On 27 September 1803, John Lynch and James Tracey were hanged at Castle Hill for a violent robbery at the Hawkesbury home of Samuel and Elizabeth Phelps. Five men had entered the house on the evening of 24 July, knocked Samuel down and bound both husband and wife before stealing money, watches, clothing and other property. Before leaving, they stripped two gold rings from Elizabeth’s fingers.
The following morning, Lynch gave a labourer a bundle of stolen papers to hold, warning him not to show anyone. When he delayed returning them, he was offered silver teaspoons and then a watch. He accepted the items but kept the papers, eventually informing the authorities and producing evidence that linked Lynch to the robbery.
Both men were convicted and sentenced to death. At the Castle Hill gallows in Sydney, Lynch admitted his guilt and urged the spectators to take warning from his fate. Tracey continued to deny involvement and interrupted Lynch’s final address before the two were hanged.
Vintage pocket watch, fountain pen and spoons on a table
Joseph Samuel was condemned to hang in 1803 for a robbery tied to the murder of Constable Luker in Sydney. On the scaffold, the rope snapped clean in the middle the instant the cart was drawn away, dropping him unconscious to the ground.
Officials dragged his limp body back onto the cart and fitted a second rope, only for it to unravel entirely, lowering him so slowly that his legs trailed on the ground while he half hung there. The assembled crowd was horrified by the spectacle as a third rope was rigged and this one snapped again, close against his neck, as the body was lowered.
With the crowd unnerved and three ropes failed in a row, Governor King, took the repeated failures as a sign of divine intervention and granted Samuel a reprieve. His sentence was commuted to life imprisonment, and he was nursed back to health and eventually to sanity.
After his reprieve, Samuel remained a convict. In April 1806, he made an escape attempt from Newcastle with seven other convicts in a small boat. All were presumed drowned in a storm, less than three years after he had survived three attempts to hang him.
Joseph Samuels hanging attempt rope snaps three times in 1803 Sydney
John Hughes told the jurors who convicted him that they were “shopkeepers tired of waiting, and anxious to get home for their dinner”. They had taken ten minutes. Days later he was hanged behind Melbourne Gaol for the murder of Abraham Marcus, a traveller whose only mistake was chasing the men who stole his best horse.
In December 1852 Marcus was bound for the Ovens goldfields with his wife and nine-year-old son when their dray broke down at Yackandandah Creek. Four horsemen stopped, accepted a meal and even helped with the repairs. Hughes turned down four pounds for his tired horse and saddle, remarking that he would not go much further before he had another. When the riders had gone, so had the best of the Marcus horses, with the worn-out mount left in its place.
Marcus rode after them and seized the bridle. The gang kept him talking until a passing bullock dray was out of sight, then drew pistols, marched him into the bush and tied him to a tree, where he was later found dead. His whole party recognised the rope: it had hung around the neck of the horse Hughes rode. That same evening, by his own later account, the gang robbed a young Sydney man named Stone on his way home from the diggings; he broke free, was run down and killed, and his body was sunk in a creek, weighted with stones and a saddle.
A reward of 200 pounds was offered, but it was 1854 before the widow picked Hughes out of a line of 21 identically dressed prisoners in the yard of Darlinghurst Gaol. He made a long confession naming three accomplices, then asked to be sent to Melbourne quickly, since enough had been proved to hang him. At trial he called the jurors “new chums”, to laughter from the gallery. The judge replied that an innocent man would never have dared to browbeat a jury so, and that the clear evidence of the dead man’s young son had settled the matter.
From the dock Hughes withdrew his confession as false and swore the men he had named were innocent too: “I now say, and will on the day of my death, that I am an innocent man.” He went to the scaffold pale but composed, and made no further revelations.
Robert Francis Burns walked out of a Melbourne courtroom in August 1882 an acquitted man, and was arrested for a different murder before he had left the building. The first charge concerned a fellow railway navvy, last seen heading off with Burns and a gallon of whiskey. A headless body was found in the bush, but the Crown could not prove whose it was.
The second charge held. Michael Quinlivan, “a quiet saving man”, had been great mates with Burns, the only two Irishmen in their work gang. In June 1880 he withdrew 15 pounds from the bank, left a roadside hotel with Burns and was never seen alive again. Weeks later his body was found in a sheep paddock with a fractured skull.
The first jury could not agree after more than six hours; the second convicted in 45 minutes. On the gallows at Ararat Gaol, before about 30 spectators, the hangman was visibly nervous, and Burns plunged into eternity without any final words. Instead, he left a written statement thanking his gaolers, his lawyers and his priest, and admitting nothing.
Afterwards the hangman swore that as he pinioned the prisoner, Burns murmured: “I have cooked eight, five in Victoria and three in Sydney, and now you are going to cook me.”
Robert Francis Burns Mugshot: VPRS 515/P0000, Central Register for Male Prisoners 19384 – 19880
