Jimmy drowned his sorrows by killing people for a while, but by early September, six weeks after last seeing Ethel, he wrote her a letter.

To the police of NSW
My dear Ethel.
You did not now suppose you was free, dear, when you was with me; you never think that you was at home. I have been good to you, and often say the Lord take me away. I hope he got you. You know you are going fast, dear. I suppose you glad, but I am not. I feel sorry for you, dear Ethel...

He asked for her to come and spend some time with him before he gave himself up to the police, but she did not go.
Either she feared for her life, possibly knowing that under tribal law Jimmy could kill his deserting wife, or the police would not let her.
The police would want to protect their chief witness and would not want to do a deal with an outlaw with a price on his head.

These days when a wife tells her husband she is planning to leave him, the man sometimes becomes deranged with grief and anger, and wounded pride, and kills their children.
But Jimmy Governor killed his employers' wife and children instead.
He blamed them for the break-up of his brief marriage of only 19 months, just over a year and a half.
After the murders of four members of the Mawbey family, Jimmy wanted to kill his own wife and her child, but was prevented by one of  his older kinsmen who was with him.
The Aboriginal culture was based on 'honour and shame' Jimmy had been shamed and his honour shattered in the eyes of other people by his wife leaving him.
He was broken hearted.

On a cold winter's evening in July 1900, a young white woman, Mrs James Governor, gave her part Aboriginal husband, Jimmy, some bad news.
She was leaving him.
It was dinner time and they had no food to eat.
All their rations freely given to them by their employer, farming husband and wife, John and Sarah Mawbey, had been exhausted.
This was because Jimmy had invited some male relatives and a friend to stay with him, and they had eaten some two-thirds of the rations meant for two adults and a small child.
Jimmy had not only used up all the rations, he was 15 shillings in debt for those he had been given generously in advance by the Mawbeys.
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Ethel was fed up with living in a humpy by a creek, an isolated existence with no family or friends for support.
After she had married Jimmy in December 1898, she had moved into his father's house next door to that of her parents at Wyaldra Creek on the outskirts of Gulgong.
She had apparently not anticipated having to 'camp out' with her husband, even though she knew he was an itinerant farm worker.
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Most of all she was fed up with Jimmy's refusal to stand up to the Mawbey women and the female school teacher about their salacious and malicious comments about her sexual relationship with a black man.
She wanted him to defend her honour, to teach them some respect.
There were several valid reasons Jimmy had found this hard to do.
Ethel had decided she wanted a better life.
She was starting to put on airs and graces, even using the same expressions as the school teacher with German parents, like 'pooh' to dismiss what he said to her.
And Mrs Mawbey had advised her that if she wanted a better life for herself and her 15-month-old son, she would have to leave Jimmy.
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Jimmy later told of the heated discussion he had with Ethel at their camp that evening, before the two of them left to murder the Mawbeys.
My wife and I had a word or two about cooking and something or another about the camp.
With that I said, 'I suppose I am in this world alone with no one to care for me. I thought you was my wife.'
She said, 'Go to the devil.'
Everything I said to her she said, 'Pooh, that's nothing! Pooh, that's nothing!'
With that me and Underwood cleared out.
I thought I might as well die, so the Mawbey murders were committed.
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A couple of days earlier, Jimmy had broken all the crockery in the camp because he was planning to leave.
This meant there would be nothing heavy to carry by people travelling on foot.
But it could also have symbolised the breakdown of Jimmy and Ethel's domestic arrangements, the end of their marriage.

WHEN HE COMETH

The hymn sung at the church funeral service of the three murdered Mawbey children at Gilgandra was 'When He Cometh'.
It was written by American pastor William O Cushing in 1856 for his Sunday School children.
The music is by George F. Root.

When He cometh, when He cometh
To make up His jewels,
All His jewels, precious jewels,
His loved and His own.

Chorus:
Like the stars of the morning,
His brightness adorning,
They shall shine in their beauty,
Bright gems for His crown.

 

 

He will gather, He will gather
The gems for His kingdom;
All the pure ones, all the bright ones,
His loved and His own.

 

 

Little children, little children,
Who love their Redeemer,
Are the jewels, precious jewels,
His loved and His own.

Listen to the tune and see and hear children singing this hymn by clicking on this link:
"When He Cometh"

ON THE RAMPAGE

Singleton Argus, Thursday 6 September 1900
REMARKABLE LETTERS.
AN OFFER TO SURRENDER.
The scene of Saturday's robbery by the blacks is about 10 miles from Murrurundli.
They also visited two more places, the first Mr George Hamilton's house on Mr Henry Hall's selection.
The Hamiltons were away when the blacks arrived.
Coming home they heard voices inside, and peeped in, and saw the Governors.
Then they rode to Ardglen for assistance, and on returning surrounded the bouse, but the blacks had decamped.
They turned the houso up side down, took eggs, flour, tea, a new .32 Winchester, 87 cartridges, and a felt hat, leaving an old felt hat, burnt from lifting the pot off the fire.
Later on they stuck up Mr Michael Harper, a boundary rider, at Colly Creek.
They had previously robbed Mr Baker's three houses on Chilcott's Creek.
They pointed a rifle at Harper, and asked for tucker, and told him to tell Hamilton that his rifle was a good one, and better because they got it for nothing.
They had tried it at a tin.
Harper gave them provisions, and they left.
At Harper's Sub-Inspector Galbraith's party and about 25 civilians were met by a messenger who stated that the party sent north-east by Galbraith had met and exchanged 14 shots with the Governors. Smith, the messenger, was nearly shot.
He left two mates watching them.
On arrival they found that they had let the outlaws escape.
The blacks had stuck up the McCulloch's, and given letters to them, addressed to the police, "from the Breelong murderers."

ANOTHER VIEW OF THE CHASE

The Advertiser, Adelaide, Tuesday 31 July 1900
NEW SOUTH WALES TRAGEDIES
SEARCHING FOR THE MURDERERS.
A DIFFICULT TASK.
Sydney, July 30.
The black outlaws are still at large large, and the police and bushmen alike have been completely baffled.
There is the greatest difficulty in getting reliable information,owing to the absence of telegraphic communication.
A telephone is in course of erection at Wollar.
Were it completed, the movements of the search parties would be much more easily directed.
It as thought that the telegraph line should be tapped at Ulan and a temporary office erected there.  
To send a messenger 30 miles, and then to await a reply, is to arrive on any trail too late to be of much use.
Coming along the track taken by the fugitives, it is easy to understand how the police were outwitted. No effort is being spared to find the murderers.
The police are out late and early, and only take very brief rest.
Any talk of a systematic search is foolishness.
Ten times the number of men engaged could not, as has been suggested, sweep the country.
Going 10 yards apart they might easily miss their men among the rocks, holes, boulders, and timber that afford excellent cover.  
Trooper Morris, who was recently invalided from the Transvaal, where be was recommended for the Victoria Cross, led a search party from Singleton over the Wollar route, and is thoroughly eager in the pursuit.
He says that the country around Wollar is much rougher than South African country.
The hills here ran in ranges instead of being broken up, as they are in South Africa, and the timber around Wollar affords much better cover.
This party is only one of dozens that are scouring the country, eager to be in at the capture.
It is known that a reward has been offered, but very little thought is given to that.
Everyone is eager for the sake of relatives, who are huddled together in various centres, to rid the country of those who have paralysed everything.
To pass deserted homesteads with the stock feeding in growing crops is a common sight.  
Here and there a few sturdy specimens refuse to leave, and should tbe blacks happen to call at such places, they may have a warm reception.
The police wish if possible to take the Governors alive, but no unnecessary risks are expected to be taken in doing so.  
Further parties continue to leave Mudgee towards Wollar.
Many residents of Cooyal and Botobollar are applying for arms to defend themselves.
Three of the principal stores at those towns have sold during the last few days over £300 worth of arms and ammunition

CHARLES PAGE UNEARTHED

Charles Page, Ethel Governor's father, has remained a shadowy figure in all accounts of the Jimmy Governor story so far, with very little known about him.
His marriage registration reveals he was born in Lincolnshire, England, c.1839, the son of a farmer.
At the time of his marriage, in April 1881, he was 42 and working as a farmer at Kinchela Creek, north of Kempsey.
Kinchela Creek later became the site of an Aboriginal school and then an Aboriginal boys' home.
Charles' wife, Julia Moore, was 23, 19 years younger than him.
Her place of birth was Gloucester, England and the occupation of her deceased father, printer.
The couple were married in the Weslyan (Methodist) tradition at the home of the two witnesses, rather than at the local Weslyan church.
They then went on to have eight children, with Ethel the first  in 1882 and Henry the last in 1899 when Charles Page was 60.
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For location, see KINCHELA - GOOGLE MAPS