Bold Bill Day
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CHAPTER FIVE - WILLIAM DEDICOAT

aka WILLIAM DERECOURT alias WILLIAM JONES alias BILL DAY

Convict, Bushranger and Jack-of-all-Trades.

Great-great grandfather Dedicoat, or Derecourt, or any one of a dozen other spellings, was the father of Lily McLean's mother, Julia.  He was an extraordinary man and certainly the most colourful character in this history: gunsmith, boatman, convict, mailman, gold digger, blacksmith, locksmith, carpenter and coffin maker, bushranger and story-teller unparalleled.  He was a man who aroused much interest in his lifetime and after his death; he appears in various histories of bushranging, including Charles White’s "Early Australian History Part IV The Story of the Bushrangers", and in several books relating to Sofala and the diggings in the area, as well as being the object of various people's interest, from Tasmania to Harvard, and even the subject of an opera by Roger Smalley, who calls him Derrincourt.

In this chapter I will deal with the story of the detective work that went into proving that great-great grandfather Dedicoat was none other than William Derecourt, alias Bold Bill Day, the celebrated convict and bushranger, and then recount something of the story of his life as told by him, with such corrections and additions as other more reliable documentation would suggest.  The additional material uncovered since the chapter was first written (1985) will also be included.

Dedicoat has already told his own story in The Sydney Evening News under the title "Old Convict Days", and the name Derricourt, and this chapter draws on that material as well as on information from the Tasmanian Archives, the N.S.W. Archives and the Mitchell Library, certificates of births, deaths and marriages, the records of St Nicholas’s church, Kings Norton, and the City of Stafford, and a small scrap of family lore.  I am also indebted to Australian novelist, Christopher Koch, who has correlated Dedicoat’s memoirs with archival material for his time at Port Arthur, and to Garry Tipping who has researched the records at Sofala for details of Dedicoat’s time there.  I’m sure there is much more material available to other researchers.

Who is the fascinating larger-than-life character, this William Dedicoat (which, we have to accept, is the most appropriate form of his name), our great-great grandfather?  My aunt, Julia Blake née Butler, who was brought up by her grandmother, Dedicoat’s daughter Julia (McLean), believed in the later years of her life that he was Derecourt, the convict, bushranger and author.  In my earliest conversations with my aunt about our family history (around 1971) she gave no hint of this connection, and I believe she simply did not know, for, always one for a good story, she would have relished telling it otherwise.  However, she did come to the realisation later in her life, after she had heard an expert on bushrangers, John Bond, discussing William Derecourt on the A.B.C.’s "Mastermind" in the late Seventies.  The story must have sounded so like what Jule did know of her great grandfather Dedicoat that she put two and two together and came up with a theory she was never able to prove.  She contacted John Bond who sent her a copy of the 1975 facsimile edition Derecourt's memoirs.  She even travelled to Sofala, but could find nothing of significance for her search.

Jule lived for a number of years with Julia McLean née Dedicoat (that name is used here merely for convenience, for reasons that will become clear later in this chapter) and may have picked up bits and pieces about her grandmother’s life in Sofala, but nothing, it seems, that would indicate that the father had been a convict and a bushranger: after all it was not a thing to be proud of in those early years of this century.  Besides, as Thelma Lavender, who knew ‘Granma McLean’ and was a life-long friend of Jule’s, says "Gran was a secretive person who kept many things to herself".  It was "not until she was ill that Gran dropped a few hints to Jule.”  These hints were to bear fruit many years later in Jule's realisation of the true identity of Dedicoat.  Being away Sydney at that time and returning just before Jule died in 1982, I had no opportunity to hear her story, and was sceptical when I did.  Now we know the truth of the story, but that took a long time to arrive at by various members of the family.

My research, then, began with this suspicion, William Dedicoat's death certificate, and a vague family story that Julia Dedicoat had spent part of her childhood in a Catholic orphanage run by nuns, because her mother was incapable of looking after her and her father was away for long periods of time.  The truth of that now appears to be that for some years William was "confined at Cockatoo" (Island), as a result of a bushranging episode, in September 1859, and his wife Mary gave birth to her fifth child in the following November.  As the oldest girl, Mary Anne, was only six years old, no wonder their mother sought refuge for them in an orphanage.  I had, however, no proof that they were in an orphanage until several years after this original chapter was written in 1985.

I began with the purchase of birth, death and marriage certificates and a search for a copy of “Old Convict Days”.  My search was rewarded in the Public Library at Maroubra 17 July 1985, quite unexpectedly, just an off the cuff request.  I was so excited that I began reading it as I walked home, hoping to find the names of Dedicoat’s wife and children.  The book gave me no clues to the questions I had in my mind at that time, but had proved a valuable resourced in the meantime.  I eventually bought a copy of my own for $75 in 2003. a copy of my own.

The following is an account of my researches from June till the end of July 1985 into the identity of William Dedicoat, given as I recorded it, with some later additions in square brackets.

(I have used two versions of the name: Derecourt, this version having been adopted later in our man’s story; and Dedicoat this version being the original family name of our hero.)  The information concerning William Derecourt comes from his memoirs “Old Convict Days”.  The information concerning William Dedicoat comes from his death certificate and from microfiche records for N.S.W. births deaths and marriages.

NAME (William Derecourt)

While the book is published under the name Derrincourt, in the introduction by Louis Becke the following statement occurs: ". . .  the strange adventures of William Derricourt or Day. . . ", while in Chapter VII, the following statement occurs: "I, upon being asked my name replied ‘William Jones', dropping my proper name, William Derricourt."  Derrincourt is presumably an editorial error.

NAME (William Dedicoat)

In his death certificate the name William Dedicoat is used. That is definite enough.  However, on his daughter Julia's marriage certificate, her maiden name appears as Julia Derecourt (though on her death certificate her father's name is given as Dedicoat).  From microfiche records I have gathered that her sisters married under the name Derecourt (Matilda, a younger sister, in the same year as Julia, 1874, and Mary, an older sister, in 1879).

DATE AND PLACE OF BIRTH (William Derecourt)

5th June, 1819 at a house between the Maypole and Pack Horse Inns, in King's Norton, Worcestershire, England. [King's Norton is a suburb 1Okm S.W. of Birmingham].  There is frequent reference to Birmingham in the early chapters of the book.  He was one of four brothers and two sisters.

DATE AND PLACE OF BIRTH (William Dedicoat)

Approximately 1819 (from the death certificate: he died 1897 aged 78) in Birmingham, England.  His father was William Dedicoat, a tanner, and his mother Mary Humphries.

LENGTH OF TIME IN COLONIES (William Derecourt)

Transported to Van Diemen's Land in 1839.  Served four years as a prisoner.  Became an assigned prisoner in 1843.  Shipped to Adelaide in 1850, worked as a mailman on the Mt. Gambier run and in Victoria for a short time; travelled from Melbourne to Sydney some time in 1851.  From there he moved to Sofala where he lived on and off till his death, with a six year imprisonment for bushranging on Cockatoo Island.

LENGTH OF TIME IN COLONIES (William Dedicoat)

10 years in Tasmania (ie, 1839-1849) and 48 years in N.S.W. (ie,1849-1897).

MARRIAGE (William Derecourt)

A month after he arrived in Sydney, he returned from Sofala to marry the Irish serving girl he met on arrival at the Crispin Arms in Clarence Street. She was a Catholic and the priest at St. Mary's Cathedral would not give permission for the wedding, it being Lent.  Derecourt made enquiries of Dean Cowper, a Church of England parson.  He directed Derecourt to the "church on Church Hill" (St. Philip’s I presume) where he, now aged 32 and she, Catholic, unnamed  and aged "fifteen or sixteen", were married (1851).  (Was he married as William Jones?  [He married as Day])

MARRIAGE (William Dedicoat)

Sofala, N.S.W. aged 30, to Mary Ann Kirwin. (In the microfiche records there is record of a Mary Kirwin’s marriage to William Day 6 April 1852. There is no reference under Dedicoat or the several spellings of Derecourt.)

CHILDREN (William Derecourt)

There are several references in the book to "the two children" before 1859, and about 1866 a reference to a daughter living at Braidwood, N.S.W.   Soon after the marriage and the births of "the two children", Derecourt complains that "I found my wife had been induced to join (Mrs Wilson) in her cups," and later about "these drunken women" and "their increasing drunken fits."

CHILDREN (William Dedicoat)

From the death certificate it appears there were four children: Mary Anne (aged 43 in 1879), Julia (40), Matilda (39) and Richard (30). This would put their births at approximately 1854, 1857, 1858 and 1867.  In the microfiche records there is reference to a Mary Ann Day born 1853 but no sign of other children, (though there is a Betsy Day recorded for 1857 and a Richard for 1859 - these are unlikely to be relevant). [They are indeed relevant: Betsy is Elizabeth who died young; Richard is the last child]. On microfiche are to be found records of the marriage of the three girls: Matilda to James Cross in 1874, Julia to Malcolm McLean in 1874, and Mary Ann to John Seach (this name is sometimes spelt Seech) in 1879 - all under the name Derecourt.  Two grand-daughters of Julia, Olga Nisbet and Lil Taylor, have no knowledge of Matilda or Richard.  There is no record in the microfiche of Richard under the various Dedicoat/Derecourt spellings, though there is a Richard Day recorded as marrying a Bridget Ryan in 1892, and one as dying in 1892.  We believe that the children were in and out of a Catholic orphanage, because their father was away frequently (on Cockatoo Island?) and their mother either abandoned them or was incapable of looking after them.  Just how many children that was, I am not sure, though it was certainly Mary and Julia according to family lore and a photograph.  Richard's birth in 1867 may have been the result of a temporary truce between William and Mary after his return from Cockatoo Island - if this William were the convict.

BUSHRANGER (William Derecourt)

In June 1859, Derecourt was involved in a robbery on the western road up to Mt. Victoria.  As a result he spent the next several years on Cockatoo Island as a prisoner of Her Majesty.  He was released in 1865.

DEATH (William Derecourt)

From this time till his death at Bathurst in 1898 William Dedicoat, he seems to have led a peaceful existence. In the microfiche records there is no record of any William Day/Derrincourt's death.  This year of his death comes from The Sun newspaper's feature on "Bold Bill Day".  His book, "Old Convict Days", was written in the 1890s as a series of articles appearing in The Sydney Evening News.  It was edited by Louis Becke for publication in 1899 and reprinted in a facsimile edition in 1975.

DEATH (William Dedicoat)

20th April 1897, Hospital,Bathurst, William Dedicoat, miner, 78 years, Morbus Cordis.

Conclusions

1.  It is not surprising that there is some confusion over the man's name: from the book we can glean four names - Derrincourt (given on the title page of “Old Convict Days” as the author’s name), Derricourt (the man's own words, Chapter 7), Jones and Day (acknowledged aliases).  The evidence from the Dedicoat daughters' marriage certificates gives Derecourt - the same pronunciation as Derricourt.

2.  The year of birth coincides, and as for the place of birth, Derricourt mentions Birmingham often enough in his memoirs to tell us that he was familiar with the city mentioned on Dedicoat's death certificate as his place of birth.  Whoever gave the information for his death certificate was probably working from Dedicoat's own information.  [I found out soon after this that King's Norton was a village near Birmingham].

3.  The length of time in the colonies coincides for both men: approximately 10 years in Tasmania, approximately 48 years in N.S.W.

4.  The marriage information shows a strong coincidence, though it must be admitted that according to “Old Convict Days” Derricourt did not adopt the name Day till after his marriage (Part V Ch XV, p207).  However, there is only one Mary Kirwin on the microfiche records and she married a William Day in 1852.

5.  From the book and from family lore we know that there were at least two children, born in the 1850s according to the book and the death certificate.  No names are mentioned in the book.  The gap between Matilda’s birth (1858) and Richard's birth (1867) may be accounted for by Derricourt's stay on Cockatoo Island, if indeed Derricourt was Dedicoat.

6.  From the book and from family lore, we know that the mother was not capable of looking after the children.  If she was often drunk and the father was on Cockatoo Island for a period, the children would no doubt have had to be placed in an orphanage.

7.  The time of Derricourt and Dedicoat's death is fairly close.  The information about Derricourt’s death is questionable; but the lack of any Derricourt entry in the microfiche records and the presence of a Dedicoat, may indicate that Derricourt changed his name once again - after all, he has four names in the book.  Where Derrincourt comes from I don't know, but he admits to Derricourt, Day and Jones.  [“Derrincourt” seems to be an editorial error, because the text is clear in Chapter 7 that the man calls himself Derricourt.]

I would suggest that the coincidences are very strong indicators, though certainly not proof positive, that Derrincourt, Derricourt, Derecourt and Dedicoat, not to mention Day and Jones, were one and the same man.  (These conclusions were drawn 30th July 1985).

[In hindsight, there is no doubt, but in the early days of this research it was far from clear that we were dealing with the same man.]

For the next five weeks I continued working at the Mitchell Library and the N.S.W. Archives and produced the following conclusions.  I have added some further explanatory comments in square brackets to the conclusions of 7 September 1985.

Since framing the Derricourt/Dedicoat puzzle, and postulating some conclusions, 30th July 1985, I have done more research and have now more convincing proof that these gentlemen were indeed one and the same person.  Short of having in hand a document which actually states that William Derricourt, or even William Day, died under the name William Dedicoat, I believe I have enough evidence to suggest this conclusion.

The answer lies in information to be found on the children's birth and marriage certificates, and I have also found material relating to Day in the Mitchell Library and the N.S.W. State Archives.

Let me deal first with the problem of his names. We can dismiss Jones, though any information in the Tasmanian Archives will be under that name.  [Indeed it is, and I now have that material in hand].  We can dismiss Derrincourt which is the name given on the cover of "Old Convict Days" as edited by Louis Becke, even though in his Introduction Becke actually refers to Derricourt.  Where Derrincourt came from, I don't know.

What are we to make of Dedicoat?  For a long time I was confused by the apparent dissimilarity between Dedicoat and Derricourt, but on remembering that he came from Birmingham and recalling the accent of some Birmingham friends, I realised how close the two names would be in local pronunciation: there is little or no difference between the two.  In pronunciation “court” and “coat” are very similar, and as for “dedi” and “derri” there is only a slight change in the position of the tongue between R and D.  It takes little imagination to hear the two words Derricourt and Dedicoat as one and the same.  As for Derricourt and Derecourt there is virtually no aural distinction at all. (See conclusion No. 1).

My first significant breakthrough came when I visited the Mitchell Library and discovered some personal papers relating to Louis Becke who edited Derecourt's serial "Old Convict Times to Gold Digging Days" from The Evening News, for publication as a book.  Among the papers was a letter from the Deputy Principal Librarian of the Mitchell Library to a Dr. A. D. Osborn, Harvard College, Cambridge, Mass., U.S.A., 29th August 1940, concerning the identity of Derricourt or Day.  (I would like to know more about Dr. Osborne's interest).  The dates of the publication of the serial in The Sydney Evening News were given, as well as references to Day's trial for armed robbery of the Bathurst Mail, 24 June 1859.  I was then able to search for copies of The Sydney Evening News which I found in the Mitchell Library, as well as for the original depositions of witnesses given at Hartley 30 June-l July 1859 which I found in the N.S.W. State Archives, along with Judge J. Dickinson's personal notes for the trial held at Bathurst, 19 September 1859.  I also found, in the Mitchell Library, the newspaper reports of the robbery, and the finding of the mail bags (the police being led to them by Day's accomplice, Robert Wilson).  These accounts were found in The Bathurst Free Press and Mining Journal 29 June, 2 July and 24 September 1859.  My subsequent check through The Bathurst Free Press, Bathurst Times and Bathurst Post in the State Library of N.S.W., for April 1897, the time of Derecourt's death, revealed no information about his death.

The most important clue I picked up from all that reading as to the identity of Derecourt was that he was a "married man with four children" according to witness and sometime accomplice, Robert Wilson.  That accorded with William Dedicoat's death certificate.  When, however, I read The Bathurst Free Press account of the trial, 24 September 1859, I was surprised to note that "the prisoner said he had a wife and four children and his wife was again near her confinement".  That meant we were looking for five children, and on Dedicoat's death certificate only four were mentioned, with the note "none dead".  There was also the problem in my mind that on the death certificate, the youngest child, Richard's age was given as 30, indicating his birth year as 1869.

All I could do now was wait for the certificates ordered from the Registrar General's Office.  They in fact were waiting for me when I returned from a short holiday, and I could hardly contain myself.  All my proof that Dedicoat and Derecourt were the same man, even though I had much evidence to suggest they were, seemed to hang on what Richard's birth certificate revealed.

You can imagine my sheer excitement when the first envelope I opened contained Richard's birth certificate, and the revealing information that not only was he born in November 1859, that his father was William Day, 40 years of age, from England, "confine(d) at Cockatoo", his mother was Mary Kirwin, aged 24 from Dublin, Ireland, but also he had not three but four sisters: Mary Ann 6, Matilda 5, Julia 4 - as on Dedicoat's death certificate - and also Elizabeth 2 (the "Betsy" no doubt, from the microfiche records, whom, along with Richard, I had dismissed as "irrelevant", in my notes of 30th July 1985).

This to my mind was the most significant and striking proof that I was likely to get that Dedicoat and Derecourt were the same man: they both married Mary Kirwin and they both had children named Mary Ann, Matilda, Julia and Richard.

I have, however, written to Bathurst District Hospital, where Dedicoat died, to find any information that might be available there. [The reply from Bathurst District Hospital, 3 September 1985, stated (much to my disappointment): "our records do not include the years 1888 to 1897.”]

Let us now turn to the other certificates available.  I have birth certificates for Mary Ann, Matilda and Richard; there is a reference to a Betsy in the microfiche records which fits my requirements, but none to Julia - she still eludes me, though I feel sure there must be some record since each of the other children is registered.  [To this latest time of revision I have not found any record of her birth or christening].  I also have wedding certificates for Mary Anne, Matilda and Julia.

The information from the certificates is conflicting, but the following account seems a reasonable interpretation:

Mary Ann was born as Day, 10 April 1853; baptised Wesleyan, l May 1853; married as Derecourt, age not given, 4 February 1879 to John Seach, a labourer and widower of Sofala, at the Church of England Cathedral of All Saints, Bathurst, in the presence of William Allan and Selina Toms.

Matilda, in fact older than Julia in spite of the information on her father's death certificate (which would have her born in 1858), was born as Day, 4 August 1854; baptised Roman Catholic (her mother's religion, as from shipping records in State Archives), 3 September 1854; her father's occupation given as "digger", as distinct from "tinsmith", which is given in her sister's birth certificate (he must have had a dozen occupations from what can be gleaned from many sources); married at 18, as Derecourt, 2 March 1874, to James Cross, 26 bachelor and labourer, both of Sydney, at Elizabeth Street, Sydney, according to the rites of the Presbyterian Church, in the presence of Julia Derecourt and Peter Moss.

Julia seems to have been born, according to Richard's birth certificate and her own death certificate, in 1855.  Her father's death certificate would seem to be incorrect as to her age in 1897.  She was married as Derecourt, to Malcolm McLean, a bachelor and cordial manufacturer; both of Sydney, at Elizabeth Street, like her sister, according to the rites of the Presbyterian Church, in the presence of Isabella Bell and Daniel McLean.  On her death certificate her father's name is given as Dedicoat: further proof of William Derecourt/Day was William Dedicoat.

Elizabeth, according to Richard's birth certificate, was born in 1857.  I presume she is the Betsy of the microfiche records.  She was born 3 December 1857 at Ironbarks.  Previous issue given as "4 children" - which could be a mistake, as Day was notorious for his inaccuracy.  He probably included "Betsy" in the "previous issue".  That she was dead by 1864 is an assumption based on the fact that in her petition of 4 May 1864 for the remission of her husband’s sentence, Mary Day refers to having “four small children”.  Because only the names Mary Ann, Matilda, Julia and Richard appear on Dedicoat’s death certificate, it seems reasonable to assume that it is Betsy who has died.

Richard was born, 4th November 1859.

In the family, Mary Seach and her husband are known, and I have a picture of them.  None of the family I have been able to contact knows of the other children.  Yet we can presume from similarities on their wedding certificates that Matilda and Julia were close.  What happened to Richard and Elizabeth?  A search in the microfiche records may tell us more.  The obvious unreliability of ages and dates on Dedicoat's death certificate would suggest that whoever entered the information did not know him well.

While a marriage date could be a few years out, and the children's ages confused somewhat, it is hard to understand such a disparity concerning Richard's age: he would have been 38 at his father's death, not 30.  I assume that none of the family were around when William died.  I have found no record of Mary Day's death, under any of the names she may have used.  [It is very likely that after Dedicoat’s incarceration on Cockatoo Island the family dispersed.  Certainly four of the chidren were delivered by Mary Day to an orphanage.]

To revise, now, the conclusions of 30th July 1985:

1.  The name: as I have already suggested, he was born Derrincourt (Derecourt), lived as Jones and Day and died as Dedicoat.  I suggest Derricourt, Derecourt and Dedicoat, are three versions of the one name.  In fact in the I.G.I., there are many alternatives given: Derricott, Dedicot, Dericoat, Dyorycote, Dercourt, Derricut and so on.  That more or less clinches the argument about the name.  [In fact, he was born as Dedicoat.  This question will be discussed at the start of the narrative of Dedicoat’s story.]

2.  Year and place of birth: 1819 and Birmingham. I have recently discovered from looking at maps and from talking to my Birmingham friends, that King's Norton mentioned in "Old Convict Days' is a suburb of present-day Birmingham: ten kilometres southwest of the city.

3.  Length of time in the colonies coincides: 10 years in Tasmania, 48 years in N.S.W.

4.  From the marriage certificate, Derecourt married as Day.  There is only one Mary Kirwin in the microfiche records around that time, and William Dedicoat certainly married a Mary Kirwin.  On his death certificate his age at marriage is given as 30, which puts the marriage in 1849.  The actual date on the Day/Kirwin Certificate is given as 6th April 1852.

5.  The children of the marriage: all known details are given above.

6.  The orphanage period: my enquiries of both the "black" Josephite Sisters and the "brown" Josephites reveal that they had no orphanage in the Bathurst District at the time we are interested in.  Currently a Sister of Mercy is making further enquiries for me: they did open an orphanage at Bathurst, at the time when Mary Kirwin with five children would have needed help. [Since then I have enquired of the Good Samaritan Sisters and the Sisters of Charity, as well as of the Saint Mary's Cathedral archivist.  (The Archivist’s reply was long in coming - December 1989 - but provided the relevant information: see below.)]

7.  The time of death: Dedicoat's date of death is given as 20 April, 1897.  The date 1898 seems to be conjecture; where John Bond, the "Mastermind" man, got it from I do not know.  Microfiche records give William Dedicoat, but no Derecourt (in any spelling) or Day that fits.  [Various other sources say 1898, e.g. Shannon and White - no doubt Bond's source.  Some sources say he lived on into the next century.]

(7 September 1985)

Further research is filling in some of the gaps, but from the above there can be no serious doubt that William Dedicoat, my great-great grandfather, was in fact William Derecourt and Bold Bill Day as well as Vandemonian convict, William Jones.

So, what of the name to be used for this legendary figure?

All the evidence now suggests that he was born Dedicoat: the King’s Norton records are consistent.  It seems that he adopted the Derecourt or Derricourt spelling after he returned to Sofala from Cockatoo Island.  The two names Derricourt and Dedicoat are still used in the Midlands (England), though for two different families.  Whether the families were originally related or not is difficult to say without much more research.  Communications from Brian Dedicoat (a descendant of William’s brother Samuel) and Robin Derricourt give some attention to the matter, but it is inconclusive.  The name Derecourt may have links with the French name de Ricourt; and Dedicoat may simply be a corruption of that name, in much the same way that Thomas Hardy records that Derbyfield is a corruption of D’Urberville.  Dedicoat is the version of the name consistently used throughout the King’s Norton area even today.  (I visited Chris and and Dot Dedicoat in Reddich Road, King’s Norton in September 1988.  Chris is descended from Samuel Dedicoat, our William’s brother, but he knew nothing of this man’s story.  We visited the grave of Samuel Dedicoat at Wythal Church - the year of his death was unfortunately obscured by age.) So for the most part, Dedicoat is the most acceptable version of the name, though circumstances may occasionally dictate another use in this story.

Our hero begins his story (in “Old Convict Days”) by telling us he "was born on 5 June 1819 at a house between the Maypole and the Pack Horse Inns, in King's Norton, Worcestershire, England.  I was one of a family of four brothers and two sisters".  And immediately we run into trouble. Dedicoat is notorious for his inaccuracies: much of what occurs in his memoirs is wrong because of the tendency to exaggerate, his desire to cover his tracks or simply because of the forgetfulness caused by time.

The problem with his birth?  It is simply that in the I.G.I. there is a clear record of marriage between William Dedicoat and Mary Humphries (the names given as great-great grandfather Dedicoat's parents, on his death certificate) at St. Martin's, the Anglican parish church of Birmingham - as it still is today - 29 October 1821, in the presence of Richard and Sarah Humphries.  That would make our William two years of age when his parents married.  While Dedicoat's death certificate indicates 1819 as the year of his birth, I would suggest the year is wrong, though the day is right.  The year 1822 is corroborated by Derecourt's convict records in Tasmania: “born Redditch, aged 18” (ie, in1840, hence born in 1822).  The matter is further complicated by Derecourt's Cockatoo Island records in 1859: “age 35 years” (ie, born 1824) “from Staffordshire”.  But the Christening Records from St Nicholas’s Church, King’s Norton, indicate that William Dedicoat was christened there 26 October 1823, so his birth date could well have been 5 June, and the year 1822 or 1823.  For the purpose of this story, I am assuming 1822.

His father was William Dedicoat, occupation given variously as nailer (St Nicholas’s Church records) and tanner (our William’s death certificate), born (according to his age given in the 1841 Census) 1796.  His mother was Mary Humphries.  He was the oldest of six brothers and sisters.  His next sibling, Leonard, was born 12 November 1826 according to the Christening Records of St Nicholas’s Church, King’s Norton; and he died, aged eighteen, 23 June 1845.  In the 1841 Census his age was given as twelve - which would make him born in 1829.  Samuel was born in 1831, Matilda in 1832, Ann in 1834 and John in 1837.  These years are calculated from their ages at the 1841 Census, but given the inaccuracy of Leonard’s age in the several sources, these ages may not be accurate.

His father’s family had long been in the area: his father’s parents, Richard married Sarah James at St Nicholas’ Church 9 June 1787; and Richard was the youngest of six children of Samual [sic] Dedicoat and Ann Hands who were married at St Nicholas’ 29 November 1756.  That is as far back as this family has been traced to date, courtesy of Brian Dedicoat (Yankalilla, South Australia), a great great grandson of Samual and Ann’s third child Samuel.

He did not do well at school.  He tells us that “if I did not shine at my books, I certainly showed the same turn for mischief and adventure which distinguished my future life.”  He was later to be apprenticed to Toby Duffell, a gun-lock filer and publican in Darlaston some ten miles northwest of Birmingham.  Bullbaiting on Monday and cock-fighting on Tuesday were the order of the week, and Dedicoat took to both.  He soon ran away however and took instead to driving the towing horses then in use on the canals.  His adventures landed him in Stafford gaol for a month, tried as a runaway apprentice.  It was the first of many spells within prison walls.

Dedicoat’s book is full of fascinating encounters and stories, many of which are undoubtedly true or based in fact,  such as meeting a ballad-monger who drops down dead at his feet with cholera, and attending a wife-selling by public auction.

Back in Darlaston he is turned over with his indentures to Tom Butler, another gunsmith and publican.  Butler, according to the directories of the time, was a Darlaston gunsmith from 1834 to 1856, which helps to date Dedicoat’s apprenticeship to 1837 or 1838.  (It is a coincidence that Dedicoat’s granddaughter, Lily McLean, was to marry a Butler whose own paternal grandfather had been a gunsmith from Birmingham.)  With Tom Butler, things were much the same as they had been with Duffell: Mondays for bullbaiting, Tuesday for dog-fighting, "and the cocks had their outing on Wednesdays".  Unfortunately Dedicoat is soon on the run again: Butler's son is arrested for killing a lad in a boxing match, so Dedicoat, his second, heads south never to see Darlaston again for fifty years, when he returned to England in a chancery suit.  The kind lad stops to help a young girl of fifteen who is carrying her infant son and has been turned away from home by angry parents: William for all his toughness and even violence had a sensitive, not to say compassionate, side to his nature.  By his own admission “even in those early days I had a good heart and was ready to stand up for the weak and oppressed”, as he does again as an entrée to the Crispin Arms in Clarence Street Sydney where he was to meet his future wife.

Further adventures follow, and William tells us he stays away from strong drink because he has seen its evil influences in his former masters.  He runs into more trouble and is committed under a charge of false pretences - our ancestor is, of course, always innocent - charged, found guilty and sentenced to be flogged "at the cart's tail, from the Butter Bench (the watch house) to the end of the street".  His escape after only three lashes is the stuff of Shakespearean comedy.  He comes to the rescue of several people drowning, including "a student of Worcester College" who afterwards treated him very liberally.  He is then witness to a murder and is nearly shot himself.  Truly an English Huckleberry Finn, this one.

At this time Dedicoat turns home, but unfortunately for him he is apprehended for trying to sell a waistcoat only to find "to my horror that I was offering a stolen waistcoat to the constable of the place".  The witnesses, however, are convinced of his guilt.  William Savage, Thomas Croydon and Joseph Plimer take their oath before John Clare, Clerk, in the County of Stafford, 7 May 1839.  William Savage, labourer, who resides “in a cottage at Drayton in the Parish of Penkridge,” claims that “on Wednesday afternoon last I heard that my house had been robbed.  I went home and discovered that I had lost a Waistcoat, Two Handkerchiefs and other articles from the house.  This Waistcoat and Handkerchiefs now produced are mine.  There was tobacco in the Waistcoat pocket when it was stolen and there is some in it now.”  He signs with his mark.  Thomas Croydon, a farmer, resided about three hundred yards from the cottage that was robbed, and declared that “on Wednesday afternoon about two o’clock the prisoner came begging to my House and I ordered him from the premises.”  The Police Officer, Joseph Plimer, claimed to have seen “the prisoner in Wolverhampton offering this Waistcoat for sale.  I went to him and asked him where he had got it from; he replied from Bridgenorth, and that he gave seven shillings and sixpence for it.  I took him into custody.  This handkerchief I took from his neck.”

The times were violent: Derecourt lives in the midst of murder and chicanery, of false pretences and deceit.  No wonder he gave himself the name of William Jones when he was apprehended and removed to Stafford to await trial at the next Quarter Sessions.  He made no great effort to get off, considering that life would not be too bad in the colonies where "by patience, submission and industry I might one day become a respectable member of society, even a man of ample means".  Alas, great-great grandfather, though he made lots of money, was never quite respectable.

For his pains he was sentenced to "ten years' transportation beyond the seas", and was sent to the hulks at Woolwich, quarters being assigned to him aboard the “Justitia”.  The prisoners were scrubbed so that they looked like "boiled lobsters", had their hair clipped "as closely as scissors could go", and supplied with “magpie suits", one side black the other side yellow. Then the iron links went on, and Dedicoat became Number 5418.

He was seventeen and a big fellow, "bigger and stronger" than the others - even in his old age he still had a reputation for strength, being a prodigious walker and able to "break a stone with his naked fist".  He tells us his conduct was very good, and got into trouble only once, though on his Convict Record Sheet the Surgeon's comment on his conduct is "indifferent".  For all his later misconduct and even violence, reading between the lines of his memoirs suggests that Derecourt was basically a decent man.  Of course he paints a good portrait of himself, yet one is struck by his wish to "particularly mention" the Christian treatment of prisoners in England "compared to the misery and hardships they had to endure in the colonial depots".  His own account of the time before he left England suggests he was treated well: none of the horror stories much beloved of fiction and television in his account.  The story in Van Diemen's Land is different, however.

Dedicoat is an extraordinary mixture of toughness and sensitivity: it would be fascinating to know more of his early years and his family.  His parents were married in the Church of England; he calls himself "a sort of Protestant or in truth a Ranter", yet he puts himself down as a Roman Catholic when he is sent to Cockatoo Island; and he seems to have been buried in the Church of England Cemetery at Sofala.  He speaks well of the Church of England clergymen attending the men in the hulks at Woolwich.  And according to his own comments he is well looked after by his overseers, captains, doctors, and commanders, is given good treatment and extra food, and enabled to save a little money to help him out on the voyage from England.  I think he would have been a good friend but a bad enemy.

And so William Dedicoat, alias William Jones, says farewell to old England forever, more or less, as he sails out of Portsmouth on the "Asia" for Van Diemen’s Land, via Teneriffe, 17 April 1840, six weeks short of his eighteenth birthday.  His Convict Record Sheet gives the following information:

JONES, William (3rd), tried at Stafford Quarter Sessions, 2 July 1839, and sentenced for ten years for housebreaking (stated this offence).  Gaol report: not known (to be) disorderly.

Hulk report: good.  Surgeon's report: general conduct - indifferent.

Protestant.  Can read only.  Trade: boatman.

Height: 5ft 8 ins.  Age: 18.  Complexion: fresh.

Head: oval.  Hair: dark brown.  Whiskers: none.

Visage: oval.  Forehead: medium.  Eyebrows: dark brown.  Eyes: blue.  Nose, chin, mouth: medium.

Native place: Redditch, Worcestershire.

Remarks: M.A.E.L.I.E.V. [meaning unknown]  Glass and pipes on left arm.  Moon cross anchor tree and large scar on left hand.  Ring and stars on fingers. Tree, moon and stars on breast. [Subject to other readings].

The convict records are very detailed and very difficult to read from the photocopy.  Happily,Christopher Koch has studied these records and made a comparison of the recorded facts of Dedicoat’s behaviour in Van Diemen's land from his arrival per "Asia" 5th, 6 August 1840, till his release on Ticket of Leave 23 May 1848, with the version Dedicoat gives in "Old Convict Days".  Koch wrote to the editor of The Observer in Sydney, 18 August 1960, saying that he has studied Dedicoat’s convict records and crossed-checked them with Derecourt's memoirs.  His conclusion is that the convict record "corresponds closely to the book's account but there are intriguing departures", and he goes on to say that "the accuracy of the Conduct Records cannot be over-stated: offences, particularly if they are not there, did not happen".

The reader interested in exciting stories in the picaresque style of Tom Jones and Huckleberry Finn will thoroughly enjoy Dedicoat’s account of his days in Van Diemen's Land: he is very clever, skilful, easily outwitting his guards and his enemies.  He is, of course, caught regularly and beaten: that merely adds bravery to his other virtues and flavour to the whole story.  The convict records are much more sober.

A few episodes from the Conduct Record and the equivalent from "Old Convict Days" may prove interesting.  "Absconded from a road gang at Sandy Bay, 31 December 1840, sentenced to two months in chains, Newtown hulks" (from Conduct Record).  The sentence in "Old Convict Days" is twelve months.  Still on the Sandy Bay Road gang he stole a pair of braces, 5 January 1841, and had his existing sentence of hard labour in chains extended by six months.  This is not recorded in "Old Convict Days".

He gets thirty days' solitary confinement for absconding from the Newtown hulks, 18 January 1841.  In his book he gets two days' solitary.  The next day he absconds yet again and assaults an officer, and is recommended to spend the existing sentence of twelve months at Port Arthur.  In his book he says he was sentenced to two years at Port Arthur. 

One of the most exciting adventures in the book is his account of his escape from Saltwater River by boat, his subsequent capture and punishment of one hundred lashes.  However, it is not recorded in the Conduct Record.  So if we are to go by Koch’s dictum, it simply never happened.

The story of Dedicoat’s sojourn in Tasmania can be read in his “Old Convict Days” but the reader should be aware of the discrepancies that exist between this account and that to be found in the Convict Records.  A careful reading of both will provide a very satisfying and basically accurate account of Dedicoat’s life for these few years.  It is not surprising that the details differ so much: there is no reason why every moment should be engraved on his memory, and every reason why the official records would be more accurate.  And Dedicoat loves a good yarn.

So his fascinating but not always accurate memoirs go on till he receives his Ticket of Leave, 23 May 1848.

He moves immediately to Launceston and further adventures; and after a spell there, he sails from Tasmania to Port Adelaide where he becomes a mailman on the Mount Gambier mail run.  This is a wonderful period of battles, very willing lubras (he is nothing if not discreet), state funerals, murder, trials and bushfires.

His account of his escape from the bushfire is such a wonderful piece of imaginative recreation that it deserves to be quoted in full:

“On the third day, without a drop, I came to the first camping-place - a ti-tree scrub, with a few large trees here and there, and the long-looked-for hole or well, the first on the Port Phillip side.  With eager haste I made for the spot, and to my horror found it nearly filled up with sand, and not the slightest sign of water.

“Nothing daunted, I tethered my jaded horse, and taking off all unnecessary clothing, got into the hole, and with hands and boots began shovelling out the sand as quickly as possible, my poor horse whinnying and pawing the ground all the while.  Near the edge of the hole stood a large tree, a good portion of it withered and dead.  Being tired with my labour I halted for a space, and lay down, unable to eat a morsel, my mouth and throat being so parched.  After a time I tried hard to get some water, but all my efforts were in vain.  I could not find even the sign of dampness.  At night I had to knock off, and made a good fire.  The night was very dark.  I lay till about midnight, as far as I could judge, when I awoke from my state of half stupor, and looking back towards the track I had ridden over during that day I saw a glare over the scrub, and shortly after a great flame of fire shoot upwards to the sky.  I at once knew that the bush was on fire.  The flames rapidly approached my camping-ground.  Being entirely ignorant of the extent of the scrub by which I was surrounded, I became fearful of being burnt alive.  The mere idea of the dreadful danger in which I stood increased my sense of thirst tenfold.  I led my horse to the edge of the hole with the intention of killing him and skinning the carcass to cover myself over in the dried-up (or, rather, filled up) well with the hide.  I first bled him as he stood by the hole, saving as much of the blood as I could.  At length he fell, and I turned to skin him as quickly as possible, for I knew I would have not much time to spare before my dreaded foe would be upon me.

“Having finished the skinning, with the exception of the head, I went into the hole, drawing the hide over it.  I had knocked off one of the horse shoes with a piece of rock, and with it commenced tunnelling in the side and throwing the sand out with my hands, forcing myself under the bank.  By this time the flames, sweeping all before them, had reached the body of the horse, and from my place of shelter I could hear the flesh crackling and frizzling in the scorching heat, and I could see the melted oil and fat trickling down the side, and quickly flowing towards me, while I squeezed myself into as small a bulk as I could to escape from it.

“When I thought the strength of the fire was dying away, I heard a tremendous crash overhead, and guessed correctly that the half-dead tree near me had been burned through and had fallen across the hole, one flaming spike pinning the roasting carcass to the ground.  The stench of the roasted horseflesh, and of the oil and fat, now coming into the tunnel in a small stream, was almost suffocating and quite sickening.  I had to dam the latter back with sand scooped out of my tunnel with my hands and horseshoe.

“Frightened to move my hide-covering I remained there till, I think, broad daylight.  When the seething carcass emitted no further sounds, I ventured to look out, and raising one corner of the covering, I was nearly smothered with bucketfuls of hot ashes and charcoal, which had lodged on it from the burning tree, and which, dropping into the melted fat and oil mixed with sand, raised such an abominable smoke and smell that, had there been a roaring furnace before me, I must have faced it or been stifled or scalded to death in my den.  On emerging I found the grass around burnt to the roots and the hollow limbs of the trees belching forth smoke and flame.  In my haste to escape into the hole I had left my boots and pannikin on top and looking round all I could find of them was the iron tip and the scorched leather curled up over the toes.  So with the saddle; nothing remained but the gullet-plate, the bit and buckles.  My jacket and all rations were entirely consumed, as I had no room in the hole for them while at work; and as I had, in the bustle of leaving my mates, forgotten to bring with me a billycan, even had I found water, I had no means of fetching it.  I thought to myself 'was ever a man in a more miserable plight?'  Now came the question of how to protect my feet, as the smoking stumps of the burnt-down ti-tree smouldered all around, with scarcely room between them whereon to step.  Luckily I found the knife (a two-bladed one, horn handled) I had used in skinning where I had left it beside the carcass.  The horn part was curled up in rings, but the ironwork and blades safe.  I pulled up the portion of hide over the hole which was yet unburned, and from it cut strips for lacings, and with another portion formed a pair of rough sandals, lacing them to my feet and ankles, and thus shod I thought I might manage for a time, the only thing affecting me being in the tread or bend of the foot - stiff and hard.  I moistened my lips and mouth with a few drops of what still remained in the toe of one of my boots, loathsome as it was.  I then cut off a breadth of the skin, about three and a half feet long, scraped and cleaned it, intending to use it in replacing my sandals when worn out.  I then turned my attention to the roasted body of my poor four-footed companion, and found that part of the rump not immediately attacked by the flames was cooked to a turn.  I cut several pieces from it, and finding a nice, juicy bit, about a pound or more, I greedily devoured it, and truly enjoyed it, feeling very much refreshed.  The other I wrapped up in the skin, fastening it with the unused strips of lacing.  Looking now for the patch or track I had to pursue, I could find not the slightest trace of it, all being alike; while ahead, in the direction of my route, was one mass of roaring, hissing, spluttering flame.  At last I fancied I saw an opening in the forest.”

One adventure after another follows him to Geelong and to Melbourne in 1851 and finally to Sydney, where we take up his story again.

Even his journey to Sydney from Melbourne provides a lucky break.  He travels per "Favourite" (I wonder whether this is the barque of the same name built by Henry William Mortimer in about 1838; I have had no luck in tracing it) and meets a young man whose story gives him an entrée into the "Crispin Arms" and a meeting with his future wife.  He was "filled with surprise" at the sight of Sydney Harbour "particularly when I noticed many villas and seats dotting the shores, so much superior and entirely different from anything I had hitherto seen in Australia or Van Diemen"s Land".

Well, he spins the young man's mother an incredible tale which she accepts and the upshot is a touching reunion of mother and son, a splendid meal and love at first sight.  The story of Dedicoat’s wooing and marriage of Mary Kirwin is told in her chapter.  Suffice it to say here that he changes his name to Bill Day and marries the girl, a Catholic, at St. Philip's Anglican Church, Church Hill - the old one which stood opposite the front door of the present St. Patrick's Catholic church - 6 April 1852, and they began their exciting, adventure-filled life on the goldfields of Sofala.  I say "their", but her life must have been exceedingly hard and not very exciting.

The rest of Dedicoat’s memoirs are taken up with his account of his life at Sofala or thereabouts, apart from several more years of enforced confinement on Cockatoo Island and a brief reference to a return to England for a short time.  The Sofala years have been researched by Mr Garry Tipping who has taken the trouble to fill the gaps which are often literally left in Dedicoat’s references. 

For the purposes of this story, the most important anomaly which Tipping addresses is the time of Dedicoat’s arrival on the gold fields of Sofala.  Having researched the details of the ship “Favourite”, he would suggest the most likely time of Dedicoat’s arrival in Sydney as 15 August 1851.  Dedicoat moved off to Sofala soon afterwards: the flood at Little Oakey Creek referred to in Part V Ch III (pp163,4) occurred, according to Tipping’s researches, 18 December, 1851; and Tipping points out that the man named Smith whom Dedicoat says he buried (Part V Ch IX, p186,7) died 12 January 1852.  All of this suggests that Dedicoat’s story that he returned to marry Mary Kirwin one month after he first saw her is somewhat stretched.  At best it was six or eight months later, since the wedding took place 6 April 1852.  But who are we to deny him such a romantic account of his love at first sight so strong that he could not wait to get back to his beloved.  For the most part, recent researches have shown how accurate William Dedicoat’s story is, though we must leave room for imagination, bad memory and the natural desire to make an even more powerful yarn out of a very compelling story.

Bill Day, as he is now known, is a contradiction in many ways.  For all that he calls himself a Ranter, and that he can be so violent, he appears to have had a strong religious side.  He is working one Sabbath day, and being reprimanded for it he says "I was stunned and ashamed to think that the fever had got such a firm hold of me as to cause to me to forget the day".  He often refers to Providence and speaks of himself as "protected by an all-ruling Providence".  It is possible that these reflections are added for the benefit of, or even by, the editors, for Dedicoat dictated his memoires which were undoubtedly polished up in various ways for the Sydney readership of 1892.

He was a strong man as we know, and he was a man of many trades.  In Sofala he was a gold-digger, and being such a hard worker he was commensurately rewarded - he made a lot of money.  He also took up his old trade as gunsmith again during these years.  Gunsmith here implies mending guns and pistols rather than making them, because he had been apprenticed to a gun-lock filer rather than a gunmaker: in those days individuals specialised in making the various parts of the guns to be assembled by someone else.  Day also worked as a blacksmith, carpenter, coffin maker and undertaker, on the site now occupied by the Cafe Sofala. I was for some time under the impression that he was also a hatter from a description in a letter of 1891 quoted later in this chapter.  It was such a strange occupation that I suspected something amiss and was prompted to look up the word in a dictionary of Australian colloquialisms: "Hatter" is a colloquialism for a bushworker who lives and works alone.  Day was also described on his eldest daughter's birth certificate as a tinsmith, but that was probably only further evidence that he was prepared to turn his hand to anything that came along.

In the next few years there were several children born about whom he was quite vague in his memoirs; in fact he never mentions them or his wife by name and never makes it clear how many children there were or what sex they were.  If we go by his book we would be justified in thinking there were only two girls.  There were, of course, four girls and one boy.  Their first child, Mary Ann, was born in 1853; Matilda was born in 1854; Julia, our great grandmother, was born in 1855, but there is no record of her birth or baptism that I have been able to find; Elizabeth was born in 1857 and, if my assumption is right, was dead by 1864; and Richard was born at the end of 1859 when Day was already in prison on Cockatoo Island for his bushranging exploit.

Day's memoirs are unreliable when it comes to dates and many details.  For instance he tells in Part V, Chapter XV, well and truly after his marriage, of changing his name to Day: that, of course, was the name under which he married several years before, as is proven by the dated marriage certificate.  Nonetheless, the memoirs are a good account of the ways of the time and the variety of experiences he enjoyed, and should be read in that light.  We can take with a grain of salt some of his self-congratulatory praises: where he says one thing and there is independent documentary evidence of the same event, such as the Convict Record Sheet and the newspaper accounts or the judge's notebook for his trial for armed robbery, the difference is interesting.  Not everyone saw Bill in the same glowing light in which he saw himself.

We now turn to his bushranging career.  He tells the story quite vividly in his memoirs and emerges from it as a hero let down by his mate, Robert Wilson.  The newspaper accounts that appear in The Bathurst Free Press and Mining Journal are not quite so generous on his behalf.  There are also the complete records in the N.S.W. State Archives which are very interesting, and include the letter alerting the police, sent by the publican - himself an ex-policeman - at whose inn Wilson and Day stayed overnight and where Day was betrayed in an obviously planned move on Wilson's part. (Wilson later disappeared entirely and was never heard of again, much to the chagrin of the authorities, including Chief Justice Alfred Stephen).  The witnesses' depositions at the preliminary hearing before a magistrate at Hartley are also in the Archives.  The Superintendent of the Western Mounted Patrol, the "gallant" Captain Edward Montague Battye accuses Day in several letters of being the man who "robbed the Mudgee Mail on two occasions" and says "I believe him to have been concerned in ... the highway robbery of W. Phillips in 1855 if not in the murder of Trooper Codrington on Wyagdon Hill".  But Day was never officially accused, so the matter was not brought to court.  Day himself is horrified at the accusation and sets to establish his alibi.  For whatever reasons, the matter was never pursued.  (For all his adventures, Dedicoat does not appear to be a violent man.  I believe murder would not have been in his make-up.  When it came to the crunch he was prepared to take his punishment.)

The bushranging episode was, put simply, a plan to hold up the Bathurst Mail on its way up Mt. Victoria, near Hartley, 24 June 1859.  Day held up the coach with a double-barrelled gun and a large horse pistol.  One of the passengers was no less a personage than the Hon. L. Holyoake Baily, Attorney-General for the Colony.  The following day the two men were arrested and Wilson turned Queen's evidence, leading Battye to the hidden plunder consisting of some £4,800.

After the Hartley preliminary hearing, Day was "committed to take his trial at the first sitting of the Circuit Court to be holden at Bathurst on the nineteenth of September".  Judge Dickinson's notebooks are in the N.S.W. State Archives (they are exceedingly difficult to decipher) and record a summary of the proceedings of 19 September, though he does not record Day's defence, which Day seems to have conducted himself.  Day says: "I was then called on for my defence, but having no witnesses I produced certificates of character from the highest and most influential men on the western goldfields, including the Commissioner and J.P.s.  I addressed the jury for about an hour and a half".  The Bathurst Free Press of 24 September 1859 tells it somewhat differently: "The prisoner when called on for his defence, made a long vague statement with a view to throw the whole blame upon Wilson".  The judge having summed up, the jury retired for a few minutes and returned a verdict of guilty.  "The prisoner handed several certificates of character to the Judge, two of which were read by the Jury, but as no person in the court could prove the signatures of the others they were rejected", says The Bathurst Free Press.

At this stage Day pleads for mercy because his wife, who was in court, had four children and "was again near her confinement".  (When I read that in the newspaper I was surprised because I knew only of four children, but the information ultimately helped prove the identity of Derecourt).  Day says: "I made a long appeal, but a deaf ear was turned to me".

He was sentenced to seven years' hard labour on the roads or other public works of the colony, and having been sent to Darlinghurst Gaol finally arrived on Cockatoo Island.

Cockatoo Island Convict Records (Archives N.S.W. Reel 607) describe great-great grandfather thus:

William Day (arrived in Sydney) per Favourite

Tried: Bathurst Circuit Court, 21st September 1859

Sentence: 7 years to the Roads or Public Works

Offence: Mail Robbery

Age: 35 [which would make him born 1824]

Native Place: Staffordshire

Religion: Roman Catholic

Trade: Gunsmith and Blacksmith

Complexion: Dark Ruddy

Colour of Hair: Brown

Eyes: Grey

Height: 6ft 0ins

Remarks: Arms hairy

RECORD

12th Oct. 1859: Received from Darlinghurst Gaol

2nd Jan 1861: Discharged to Darlinghurst Gaol to take his trial for manslaughter committed on the person of Jas Heals on 20th December 1860.

lst Feb. 1861: Received from Darlinghurst Gaol

17th Oct. 1861: Answer to petition "from the report of the state of his health the Board suggest that he may be a fit object to be invalided to Berrima Gaol". - No. 74 this date.

lst April 1864: Fighting on the works, Admonished and discharged.

19th Sept.1864: Petition refused - C.S. No 57 dated this day.

10th Oct. 1865: Residue of sentence to be remitted on 21st Dec. next - No. 62 this date.

21st Dec. 1865: Discharged free.

A quick glance at that record shows something of his stay on Cockatoo, another period filled with adventure after adventure, his petition for an early release, and even a charge of manslaughter.  No sooner had he arrived than he was in strife, killing another prisoner by spearing him with a long piece of timber: the episode, almost unbelievable, is nonetheless true - a wager between the two men, and the victim telling Day, "Well, Bill, I can’t blame you; it’s all through my bigheadedness this has happened.  It's my own fault".  Day was taken to, tried and acquitted at Darlinghurst Gaol by the same Judge Dickinson who had sent him to Cockatoo in the first place: Day regarded it as meeting of old friends.  Not so His Honour!

Day's memoirs are just as complete and fascinating for his period on Cockatoo as they are for the rest of his life.  He is in and out of scrapes with other prisoners, he comes to the rescue of several prison warders, he sends a letter to his wife in the most imaginative way, worthy of the best nineteenth century novelist.  The story is worth telling in his own words:

“One day in the shop, Gardiner, the noted bushranger, said I ought to get up a petition, stating the services I had rendered, and I might get a partial remission.  I told him what I knew to be a fact, that if I went to the superintendent I, no doubt, should get permission to write, but the chances were ten to one against my letter ever leaving the office, as all letters describing anything occurring on the island were stopped, so my petition would be of no use.  He asked me where my wife lived, and being told Bathurst, he said if I would think of some plan, any message I entrusted him with should be faithfully delivered, as he would be going out soon, that Piesley and he would be due for their tickets that month, and intended to go Bathurst way.  I pondered that night how to avoid the strict search made on anyone going away.  At last I conceived an idea - to have my letter written on Gardiner's back.  Although in the search the body was stripped, yet, by being on his back, it might escape detection.  ‘When they search me at the jetty’, said Gardiner, ‘I'll keep them face on, and they'll never think of looking on my back.  You get everything ready’.  That night I begged the loan of a pair of scissors from Miss Taylor, daughter of the identifying clerk, telling her I wanted to put a patch on my clothes.  In the place where I had my meals was a favourite cat, which I caught, and from her tail cut off the tip, and some of the long fur from the flanks, made two little brushes.  I then got some red lead, and to heighten the colour, started my nose bleeding, and mixed the paint.  I acquainted the draftsman in the shop with my intentions, and he being a good penman, I got him to write my letter on Gardiner's back as he lay face down in the pattern shop.  The letter was a statement of the grounds of my petition; my good deeds, etc., occupying from the shoulders to below the waist.  In order to dry it, I advised Gardiner to say that I had had him down the well at the pump, and that he had got a chill, when he would be allowed to stand by the boiler fires till the paint and blood had dried up.  When half-roasted we succeeded, and I gave the writer a shilling, and offered the bearer of the inscription two shillings, which he, however, declined to accept, as he said I should want all I had, while he could get money when he went out.  He faithfully delivered my message, as I had a letter from my wife telling me that Gardiner had given her all the particulars, which should be attended to.  The suspense I underwent till Gardiner was out of reach of the authorities on the island was simply indescribable, as had he been discovered I should have lost my overseership, besides being punished thus undoing all my good deeds, and rendering my chance of remission void.”

This story, however unlikely it sounds, seems basically true: it is repeated in brief by R.G. Parker in his "Cockatoo Island - A History" (Nelson 1977); and Mary Day must have received some letter, for she does indeed write to the Governor seeking remission of her husband's sentence.  The material is in the N.S.W. State Archives (6514221) and includes Mary Day's petition, a reply by the Chief Justice, Alfred Stephen, a further petition from William Day and a recommendation for release signed by W. Mann, which is acceded to 10 October 1865 by the Governor, Sir John Young.

Mary Day in May 1864 signs a petition written to the Governor praying remission of her husband's sentence: "This petition . . . humbly shewith [showeth] that your petitioner's husband was tried at Bathurst . . . ", received an injury going to the rescue of a fellow convict, came to the assistance of several warders under attack, that he was in danger of being set upon by other prisoners, and finally that your petitioner having four small children depending on her for support and that her husband has never before been convicted of any crime she prays your Excellency will be pleased in your great mercy to grant your petitioner's husband the remission of the remaining portion of his sentence or whatever portion your excellency may think fit in your great mercy to grant, I am now in great need of protection for myself and children as my health lately has been on the decline and your petitioner will in duty bound ever pray.”

Signed: Mary Day, Seymour Street, Bathurst.

It appears that there are now only four children.  Mary Ann, Matilda, Julia and Elizabeth were put into the Catholic Orphanage at Parramatta in 1859 or early 1860, and Richard was born November 1859.  Given the names that are on Dedicoat's death certificate it would seem a reasonable assumption that it is Betsy who has died.  And does Mary know and conceal the fact of Day's imprisonment in Tasmania or is she ignorant of it?

The details of this period of Mary Day's life are obscure.  From her petition she is obviously living in Bathurst.  Family lore says that the children were in an orphanage for some time, and this period seems likely period for that.  Day, in his book, refers to "the kind friend" who was looking after his children while he was on Cockatoo Island.  My enquiries among the various orders of Sisters who were likely to have orphanages at Bathurst or even in Sydney at that time came to naught.  A letter from the Sisters of Mercy says that their Bathurst records reveal no information about Day or Derecourt children.  However, my 1986 enquiry of the archivist at St. Mary's Cathedral eventually bore fruit (18 December 1989).  He sent me a handwritten copy of the following letter addressed to The Honourable, The Colonial Secretary:

Vicar General’s Office

[St Mary’s Cathedral, Sydney]

28 November 1859

I have the honour to request that His Excellency the Governor General may be pleased to sanction the admission into the Roman Catholic Orphan School [Parramatta] of the following children:

Day, Mary Anne    6 years

Day, Matilda          5 years

Day, Julia               4 years

Day, Elizabeth        2 years

Both parents are Catholics.  Their father has been sentenced to Cockatoo and their mother is utterly destitute.  The Magistrates have sent the children to the Very Reverend Dean Grant, Bathurst, for transmission to the school.

I have the honour to be, Sir,

Your most obedient servant

[unsigned]

Mary Day’s petition of May 1864 is sent to the Superintendant of Cockatoo Island, 28 May 1864, and to the Chief Justice, l June 1864.  Superintendant G.K. Mann summarises the details from Day's Record Sheet but makes no recommendation.  The Chief Justice replies 2nd September 1864: "It has been impossible for me without neglecting more pressing duties, to report on the petition of William Day ... Sir John Dickinson's notes in the case are voluminous and I have had great difficulty in deciphering them"  (So did I.)  He goes on to talk about the seriousness of the crime, and he concludes: "There are strong circumstances of good conduct and something more, since his conviction, in favour of the extension of indulgence to the prisoner.  He is, however, a bushranger, and two years only of his sentence remain unexpired.  The balance on these conflicting considerations I must submit to the decision of His Excellency.  It is not altogether within my province".  Signed by Alfred Stephen.

A year later Day himself is petitioning the Governor, Sir John Young still, showing that "the petitioner has now served with good conduct and industry a period of six years and humbly prayeth that Your Excellency will take his case into merciful consideration and be graciously pleased to grant him such remission of the residue of his unexpired sentence as Your Excellency may seem meet".  William Day signs with his mark.  Another account of his police history is appended and is marked with a recommendation for a remission of the rest of his sentence, signed by G.K. Mann, the Superintendant of Cockatoo Island.

Day's letter has written across it "His Excellency - 7th Oct/65 gives authority for [the release of] William Day on 21st Dec. next.  J.Y.  l0th Oct.  Superintendant [?] 10th Oct. 1865”.  The script is not easy to interpret.

And so Day was released indeed, three days before Christmas as he says, but in 1865, not 1863 (which he gives in his memoirs, Part VII, Chapter XIV p290).

He returned to Sofala and took up his old calling as gunsmith, having borrowed £20 from the resident Magistrate, Joseph Walford, JP, to do so.  It was a “Johnny-All-Sort” kind of establishment on Church Hill with its sign proclaiming “Carpenter and Blacksmith Shop - Guns and Pistols Repaired Here.”  He is to be found in the old Directories at Denison Street, Sofala from 1866 to 1894.  He "took a spare block of land [marked as William Dedicoat on a map of about 1870] between the Hospital and the Parsonage at Sofala and built a house" according to June Durie in "People and Places of Sofala".  He is referred to in the Sofala District and Electoral Rolls for 1869/70 and in the Sofala Post Office Rolls 1878 and 79.  On 9 February 1876 his name appears (as William Dericott) among a list of signatures on an “Application for the establishment of the Public School at Sofala.”  It may well be his own signature - a very neat, compact, legible signature, very carefully written in the style of a school child - though his 1895 petition was signed with his mark.

An account of Dedicoat’s time in Sofala is given in a little pamphlet by Joyce Pearce and Garry Tipping entitled “A Walk Through Historic Sofala - In the Shadow of the Old Goldminer, Bill Day”.  He was responsible for building sections of the telegraph line from Sofala to Bathurst; being “as strong as an ox”, he was able to handle the telegraph poles without any assistance.  Pearce and Tipping say that he built a house, “having a frontage of 35 feet to the Sofala and Bathurst Road”, near the Showground; and there he lived “with his daughter and prospected among the dry gullies, living to a grand old age into the present century.”  In a book by Brian Hodge, “Frontiers of Gold”, (1979) there is a quote from a manuscript by Mark Hammond, about 1901, saying he saw a man identified as Bill Day on Racecourse Hill “apparently as happy as a king, puffing his pipe, 40 years since gaining his liberty”.  (This information was received in a letter from Robin Derricourt 17 August 1997.  [There is no proven connection between the Derricourts and the Dedicoats, though both are from the Birmingham area, the former from South Staffordshire, the latter from King’s Norton.])  There is some anomaly in these two accounts, if we accept that Bill Day was William Dedicoat who died in 1897.

At some stage around 1882 he returned to England.  He was involved in a Chancery suit, the details of which I know nothing about: they are not given in his book and I have not researched them.  In 1988 I found a reference to a Chancery suit in the Public Records Office, Chancery Lane, London: 21 January 1882, Henry Derecourt vs Mann (J 1S 1573), but I had no way of interpreting the information.  I guess he visited his family because he refers to being on the road between Shirley and Birmingham.  (Part VIII, Chapter X, p327)  Shirley is some three miles due east of King’s Norton.  He was reconciled to his family many years earlier, before the Cockatoo Island period, perhaps 1856 or 1857, and certainly by the last years of his life he had established some correspondence with his family, “of which he is now by no means reckoned the black sheep”, (“Old Convict Days”, Editor, p336).

"Before leaving the Turon", he says, "I bethought me I had never written to any of my family in the old country, and as I had a tolerable competence I would send them something as a reminder of their long-lost relative.  Accordingly I made up and sent to each of my six brothers and sisters about 3oz. of gold and 50 pound worth to my mother, father being long dead" (“Old Convict Days” p217) . Six brothers and sisters now, it seems.  This raises several questions: could he write, or did he simply mean “contact”?  And were there five or six brothers and sisters?  The records from St Nicholas’ Church, King’s Norton church reveal five only: Leonard, Samuel, Matilda, Ann and John.  According to the same records his father died 18 December 1847.

In the final period of his life he makes no mention of his wife, but does refer a number of times to his daughter "living at Mr. Greninger's near Braidwood".  A letter from the Braidwood and District Historical Society (15 May 1992) provided the following information: “There was a family by the name of Grenenger [sic] here in the 1860s.  Wenzil and James or John were born in Germany, named Gruinenger.  Bushrangers Clarke brothers were very active in this district about that time, also Frank Gardiner and Starlight briefly.”

This daughter, most probably Mary Anne, was involved in several interesting episodes at the time: being captured by the Clark gang, meeting a "very tall man, seemingly covered with a coat of hair and looking as frightened of me as I was of him" - this being was described as a "Yahoo".  Mary Ann, who seems to have stayed in the area, married John Seach in Bathurst in 1879.  She may well have lived with her father up to this time.  What a fascinating story hers would be: born at Sofala, attending school there, transferred to the Orphanage at Parramatta, returning to Sofala, living with the Grenengers (possibly as a servant girl), her encounters with the Clark gang, meeting the “yahoo”, probably returning to her father, marrying John Seach - her story, too, deserves telling.  Remnants of it were told by some of the younger generation years later.  Rita Birrell née Seach, a granddaughter of John and Mary Ann Seach, says that Mary Ann used the Dericot form of the name: it appears in that form on the marriage certificate of her son, William John.

By now, Matilda and Julia were married in Sydney within a few months of each other (1874).  Betsy I assume was dead by 1864, and of Richard I know nothing.

Mary Day’s death remains a mystery.  She may well have died and been buried as Derecourt in Sofala in October 1871.  I am indebted to Miss Carol Churches, the archivist of the Anglican Cathedral in Bathurst, for the information “-- Derecourt, October 1871" from the Sofala Burial register, no Christian name, no specific date, no age.  But it seems that someone of the name Derecourt was buried in Sofala at that time; and as the children are accounted for as above and as Bill Day had changed his name to Derecourt at this time, it is possible that the someone was his wife Mary.  The microfiche records of death have several other possibilities for Mary Day including "Mary Day died 1890 aged seventy-four, at Camperdown, widow", and "Mary Day, 3rd February 1867, buried at Camperdown, born England, fifteen years in N.S.W."  (I have not searched past 1900.)

I have spoken to several grandchildren of Mary Ann Seach.  One of them, Nona Ruston, says that Julia Butler, my aunt, told her that on some unspecified occasion Mary Day came to visit her daughter Julia in Sydney.  Julia, probably married at the time, would not believe that the woman was her mother, until Mary produced a prayer-book which appeared to serve as proof.  Even then Julia refused to have anything to do with the woman because of her apparent abandonment of them as children.  My aunt also told me the same story. 

If this visit took place when the girl was only about ten or twelve, ie, about 1867, then it is possible that the Mary Day who died of Phthisis (a wasting disease, consumption) 3 February 1867 and buried at Camperdown Cemetery, was her mother.  This woman had been in the Colony for 15 years, though the death certificate indicates that she came from England and gives no indication of marriage or children.  If the girl had been about fifteen or sixteen, then the 1871 Derecourt burial in Sofala still could have been Mary Day.  On the other hand, if Julia was a married woman when the supposed visit occurred, then the Mary Day buried at Camperdown in 1890 could have been her mother, who being born in 1835, would have been 55.  I am inclined to think that the 1871 death in Sofala was our Mary Day, buried as Derecourt; but this is by no means certain.  [Note August 2003: It would seem, from the NSW BDM records that the Derecourt burial at Sofala in October 1871 is Florence J, daughter of Mary A, father’s name not given.  There is also NSW BDM record of the birth of Florence J Derecourt, daughter of Mary A born Sofala 1870: I have not sighted the complete documents, but it would seem that Florence J is the daughter of Mary Ann Derecourt, the oldest daughter of Bill Day and Mary Kirwin.  So we are no closer to knowing Mary Kirwin’s final resting place.]

Nona Ruston also told several stories of her grandmother, Mary Anne Seach, a formidable old lady who ruled the roost at her house: she once reprimanded one of the boys, who took no notice of her, so she promptly threw a fork at him and hit him in the eye!  She recalled occasionally having to take food up the hill at Sofala to various bushrangers, and of being in a stagecoach on one occasion, of being held up by bushrangers and when she blurted out at one of the bandits "I know you", someone - perhaps her mother - promptly clapped her hand across her mouth.  It also appears that Day would regularly do some horse-shoeing for the bushranger "Starlight" - an elegant man who would wait around with top hat and cane whilst his horse was being attended to.  He would leave town, and ten minutes later - "you could set your clock by it" - the troopers would ride into town in search of him.

By all accounts, Derecourt settled to sober ways and almost respectable old age until he declined somewhat, sought admission to, and died in, Bathurst Hospital, 20 April 1897 under the name "Dedicoat", returning to the version of the name appearing on his parents' wedding certificate.

According to Pearce and Tipping, he was buried “in a grave now unmarked in the present cemetery near his home . . . beside his long time friend, Bill Musgrave, and painted his own wooden tombstone with the inscription;

I lie on your right hand

When the roses grow up

They will shade you and me

When decayed and forgot

God will not forget me

Born 5 June 1819 - WD”

This same verse appears in an appendix to “Old Convict Days”, “added by the Editor” [presumably the editor of The Sydney Evening News]: “he has prepared his own grave and epitaph, having been a sight in Sofala in its destined occupant’s lifetime.”  There follows a curious story about Bill’s friendly relationship with Musgrave and how the headboard came to be placed over both their graves and how “right” had to be changed to “left”, which led the Editor to comment: when “Day” comes to die “the little trick ... will be recognised as particularly appropriate in connection with a sterling man - who though an ‘old hand’, had to resort to so many shifts in his life.”  (p337,8)

It would be interesting to know who was responsible for the information on the death certificate (it could well have been his daughter, Mary Ann): the name "Dedicoat" is intriguing considering the man was still more commonly known at this time as Day, even though he seems to have been using the name Derecourt.  And on the death certificate the children's ages are all wrong.  It is these anomalies and the popular opinion found in books that Derecourt died in 1898 or later that are the major stumbling blocks to Dedicoat and Derecourt being the same man.  Garry Tipping’s claim that there were two Bill Days in Sofala in the 1870s (which may well be corroborated by Dedicoat’s story about how he came to adopt the name Bill Day - told in Part V Chapter XV, p207) further complicates the issue.  But the fact that Dedicoat is recorded in the microfiche index of deaths for 1897, and the coincidence of the wife and children's names, apart from coincidence of year and place of birth and length of time in the colonies, are strong reasons for assuming the identicality of Derecourt and Dedicoat.

One of the last last acts of this man of myth was to dictate his memoirs for publication in the Sydney newspaper, The Sydney Evening News.  That they were dictated is attested to in a letter in the Mitchell Library, dated 27 August 1940, from the Mitchell Librarian to Dr. A.D. Osborn of the Harvard College Library, Cambridge, Mass., U.S.A.: "I was led to the dates [of the serialisation] by a letter from Charlie Smith of Sofala written on August 22nd, 1940 to H.H. Neary of Lakemba.  Smith states 'I remember him at one time dictating his life to the late Mr. E.J. Aubrey who wrote part of it.  Another man by the name of McWilliams wrote the main parts.  It was either in 1891 or 1892 that I heard Day dictating to Aubrey’ ”.

The series was entitled "Old Convict Times to Gold Digging Days.  Complete History of Australian Life for Fifty Years".  Part One appeared Saturday 11 July 1891 and continued daily (Sundays excepted) to 5 September 1891.  At the bottom of the first instalment the following note appears: "The history of William Derricourt, or Day, once of Darlaston, England, now of Sofala, N.S.W."

The two following letters were sent to the editor of The Evening News and provide genuine and unsolicited tributes to the man.

The Evening News, Saturday August 29th, 1891.

Sir, being a subscriber to your valuable journal for the last 10 years, I shall be obliged if you will publish the following: In reading the experience of an ex-convict, commenced in your issue of July 11th, there are several things mentioned which appear at first slightly incredible.  Having been a neighbour of Bill Day's for the last eight years, I can prove many of his statements to be correct.  The other day while down examining his deep sluicing ground, 25 feet, I had my doubts about his ability to break a stone with his naked fist.  I, in the presence of my brother-in-law, picked up a stone of over five pounds in weight out of the washdirt, which had not been handled before, and asked him to satisfy me by breaking it, which he did, into three pieces in one blow.  One piece flew a good distance.  No deception about the thing.  His claims to walking feats can easily be explained.  He has an unusual long step, and also possessed of a great amount of patient perseverance.  A few years ago he started for Bathurst, which is fully 30 miles, and arrived there in six hours.  He has for many years been working as a hatter, which he finds better as he can get through a greater average amount of work.  When he has no water to sluice, his usual task is to sink a shaft of 30 feet in five days, afterwards tunnelling out seven wheelbarrows of washdirt, and cradling the same, [?] is his daily average work.  I do not know another on the Turon that gets through such an amount of work in the same time.  I can give him a very high tribute as a neighbour, and for many years a kindness to myself and family.

Yours etc.

J. W. James

Sofala, August 24th.

The second letter reads as follows:

The Evening News, Thursday, September 3rd, 1891

The author of this story has received the following letter from an old comrade on the diggings and desires that it be published.

Church Hill, 20 August 1891

Dear Bill,

If this letter I have got written is of any service to you, you can make use of it with my best wishes for your success.  I willingly testify to the general accuracy of your statements about the different scenes on the goldfields, as far as I know personally.  As you know, I have been on the Turon since almost the first opening of the goldfields, and very little of the main incidents have escaped from my memory.  I quite remember your working that piece of ground in Church Hill, so wondrously rich, having bought the log hut you mention from a woman about to join her husband in Tambaroora, for 30s. (I think about 1854).  I afterwards worked the ground myself, with grand results, five or six ounces per week in off and on working, whereas had the work been continuous or regular, we might have got the same amount almost daily.  I have lived on the same ground from 1854 or thereabouts until now, and ought to know something of Turon affairs.  I even remember you coming one day when I was sinking and telling me I was throwing the gold away - the washdirt was of such thickness or depth - which proved to be a fact.  Anything I can do to further your views I shall be happy and willing to do.

Yours truly

John Reynolds

Sofala.

H.H. Neary in 1940 published his reminiscences entitled "Ghosts of the Goldfields.  Pioneer Diggers and Settlers on the Turon".  He reflects on the shooting of Trooper Codrington but never once hints at Day's involvement.  He does say, however, that "many years after this tragic episode … it was reported in one of the papers that a man who had recently died in England had made a deathbed confession of the shooting of Codrington".

I do not know how reliable Neary's memoirs are.  He has several pages on Day, describing him as "a powerful man of giant stature, his strength was enormous".  He records the robbery of the mail coach, but the details are almost unrecognisable; he also recalls a pig-stealing episode in Sofala which Day records in his memoirs as occurring in Van Diemen's Land.  But the most fascinating anomaly occurs in connection with the chancery suit in England: he says Day would not return to England "which he cursed repeatedly for the ruin of his life in deporting him as a convict in his early manhood"; instead he sent "his niece (or a lady that claimed to be his niece) home to England to pick up the fortune that was left him - saying he would never return to the country that had wronged him".   Neary's account differs markedly from Day's own memoirs: no such bitterness towards England occurs in them.  And it would be difficult to discover who the “niece” could possibly be.

Opinions of Derecourt vary: he claims some wonders for himself, the acquaintanceship of friends in relatively high places, and many marvels we may take the liberty of disbelieving.  I believe that allowing for the forgetfulness of details brought on by time - who remembers today exactly what happened so many years ago? - for a tendency to exaggerate our own exploits, and the understandable desire to make ourselves look good for posterity, the memoirs are surprisingly accurate.

Nonetheless we should also take heed of Charles White's reasonable summary at the end of his 1892 account of Day's life and adventures.  He describes Day as "still living at the old spot and considering his advanced years, is still a remarkably strong man. Just recently he supplied a writer for one of Sydney's evening papers with what purported to be a complete history of his life, and the same was duly published with sensational headings and 'padding'; but many of the 'facts' recorded could have existed only in Day's imagination or in that of the scribe who jotted down his maunderings.  Throughout the story told by him he figures as a hero-criminal who was keener witted, stronger and more industrious than those among who he moved, and most honourable in all his dealings with his fellow men, who for the most part were halfwitted rogues".  Not many of those "facts", however, were too inaccurate.

The book is worth reading for the sheer variety and multitude of adventures and ought to be read for a full view of this man’s life, for this chapter is only a pale version of the story.  Readers can then judge for themselves the nature of this extraordinary man whom we acknowledge as a great-greatgrandfather.  There still awaits a researcher to glean all the facts from the archival sources in England, Tasmania, Sofala, Bathurst and Sydney and make comparisons with Dedicoat’s memoirs.  It is quite clear even from this present account of Dedicoat’s life (May 1998), that the final word has not been written.

In the meantime we turn in tribute to his long-suffering, unsung wife, Mary Kirwin.

APPENDIX

1756, 29 November       Dedicoat, Samual [sic] married Ann Hands

1787, 9 June                  Dedicoat, Richard married Sarah James

1796                             Dedicoat, William born  

1821, 29 October           Dedicoat, William married Mary Humphries

1822(3), 5 June              Dedicoat, William (jnr) born

1823, 26 October           Dedicoat, William christened

1837(8)                         Dedicoat, William apprenticed to Tom Butler

1839, 2 July                   Dedicoat, William (as William Jones) tried Stafford Quarter Sessions

1840, 6 August              Dedicoat, William arrived Van Diemen’s Land

1847, 18 December       Dedicoat, William (snr) died

1848, 23 may                 Dedicoat, William Ticket of Leave

1851, 15 August            Dedicoat, William arrived Sydney (conjecture)

1852, 6 April                 Dedicoat, William (as William Day) married Mary Kirwin

1859, 24 June                Dedicoat, William held up stagecoach

1859, 21September        Dedicoat, William tried at Bathurst Circuit Court

1859, 12 October           Dedicoat, William incarcerated Cockatoo Island

1859, 28 November       Dedicoat, William’s children to Parramatta Orphanage

1861, 2 January             Dedicoat, William held at Darlinghurst Gaol

1865, 21 December       Dedicoat, William discharged from Cockatoo Island

1871, October               Day, Mary died at Sofala; buried as Derecourt (conjecture)-not correct according to information August 2003 – see next chapter, Mary Kirwin.

1876, 9 February           Dedicoat, William signed petition for Sofala School

1882                             Dedicoat, William returned to England

1891, July-Sept              Dedicoat, William memoirs published. Sydney Evening News

1897, 20 April                Dedicoat, William died Bathurst Hospital