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HELL HORRORS.
NOR'-WEST WANTONNESS
HOW FRED. KIDMAN DIED.
A few weeks ago a telegram appeared in
the dailies announcing the death, by drown-
ing, of Mr. F. S. Kidman, but giving no
particulars of the sad fatality. The respect
in which the deceased was held and his
position as a battler for the advancement of
the West, as well as on account of the
numerous friends of his relatives and the re-
latives themselves, induces us to publish an
account of thc accident as furnished to us
by one who was present at the time, aud,
indeed, was an actor in the scene. We pub-
lish the narrative just as it was sent to us,
because it bears the stamp of truth upon its
unvarnished surface ; and it serves the fur-
ther purpose of revealing to the happy
people of Perth and the settled portions of
the State the horrors yet prevailing in the
wild Nor'-West, and the shameless sin and
revolting vices that flourish under the very
eyes of the authorities, of which Prinsep
can no longer pretend to be ignorant :—
Tlie Story.
"March 11, 1904. Allow me a small
space," he writes, "to show the hardships
and snags a traveller meets in this well-
known 'Black Nor'-West.' I left Broome
with my swag to catch the shearing and
droving season on the Fitzroy River. I ar-
rived at the river, which was a banker, and
was compelled to walk up the flood banks
till I came to a station called 'Myroodah,'
where I made the acquaintance of a man by
the name of Mr. F. S. Kidman. He gave
me an invitation tu go and stay at his camp
(situated eight miles along the station, on
the river) till the river went down or till
they started to shear. I arrived at the
station on the 25th and on the 26th
I started with Mr. Kidman for his
camp. When we got within a quarter of a
mile of his camp we came to a billabong.
There was nothing for it but to swim. It
was about one hundred yards across and
running very strong. I fastened my tucker
on my head and started to swim for a place
where Kidman said I could bottom it. He
called out "Try it," but I disappeared and
when I came to the surface I had to strike
out and get up a tree where I left my wet
load and went on with just my singlet and
trousers. I started back and got half way
when I heard Kidman talking to his mate
who had arrived on the opposite bank.
When I swam out I said to Kidman 'It
is running very strong' and I advised him
not to tackle it. He said : 'Now I am here
I will try it ; but you take the lead.' I
started, and got three parts across. Kid-
man said 'Stay there, till I get over to
you.' He started, but could only get half
way to me when he
Got Into a Tree
I said, 'Fred, old man, you had better go
back.' 'No, I will face it now,' he re-
plied. He started, but when he got within
ten yards of me he called for help. I went
to his assistance and he put his hands on
my shoulders. I had taken about three
strokes when I felt him slip down my back,
till he caught my swag. He hung to it till
I was within a few yards of a tree and away
he went, and with him the swag. I looked
around but could see no sign of him. I
caught hold of a bush and waited and
watched, but he never came to the surface
again. I lost my swag and boots and re-
turned to the station with merely the soles
of a pair of boots laced to my feet. I re-
ported the occurrence to the manager, Mr.
Watson, who said, 'It matters very little
what becomes of him now he is dead.' I
started to search for his body on the first of
the month, and again on the second. I went
and got Kidman's mate and brought him into
the station, when he handed in a written
statement. I told Watson I was tired and
footsore, and asked him to send some blacks
out to look for Kidman. On Wednesday,
the 3rd, he sent them, and they found Kid-
man's body the last thing in the evening.
When they came up and told me I went to the
manager to see about some stuff wherewith
to make a coffin. He said, 'I have nothing
I can give you.' I asked him for the loan
of a cart to shift him out of flood-level. He
replied : 'Dig a hole on the bank of the
billabong. I can't lend you any cart. I will
lend you a horse to ride up.' But it was a
colt, not a horse, that was lent me, and one
that had never had a saddle on him for 12
months. I am pleased to say he did not
buck, but I am sorry to say we had to bury
poor Kidman in ground that every flood
covers two or three feet
Over His Grave.
When I returned to the station I told
Watson he ought to send his report into the
police. He said: 'It has nothing to do
with me. You write into the police.' I
said 'You have my statement in writing,
and that is all I can do in the matter.' I
left Myroodah station, where that hard-
hearted mortal resides, ou Sunday the 6th,
and up to date (the 14th of March) there
has been no inquiry of any kind. Myroodah
station is the dirtiest I have ever seen. The
homestead itself is dirty. Although the
manager has a gin she has no children. The
Chinaman is an half-caste, he is the father
of one child. The man who works round the
homestead has two yellow youngsters—sleep-
ing on the floor at his bedside—and the boun-
dary rider has a gin who carries a revolver in
her belt to prevent the blacks from stealing
her. Unless you can speak the language of
the blacks they have no use for you at Myroo-
dah station. Watson could not send a black
boy to tell the police of Kidman's death.
However, since he started shearing he hap-
pened to run short of tobacco, and then he
could manage to send a black boy forty miles
down to Lower Liveringer for tw'o pounds
for the use of the shearers. If there should
happen to be a travelling manager I would
advise him to have a trip after shearing and
gather up the loose wool lying about the
shed, for I saw over one hundred pounds
worth blowing about the
Pens and Yards."
This story now being published on the tes-
timony and authority of an eye-witness, it
remains for the proper authorities to take
such steps as are obviously necessary to pro-
tect the natives and the whites alike from
the lusts of irresponsible adventurers who
are making the richest and fairest portions
of this great State a huge brothel wherein
the unfortunate and dusky victims are pro-
cured and kept by cruelties and crimes more
disgraceful than those that have horrified
the reading public in the records of Legree.
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