dustyvarmint
01-21-2014, 10:23 AM
I found this account of police taking down an armored villain/folk hero in 1880 Australia very interesting. It was grabbed from this Wikipedia link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ned_Kelly. I did search PF.com, first, before posting and didn't find anything, but my search-fu is weak.
"All that night I did little. I was waiting for Ned, principally. I wanted to make sure of him; and I had a kind of inspiration that I should see him before it was all over. "Now, as I told you, I knew about the armour that the outlaws were wearing that night -for the first and last time, and I knew that a bullet would have to be most correctly aimed to disable one of them. Anyone who has shot in the dark knows how difficult it is to pick ap the sights of a rifle, even with something light in front of the object aimed at. It might have been possible to have hit one of the outlaws in the head through the slot in the headpiece that they used to see through, but it would have been mighty uncertain at night with the man moving.
"I had thought all this over before, many a time. I one day remembered haying read the story of how a notorious American outlaw, who for a long time had appeared to lead a charmed life, but eventually been shot dead by the brother of a man he had murdered, and who had used, not a rifle, but a double-barrelled gun, double loaded with buckshot Also, I remembered reading somewhere that it was the practice to use shotguns and buckshot against train robbers in the States. "Buckshot is not known here. But the big leaden pellets known as "swan drops" are. And I laid in a stock of these. Oh the night of the battle, as I lay waiting for an opportunity to do something useful, that old gun that I have just put away – it was new then was lying by my side, well charged with the little bullets.
"It was dawn when a fresh outbreak of firing, accompanied by cries and shouts, announced some new development in the proceedings, the firing having for some time slackened down. Looking towards the house, I saw in the dim grey, light a spectral sort of figure that looked human, as to its clothes, but altogether inhuman as to its shape and general appearance. It came forward slowly, peppered by all who saw it, and firing back from what appeared to be a big revolver, held tightly against the breast. Regarding not at all the heavy fire that was directed towards it from all quarters, the strange figure, enveloped in a huge overcoat, strode slowly on. I had already recognised the unaccustomed sound of metallic impact of bullets upon iron, and whilst the men in front of me were yelling, 'Look out! It's the devil'. 'You can't kill it!' and things like that, I realised that at last my chance was coming. Because the big, weird figure was coming straight for me!"
"'Was it fate!' I wondered. 'Was this Ned, come to settle the affair of our vendetta in person?' I will not deny that I got a bit excited, or that I felt a creepy feeling about the roots of my hair. It was a cold morning, and I was chilled with the long night of it, I know I shivered when I saw that ghostly apparition stand behind the lower part of a fallen tree, and quietly proceed to take pot shots at two or three of us with the queer-looking weapon that it carried. Once this weapon ran empty, and the spectre calmly reloaded it from the bag that was over its shoulders. Then it started to shoot again. I fired at the headpiece with my revolver, but the mark was small, and my hand was not quite steady, and I do not know if I hit the thing at all – certainly I did not hit the slit in the top of it that I aimed at But the man in the headpiece took no notice except to take steady aim at me and fire again. I felt the breath of the bullet. I tried another pistol shot, but just aimed at the main bulk of the figure. I heard the ball strike the iron armour, and that was all. There were three or four shooting at the apparition, but with no effect at all, though it was close to us."
"Then, in the gathering daylight, I saw my chance. The tree trunk behind which Ned Kelly was standing. I was now certain that I had to do with that redoubtable chieftain himself rose in a sloping fashion from the ground, and at its upper extremity left an open space beneath of about 2ft. In the growing light of the dawn I noticed, beneath the tree trank, the outlaw's legs. They were plainly visible, and unprotected by armour. "I win, Ned" was the fierce thought that surged through me as I raised the shot-gun, lying over on my left side to do it. "It was as though I had spoken aloud. For at that instant I heard the outlaw make an exclamation inside his great clumsy helmet, and when I put my fingers on the triggers of the gun he was taking a very careful aim at me." 'Would he disable me before I could fire?" This was the one thought I had. It all passed like lightning. Instinctively I rolled over a little – just as he fired and missed. Then, half raising myself, I fired the right barrel of my gun point blank under the log – straight at his legs. I heard him give an exclamation as though of pain, and waited a second to see if be would fall, But he stood firm, and leaning against the log for support, prepared to take aim again. "I fired the left barrel as quickly as I knew how, and prepared to dodge behind the tree on my left, and fight the matter out with my revolver. But there was no need. No sooner had the smoke of the gun cleared away than I saw the outlaw's pistol hand drop. He staggered, and then, with a cry of "I'm done for!" that sounded strange and hollow in the cylindrical iron helmet, fell with a crash behind the stump. "Three or four rushed to him. I was the first to reach him, and to lift the helmet off. "So, I've got you at last, Ned" as his eyes met mine. "Yes; you've done for me" he moaned. "Don't let them hurt me!"
happy shooting,
"All that night I did little. I was waiting for Ned, principally. I wanted to make sure of him; and I had a kind of inspiration that I should see him before it was all over. "Now, as I told you, I knew about the armour that the outlaws were wearing that night -for the first and last time, and I knew that a bullet would have to be most correctly aimed to disable one of them. Anyone who has shot in the dark knows how difficult it is to pick ap the sights of a rifle, even with something light in front of the object aimed at. It might have been possible to have hit one of the outlaws in the head through the slot in the headpiece that they used to see through, but it would have been mighty uncertain at night with the man moving.
"I had thought all this over before, many a time. I one day remembered haying read the story of how a notorious American outlaw, who for a long time had appeared to lead a charmed life, but eventually been shot dead by the brother of a man he had murdered, and who had used, not a rifle, but a double-barrelled gun, double loaded with buckshot Also, I remembered reading somewhere that it was the practice to use shotguns and buckshot against train robbers in the States. "Buckshot is not known here. But the big leaden pellets known as "swan drops" are. And I laid in a stock of these. Oh the night of the battle, as I lay waiting for an opportunity to do something useful, that old gun that I have just put away – it was new then was lying by my side, well charged with the little bullets.
"It was dawn when a fresh outbreak of firing, accompanied by cries and shouts, announced some new development in the proceedings, the firing having for some time slackened down. Looking towards the house, I saw in the dim grey, light a spectral sort of figure that looked human, as to its clothes, but altogether inhuman as to its shape and general appearance. It came forward slowly, peppered by all who saw it, and firing back from what appeared to be a big revolver, held tightly against the breast. Regarding not at all the heavy fire that was directed towards it from all quarters, the strange figure, enveloped in a huge overcoat, strode slowly on. I had already recognised the unaccustomed sound of metallic impact of bullets upon iron, and whilst the men in front of me were yelling, 'Look out! It's the devil'. 'You can't kill it!' and things like that, I realised that at last my chance was coming. Because the big, weird figure was coming straight for me!"
"'Was it fate!' I wondered. 'Was this Ned, come to settle the affair of our vendetta in person?' I will not deny that I got a bit excited, or that I felt a creepy feeling about the roots of my hair. It was a cold morning, and I was chilled with the long night of it, I know I shivered when I saw that ghostly apparition stand behind the lower part of a fallen tree, and quietly proceed to take pot shots at two or three of us with the queer-looking weapon that it carried. Once this weapon ran empty, and the spectre calmly reloaded it from the bag that was over its shoulders. Then it started to shoot again. I fired at the headpiece with my revolver, but the mark was small, and my hand was not quite steady, and I do not know if I hit the thing at all – certainly I did not hit the slit in the top of it that I aimed at But the man in the headpiece took no notice except to take steady aim at me and fire again. I felt the breath of the bullet. I tried another pistol shot, but just aimed at the main bulk of the figure. I heard the ball strike the iron armour, and that was all. There were three or four shooting at the apparition, but with no effect at all, though it was close to us."
"Then, in the gathering daylight, I saw my chance. The tree trunk behind which Ned Kelly was standing. I was now certain that I had to do with that redoubtable chieftain himself rose in a sloping fashion from the ground, and at its upper extremity left an open space beneath of about 2ft. In the growing light of the dawn I noticed, beneath the tree trank, the outlaw's legs. They were plainly visible, and unprotected by armour. "I win, Ned" was the fierce thought that surged through me as I raised the shot-gun, lying over on my left side to do it. "It was as though I had spoken aloud. For at that instant I heard the outlaw make an exclamation inside his great clumsy helmet, and when I put my fingers on the triggers of the gun he was taking a very careful aim at me." 'Would he disable me before I could fire?" This was the one thought I had. It all passed like lightning. Instinctively I rolled over a little – just as he fired and missed. Then, half raising myself, I fired the right barrel of my gun point blank under the log – straight at his legs. I heard him give an exclamation as though of pain, and waited a second to see if be would fall, But he stood firm, and leaning against the log for support, prepared to take aim again. "I fired the left barrel as quickly as I knew how, and prepared to dodge behind the tree on my left, and fight the matter out with my revolver. But there was no need. No sooner had the smoke of the gun cleared away than I saw the outlaw's pistol hand drop. He staggered, and then, with a cry of "I'm done for!" that sounded strange and hollow in the cylindrical iron helmet, fell with a crash behind the stump. "Three or four rushed to him. I was the first to reach him, and to lift the helmet off. "So, I've got you at last, Ned" as his eyes met mine. "Yes; you've done for me" he moaned. "Don't let them hurt me!"
happy shooting,