New South Wales.] I said, when the Airedale comes in we will go to Taranaki and stay there a month, and then come back and do this, instead of the' one at Picton. I gave Kelly £20. He said, I don't want any yet. To Levy I gave £10, but not in the presence of the others. In the afternoon Sullivan came to me by appointment opposite the church in Trafalgar-street. He gave me about £20 as my portion of the remainder of the gold. He said they kept him a long time in consequence of the assayer being absent, and he valued the gold at 73s. per ounce. The other I sold by itself. He said, I have got too many sovereigns. I want two or three large notes. I want to send that woman of mine something, meaning an abandoned woman that came over in the ship with him and with whom he was having illicit commerce at Hokitika. I said I will go and get some large notes and see if they will recognise me or not. I returned, they don't know me. Know you, he said, your mother would not know you. We used to meet, as he said, of an evening, because I never left Levy ten minutes together at the time we were in town. During these meetings Kelly said to me, there is nothing about that bit of work. I said oh, they are keeping it quiet. I silenced Levy the same if ever he alluded to the fellows I put up. Things continued at this till the Monday morning when Sullivan walked into the oyster saloon and beckoned me out, I followed him out. There was Kelly on the other side of the street. He motioned me over. We went as far as Edwards' store. He said he was in Dupuis' the barbers getting shampooed, when he heard the Seargent telling the barber about these men being missed. He said, what did you do with them Dick. Sullivan said, what odds, let them find them, who knows it was us, there was nobody else on the road. I returned to my lodgings and had breakfast. I kept Levy in the house till dinner time. I then took him out into the suburbs and he sat down on the grass till nearly dusk. I saw Sullivan again in the evening, in the absence of the others. He said, it's all right; Owen has quashed, it altogether. He suspects three Italians; so he sent a telegram to intercept them. They are supposed to have gone in the Kennedy. That night, just before going to bed, Levy says, will you take a glass of porter, master, before you go to bed? He did not return. I went to bed and fell asleep, waiting for him. I never missed him till the morning. I cleaned myself and went down town, there I saw Sullivan, he was the first who told me about Levy being apprehended. He said, Owens described him as a dark-looking ruffian, I said, where is Tommy, meaning Kelly. He said, he is gone with Potter for a ride. He said I am going too, there is a horse left for me in the stable. I left him. I saw him soon after on the Waimea-road riding a cream colored pony. He said you might as well come for a ride. I said I want to see Tommy, for I think we had better go, you don't know what might happen. With this he went and got a horse, and went as far as the Plough Inn and remained there some time to kill the day. On the road thither we stopped at a turnpike gate when I threw down a shilling for the toll of the horses. The woman picked it up off the ground, and asked us in presence of a young man who I took to be her son, if there was any news about these unfortunate men. We said one man was arrested, being a suspected party. Further on the road I alighted at the first inn, on the right-hand side. Up to this I rode the cream colored pony, Sullivan the bay horse hired for me. I asked for two glasses of ale, and it was brought by the landlord. The landlady came to the door and said, any news about these men? when Sullivan said, it is all moonshine; they may have gone westward, to the Buller and elsewhere. The landlady said, it was very wrong of them, if such was the case, and they ought to be severely punished for upsetting the public mind. We started from the Plough, when Mr. Potter came by in his gig, driving his wife and child, and Kelly with them. I rode my horse ahead, because Sullivan stopped with them. I returned the horse, and asked what was to pay the hiring. The livery stable-keeper said 12s. 6d. I said, the horse has only been as far as the Plough, and there he has been baited. He said, well, give me half a guinea. He said, you are not the gentleman who hired the horse. I said no, it was Mr. Symms. I said, we want two horses to-morrow. He said, I will let you have two fresh ones. Sullivan came with Kelly to the Collingwood Bridge. I told him since Phil, meaning Levy, was taken, it would not do for me to return to my lodgings. Kelly said, well I shall stop where I am. I shook hands with him, and told Sullivan to come with me, and see if there was any suspicion on me where I lodged. I left. Sullivan came after me at a great distance. I felt piqued that he did not come quicker. I reached the oyster saloon, and not far away I saw a constable in disguise pretending to light his pipe. The constable is Mr. Murphy. I knew his mission. I was aware who he was. Suilivan came by. I allowed him to pass. He crossed the road and went on. I could see I was surrounded. Murphy stopped Sullivan and asked him to go to the oyster saloon, and fetch one of the Italians to see if I was the man that lodged there. This Sullivan told me the next day in the watch-house. Sullivan left pretending to go with the message. He went down the street, instead of coming over to me and telling me. Shortly after I was arrested not far from the station. I had no arms with me or you would not have been put in possession of the foul and bloody way he effected these murders. Sullivan says in his statement, I removed my arms from the Italian's the night Levy was taken. I planted them the first night I came in town. They are to be found where 10 cottages are newly erected. At the end of the last one there is a gorze bush. There is an opening in the bush about 12 feet from the cottage fence. They consist of a double-barrelled gun, one revolver, one pound canister of powder rolled in an oilcloth. [These arms were immediately found by the police.] When we were all in the watch-house they removed Levy, when Sullivan said, I was not far wrong about that bloody Jew. I said I am surprised at you not knowing better, it is only a ruse on the part of the police to create a misunderstanding among us. Another thing, if he does suspect we killed the men, he will put his foot in it if he opens his mouth. The day after we were in the watchhouse the bill reporting Mr. Dobson's murder was put up on the door. I read it aloud. I was cognizant of the murder of Mr. Dobson. Two days after, the man Stone arrived, he was put in the cell with Levy. He told him it was reported in the papers that me and Kelly and Sullivan were supposed to have murdered him which act was borne out by Constable Brien, who said there was a warrant issued for our arrest. Sullivan said, I blame the man Wilson for it. The night Levy was removed the bill was torn down and another put in its place, when we got up in the morning, I said, what have we here. Here is a rum affair, for you could not speak without constables hearing, so I made little of it. I read it. I remarked to Sullivan, now what do you think of the jew. Shortly after he said he would write his wife. He was let out for that purpose, when he made that guilty and bloody statement. I have now finished this awful version. Let me again repeat my motive in making it; it is that a red handed and bloody murderer, my compeer in these bloody deeds, shall not abuse the public mind by sacrificing the innocent lives of others, for what he has done, by giving evidence to his guilty statements. Justice is outraged, innocent blood is spilt, and the clemency of the crown is abused. Mark the victims he is about to sacrifice, who, by my just and offended God is innocent of these men's blood, and had I been persuaded by Kelly the men would have been alive this day. Levy was a man we brought with us for another thing, and by my eternal damnation hereafter, if Levy does know anything about it. He was the cause of their being murdered, but it was the innocent cause, for after it was done, he was not made a confident of. Chamberlain at Hokitika, he is innocent. Wilson for the murder of Dobson, when ever was greater villany enacted from one person towards another, than to charge him with complicity in the deed. I trust before the coming trial, if the Government will but shew itself to see the innocent righted. I shall be able to prove by competent witnesses that Wilson is innocent of what he is charged. Why has he made these innocent people his victims? It is because there is undeniable proof of his own guilt. There is his shirt fouled with blood on the road, the gun which the Government may be able to trace to him, and the bankers where he sold the ill-gotten gold, all which he knew would come against him. I was nearly forgetting to report the innocence of Mr. Carr, the constable. I bore him (Carr) enmity once, but I forgive. And what is my reward for all this that I have told you? Oh God! assist me in this my hour of need; for I have incurred the everlasting curses by thus unfolding my guilty conscience to my fellow-men; but what care I what they may say or do to me if I can attain God's blessed forgiveness of these my bloody crimes. All you who acknowledge God as your Father in heaven, pray to His Son on my behalf.
Amen.
Richard Burgess.
This morning the prisoners were brought up, and the clerk of the Court read Burgess's statement to him. It was then signed by Burgess. The prisoners were committed for trial at the Supreme Court, to be held about the 12th September, charged with the murder of James Battle.
We are indebted to the courtesy of Mr. Sharpe, for the above copy of Burgess's confession.^[1]

Sources

1. ↑ The Nelson Evening Mail. FRIDAY, AUGUST 10, 1866. CONFESSION OF BURGESS.