The tale contained in the following pages was compiled by the Editor as it fell from the lips of the person who was at once the author and in some sort the hero of the adventures therein narrated, chiefly with a view to dissipate the ennui and vary the monotony — at times inseparable, in the circumstances of a life in the bush of Australia.
As, however, the truth of many of the leading incidents is known to the Editor personally, and that of others has been vouched for by persons of undoubted veracity, it is now offered to the public, who, it is hoped, will receive it with the indulgence due to the rude unadorned production of
A Squatter
31ST Decr 1845
Why then the world’s mine oyster.
Respecting the parents of Ralph Rashleigh, little needs here he add save that they were of a decent rank as London shopkeepers, and that they were thus enabled to afford their son the advantage of a good plain English education, upon the completion of which he was articled to a conveyancer in extensive practice, who resided near Chancery Lane, a romantic neighbourhood to which Ralph was compelled to restrict his rambles for the first two years of his servitude; but on the expiration of that period, in compliance with a stipulation contained in his indentures, a small allowance being made to him, he ceased to reside under his master’s roof and occupied a lodging by himself.
He was now fairly launched upon the great ocean of Life, for although his office hours were sufficiently long, yet abundance of time still remained, during which Rashleigh was completely his own master; and amid the varied amusements offered to his choice in the modern Babylon, he soon found nothing deficient for enjoyment, except money, with which he was but sparingly supplied. This hiatus, of course, giving him much pain, he naturally set himself to work to remove it, if possible, but for a long period without any success.
Among the number of his boon companions was a young man, who though only receiving from his employer an equal salary to himself, yet always appeared to be possessed of means for the gratification of his pleasures; and as he ever seemed to distinguish Ralph with his friendship, the latter, one evening when both were tolerably warm from the effect of numerous potations in which they had indulged, begged his friend to explain how he managed so well with his limited income, as always to have cash for any expense he chose to incur.
His companion, whose name was Hartop, after many injunctions of secrecy, informed him that as his employer usually sent him to make payments and receive money upon account of the business, he had for a long period been in the habit of occasionally passing bad sovereigns, using however great precaution. and never carrying more than one at a time upon his person. Then he picked his customers — mostly people from the country or residing at a distant part of London — to whom he would tender a queer piece and if it were objected to, would immediately replace it by a good one, wondering how he came by it, etc. At other times, when he thought he could do so safely in telling over money he was about to receive, he would dexterously exchange one of the good ones for another he had previously concealed in his hand, which of course was bad. The result of this manoeuvre would be, that when he objected to the one he had himself put down, the person about to pay him, probably knowing all the pieces he had tendered to be genuine, would exchange the one questioned without hesitation. Nay, so good were the imitations he made use of, that often, in paying considerable sums of money in gold into banks — where the specie was weighed in the lump — a bad sovereign would pass current enough among many others, and not excite any suspicion.
This communication over, Hartop offered our hero his services, to procure him a few of the inimitable imitations of the current coin of the realm, adding that he could pay for them when he was lucky. To this offer Ralph, nothing loath, assented. A few days after, he received from his friend twenty spurious sovereigns, that being deemed enough for his first essay.
Thus did Ralph Rashleigh commence his career of dishonesty, and for a long period escaped with impunity, owing to the able manner in which he adopted and followed the cautious counsels of his sage tutor. At length, finding that he could obtain all the luxuries of life, not to mention necessaries only, without any very arduous exertion, he became so very idle, careless, and inattentive to his employer’s business, that after many fruitless remonstrances and unavailing lectures from his worthy principal, he received lib dismissal, his articles being cancelled.
This event, indeed, did not much concern him, as he believed he should always be able to supply his wants by means of passing bad money. as heretofore. In order, however, to lull suspicion, which might have been awakened had he remained without any employment or apparent means of earning a livelihood whatever, Ralph, who now wrote a remarkably fine and quick legal hand, obtained out-of-door copying from a law scrivener, intending to do only just as much work as might be supposed to afford him subsistence.
After this resolution, his custom was to work two or three hours per day at his lodging, and to employ the rest of his time perambulating London, varying his rambles every day, and at times shifting the scene of his exertions to a fair or race in the country, where he generally met with tolerable success.
But the period of his profitable trading in this line was rapidly drawing to a close, and one unlucky day, having extended his operations to Maidstone at the time of a fair, he was apprehended. As, contrary to his usual custom, he had then two bad sovereigns in his pocket, he was committed to take his trial upon a charge of uttering counterfeit coin. At the ensuing assizes in spite of a most ingenious defence, he was found guilty and sentenced to pass twelve months in imprisonment at hard labour in the house of correction.
This being prior to the invention of treadmills or the improvement of prison discipline, there was no restraint to free communication with his fellow unfortunates. And the species of employment, which consisted only of picking oakum and beating hemp, afforded ample opportunities for the relation by his companions of the many marvellous exploits, cunning schemes, hair-breadth scapes, and successful stratagem for which the lives of each had been remarkable.
It may very easily he imagined, that such society produced its full effect upon the mind of our adventurer, who had, in fact, never been notorious for any great nicety in distinguishing the difference between meum et tuum, and he now emerged from his confinement a most finished adept in all those arts by winch the unprincipled portion of mankind contrived, five and twenty years ago, to victimise their unwary fellow-countrymen.
Ardently longing to reduce the praiseworthy theoretical knowledge he had thus acquired to practical purposes, Rashleigh returned from the gaol to London, in which he still possessed some good clothing and a few trinkets. The latter he now turned into cash for his present subsistence, and then proceeded to the town of Winchester, where he had been informed by an old cracksman (housebreaker)— whom he had left in durance at Maidstone — there was a jeweller’s shop from which a large booty might easily he acquired. In fact, before he was released, Ralph had concerted a plan of operations with his informant, to be put in practice for this purpose when the latter should have served his full sentence and again acquired his liberty.
But our hero had no intention of waiting for an associate, as he wisely deemed the spoil would suffer much by participation with another. Therefore, the very day after that on which he had returned to the metropolis, he set off for Winchester per coach, provided with THe necessary implements of every kind for his nefarious purpose, carefully put up, with a change of clothing, in a carpet bag.
Having duly arrived at the proposed scene of action, he adjourned from the coach office to a small public-house on the outside of the town, where he dined. He then proceeded to view the shop in question. Everything here was apparently as he had been informed, and having spent a few minutes inside the shop, ostensibly for the purpose of purchasing a trifling article, he returned to his inn, there to digest his plans at leisure. These were soon arranged, and Rashleigh, having taken his supper, discharged his reckoning and went to bed, requesting that he might be called at two o’clock, there being a coach to start for Portsmouth at that hour.
The morning proved as dark as Erebus, for it was in the month of November. A chill sleet had completely driven the ancient guardians of the night to their retreats, and not a single sound disturbed the tranquillity of the town. Ralph therefore met with no difficulty or obstacle in his route to the shop. Once there, to remove a panel of the shutter with his centre-bit and chisel was an easy task. The glass next presented itself. This was also cut through with a diamond and prevented from falling by means of a piece of putty held against it. There was a small brass wire grating next the window; but it was movable, and the robber had nothing to prevent him from filling his pockets with the various articles which he could feel lay in the cases before him; when lo, the lusty shout of a watchman at a distance, crying the hour, warned him to be cautious. Accordingly he clapped a piece of dark-coloured paper against the opening of the panel and hastily betook himself to the kind concealment afforded by the shadows of an antique porch hard by.
The vigilant conservator of public property quickly passed, apparently in great haste to return to his box or the comforts of the watch-house fire, and the coast being thus once more clear, Ralph repaired to his unhallowed occupation. To fill his bag, pockets and hat with valuables and all kind of trinkets was but the work of a few minutes. Then, replacing the paper before named, to prevent too early an outcry, he made the best of his way by unfrequented paths to the outskirts of Winchester, where he had during the afternoon noticed a wood, in which he now carefully concealed all his ill-gotten booty, near the foot of an old and remarkable tree. He then cut across the fields until he reached a by-road leading to the town of Basingstoke. He walked upon this road until morning dawned, having for the last few hours had the benefit of the moon’s friendly beams, which so much assisted his progress that at daylight he found himself four and twenty miles from Winchester, and near a small public-house by the wayside. Here he stopped to refresh, and in a short time, a coach coming by, he embraced the opportunity of obtaining a ride to Farnham, where he intended to stay a day or two.
In the evening, weary of the solitude of his own apartment in the public house where he put up, Ralph descended to the large room, which served the inn “for parlour, for kitchen and hall”, in which he found the assembled rustics gaping around a man who had just arrived from Winchester, and who was giving them the details of a most owdacious robbery which had there been done the night before, property to the value of ￡1,500 having been abstracted from a jeweller’s shop. The whole town and neighbourhood were in a complete ferment at this very palpable proof of the presence of some dexterous thieves, of whom it was supposed a whole gang must have been employed to effect this atrocious act. And all whom the sapient magistrates of Winchester thought fit to consider loose or idle characters among the lower classes of the townsfolk had them apprehended and examined. Such a turmoil of arresting, searching, questioning, and cross-questioning had never been known in Hampshire since the death of William Rufus. Moreover, as a finale, to prove they did something as well as talk so much. after all this uproar, two poor sailors who were begging their way to Portsmouth in the hope of getting a ship were apprehended and each sent six months to hard labour in gaol, because they could give no better account of themselves than their true history.
It may easily he credited that Rashleigh was no indifferent auditor of this tale. He was, in sooth, much overjoyed to find that the police of Winchester were so far astray in their suspicions, and he consequently resolved to pay a visit to some relatives he possessed at Southampton for a few days, after which he proposed to return for his spoil, to the place of its concealment.
Accordingly, the next day he put this determination into practice. His friends at that pretty little sea-port received him most cordially, the rather, no doubt, that they had not the slightest idea of the manner in which he had lately spent his time, but believed him to be still employed as a lawyer’s clerk in London, and that he had now come down to keep a holiday. A few days were therefore passed most agreeably among them; but as the weather was too inclement to permit much out-of-door exercise, the sameness of the scene began to pall upon the mind of our adventurer, who soon longed for a return to the more varied pleasures of the great Babel. While here, however, a singular and rather romantic adventure happened to Rashleigh, which will be found narrated in the next chapter.
Thro’ the haze of the night, a bright flash now appearing;
“Oh ho!” cries bold Will, “The Philistines bear down;
“Never mind, my tight lads, never think about sheering;
“One broadside we’ll give, should we swim, boys, or drown.”
Ralph Rashleigh had embraced the opportunity of a somewhat dry day, to walk out as far as the ruins of Netley Abbey, a venerable monastic pile in the New Forest, and spent so long a period in musing over the traces of fallen grandeur which it so abundantly presents, that evening was rapidly closing before he became aware of it. When he intended to retrace his steps to the town, he missed his way and became quite bewildered among the ruins and in the forest. At length, however, having hit upon a well-beaten path which seemed to lead in the wished-for direction, he hastily turned into it, and having proceeded for some distance, at length discovered to his dismay that it only led to the banks of Southampton Water, among an incongruous mass of ruins and rocks, which covered the beach in picturesque but not — by him at least — much admired profusion. It was now quite dark, and our wanderer had the not very pleasing prospect before him of passing the night in a solitary ramble along the winding recesses of this famed harbour, when at a short distance he saw a light, towards which, of course, he quickly bent his steps. He had scarcely set out when he recollected that these ruins were said to be the resort of deer stealers, smugglers and other outlaws, to intrude upon whose privacy might be dangerous. This induced him to proceed more cautiously and to reconnoitre the vicinity carefully. But now the light had disappeared and Ralph was puzzling himself to account for this, when it suddenly became again visible. Once more all was dark and again the deceitful gleam was shown.
“Could it be a will o’ the wisp, or other ignis fatuus?” thought our adventurer, half resolved to abandon the chase, when a voice, apparently near, but below him — as it sounded as if emanating from some man at the bottom of a well — hailed loudly.
“Bob! Bob! Is all right?”
Immediately, to Ralph’s great dismay, the light he had pursued so long in vain was now shown close to him in the hands of a rough-looking sailor, whose truculent features bespoke intimate acquaintance with the display of fire-arms he ostentatiously bore in his belt. Half frightened to death at his very look, Rashleigh suddenly sank down among the long grass and rubbish, scarcely daring to breathe for fear of discovery.
The voice from beneath now asked, “Is Curtis in sight?” as it seemed, while the person to whom it belonged was ascending.
The man with the light replied, gruffly enough, “No, he an’t.”
Soon after, both men appeared, to join each other at a very short distance from Ralph, who lay perdu.
One now remarked that “it was d —— d strange”.
The other, assenting, said “it could not be for fear of the hawks, for they were all off the Wight, on the look-out for Jack Simmons, who had sent a note to an old pal of his at Cowes, purposely that it might fall into the hands of the preventive men, in which he stated that he should try it on that night at Blackgang or the Undercliff. Consequently, the cutter from Southampton, another from Portsmouth, and all the spare officers had been sent over to the island.”
It seemed by their further conversation that all this was known to the smugglers through one of the revenue men in their pay, and that the whole affair had been prearranged, so as to leave the coast clear for their operations at the spot where they then were.
A few minutes more elapsed in silence, when one of the men suddenly exclaimed, “By G——! There she is! Now for the signal!”
A long loud whistle was given, and almost instantly the trampling of many horses, accompanied by the clatter of harness, was heard all round Ralph’s hiding-place. Presently the splash of oars indicated the approach of a boat, and a scene of great bustle ensued. This boat and two others were rapidly unladen, their contents being transferred to the backs of the horses and to two or three light waggons. which had also been brought down to the shore.
Suddenly another whistle was heard at some distance. It was repeated, while just around the spot occupied by our hero many exclamations, such as “Look out for the hawks!” “Blast them, they’re coming!” were spoken in low and hurried voices, warning him that the revenue officers were at hand and coming to attack the smugglers, one of whom seemed to act as leader. and now directed that the loaded waggons and horses should he driven off as quickly as possible, while himself and a few others tried to keep back the officers for a while, until the cargo should be in safety. The horses and waggons accordingly went off at a gallop, the persons who drove them seeming so well acquainted with the route that in spite of the many obstacles and the extreme darkness of the night, they were quickly out of hearing.
The remainder of the smugglers, in obedience to the order of their Chief, had either lain down or sheltered themselves behind masses of rock, when a strong party of the coast-guard appeared advancing round a projecting point, many of them bearing links (or torches) by the light of which the whole bay was partially illuminated, and the lugger might he seen crowding all her canvas to escape. But the officers, being unprovided with boats, and supposing besides that the cargo had been already landed, confined their attempts to the capture of the latter, leaving the lugger to get off unmolested, except by a few useless shots fired at her from the shore, more, it would seem, out of bravado than with any idea of damaging her crew. Soon the foremost of the officers came into contact with the concealed smugglers, and instantly the blaze of twenty muskets streamed amid the gloom.
Two of the officers fell. The remainder hastily retreated, and a consultation having taken place among their leaders, they appeared to resolve upon trying to pass the flank of their opponents, and they therefore turned inland; but very soon after again exposed themselves to a most galling fire from the smugglers, who lay in safety, secured by their position from the shot of the coast-guard party, while the latter, through bearing torches and still endeavouring to advance, suffered considerably.
Another pause ensued, when the leader of the King’s men cheering on his people, they fairly rushed in among the smugglers, who, after discharging their guns at random, leaped up, and endeavoured with the butt ends of their pieces to parry the cutlasses which were aimed at them. All this rime poor Ralph lay in a state of mortal fear, which was not much diminished when the fray became most violent immediately around him, the leader of the smugglers and the commander of the coast-guard having singled out each other, and the bravest of their followers rushing to their assistance. At last fresh and lively cheers from the wood, and loud cries of “Down with the blasted hawks!” indicated that more help had arrived to the party of smugglers, upon which some of the King’s men forcibly carried their officer away from the scene of conflict; when they all retreated in good order along the beach, still keeping their faces to the foe, and occasionally firing at any whom they fancied they could distinguish plainly enough for that purpose.
The smugglers, on their part, did not molest them or attempt any pursuit, but busied themselves in searching for their dead or wounded companions. A number of lanterns now speedily made their appearance, and the bearer of one of them approached Rashleigh, who lay breathless and counterfeiting death as well as he could.
Seeing by his dress that he did not belong to either of the conflicting parties, the man exclaimed, “Why, what have we got here? I zay, jack, here’s a gemman. Let’s zee whether he’s got anything in his pockets!”
Jack, a fierce-looking fellow with enormous whiskers, now came up, and holding his lantern close to Ralph’s face, said, “By the hokey, he an’t dead. He’s only shamming — or else in a swound.”
The voice of their leader was now heard demanding “why they didn’t come on, what they were doing there, and whether they wanted to bring all the sojers in Southampton down upon them.”
To this one of Ralph’s captors replied “that they had found a man who pretended to be dead, and that they thought he must be a spy, from his dress.”
“A spy, hey?” replied the smuggler. “Bring him along. We’ll put him from pretending death any more; he shall swing from the Beaulieu Oak before the night’s an hour older.”
Here Ralph quite lost what scanty remains of self-possession he had left, and begged his captors. in the most moving terms for mercy, but in vain. They hurried him along half running, between them, striking his legs against every projecting root or stone in the way.
At length, after having proceeded two or three miles in this manner, following the sound of their companions’ footsteps, and guided sometimes by a whistle from the front, they reached an open forest glade, in the centre of which was an enormous and aged oak. At the foot of this tree stood three men, among them the leader of the smugglers, whose voice Ralph had so often heard in the roar of that night’s conflict. He now asked the prisoner who he was, to which Rashleigh could only reply, while his teeth chattered with terror, that he was a stranger, who had come on a visit to Southampton and had lost his way near Netley the previous day.
“A d —— d fine tale,” replied the smuggler. “You are a blasted spy, and shall die a dog’s death. Here’s a good strong rope. You, Bill! Count a hundred. And Harry and Jack, be ready when he has done to strap this fine shaver up.”
Poor Ralph now went upon his knees to beg for pity, while he alternately prayed and invoked the most direful imprecations upon his head if he were a spy, or if he had not spoken the truth; to which the only reply vouchsafed was that he might as well spare the little breath he had left, for he would find there was no mistake about them.
In the mean time Bill had counted 64 and Ralph offered all he possessed if they would let him go; 65 — 66 — 67 were calmly repeated, but no reply came from the smuggler; 68-69 sounded in his cars, and driven to utter despair, while the leader was preparing a noose on the fatal cord, Ralph shook himself suddenly free from the grip of the two men who held him, and snatching a gun which stood against the tree, dealt such a vigorous blow with the stock of it on the chief’s head that he at once laid him sprawling on the earth and broke his weapon short off by the breech, leaving only the barrel in his hand.
He then sprang off and ran with the speed of a hunted deer, closely followed by one of the smugglers, who seemed to be armed only with a stick. When they had run a considerable distance, Rashleigh, finding his pursuer gained upon him, rapidly dodged short round, hoping to strike him unawares. But his foot slipped, and he fell to the ground. The smuggler seized the gun barrel, and after dealing the prostrate runaway a blow or two, which he intended for his head, but which were saved by his arm, he began dragging the unlucky Ralph back to the tree, in spite of all his struggles or his loud outcries for assistance, which served only to procure him fresh blows. At length another of the men came to the assistance of his fellow, and between them they soon hauled their victim back to the spot they destined to end all his earthly struggles.
The smuggler chief was now seated under the tree, and one of the men was binding up his wounded head, which seemed to have been bleeding profusely. He welcomed the party with a grim laugh, saying, “So ho, my shaver. You thought to have settled me, but long Frank has got a harder head than you reckoned for. Now, my boys, what are you gaping at? Chuck the end of the rope over that bough. And put the noose round that bloody dog’s neck. We’ll give him five minutes’ good choking.”
In an instant the rope was adjusted, and the end having been disposed as directed, three of the smugglers laid hold of the part that hung over the bough to haul the sufferer off the ground.
Already the rope was drawn tight, when a loud voice close at hand roared out, “oh ho, you blasted thieves! We’ve got you at last, have we?” And suiting the action to the word, the three fellows who held the rope were seized by a number of armed men so great that all resistance was out of the question. The smuggler chief and the other man, who till that moment had continued his grasp upon Ralph, had both disappeared. As for Rashleigh, he fell to the ground and was soon surrounded by a number of persons, who from their dress and appearance seemed to be gamekeepers and their assistants.
This proved to be the case. While they had been in search of some deer stealers, they had been attracted to this spot by the outcries of our adventurer, whose life they had thus opportunely saved. They listened to Ralph’s tale with much astonishment and many execrations upon their three prisoners, whom, as the daylight was now at hand, they proposed to escort to Southampton Gaol.
On their way thither, they were met by two decent-looking men who took the head gamekeeper aside. After some conversation, Ralph was called to join them, when he was asked whether he had any objection to forgiving the smugglers if a sum of money were paid to him in atonement for their offence. The gamekeeper, who probably looked upon smuggling as a very venial crime, or at any rate as being of much less enormity than that of deer stealing, raised not the smallest difficulty at letting the prisoners go; while Ralph, who hated all law and detested the idea of appearing before a magistrate, considered besides — since the chief smuggler had escaped, with his principal coadjutor — that neither of the three men who were taken had been active in persecuting him. So our adventurer agreed, if the sum Of ￡20 were paid to him as a douceur, and the rest of the party satisfied, why, he was content to let the matter drop.
By this time they had reached a small ale-house in the purlieus of the forest, the inmates of which being with some difficulty aroused, the whole party went in at the invitation of the ambassadors; and as some refreshment was much needed by all — but by none more than Rashleigh — a smoking breakfast, though somewhat of the earliest, was welcomed with great satisfaction. After breakfast one of the strangers took our adventurer aside and paid him ￡10 in part of the sum agreed on, the landlord of the house binding himself to produce the other ten the same evening. Ralph now bade his adieux to the company, who were fast getting all drunk together, left the inn, and returned to Southampton.
His absence had created a great sensation, and innumerable were the questions to which the disordered state of his dress gave rise on his arrival at his relatives’ house. But he parried them all by saying that he had lost his way and torn his clothes in a thicket, mentioning a different part of the forest to that in which he had actually been, so as to evade any apparent knowledge of the past night’s affray. After taking some repose, he went in the evening and received the promised balance of the money agreed to be paid. In a few days thereafter, taking farewell of his friends, he went over to Portsmouth, where he sojourned a week.
Hath not a Jew — eyes?
As three weeks had now elapsed since the robbery at Winchester, and all talk of it had ceased, Ralph determined on springing his plant, or, in plain terms, securing his booty. For this purpose he provided himself at Portsmouth with a new travelling trunk, which he conveyed per coach to his destination. On his arrival at the latter place, his first care was to fix his abode at an inn near his precious deposit, his next to see that all was right in the coppice where it lay. Having satisfied himself in this particular, he waited until evening, when, by means of two different visits to the spot, he removed the whole of the articles, without exciting any suspicion, to his present headquarters, which he left next morning for London, where he arrived in due course without accident.
His next care was to dispose of the various articles produced by his enterprise. For this purpose he selected an accommodating Israelite, whose fame had been very often spoken of in the gaol he had left as a safe fence, and a perfect pattern for all cross coves. A dingy marine store shop in a court leading to the Minories was the domicile of this descendant of a chosen people, and thither one evening Ralph bent his way. Our adventurer expected to see in Mr Jacobs a withered and filthy old being, similar in external appearance to those of his race who then perambulated the metropolis as dealers in cast-off clothing. His surprise, therefore, was great when, upon enquiring from a little Jewess in the shop for the master of it, a man in the prime of life, and of most respectable exterior, was shown to him. Having been provided with a password, as a shibboleth of introduction, known only to the initiated, he was not long before he spoke his errand, and it was agreed that they should meet at Rashleigh’s lodgings the next forenoon in order to make their bargain.
At the time appointed Mr J. made his entree. Ralph was prepared with a list and specimens of what he had to sell, as he did not deem it altogether prudent to acquaint his new associate with too much at once, nor did he wish to let him know that all the property was then in that house. After overlooking both list and articles with a very businesslike air, Mr Jacobs said to Ralph. “Vell, how mosh do you vant for de lot?”
“At a word, one thousand pounds.”
“Mine Gott! Are you mad? Vere you tink all dat money shall come from?”
“Oh, Mr Jacobs! You know you could easily find twenty times as much money as that, and I am sure they are a very great bargain!”
“I vill tell you vat it ish. Py mine vord, I never did know de monish so shcarce in all de days of my life; and is pesides, if I was to porrow so mosh, to puy all dis lot of trinkets, ven de devil you tink I get all my monish pack again? Eh? Can you tell me dat?”
“Well, well, Mr Jacobs, if money is really so scarce, you can buy half of what’s on the list, and I will look out for another mark to take the rest. What will you give for the fair half? You know, we can divide them into two heaps, and toss up for first choice!”
“Mine Gott! Vat a hurry to be in! Vell, let me see, let me see . . . All dese bracelets . . . very poor, very poor . . . all French . . . all French and Jarman . . . Bad gold, bad gold . . . Sell petter in England dan over de vater. Put if I puy dem dey mosht go to Hambro’ . . . Vell, I vill tell you at vun vord how mosh I vill give you. I vill give . . . Yes, I vill give you . . . free hundred pounds for de fair half . . . de monish in your hand. So take it or leave it.”
As he said this he pulled out an immense roll of bank notes from some cunningly contrived pocket beneath his arm, and rose at the same time as if to go away if the other did not take his offer.
Ralph only replied, “’Tis too little. Say ￡350.”
‘Not I, py mine Gott! Shall I go?”
“Yes. If you won’t give any more than that we can’t deal.”
The Jew seized the knob of the door, partly opened it, then returned close to Rashleigh, and said in a mysterious whisper, “I vill give ￡640 for de whole.”
Ralph shook his head, and Mr Jacobs ran out of the room and downstairs.
Our adventurer had arisen from his seat and gone to the window in order to watch the Israelite, intending, if he actually left the house, to follow him, when Mr Jacobs again returned, closed the door after him, and said. “Now I vill give you ￡650 for dem all, and upon my shoul, I don’t expect to get a finif (￡5 note) py de pargain. But I vant to send some jewels to Hambro’, and dese vill do as vell as any.”
At last Ralph agreed to take ￡660, which was forthwith paid down by the buyer in Bank of England notes, after which he departed with the portmanteau and jewellery.
For some rime after this Rashleigh led an idle dissipated life, frequently appearing at the theatres, gaming-houses, etc., until the slippery goddess took it into her head to desert him, and he found himself nearly penniless. It now became necessary for him to bestir himself.
Fortune happened to throw in his way an acquaintance, in the person of a female who had formerly been a servant to his employer, with whom he had had a liaison, which he now renewed. She at present lived in the service of an elderly gentleman of great wealth in Welbeck Street. Our adventurer procured by her means admittance into this her master’s house and thus enjoyed ample opportunities of observing the locality of the butler’s pantry, where he learned the plate was kept.
In order to succeed in the plan he had formed for plundering the place, however, it was necessary for him to procure an associate in his enterprise; and he thought himself lucky that about this time he accidentally met in the street one of his quondam companions at Maidstone Gaol. This man was now very seedy in appearance. Having only just been liberated, and being without a shilling, he was ripe for anything that could tend to put money in his pocket. With him, therefore, Ralph made his arrangements, and all being duly prepared, a hackney coachman, who had frequently served Ralph’s associate before in similar transactions, was engaged to be in waiting at a public-house near the scene of their intended operations, so that he might be at hand to receive the booty.
The same night, about twelve o’clock, Ralph and his pal went to the spot, fully prepared for action with all the usual implements of housebreaking. There was as usual a circular iron plate let into the pavement, to admit of coals being shot into the cellar beneath. This was lifted up, and Ralph, who was then but very slender, got down without difficulty. The covering was then replaced by his associate, who retired to some distance, while Ralph, who was well provided with skeleton keys, speedily got out of the cellar and through several doors into the butler’s pantry, where he found the plate, apparently packed up, as if for a journey! He soon carried it all into the cellar. Nothing had as yet occurred to alarm him; but just at this moment a small dog, who was asleep in the area, awoke and came running towards him. Upon smelling his legs, the dog only fawned upon him, because he had been sprinkled with a liquor which never fails to neutralise the opposition of the most ferocious dog.
Ralph now locked himself into the cellar, where he awaited most impatiently the approach of his associate, who was to have returned in half an hour with the coach; but more than two hours elapsed before they came, during which our adventurer was a prey to the fiercest pangs of uncertainty and apprehension. At length the appointed signal was given and the coach stopped. The plate was quickly transferred to it, and in a few minutes they were driving rapidly towards Paddington, where a furnished room had been taken by Ralph the day before. On arrival, they soon secured their booty, paid the jarvey, and lay down to rest. The next day, being resolved to lose no time, Ralph went to the house of a well known fence in Saint Mary Axe, where everything was so very well regulated and the system adopted so cunning, that it seemed to have reached the very pitch of perfection, insomuch that the buyer never saw the seller nor the seller the buyer, thus effectually preventing any after chance of unpleasant recognition. There was a box turning in a wall, so contrived that upon placing any article you wished to dispose of within it and ringing a bell, the box revolved. After the lapse of a few minutes it again turned, and in lieu of the article left, a sum of money, being the price the proprietor was willing to pay for it, made its appearance. If the seller refused to take this he again rang the bell, when his article was returned; but no second offer was ever made. It may easily be conceived that this establishment must have met with great support. In fact, it was the means of immense gain to its proprietor, who thus fixed his own price for all that he bought. But still, the thieves of London much approved of the principle, as they were never seen by anyone while disposing of their ill-gotten booty — thus removing at least one great cause for fear of detection. It was therefore continually well supported; and so cunningly did the owner contrive, that although his premises were repeatedly searched upon the best-founded suspicions that there was stolen property concealed therein, yet nothing was ever found to warrant a conviction.
Once a police officer chased a thief who had stolen a silver teapot from a gentleman’s breakfast table and kept him in full view until he arrived at the door of the house in question. In ran the thief. In two minutes the officer was after him; but there being two doors to the shop, nobody was there. The house was searched from top to bottom, and nothing was found like a silver teapot.
The fact was that next door to this place the owner’s brother had a concealed crucible, which was constantly kept in operation, and which communicated also with the house in question. In this every article bought that would melt was instantly thrown, so that no matter how costly the workmanship, in a few minutes any sized piece of plate was converted into what the fence used jocularly to call his “vite soop”.
To this famed spot Rashleigh now repaired and soon ascertained the price he could get for the plate. It was but 2s. 6d. per ounce; yet this was pretty fair upon the cross, and the confederates divided ￡200 between them as the proceeds of their night’s spoil.
“Steal!” Pho! A fico for the phrase —“convey” the wise it call.
Soon after this occurrence Ralph was walking in the city, when chancing to go into Lombard Street, he observed that the common sewer was open for the purpose of repairs being effected. Now, not far away from this opening there was an opulent banking-house, and Ralph had often heard that in the vaults beneath these city banks considerable sums of gold and Bank of England notes were deposited, and he thought of a plan by which he might perchance break into one of the vaults. To gain as much information as he could with regard to the position of the house he went into the bank, pretending to enquire whether a certain country establishment had failed or not. There were several people within, and Rashleigh had thus a chance of strictly scrutinising the place. It seemed, from the narrowness of the frontage, that there could be no spare room on this floor, and he naturally conceived that the hoard of valuables must be deposited below, as he had before heard.
This was on Thursday, and by Saturday night he had fixed on his plan, in pursuance of which he told the peeple of the house where he lodged that he was going a little way into the country that evening, and should not probably return before Monday. He then provided the usual implements: plenty of false keys, a strong crow-bar, technically called a jemmy, an instrument used for cleaning bricks, some spirits and a slight provision of bread and meat. All these he stowed away in his carpet bag, which he carried under a large boat cloak, and about eight o’clock steered towards the city. Here he waited in a coffee room until it was past eleven, and then started for the scene of his proposed exploit. As he had a long distance to walk, it was after midnight when he reached Lombard Street, which, not being inhabited by any of the working classes, was now quite deserted save by the watchman.
Just at this moment propitious fortune seemed to favour his design, for it began to rain heavily, and Ralph met no person whatever near the opening of the sewer. After hastily reconnoitring to make sure, he got into the cavity and with some difficulty reached the bottom. Keeping close to the side of the sewer, he proceeded along it, groping his way and taking note, as he went, of the branch drains, by which he relied on finding the house he sought, as there was usually one of these openings to each dwelling, leading into the main sewer. He had carefully counted the houses, gratings, etc. from the bank to that part of the street where the chasm was formed.
At length he pitched upon an orifice which he felt sure would lead him to the scene of his proposed exploit, and having first procured a light by means of phosphorus and a wax taper — of which he had brought an ample supply — he crept along the branch drain, sounding its sides at short intervals until he was aware, through the hollow jar produced by the wall, that he must be opposite one of the apartments in the basement of the bank.
He now stripped himself and went seriously to work, prizing out first one brick and then another. Soon, from the closeness of the drain, he was in a state of profuse perspiration; but he kept steadily on, varying his position as well as he could, for he felt almost cramped to death by the confined spot and constrained posture in which he was working. Thus he had wrought for a long period, while all around him was as still as if he had been a thousand fathoms deep in the bowels of the earth, when at once a confused crash astounded him with its noise and almost smothered him with dust and broken mortar. After the lapse of a few seconds, this having partially cleared away, he found that several yards of the brick crown and sides of the drain had fallen in, so that his egress was completely blocked up. This, however, gave him but little uneasiness, as he felt sure that if he were only fortunate enough, once to get in to the haven of his hopes, he would easily find some way to get out. But shortly after this discovery he cast his eyes above him, and found to his utter dismay that a large part of the wall he was then undermining had become loose and was apparently about to give way, threatening to overwhelm and crush him to atoms. He recoiled from the sight in consternation, and retreated beneath a sound part of the drain, which he had hardly gained, before down came the portion of wall, carrying away a large piece of the drain in its fall, some flying fragment of which struck our adventurer on the head and stretched him senseless in the bottom of the sewer.
How long he lay there, of course, he could not tell; but on recovering, he fancied it must have been some time, for a considerable quantity of water had accumulated in the drain, which was before dry. This must have greatly assisted Ralph’s recovery by its coolness, for he was lying in it; and if the injury he sustained had been more serious, it is very probable he might have been suffocated.
As it was, having raised himself with some difficulty, he groped about until he found the phosphorus bottle and his tapers, which he had fortunately put on one side, out of the way of his operations. Having procured a light. his next care was to look for his bag of tools and refreshments, which had also escaped injury. A hearty pull at the spirit flask revived him, and he soon after mustered up courage to approach the scene of his late discomfiture, when he found to his great joy that a considerable breach had been formed in the wall of the house, through which he could discern an apartment or cellar of some sort. He speedily enlarged the opening and got in, taking care to remove all his implements at the same time.
Upon searching this room, however, he quickly discovered that it contained not the object of his ambition, and he therefore examined the door, intending to try one of his skeleton keys. But alas, there was a key in the lock, and from its peculiar make, it seemed to bid defiance to his efforts at forcing it. At last he dislodged the door from its position, tearing out frame and all from the brickwork, when he found that the opening led into a dark passage, in which were three other doors, either open or having keys left in them; but nothing could be found to induce Rashleigh to suppose this any portion of the bank premises, as the rooms contained nothing but empty packing-cases, old hampers, broken bottles and straw. The powerful odour of drugs that pervaded all these dens convinced Ralph that he had commenced operations on the wrong side of the drain, having in fact broken into the house above the bank, next to which he now recollected there was a wholesale druggist’s warehouse; and it was clear he had entered the latter.
Almost reduced to despair by this discovery, which rendered all his previous toil and danger abortive, our adventurer was on the point of abandoning his enterprise, as he perceived, on looking at his watch, it yet wanted two hours of day and he thought he could leave the sewer unobserved. But at last he determined to persevere, chiefly induced by reflecting that this being Sunday, there was little fear of any interruption, at any rate for some hours further.
He then returned to the drain from whence he had come, and after having again sounded the opposite side of it, fixed upon a place for recommencing his labour. Rendered much wiser by experience than at first, he now commenced by taking out a double row of bricks above the scene of his intended operations. Therein he inserted into the wall a strong piece of wood, after the manner of a lintel, to support the brickwork above, while he made his opening below. Again he toiled incessantly, until his hands were galled and blistered to a most painful degree. Stimulated, however, by hope of a golden reward, he suffered not his energy to relax until he had pierced through this partition, when he found a more serious obstacle presented itself. This wall, for the sake of either security or dryness, had been lined with oak planking, which stood perpendicularly against it, well secured to horizontal pieces of timber built into the wall. After having in vain attempted to dislodge a plank, no resource remained but the centre-bit and keyhole saw, with which, after about an hour more of arduous toil, Ralph succeeded in making a square opening large enough to admit his whole person.
His joy was now boundless to find that he was at length in the wished-for treasure cell, of which he had no doubt at the first glance. There were several cases of copper and silver money lying open before him, and some smaller cases, which still more attracted the attention and excited the cupidity of the plunderer. To force some of these was his first care. But the greater part of them contained only blanks, to fill up as bank notes for different sums. There was also one case of bill stamps. Ralph began to think his toil would be but ill repaid after all, when a chest which stood by itself in a corner attracted his attention. Antique in its appearance, and secured by many a clasp and many a massy band, besides three huge padlocks, it bade defiance to all his efforts, until he remembered having heard in experienced thief in Maidstone Gaol say that after trying every other means in vain to rob a strong chest, he often found it might be easily broken open at the bottom, if it could only be turned over, the reason being that if there be any damp near it is sure to be drawn under an article of this kind, which causes the wood with which it comes into contact to decay much sooner than any other part.
Acting on this idea, Ralph capsized the box in question with some difficulty and discovered that the bottom was in fact quite rotten and presented no serious obstacle to the tools, with which he effected his purpose. He then saw that the chest in question contained many bags, which on examination he found with joy were full of coined gold. There was also a small open case, in which were many Bank of England notes. Here then at last was the fruit of his labours, his suffering and his danger; and after having puzzled himself for a little while which was the best booty, he determined on taking as many sovereigns as he could well carry, and all the Bank of England paper he saw. He then emptied his carpet bag of its contents, replacing them by sovereigns and notes, until he judged that he must have nearly ten thousand pounds’ worth. Next, carefully removing all the implements he had brought with him, he withdrew through the drain into the adjoining house, where he resolved to conceal himself during the day, as it was now nearly eight o’clock. Choosing the most out-of-the-way nook on the whole floor, he made himself up a comfortable bed of straw from the empty hampers, which he then disposed around him in such a manner that it would not be very easy to discover him, even in case of a search. He then made a hearty meal, drank some spirits, and resigned himself to sleep.
When he awoke it was just getting dark and he began now to consider the means of egress, as he did not like the idea of removing the bricks and rubbish from the drain, which he knew must be done before he could return by that path. He shortly found out a grating in the corner of one of the druggist’s cellar rooms, which he doubted not communicated with the main common sewer that he had come up, and upon his removing it, this proved to be the case. He now collected every tool he had used and threw them into a cesspit, reserving only the phosphorus box and a taper, for fear of an accident.
All being now ready for his departure, he waited with anxiety the hour of twelve, which he had fixed upon because before that time there were many stragglers always in the streets; but after that, especially on Sunday nights, the city was comparatively quiet. At length the wished-for number of strokes tolled from a neighbouring church clock, and Rashleigh cautiously commenced his return. When within a few yards of the opening from the sewer into the street, he put out the taper he had hitherto carried, and threw it, together with the phosphorus box, into the deepest hole near him. He now listened attentively, and hearing no sound of footsteps or aught else, he clambered, without loss of time, into the street, heartily rejoicing in his success so far.
The night was very dark. It was still raining and from the sloppy state of the streets, appeared to have been doing so without any intermission since the night before. Ralph had made his way to the foot pavement when a watchman suddenly stepped frorn under a door and stood before him. Though he was somewhat startled, Ralph preserved his equanimity as well as he could, merely saying in his blandest tone of voice, “Good-night, watchman.”
“Good-night, sir,” said the other. “Do you know, I thought you came up out of the middle of that big hole just now.” And he laughed heartily at the idea.
Ralph smiled in return, saying as he went on, “I crossed the street just by that opening, which perhaps deceived your sight.”
It being now too late to obtain a hackney coach in that neighbourhood, Rashleigh made the best of his way to the riverside, where he knew there was a house kept open all night for the accommodation of persons arriving by late packet boats, into which he gained admittance. Not being much inclined to sleep, he spent the remainder of the morning in reading a book he found by chance in his bedroom. Soon after daylight he went to a neighbouring stairs, where he hired a boat for Lambeth. Here he breakfasted, and took a hackney coach for his lodgings, at which it was his first care to hide every portion of his spoil in various secret places he had before contrived for this purpose. He then put on a new sporting suit of clothes that he had provided for his country excursions, which, consisting of a Jolliffe white hat with an enormous brim, a bottle green Newmarket-cut coat, white cord breeches and top boots, effected a most surprising change in his personal appearance. In the next place, being very desirous to ascertain the earliest intelligence respecting the steps likely to be taken for his own discovery and apprehension as the perpetrator of the late robbery, he now repaired to the White Horse Cellar Inn, Piccadilly, carrying with him a valise and umbrella. Here he ascended a coach just arrived from Bristol, which was going into the city to the Swan With Two Necks, Lad Lane, intending to remain there for a day or two, fishing for information which might tend to guide him not only in the disposal of his booty, but as to what part of the world he had better go to. Having arrived at the inn, he gave his name out to be Mr Robert Rowland, from Bristol, and shortly afterwards stepped out, taking an opportunity of passing by the scene of his depredation, and went into a coffee-room hard by, but did not hear a breath respecting the matter.
At last he returned to the Swan, where, as he was dining in the travellers’ room, it was not long before he overheard a conversation between two persons occupying the box next to himself, relative to the robbery. One o these two seemed to have been near the bank when the discovery was made, which did not take place until after ten o’clock that morning. It also appeared that the civic police were quite at fault; the means by which the house had been robbed by being broken into were plain enough, for the instant that the cashier went into the strong vault he saw all was in confusion, and a very slight search led to the discovery of the opening into the sewer; but they knew not how to, account for all the rubbish in the branch drain, nor could they at all conceive how the robbers had escaped after executing their purpose. It was agreed, however, by all, that several thieves must have been concerned, as it appeared to them the labour performed was far greater than the truth.
The only persons upon whom suspicion had as yet fallen were the workmen employed in repairing the sewer, all of whom had been directly taken into custody; but it seemed two of their number, who had been at work with them on the Saturday previous, had not returned that morning to their task; nor could they be traced by any enquiry which had been made. Therefore very heavy suspicion attached itself to them, and a high reward had been offered for their apprehension. In the mean time placards had been largely circulated, giving intimation of the robbery, publishing the numbers of the notes stolen, and promising ￡500 for the detection of the guilty parties.
Rashleigh devoured all this story with great avidity and felt very easy in his mind, it being quite apparent that all the police authorities were perfectly astray as yet. The next morning he attended at the Guildhall to pick up what further news or information he could upon the examination of the workmen; but he failed, as this, being only a preliminary investigation, was held in private. He elicited, however, from a very communicative civic functionary of some sort, with whom he picked a conversation on the subject, that a watchman who was stationed in Lombard Street had that day come forward to state that a little after twelve on the morning of Monday he had seen a very gentlemanly-looking person in the street, whom he had spoken to, as he had at first thought he must have come out of the sewer; but that the stranger had denied doing so and the watchman could not swear that he actually saw him emerge from the opening. Nor could he give any other description of the party in question, save that he spoke very much like a gentleman and had on a large cloak, which covered him from head to foot, so Ralph’s informant thought. “Their Worships” could make nothing out of that.
As usual, the newspapers teemed with various and conflicting statements; but the chief information they contained consisted of the fact that several of the most active and intelligent officers of Bow Street had been sent to the different seaports to examine all suspicious persons about to leave the kingdom; but above all things, the strictest search was everywhere to be made for the missing workmen.
Rashleigh having thus learned all that he could for the present, determined on going out of London for a short rime, and selected Farnham, in Surrey, as his retreat, having been much taken with the beauty of the town when he had spent a day or two there after his exploit at Winchester. Here, then, he located himself, passing as usual for a clerk upon a holiday.
About a fortnight after he arrived there, he was horrified by reading in the newspaper an account of a great fire which had taken place in Essex Street, Strand, where he had lodged, and which had already consumed nearly the whole of the houses on one side of that street. This news quite unmanned him because he had left nearly the whole of his large stock of ill-acquired cash in the places of concealment before mentioned at his lodgings. The only hope that remained to him was that the side consumed might not be that on which he had lived, as the paper did not specify the spot exactly. Suspense, however, was intolerable, and feigning that he had received a letter claiming his instant return to London, he took coach the same night, and having arrived at the Golden Cross, flew on the wings of anxiety to Essex Street. Here his very worst anticipations were fully realised. His late lodgings were not distinguishable amid the mass of smoking ruins, and the firemen. who were all busied in pulling down those walls which still stood but threatened to fall, would not allow Rashleigh to approach near the spot on which the house he lived in had stood. Indeed, if they had, it would have proved useless, for that dwelling appeared to have suffered even more, if possible, than any of the rest, having been completely gutted, the roof and floors fallen in; and the workmen, at that moment, were levelling the front walls.
Forewarned by legends of my youth,
I trust not an associate’s truth.
Overpowered by dismay, Ralph Rashleigh turned from the scene, and felt as if he wished himself whelmed beneath the ruins of the house which had thus destroyed all his hopes — so fondly cherished — of future independence. Except about ￡100 which he had taken with him into the country, not only all the booty for which he had risked his life, but all his clothing, books and other effects were thus lost to him for ever. Scarcely knowing what he did, he went into a neighbouring public-house and endeavoured by repeated libations to drown the memory of his loss.
The effect of this debauch, combined with his mental anxiety, threw him into a fever, from which he did not recover for several weeks. In the mean time he was exposed to the mercenary extortions of a stranger, who appeared to proportion his charges to his knowledge of the contents of his guest’s purse, which this pattern for landlords had taken away on the occasion of Ralph’s becoming intoxicated the first night of his arrival at the house. As soon, therefore, as Rashleigh became sufficiently sensible to arrange his own business, he enquired for his cash, when a bill was presented to him, amounting to upwards of ￡56 for lodging and attendance, exclusive of the surgeon’s charge for visits and medicine, which last, when he received it, was ￡32 more. After these were paid Rashleigh found himself master of only ￡7 10s. 8d. and the suit of clothes he wore, to begin the world anew with.
One effect of his last sickness had been, however, to disgust him sincerely with his past life, and he determined upon living honestly for the future, to do which he resolved upon procuring employment again as a legal copyist. But some time must necessarily elapse before he could hope to be sufficiently restored to health for this purpose. In the mean time his scanty stock of cash would soon be exhausted. He therefore left the public-house and took a small furnished room in a court near the Temple, where after a week or two he found himself so much better that one day he set out to wait upon an old employer for the purpose of asking some work. He was well received and promised employment on the morrow.
On his return from making this call, his evil fortune threw him in the way of that associate who had assisted him in the robbery of the house in Welbeck Street, and who was now in custody of an officer for some other offence. This fellow hailed Rashleigh, and the officer, who was on the lookout for another pal of his prisoner, suspected from his manner that there was something in common between them. As he looked with the usual eyes of a thief catcher upon all the associates of thieves, so he now determined on taking our hero into custody likewise. And this he shortly after effected; for meeting a brother officer, he described the person of Ralph Rashleigh to him, and in a few minutes more that unlucky wight was arrested as he turned into the court where he lodged.
Resistance and enquiry were alike vain, and Ralph was lodged in the watchhouse without even knowing the charge on which he had been taken up. After a night of mental anxiety, which may be much more easily conceived than described, he was brought before the sitting magistrate at Bow Street next day. Here the officer first charged Thomas Jenkins — alias Thomas Jones, ALIAS Thomas Smith, with about twenty other aliases by which, it seemed, Rashleigh’s former associate had been known at some period of his eventful career — with having been concerned in the commission of a daring robbery at a gentleman’s house in the Adelphi; and certainly, as far as the evidence of the policeman went, a very clear case indeed was made out against him, for it appeared he was seen lurking near the house in question the evening the robbery had been perpetrated, in company with an associate, who, by the by, was sworn much to resemble the unfortunate Ralph. Besides this, on searching his person, the duplicate of one of the stolen articles had been found in his pocket. Again, his character, which was notorious as that of a thief, bore hard against him, and he was fully committed for trial at the Old Bailey.
It now became necessary to examine our adventurer; and the only evidence against him being of a negative character, he was requested to state his occupation, which he averred to be that of a legal copyist. And as he most indignantly denied all knowledge of Jenkins or his acts, he was remanded to prison for a week, in order that rime might be afforded the police to make enquiry into the truth of his assertion.
Behold Rashleigh once more in gaol, surrounded with the outcasts of England’s vast metropolis, destitute of money, of friends, and of necessaries, a prey to the bitterest feelings of remorse, and vainly vowing a complete reformation if ever he again obtained his liberty. But this was not to be his lot, for his quondam companion thought by telling the truth with reference to the former robbery that his sentence might be rendered lighter, or perhaps, as the gentleman robbed on that occasion was of high respectability and influence, that he might even escape altogether with impunity. Having therefore freely made a full confession, implicating Rashleigh in the strongest manner, also the hackney coachman who had assisted in the removal of the plate, together with the Israelite who had bought it, the two last were arrested, and on the day appointed for hearing Ralph upon the former charge, he was placed at the bar with the hackney man, whom he hardly knew, and to his utter confusion saw his former associate enter the witness-box to give evidence against him.
The testimony of Jenkins was corroborated by many circumstances which, though trivial of themselves, formed a very strong aggregate, and by the unsatisfactory defence offered by Ralph, coupled with the statement made by the policeman who had been deputed to enquire how our adventurer lived, to the effect that although he had enquired for employment at the place he stated on the day he was taken into custody, and although he had been so employed by the same person about eighteen months before, yet nothing appeared as to how he had been obtaining a living in the interim. And as, for reasons well known to the reader, he could by no means clear up this point or bring evidence as to his honesty, the investigation closed by his being fully committed to Newgate, to take his trial at the ensuing sessions for the County of Middlesex upon a charge of burglary, which at the time was a capital offence, and one for which mercy was rarely granted to such as were found guilty.
The van which conveyed the daily gleaning of crime collected by the ever vigilant officers of Bow Street, and whose inmates were strongly secured by leg-chains and handcuffs, contained, besides Ralph Rashleigh, two prostitutes, committed on charges of pocket picking, a girl apparently new from the country, who had been sent to prison for having stolen a few articles of female finery from her mistress, an apprentice boy, who was committed for robbing his master’s till, a hoary old beggar, to be tried on a charge of assaulting a street keeper, and a ferocious-looking Irishman, who had beaten his wife so severely that her life was despaired of. The tears of the poor servant girl, who wailed most pitifully, the obscenity of the two strumpets, the bitter lamentations of the ‘prentice boy, and the awful objurgations of the Irishman formed a truly disgusting mélange, and Ralph was almost glad when the van stopped before the gloomy portals of the prison, now rendered doubly repulsive by the darkness of the night and the fitful glare of the torches held by the officers in attendance, to light the prisoners into that abode of doom, which some of them felt they should never more quit with life.
The surrounding mob, collected outside in vacant curiosity to gaze upon the newly arrived criminals, hailed their appearance with many obscene jests and very much brutal laughter; but upon their entry into the porch or gate-house the outer doors were closed, and Rashleigh felt his heart sink within him as the grating noise of the sullen hinges and the clank of massy bolts seemed to cut him off from the external world for ever.
Here a strict search was made upon the person of each; but their money and other trifling articles were immediately returned to them. The women were then taken in one direction, and the men, among whom of course was Rashleigh, were ordered to follow a turnkey in another, through a long and gloomy passage, which displayed at intervals festoons of fetters of all shapes and sizes, handcuffs, fire-arms of every kind and capacity, from the bell-mouthed musketoon with bore as wide as a teacup to the pocket pistol, carrying a bullet not much bigger than a pea. There was no lack of naked cutlasses or swords, and many hideous, grim-looking engines were suspended against these dreary walls, the names and uses of which were equally unknown to Ralph; but his heated imagination appropriated to each some foul or horrible purpose. Frequent gates, composed solely of iron bars, crossed this gallery, at each of which was stationed an attendant turnkey. The numerous direful ideas conjured up by the mind of our captive in his transit caused this avenue to appear interminable; but at length the whole party stopped in a small room apparently used as an office, where a clerk in attendance entered the personal description, together with a statement of the dress worn by each of the new confines. They were then directed to proceed onward, which they did through a small yard surrounded by the gaol apartments, until they again halted at a grated door. Having been admitted, they went up three flights of stone stairs and were shown into a large ill-lighted apartment, the unglazed windows of which, strongly secured by iron bars, left no doubt of its purpose. Around this room, which contained no other furniture than a rough table and two or three forms, were lying many prisoners. Here they were received by a man who had charge of the ward, as the apartment was called, and who gave to each a portion of very dark-coloured bread, a mat similar in material and appearance to those placed at the outer doors of houses, and a coarse horse rug. The latter articles formed the bed and bedding allowed by the civic authorities to such prisoners as had none of their own.
The turnkey who had ushered them in now withdrew, and a scene immediately ensued of which Rashleigh could give but a very faint account, for one of the rugs having at this moment been thrown over him from behind, he was immediately pulled to the ground and in a few minutes stripped of every article of clothing: an operation which he quickly discovered had been simultaneously performed upon all those who had arrived with him. Remonstrance being of no avail, nothing remained but patience, and of this inestimable quality Ralph had lately acquired a sufficient portion to enable him to submit in silence. When the uproar had somewhat subsided he secured his rug and mat, spread them upon the ground, and lay down to sleep. The numberless myriads of vermin, however, together with the continual noise of conversation, and other nameless annoyance prevented his doing so for many hours; and when at last he did rest, the intense cold, from which his scanty covering but ill defended him, caused him soon to awake, after which he lay tossing and tumbling until his bones were sore, revolving many bitter thoughts of the past am anticipations for the future.
At length the wished-for morning dawned, and our adventurer had an opportunity of observing the nature of his place of confinement more a leisure; but he could find nothing very cheering in the view. The room was of great size, furnished, as before stated, only with a rough table and benches, together with the rugs and mats which formed the bedding of the prisoners, who seemed to be in number from thirty to forty. When it became quite light Ralph saw a quantity of clothing lying in the middle of the floor, which he examined and found that his own was among them. He then quickly dressed and went to sit by the fire. In a short time many others joined him, and numberless questions were asked by the former inmates of the newcomers, as to what they were “in for”, etc. in making replies to these queries the time sped away until eight o’clock, when several buckets full of gruel were brought in, which served those who, like Ralph had no means of purchasing any other food for breakfast. With some of the bread he had received the night before our adventurer made a hearty meal, to which the abstinence of the previous four and twenty hours no doubt contributed in a very great degree.
After breakfast Ralph went down to the yard, the doors of all the sleeping-wards being by this time thrown open. The prisoners attended prayers in the chapel, after which Rashleigh joined a number of others who were performing their ablutions at a pump. This necessary operation concluded, the new-comer began to look around him, to see if among his fellow-confines he could recognise any one he knew. This investigation had no effect for some time, until he perceived a bustle among the assembled crowd, whose attention seemed to be concentrated upon the outer entrance of the yard, where a turnkey ever and anon called out the name of a prisoner, who then answered, “Over”, as loud as he could bawl and ran to the door to receive a message or parcel, or be shown into the visiting room, accordingly as a message or a visitor awaited his attention.
The name of William Tyrrell, having been vociferated in this way, was replied to by a person whose face appeared familiar to Rashleigh, who asked another man close by for information as to who Tyrrell was.’ The former replied that he was a first-rate swindler, then confined for twelve months, having, been bowled out in some of his malpractices. This account did not altogether satisfy our hero, who was confident he had known Tyrrell in some other circumstances than such as had been detailed to him, though he could not at the time remember how or where they had met, and he now awaited with some impatience for his reappearance. In the mean time the inmates of this vast prison commenced their daily amusements or occupations. The greater part of them, breaking up into knots, retired either into the wards or out-of-sight comers of the yard, to form what they called schools, for the pursuit of their favourite pastime, gambling; but cards being prohibited, a number of ingenious devices were resorted to, among which the most popular appeared to be the tossing up of one, two, or three halfpence at once, technically termed gaffing. A scene now ensued to which the uproar of Babel or the din of Pandemonium must have been perfect peace, the gamblers staking often their clothing on the chances, until at length some of them were shortly covered only by scanty and wretched rags begged from the more fortunate, who in their turn were stripped by other successful competitors. The various vicissitudes of the game were marked by the most horrid imprecations, of a power and energy only to be appreciated by those who have ever haunted the classic solitudes of Billingsgate, or the secluded shades of Chequer Alley and Winfield Street. In several instances the opponents resorted to blows, when rings were formed, seconds selected, and all the minutiae of prize-fighting rigidly adhered to, the bystanders encouraging their respective favourites, and freely betting their money, articles of apparel, and even their food on the issue of the contest.
Amid this uproar some were moodily fixed in anxious expectation, awaiting the arrival of a friend or relative with news from without, or a promised supply of cash or clothing. Another few were pacing the yard alone, “in silent meditation fancy free”. Some who, like Rashleigh, expected no visitors, and to whom the scene at any rate offered the attraction of novelty, were listlessly gazing, first at one part of this strange mélange, and then at another. But nowhere could he observe any traces of that sorrow or despair which might have been supposed the fit accompaniment of such a place, where many of those whom he saw knew full well that “they were sure to be twisted (hanged) at the next sessions”, as they daily expressed themselves to that effect. On the contrary, the only object of most appeared to be the enjoyment of the passing hour, varied in a few cases and at intervals by deep-laid schemes to defeat their two great enemies, the public justice and their private prosecutors, as well as by cunningly devised projects of plunder to be put into execution when they should again recover their liberty.
After a short time the door of the yard opened, and the person who had answered to the name of Tyrrell reappeared. He now passed quite close to Rashleigh, who remembered him as a person whom upon one of his country excursions he had rescued from the clutches of a constable in whose custody he was proceeding to Hertford Gaol on a charge of robbery; which service Ralph had performed by effecting the intoxication of this vigilant guardian of the public peace, when he stole the key of the room in which Tyrrell had been confined and let him out, providing him with a supply of money to assist his flight. Rashleigh now addressed this man, enquiring how he had got into his present confinement. The latter, upon recognising one who had rendered him such an essential obligation, after a few preliminary remarks, informed our adventurer that being sentenced a year’s imprisonment in the Start (Newgate) he had, as was customary at that time, obtained the situation of a wardsman (person appointed to keep order in each of the sleeping apartments) and that, by a dexterous application of some of the renowned oil of palms to one of the gaol officers, he had been placed in what was considered the best room of the prison, where he had ample opportunities for enjoying himself and also, strange to say, of getting a good deal of money. He then enquired into Rashleigh’s case and present circumstances, when, finding that the latter could scarcely be worse, he ended by inviting his newly arrived friend to share his mess until the sessions, promising also to get him removed into the same ward with himself. Ralph joyfully acceded to this arrangement. Never before had he found so apposite an illustration of the old proverb, “A friend in need is a friend indeed.” Shortly after this, the principal turnkey on that side of the gaol coming to the gate to preside over the distribution of the meat and soup allowed for the dinner of the confines, Tyrrell preferred his request to that awful functionary, and duly supported it by a recurrence to the usual all-powerful Argentine arguments commonly applied in such cases, and which, in this, proved effectual; for Rashleigh obtained permission to change his lodging to that occupied by his friend, whom he immediately accompanied to the famed apartment then known as the “Smugglers’ Ward”.
The first view of this room impressed our hero with a much more cheerful opinion of the comforts attainable even in a felons’ gaol than any place he had yet seen within the walls of Newgate. Here were many very clean-looking beds. Coarse curtains screened portions of the room and, in fact, subdivided it into small apartments, which were rented by those among the confines who were opulent enough to afford the payment of what Trapbois would have called “a fair con-sid-e-ra-tion” for it in the shape of a weekly rent to the wardsman for such an indulgence. A few decent tables and chairs, with many other miscellaneous articles of comfort and even luxury also were to be seen. In the whole, this portion of Newgate presented an infinitely preferable appearance to many houses outside its walls, independent of the parish of Saint Giles.
Tyrrell now introduced Ralph to his own berth, which was formed like the rest by curtains, and in addition to two decent beds, etc., contained several shelves, with drawers and a table. In fact, it presented the appearance of a small huckster’s shop, to which purpose it was actually appropriated; for in a few minutes a number of persons applied for tea, sugar, coffee, milk, eggs, bacon, butter and many other comestibles, the supplying of which occupied both Tyrrell and our hero, who was quickly installed into office as his assistant, during more than an hour. Tyrrell then ordered breakfast to be brought, acquainting his new messmate that the inmates of the Smugglers’ Ward, justly considering themselves as the aristocracy of the entire community within the walls of Newgate, were by far too independent to adhere to the same hours for taking their meals as were observed by the common order of criminals. Accordingly, though they were obliged to go to chapel every morning at nine o’clock, which occupied half an hour, they very carefully resumed their beds as soon as they returned, nor did they rise again until noon, by which time the ward had been thoroughly cleaned out, their boots or shoes and clothes brushed, and their breakfasts prepared by their servants; of whom each person of high ton, who had plenty of tin, kept one to himself; in other cases two or three of inferior means clubbed their messes together and supported one slavey among them.
These slaveys, or servants, were a sort of pariahs among the prisoners, chiefly Johnny Raws, or country chaps, apprentices, or others, who had no acquaintances to assist them while in gaol, and who were not possessed of sufficient dexterity in gambling to supply their wants by any of the various cheating tricks resorted to among the knowing ones. They were consequently glad to earn a trifle of cash and some food, by administering to the necessities and submitting to the various practical jokes or tyrannical tricks of their imperious masters; for Ralph had ample opportunities of observing that many of the so-called highflyers of Newgate were not a whit behind those whom they copied — the gay and gilded butterflies of fashion who fluttered in the external world — in scorning those whom fate or fortune had for the time placed in subordinate situations to themselves.
Poor Tom was once a kiddy upon town,
A thorough varmint, and a real swell.
Tyrrell’s attendant having produced their breakfast, which consisted of coffee, eggs, honey and toast, our confines did ample justice to the vivers, after which, Rashleigh having questioned his companion respecting his past history, Tyrrell observed that in order to understand it, it would be necessary to begin at an early period of his life; but, as there was nothing else to do, it would form as good a pastime as any other, and he began as follows:
“My father was a noted fence, and it may easily be imagined, in consequence, that what I saw in my paternal mansion during my early childhood did not greatly predispose me to a life of honesty. In fact, I was taken notice of by the thieves who resorted to our house for the purpose of selling whatever they had stolen. These gentry were lost in admiration of my dexterity, for at nine years of age I could pick the pocket of the sharpest man among them.
“Talents like mine were not to be hidden in obscurity; so one day, after I had lost all my browns gaffing with a chummy, and my old dad had refused to give me any more, I watched my opportunity and stole from him a watch and a small lot of silver spoons, which I took to an acquaintance of his in the same line, whom I amused by a false tale of my dexterity in stealing them. He willingly bought the whole, without asking any troublesome questions, and told me with an air of patronage I shall never forget, ‘that he always thought I should turn out a most splendid thief!!!’ Egad, I believe he considered this to be the highest praise he could bestow; and for my part, I thought more of it, by an immeasurable degree, than I should, had he predicted I should live to be a Bishop!
“With the money thus acquired, I forsook the East end for the West, and soon fell in with a highly distinguished member of the swell mob, now, alas, luxuriating at Botany Bay. This worthy had often praised my consummate skill in the art of conveyancing, and by such a distinguished artist was I now taken into protection. Under his auspices it was that I acquired that savoir vivre which I have often been complimented upon in after life, and to which, no doubt, may be ascribed the singular success that has generally attended my operations.
“We carried on the war against the pockets of all and sundry for two years with prolific industry, until at last, in a moment of rashness, my companion essayed his skill upon the person of no less redoubtable a victim than Sir R. B. the celebrated police magistrate, whom he eased of his pocket book, containing a considerable sum, just at the door of his own office! From that instant our fortunes declined. The officers of his establishment, after the affront offered to their chief, appeared to be each endowed with more eyes than Argus himself. We were had up before the beak three times in one fortnight on suspicion of various offences, and though acquitted of any actual criminality, yet my companion was sent three months to gaol as a suspected thief, while I was ordered to be received into the refuge. This destination I obtained from my obstinacy in refusing to disclose my real name or the residence of my parents, which I was loath to do because I feared my father might be ungentlemanly enough to remember the little faux pas I had committed when I left him.
“In this benevolent institution for reclaiming the destitute youth of London I remained four years, much against my will, in which period I learned to read and write, for my education had hitherto been very much neglected. Besides, I obtained an insight into the calling of a snob, to which gentle occupation I was apprenticed at the expiration of my servitude, a master being chosen for me by the institution, who in consideration of my services for three more years, engaged to provide me with food and clothing and to perfect me in the knowledge of that necessary craft, which is said to have been patronised by Saint Crispin.
“This benevolent gentleman added to the other obligations he wished to confer upon me, an intimate acquaintance with short commons — and a long stirrup-leather. But after my close confinement in the Refuge, I can assure you I had other notions of the sweets of liberty than to waste my fife among the awls and ends of a cobbler’s shop; so I very soon absconded from my master, and taking the road to Bristol, with a scanty stock of clothing and a still more slender supply of cash, I began the world anew. I had travelled many miles before the night fell, and I found myself near a small village, to the inn of which I hastened for shelter.
“In the night an alarm of fire roused all the inmates at once. I had slept in an apartment on the ground floor, and was soon in safety; but the case was far different with some others, because the flames had attained great power before they were discovered. It appeared they had broken out in a fireplace that adjoined the only staircase which the house contained. Consequently, the retreat of those who occupied the upper rooms was quickly cut off.
“A scene of dire confusion now took place. The people of the inn, with the help of bystanders, endeavoured to save their property; and they were so busy that they did not remember an elderly gentleman and his daughter, who slept in two of the upper apartments situated at the back of the house, and who now appeared at a window, beseeching for help. By this time the flames had burst from the openings beneath them and threatened imminent danger to any who should even approach to set up a ladder for their escape. The landlord having offered a ￡10 note to anybody that could rescue them, I determined on trying to earn so considerable a reward.
“Having first stripped myself to my shirt, I wetted a blanket, which I fastened round me, and then boldly placed a ladder against the window. The old gentleman, in the mean time, had fainted, and his daughter refused to abandon him. I therefore ran up the ladder, and at the urgent entreaty of the girl, that I would save her father, I managed with some difficulty to get him out of the window upon my back, and though I was fairly enveloped in flame, I reached the ground with my burden in safety.
“The scene now was awful, for the whole of the lower part of the inn on that side presented nothing but one sheet of fire, which, bursting forth at every lower opening, licked the walls and clambered the side of the house in volumes of flame. But the beauty of the lovely girl, who now could only be seen at intervals, wringing her hands in a paroxysm of despair at the upper window, was too deeply impressed upon my mind to suffer her to perish so dreadfully without an effort.
“Taking another wet blanket with me, I rushed up the ladder once more, and throwing it around the young lady, caught her on my shoulder, and began my descent just in time; for I had not made two steps downwards, when the floor on which she had stood fell in with a tremendous crash, shaking the whole building and emitting a shower of burning flakes of timber. I felt almost paralyzed for an instant. The girl fainted on my shoulder, and I had great difficulty to keep my feet. The suffocating heat nearly deprived me of breath; but just at this moment the ladder slipped, which recalled me, and with convulsive energy I grasped its sides between my knees, and thus slid in half a second to the ground.
“Brief as my passage had been, my hair and even my eyebrows were burned, my right shoulder painfully scorched, and to crown all, the force with which I alighted on Terra firma had severely sprained my ankle, so that I had scarcely handed my lovely burden to her father, when I fell down insensible.
“After a long illness, during which the greatest attention was paid to me, when I recovered strength enough to take cognisance of those around me, I was informed that I now lay in a farm-house near the village where the fire had happened, that the old gentleman whose daughter I had saved had caused me to be brought there, having liberally paid the inmates for their attention to me, and that he had left orders that when I could bear the journey I was to proceed to his residence, situated at a place called King’s Weston, in Somersetshire, for which purpose he had left me a sum of money.
“The landlord of the inn frequently came to see me, and indeed, among all the neighbours, I was considered quite a hero. My convalescence was pleasant enough, and I set forth to pay my respects to Mr Waterton, which I found was the name of the gentleman in question. I had previously sent a letter to him, returning my thanks for his kindness, and stating the day on which I intended to start, so that on my arrival per coach at Bristol, I found a servant with a horse and chaise, waiting to convey me forward to my destination.
“I was most cordially received by Mr W., his son and daughter, and when my health was re-established, the old gentleman enquired my situation and prospects. I told him that I was an orphan, bred up by an uncle who had taught me the trade of a shoemaker, but that my protector being dead, I was travelling in search of work when I fell in with him. Mr Waterton asked me if I would accept a situation to attend his son, who was about to travel, promising that upon our return he would do something more for me. I embraced this proposal very joyfully, being most desirous to see the world. Accordingly, I visited nearly every capital in Europe with this young gentleman, who always treated me rather as a friend than a servant. I wanted for nothing money could supply and consequently had no temptation to resume my old game.
“At length, the vessel in which we had sailed from Naples for Constantinople was wrecked upon one of the Greek islands. The whole of the crew and passengers, in order to save themselves, got into boats; but as she struck the rock in the night-time, myself and my master were separated in the confusion. The boat in which I was — with several others — stood for the land, which appeared at no great distance; but the violence of the sea was so great that in a short time the oars were swept from the hands of the seamen, and immediately afterwards the skiff upset.
“I remember nothing more, until it appeared to me I awoke. I then found myself lying nearly naked on a bare sea-beach so far from the water that I could hardly conceive how I had got there; but it seems that in these parts the fury of the waves will sometimes lift a large boat several hundred feet on the dry land. I looked about and saw that the whole shore for some distance was strewed with fragments of wreck. Among the rest were several chests, one of which I recognised as having belonged to a young gentleman passenger named Alleyn, who had been in the same boat with myself.
“This was no time to be scrupulous, for I was nearly perishing with cold; so, after some little difficulty, I broke open Mr Alleyn’s chest and to my great comfort found the contents were most of them dry, as the box was very strong and lined with tin. Among many other things I found a supply of warm clothing, which I much wanted, and therefore helped myself to a complete change. I found also a small bag containing a considerable number of pieces of foreign gold coin and a large bag of Spanish dollars, which I also secured. I now thought of looking after inhabitants, if there were any, and accordingly ascended a range of cliffs which overlooked the shore that was the scene of our disaster, and turned my eyes inland.
“The prospect was anything but cheering, for as far as my sight extended I could see nothing but a wild sort of heath, with a few stunted bushes here and there. At a considerable distance the view was shut in by a range of hills, beyond which a slight smoke appeared. The nearest way to these bills lay along the sea-beach, to which I accordingly returned.
“On repassing the fragments of wreck, I thought I might as well drag the most portable chests as far as I could out of the reach of the waves. I set busily to work to do so, and in my researches I stumbled upon the bodies of several of my unfortunate boat companions, which had before been hidden from my view by the rocks among which they lay. I examined them very anxiously, hoping to find one at least alive; for never did I feel so utterly abandoned and destitute. But the rough and jagged rocks among which they had been cast had completely crushed them to atoms. it was with great difficulty that I could recognise any of them; but among those I knew I discovered poor Mr Alleyn, whose clothes I had made free with. While I was endeavouring to draw the senseless corpses of my late shipmates up a little higher on the shore, I saw a man coming towards me, whose appearance was savage and uncouth enough to alarm a person better provided with means of resistance than myself; for, in fact, I possessed none but nature’s weapons.
“The person who now approached me bore a fowling-piece of singular appearance, marvellously long in the barrel. He was clad from head to foot in a sort of pelisse, or cloak, apparently made of sheepskin, with the wool outside. He wore a silken or velvet skull-cap, much embroidered with gold and silver thread. Boots of untanned leather completed his costume. Rude, however, as he seemed, I soon found by his gestures that his meaning was friendly; for although I could not understand a word he said, yet the tone of his voice, and the compassionate glances he cast at my dead companions assured me that I might hope for hospitality and assistance from him. He laid aside his gun, helped me to carry the relics of my shipmates, which we covered as decently as we could with some sails washed up by the storm, and then motioned me to accompany him.
“In the mean time I attempted to converse with him by trying all the scraps of languages I had picked up on my travels, but without any success. At last I desisted, and we pursued our path in silence. After walking about a mile along the shore, a sudden turn round a projecting cliff brought us a view of a small village, consisting of about three-score houses, most romantically situated at the head of a small bay. We soon reached one of the best in appearance, and my guide proceeded to issue several orders, apparently to his family. In a short time a small quantity of black bread, stewed meat, and a bottle of wine were placed before me. I needed but little pressing to satisfy my hunger.
“While I was thus engaged, a venerable-looking old man, whose white beard swept his girdle, came in. He made an obeisance to me and then began to speak in a sort of broken Italian, asking me whether I did not belong to the large ship that had been wrecked last night. I told him I was a passenger, and enquired whether anyone else had reached the shore, to which he replied that he knew not, for I was the first who had been seen.
“I now requested that he would endeavour to obtain assistance for the burial of my late companions and the security of the effects which lay on the beach, to which he replied that a party of the villagers had already gone to fetch the dead, in order to see to their interment in the churchyard. I proposed going to meet them, as I had no doubt that plunder was the object they had in view; but we had scarcely set out when we met these honest people returning with four of the corpses. They were carefully laid out upon boards in a little half-ruined chapel, where, by the direction of the old man, whom I now found to be a priest, several of the matrons commenced preparations for the burial. In short, the whole of them were brought in by noon, and having been prepared for interment, each being sewn up in a sort of sheet, the priest read the funeral service, and they were committed to the earth.
“In the mean time the villagers had brought most of the chests and portable articles that had drifted on shore to their dwellings. All of these they gave up to me; but I feared to claim any except the chests, etc. of Mr Alleyn, who I knew was dead, and I placed all the rest at the disposal of the padre, who told me that the place being a dependency upon the Ionian islands, he would write to Corfu by the first vessel, so that the authorities there might decide what should be done.
“In the mean time men had been dispatched to all parts of the islet, in order to look out for other traces of the wreck and to search for the survivors, if there might be any such, from the ill-fated vessel.
“I remained in the same cottage three days before any opportunity occurred for my removal, when a small galley, which came for fish from Naples, touched at the village. In this I took my departure, having in vain endeavoured to make the poor islanders accept of any remuneration for the trouble they had been at. The priest, who was the only person with whom I could maintain a broken sort of conversation, assured me, when I spoke of payment for the services rendered me, that the authorities at Corfu always satisfied both himself and flock for all the assistance they could afford a British subject.
“Finding that they would not receive any recompense for either my food or lodging, I bade them adieu. And ever since that time, when I have heard people railing at mankind, and vowing that there was neither honour, honesty, or hospitality left upon earth, I have thought of that lonely Greek islet, where the inhabitants, though as poor as poor can be, had yet extended protection and friendship to a solitary helpless being at his utmost need, without hope of reward.
“I soon reached the gay city of Naples again, and used every exertion, during my stay of near two months in that luxurious haunt of pleasure, to discover whether my master had escaped the wreck with life. But I was unsuccessful in all my endeavours, and I determined on returning to England, in the faint hope that young Mr Waterton might have arrived there, as there were many homeward bound vessels then sailing on those seas. I ardently trusted this might prove the case, for I really respected, I may say, loved, my master with great sincerity.
“I ought to have informed you that one of Mr Alleyn’s chests, of which I had taken possession, bore his name painted upon it in full. This being sent to the hotel at which I proposed to stop the day before I went thither myself, the people of the house dubbed me upon arrival, ‘Il Signor Alleyn’. As they had thus converted me into a gentleman, I had very little relish for again descending needlessly to the station of a servant. Besides, I fancied my honours sat quite as becomingly upon me as gentility did upon several of my countrymen, for, to speak Heaven’s truth, never were there such a collection of unlicked cubs as some of the Signori Inglese who abode in those days at the good town of Naples. Again, I found upon examination that with cash and trinkets, I was possessed of something above ￡1,100, which would at any rate, I thought, enable me to support my assumed character until I reached my fatherland, when I resolved upon dropping it and returning to my patron. But you know the old saying, ‘Man pro_poses but Heaven dis_poses.’ It so happened that among the passengers in the same ship with myself from Naples to England there was a young Irish gentleman named Power O’Donahoe, who had stayed at the Casa Inglese during all the time I had been there. Because I had never joined any of the other geniuses in laughing at his brogue or in ridiculing his blunders, this young man, with all the proverbial warmth of his country, formed quite a friendship for me, and when we arrived in London, nothing would suit him but I must go to the same hotel as he did.
“In an evil hour I consented, and we drank, danced, diced and wenched together for three months with great éclat. I was introduced into fashionable society by Mr O’Donahoe, who always told his friends that I was a young West Indian proprietor of great fortune, which indeed, through various hints I had purposely dropped, he really believed me to be.
“The roystering sort of life I now led rapidly attenuated my finances, and I began to obtain articles upon credit. Thus I quickly discovered the great truth that there is not upon earth a more credulous animal than a London tradesman; and by Heaven, they almost obliged but quite enticed me to swindle them. For eighteen months I thus lived upon the fat of the land, clad in purple and fine linen, faring sumptuously every day at the expense of others, and partaking most plentifully of all the pleasures the metropolis can afford, until at last duns became so troublesome that I was obliged to absent myself from the scene for a while. It was after an unsuccessful attempt at robbery that you first met me. I then returned to my old haunts, where I shortly afterwards took a furnished house and made free with nearly all its contents, together with a pair of job horses and a curricle. But that was my last feat, for I was in a few days after sold by one of my pals, who betrayed me into the hands of the traps, and — in short here I am.”
Didst thou not share — hadst thou not fifteen pence?
Rashleigh, having heard Tyrrell’s story to an end, complimented him much upon his talents and good fortune in escaping so easily, shortly after which they were all locked up for the night. Parties of the ward inmates being formed, some sang songs, some gambled, some related their exploits to others, and all drank most plentifully, there being in those days no lack of either spirits, wine or porter to be found within the precincts of His Majesty’s Gaol, Newgate. Porter, indeed, was allowed by the regulations. and those who had money found no difficulty in obtaining all the rest.
The manner in which the prison days were spent being so much alike, it is needless to do more than say that every day they went to prayers, ate, drank, sang, gambled, and drank again. In fact, it would appear that all the knowing ones were quite as comfortable in gaol as anywhere else; and those who were not fully initiated into all the arts of thieving and villainy when first they went into prison were sure, at least, of being quite proficient by the time they came out of it. There was not the slightest attempt at classification, save that arising from the sale of superior accommodations to those who could pay for them. In all other respects the hoary thief, who had passed a long life in successful violation of the law, was here placed in the same apartment with the raw shop-boy, confined for robbing his master’s till. And the freedom from restraint and self-congratulation of manner with which these old practitioners in knavery boasted of their exploits, and the glowing pictures they frequently drew of the enjoyments derivable from a life of plunder, seldom failed in making confirmed and hardened villains of all those who listened to them.
In this manner the time sped until the week before the sessions arrived, that period which some wished for, others dreaded, and all prepared to meet. This was indeed a busy season with the inmates of the Smugglers’ Ward. They had counsel to fee, attorneys to instruct, witnesses to bribe and defences to draw up. Rashleigh, having once been in some sort a member of the legal profession, now found his services much in request, to write letters, prepare statements and adapt questions for the cross-examination of inflexible evidences. For all this he obtained a considerable sum of money, so that he was not only enabled to fee counsel for himself, but also to procure some decent apparel for his approaching trial. He, however, entertained very slight hopes of an acquittal, the evidence of his quondam associate being quite strong and conclusive. Besides, there was every prospect of strenuous endeavours being made on the part of the Crown to secure his conviction; as unless he were found guilty, the Israelite indicted for receiving the plate he had stolen was sure of an acquittal likewise. And it will be remembered that the thief catchers of the metropolis had long been endeavouring to suppress so noted a fence as the person in question was well known to be. Indeed, for several years they had been upon the alert, ardently longing for the opportunity, which now seemed to offer itself to them by chance. Under these circumstances Ralph saw no prospect save that of conviction before him; yet he was resolved not to omit anything that might tend to his escape from justice. With this view he prepared his defence with all the skill of which he was master, and thus occupied, the day fixed for the commencement of the sessions came upon him: those sessions which were fraught with the destinies of upwards of four hundred human beings of both sexes, all ages and conditions.
The inmates of Newgate were informed by the Calendar of the order in which the trials were to occur, and the arched gateway through which the prisoners returned from the Sessions House being close by the ward in which our adventurer now lived, he had ample opportunities for observing the features and deportment of the confines, both before and after they received their sentences. But in few cases indeed could he perceive either regret or compunction. Those who were condemned to any periods less than seven years’ transportation triumphed almost as much as if they had been acquitted. The boys particularly, who were very numerous, jested with the greatest sang froid at the idea of a flogging, which most of them had been sentenced to receive, and which they scoffingly termed a “teasing”. Those who had been doomed to seven years’ transportation called it a “small fine of eighty-four months”. Even those who had been sentenced for fourteen years or life to the same punishment had some joke to pass on the subject to their fellows in the yard as they went through to their several destinations. As for those sentenced to die, they endeavoured to eclipse all the others in the daring obscenity and gross brutality of their jests.
By some accident a number of housebreakers were ordered for trial on the same day, and Ralph’s blood ran cold on being informed by one that had just returned from the Court, that all had been found guilty, and all had been doomed to death, or as his informant expressed it, “that they were celling them like b —— y bullocks”, meaning, sending them to the condemned cells. The crime of burglary had been peculiarly prevalent in the metropolis during the previous winter, and it seemed as if the jurors were determined not to allow any of the accused to escape. It was therefore with a depressed mind that our adventurer obeyed the summons which placed him before his judge at the criminal bar. As usual in this well-known Court, there was an ample assemblage of spectators, most of them being of the lowest class. Some of these were gossiping, some cracking nuts, others jokes on various subjects. Upon the appearance of the prisoner, the lawyers began to handle their papers with a business-like air, and the solemn farce called a trial began.
Ralph Rashleigh was indicted by that name for having on a certain day and date, set forth in the arraignment, with force and arms feloniously broken into and entered the dwelling-house of Westley Shortland Esquire in the night-time, and for having therein stolen taken and carried away a large quantity of silver plate his property contrary to the statute and against the peace of Our Soverign Lord the King his crown and dignity, the indictment being interlarded with a vast number of other legal phrases. To this, of course, he pleaded “Not guilty”, and put himself upon his trial.
A jury was now empanelled, and the advocate for the prisoner having declined to challenge any of their number, the case proceeded. The learned counsel for the Crown, after an eloquent exordium, in which he dwelt at great length upon the many daring depredations recently committed under covert of the night upon the properties of the peaceful and well-disposed inhabitants of the town, proceeded to give a sketch of the case in question as he had been informed it would be proved in evidence; and he wound up by reverting to the skilful and adroit manner in which the robbery had been perpetrated, at the same time charitably requesting the jurymen to dismiss all prejudices from their minds and to try the case solely by the statement of the witnesses. Nevertheless, he kindly averred his private opinion to be that the prisoner at the bar was a scoundrel of the deepest dye, steeped in crime to the very lips.
The evidence of Mr Shortland’s butler was now taken. He swore that having obtained his master’s permission to pay a visit to a sick friend for a day or two, he had collected the whole of the plate under his care and safely locked the articles in the pantry on the night in question. A female servant next deposed to finding the pantry locked up but all its valuable contents missing on the following morning. The approver then completed the whole case by giving a clear and distinct detail of the manner in which the prisoner and himself had actually committed the crime in question. His evidence was sustained by that of the hackney coachman, who had also been admitted to give testimony on the part of the Crown. And though Rashleigh’s counsel most cunningly cross-questioned both these latter personages, and elicited from Jenkins in particular the admission that he had been a thief from his earliest youth and of his having been actively engaged in the commission of every species of crime during a period of twenty-five years, yet the damning fact of the want of any regular or honest mode of livelihood on the part of Rashleigh rendered all efforts abortive. After a brief pause, the jury, without retiring, found Ralph Rashleigh guilty of the crime of burglary.
A moment of thrilling suspense followed. The recorder, amid an awful silence, then addressed the convict, pointing out the enormity of his offence, dwelt at some length upon the villainous career of crime which it was evident he had passed through, and which he was now about to consummate by an ignominious end, and finally passed upon him the sentence of execution in the customary formula. Ralph scarcely saw his judge or heard a syllable of what he said, for notwithstanding this event had been in a great measure fully anticipated by him, yet at last the reality of the blow fell upon him with a force that was absolutely paralyzing. After having cast a hurried and furtive glance around the Court upon the spectators who thronged it, he stepped mechanically out of the dock. No eye appeared to pity or regard him. Most of the auditory were already occupied in speculations upon the probable fate of the next prisoner, who now excited their attention as he approached in his turn to take his trial.
The prisoner and his guide traversed the long and gloomy vaulted passage that separated the gaol from the Sessions Hall in silence, and at last reached the yard Ralph had so lately quitted for trial. Tyrrell stood there. He asked, “What luck?”
Ralph had not time to answer before the turnkey shouted out, “Cells!” to another officer who there awaited to receive the prisoners.
With a significant gesture Tyrrell shook Rashleigh by the hand, saying, “Keep up your heart, my boy. Never drop down,” and he slipped a small packet to his friend at the same time.
Rashleigh returned the pressure with a sickly smile as he was hurried off. They now passed through several yards and many passages, until at last they reached the condemned side and were ushered into a large room, the counterpart of that comfortless domicile in which our confine had spent his first night within these dreary walls.
Here, though it was as yet only the third day of the sessions, there were no less than forty-six men, most of them very young and all sentenced to die by the hangman’s hated noose. Yet with all this, there was not a single instance of gravity, far less of that gloom which might have reasonably been expected as a Concomitant to these circumstances. They hailed Ralph’s entrée with loud cries of “Fish-oh!”
Many of them crowded around him to ask his crime, to which briefly replying, “a crack,” (housebreaking) he was told that twenty-eight of those present were condemned for similar offences, and one fellow remarked that “the scragsman (hangman) would get a rare benefit that touch”. All present joined in a hearty peal of laughter at this sally, as if it had been some brilliant jest that called forth their admiration.
Ralph being now invited to dinner by a quondam companion from the Smugglers’ Ward, they sat down together, speculating during their meal upon the probable number that would actually suffer that sessions. It was pretty well known that not one-fourth of the men sentenced to die ever were hung at that time; but yet, as none could tell upon whom the lot would fall, every man, even the most criminal, enjoyed the illusions of hope. Indeed, whatever were the motives for extending mercy to any, they were sufficiently obscure to set the most astute calculators among even the officers of the prison at defiance, sometimes hardened old offenders, convicts of atrocious crimes, escaping, while the comparatively young thief suffered death as the penalty of his earliest essay.
The remainder of the afternoon was spent by the inmates of this den in various pastimes, some gambling, some telling stories of their old career, a few singing, and still fewer gloomily pacing the common room. At length the hour arrived when they were to separate for the night, and in divisions of three each they were marshalled to their dormitories; these were cells, about twelve feet by eight in size, provided with three rude bedsteads on each of which was a mattress of straw and two rugs. The evening was rapidly closing, and as they were unprovided with light, they lay down at once, one of them remarking that it might be called going to bed, but for his part he could see no bed to go to.
Now, for the first time since his sentence, Ralph had leisure to consider his position; and the ideas that rapidly careered through his brain almost drove him mad. At first he looked upon his fate as certain; and a thousand thoughts of self-destruction urged themselves upon him, each to be in turn dismissed or replaced by another. At length it suggested itself to him that he was no more sure to die than any of the rest, and should he be actually left for execution, it would be time enough then to anticipate the hangman. Anon the hope of breaking out of gaol crossed his mind, and many schemes for doing so presented themselves to him. Hour after hour pealed from a neighbouring clock, the iron tone jarring upon his nerves with the impression that another of the perhaps few subdivisions of time he had to live was now absorbed in the gulf of eternity.
At length, towards morning, he sank into a sort of sleep, broken by horrid dreams. Again the scene of the Court was enacted before him; again the full, deep and bitter tones of the recorder dealt forth the death doom upon the trembling convict. At once that semblance passed away. He was again at play among the companions of his youth.
Again the scene changed: the solemn pealing of a funeral bell smote upon his very inmost soul. He knew it was the signal for his own execution. The sad procession moved forth; the awful service for the dead, in all its dread solemnity, reverberated in his ears; he turned to gaze at the attendant clergyman. Horror of horrors, the face he saw was that of a fiend. Suffering the most excruciating torment, the criminal shuddered convulsively. But now he had reached the scaffold. They ascended that fatal platform. A sea of upturned human heads was visible; but they all appeared to mock at and gibe the tortured sufferer with unearthly demoniacal features. Another instant . . . The drop fell, and a dreadfully agonizing feeling of strangulation supervened, so intensely painful that Ralph awoke. Cold claws overspread his whole body, and a strange numbness paralyzed his every limb. He lay for a considerable time in a state of semi-somnolence, unable quite to rouse himself, and yet dreading to relapse again into such painful slumbers, though he could not still recall his senses sufficiently to be certain that he had only dreamed.
At length a bustle in the stone-floored passage thoroughly awakened him, and he jumped from his wretched pallet. In a few minutes they were all reassembled in the day-room, and the company of his fellows reassured the drooping spirits of our unhappy prisoner.
The days of the session passed over. The total number of those condemned to death amounted to sixty-five, all of whom met in the same large room by day and were separated into threes at night. A few days of dreary monotony passed over; but the nights were at first most painful to Rashleigh, as more dreadful dreams harrowed his soul. But at length he ceased to dream at all or even to think about his future fate, all his ideas being engrossed by contemplating schemes of escape.
Having ascertained that the sleeping-cell in which he spent his nights was next to the outer wall of Newgate, he determined to try to break through it, trusting to chance for what the exterior might present. He now broached his scheme to his companions, one of whom embraced it with avidity; but the other seemed to be sunk in apathy. As the latter, however, engaged not to betray their purpose, they determined on commencing operations that very night. All the tools they possessed were two files given to our adventurer on the day of his condemnation by Tyrrell, and a piece of iron about two feet long, which had once formed part of the handle of a frying-pan, and which was rather sharp at one end something like a chisel.
With these implements they raked the mortar out of the joints of the stonework, choosing a place beneath one of the beds as most secluded from observation, carefully removing the lime dust, which they carried out concealed on their persons every morning and afterwards threw among the ashes in the fireplace. In three nights’ time they had succeeded in loosening enough of the stonework to enable them, by displacing the ashlar of which the wall was built, to form an opening through the massy exterior enclosure of the gaol; but they found a timber framing on the outer side of the wall, which utterly bade defiance to all their efforts. They had no remedy but to replace the stones as well as they could, and wait for another night, by which time they doubted not to be able to provide some substitute for a saw and a chisel, with which to renew their attempt. Accordingly, next day they procured two table-knives, which they notched on their edges. They then sharpened the piece of iron on the hearthstone by stealth. These implements, together with a phosphorus box — which they had bribed a turnkey to bring them — and a piece of candle, they very carefully stowed away about them, and returned to their cell, resuming their labour as soon as all was still.
Having first removed the stonework, they procured a light and examined the wooden partition. This seemed to be only a kind of weatherboarding, such as is sometimes used to finish the gable-ends of a roof in lieu of carrying up a brick wall. Their first business was to make holes in the wood with their chisel and knives in four different places, forming the angles of a square about two feet across. The boards being only of deal, it was not long before they had got their holes made. They then set to work to cut out the pieces, in which they finally succeeded, taking great care that nothing fell into the Terra incognita outside the wall. When they had sped thus far, they looked through the opening and found this space consisted of the apex of a roof, above the attics of the adjoining houses. They now easily got through the aperture on to the joists of these garrets, and had only next to remove the tiles, when they should once more he enjoying the pure free air of heaven.
Just as they began to work at the tiles with renewed vigour Ralph’s companion, happening unluckily to slip, stepped suddenly off the piece of timber he was standing on and came with his whole weight upon the laths of the plastered ceiling, which, being old and decayed, gave way. The luckless wight was then precipitated into the apartment beneath, where he chanced to alight upon the bed of an ancient dame, who was servant to the reverend chaplain of Newgate, under whose roof, it seems, our adventurers had unwittingly penetrated. Dire were now the outcries of “Rape!” “Fire!” “Murder!” and “Robbery!” that emanated from the old woman, who refused to be pacified by the earnest entreaties of the intruder; and in a very few seconds the hurried tramp of many feet, with the noise of clamorous tongues, announced that the household was alarmed. A moment after a promiscuous mass of half-clad beings hurried into the attic, where, amid the débris of fallen plaster, laths, etc., the horror-stricken dame was venting her objurgations upon the author of this mishap. He for his part, the moment he saw the door open, bolted out of it and had got half-way downstairs, pursued by hurried cries of “Stop him!” “Knock him down!” etc., which burst from the petrified group in the attic, when he encountered a posse of the officers of Newgate, who had been aroused by the uproar which truly seemed enough to awaken the seven sleepers — and who had left the enjoyments of the porters’ lodge to ascertain the cause of this confusion.
Unluckily, the foremost of these worthies well knew the escaped one, and felled him on the staircase instanter. They then separated, part of them returning to the lodge with their captive, and part going upstairs into the room whence they now learned he had run. Here, of course, the first thing they saw was the hole in the ceiling, and a ladder being procured, some of them ascended it to search the roof.
In the mean time Ralph Rashleigh, nerved by desperation, had torn away the battens and tiles and blundered out through the orifice; but in doing this he missed his hold and fell. He rolled over and over on the tiled roof, utterly unable to stop himself and full of despair at the horrible death which awaited him. At last, with a bound, he was jerked from the roof and restored to sense by finding himself immersed in water. He struck out to swim, and presently received a violent blow on the head, but quickly recovering himself, groped with his hands, it being so dark that he could not set a yard before him, and catching hold of the parapet wall, scrambled out, congratulating himself that his life was spared as yet. Of course, he was perfectly ignorant where he was, and knew not how far from the ground his present position might be. The darkness also prevented his attempting to escape, lest he might again fall from this unknown height. The only resource he had was to sit still, astride the wall on which he was now seated, until day should dawn. Wet through, the frosty air chilling him to the quick, thus did Rashleigh spend the seemingly interminable hours, until the light faintly glimmered from the east; and then he found he was not in any very enviable position.
The wall on which he sat surrounded a small reservoir of water that abutted from the back of the house, about half-way between the top and bottom. There was no window or other opening near him by many feet; and it was at least fifteen yards from his position to the ground, which seemed to be a paved courtyard surrounded by lofty buildings. Added to this, it was evident the daylight must betray him on his “bad eminence”, as there was no means of concealing himself save by jumping into the reservoir, which was not quite full; and even then, he might be seen from the roof. Thus he was quite as effectually confined as if he had been in the strongest cell within the walls of Newgate. and he tantalised himself by thinking of his recapture after having so narrowly escaped a fearful death, that even a few inches of difference in his fall must have resulted in his being dashed to atoms.
He was not very long in suspense. The day became rapidly fighter, and in a few minutes a gruff voice from the roof hailed him. “Ha, my fine fellow! You’re there, are you? You’re safe enough, anyhow, and we’ve got your pal, too.”
Rashleigh looked up and soon discovered one of the turnkeys sitting at the foot of a stack of chimneys on the roof above him, who appeared to be taking aim at him with a carbine. “Hold on!” cried our échappé. “Don’t shoot me.”
“Oh, I don’t mean it,” said the other, “if you sit still; but if you offer to stir, I’ll let fly and riddle you with bullets.”
This was anything but a cheering prospect, and Ralph hardly dared move hand or foot, until, a ladder being brought, he was fain to descend it and was soon reconducted to prison.
Here he was placed in a dark cell by himself and kept on bread and water for a week, at the end of which time the Governor of Newgate ordered him to be very heavily ironed, and permitted him to rejoin his companions. Here he found the partner of his late attempt, and they had many a laugh together at their ill-starred enterprise.
Day after day sped on over their heads. It was now the fourth week after the sessions, and they expected every evening that the report of the recorder, and the King’s decision thereon, would be made known to them. One afternoon in the fifth week they had all been locked in their separate cells above an hour, when the noise of several feet in the stone-floored passage attracted the attention of the inmates of these dreary domiciles. Cell after cell was heard to be unlocked, and finally, when the visitors drew nigh, Rashleigh distinctly recognised the solemn voice of the prison chaplain recommending some unfortunate to make the most of the few brief hours yet allotted to him in this world by supplicating for mercy from his God; and our convict was now aware his fate would soon be made known to him. With agonising dread the few minutes passed away, during which intervening cells were visited. At length the sullen doors slowly revolved. The sheriffs in their official dresses, the chaplain in his robes, and some others entered the cell.
Rashleigh scarce heard the exordium which, as customary, was addressed to them, but blessed heaven when one of the sheriffs, with much solemnity. addressed another of the confines as follows: “William Roberts, your case has received His Majesty’s most gracious consideration; but your frequent previous convictions, and the circumstances of peculiar atrocity with which your last crime was accompanied utterly preclude the possibility of mercy being extended to so hardened a criminal. You must therefore prepare to expiate your offences on the scaffold: you are ordered for execution in fourteen days from the present.”
The chaplain now addressed the condemned in anything but a charitable or kindly tone, and impressed the necessity of prayer and repentance upon his mind. The wretched man rolled his eyes, which seemed dim and glassy, from one to the other of the bystanders and attempted to speak, but ineffectually; his tongue denied him utterance, and he was led away.
The same sheriff now addressed Ralph and his remaining companion, saying that in the exercise of his royal prerogative of mercy, His Majesty had graciously been pleased to spare their lives; but to vindicate the insulted laws of their country they must be transported for the residue of their existence to a distant land, never more to revisit the isle of their birth.
The chaplain now told our criminals that they ought to fall instantly upon their knees and return thanks to God for sparing their unworthy lives. Rashleigh’s companion here interrupted the reverend orator by saying, “If ever I pray to God, it will only be that I may live to set you hanged, you prayer-mumbling old beast!”
The chaplain flung out of the cell in a rage, and the sheriffs having followed him with suppressed smiles at this rude rebuff, the convicts were once more left alone.
Hark to the whistle and the shout!
Like bloodhounds now they seek me out.
I’ll couch me here till evening gray,
Then, darkling, try my dangerous way.
A few nights after the reception of the report by the unhappy confines of Newgate, the cry of “Lags away” warned those who were transported that the time had now arrived for their removal to the hulk; and shortly afterwards those who like Rashleigh had been respited from death, in number upwards of fifty, were placed in two large vans, strongly ironed, handcuffed and chained together, as well as to the van, which drove off at a rapid rate. None knew which of the hulks they were destined for; but when the morning came Ralph recognised some objects, by which he knew they were on the road for Portsmouth; and accordingly, late on the afternoon of the same day, they reached the dockyard of that town, and shortly afterwards were permitted to alight on a wooden wharf, outside of which lay the gloomy bulk of the old Leviathan.
This vessel, an ancient 74, after having for many years borne the victorious banner of Britain in every sea from pole to pole, was at last condemned to the vile purpose of a convict hulk. Stripped of all her imposing tackle save two sticks, now degraded to the office of clothes props, with a singular sort of shed upon her deck, the unfortunate craft looked like a sort of living memento of the vicissitudes of all mundane matters and the perishable nature of all earthly grandeur.
In a few minutes the newly arrived criminals were paraded upon the quarterdeck of this old hooker, mustered, and received by the captain of the hulk, after which the irons they had brought with them were taken off and given back to the gaol authorities, who now departed. The convicts in the mean time were all marched to the forecastle and ushered into a washing-room, where each man was obliged to strip, get into a large tub of water, and cleanse himself thoroughly. Each then received a suit of coarse grey clothing consisting of jacket, waistcoat and breeches. A very rough twilled cotton shirt, striped with blue and white, a round-crowned broad-brimmed felt hat, and a pair of heavily-nailed shoes completed this unique costume; and when they had been divested of their whiskers and got their hair closely cropped, the metamorphosis was so complete that Rashleigh no longer knew any of those who had arrived with him. Here, too, each man was double-ironed with a pair of heavy fetters, and after this they again emerged on deck, where a hammock and two blankets, with a straw bed, were supplied every new prisoner, and they were now ordered to go below.
They followed one of the guards down what seemed to them an endless succession of step-ladders. When they reached the bottom, a perfect chaos of sounds saluted their ears. The first glimpse of the lower deck of this convict hulk showed a long passage bordered by iron palisading, with lamps hung at regular intervals. Within these rows of palisades were wooden partitions, which subdivided the deck into upwards of a score of apartments. In each of these about fifteen or twenty convicts slept and ate. As Ralph and his associates in punishment marched past these dens, they were saluted by obstreperous shouts of “New chums! New chums!” from both sides; and at length Rashleigh and another were placed in one of the cells, as they were called.
The first night our adventurer slept but little, the men who were there before him playing all sorts of tricks upon the newly arrived. At daybreak next morning he was awakened from a short doze by a most villainous smell, that seemed to pervade the whole atmosphere. Putting his head over the side of his hammock, he saw his companions all busily discussing the contents of a wooden tub, or kid, with their spoons, and from this tub the smell that had so much shocked his sensitive olfactory organs appeared to exhale. He was now hailed by his future messmates, who demanded to know whether he did not intend to get up and have his breakfast.
In truth, Ralph was hungry, so up he got and hurried on his clothes. One of the men lent him a tin pot, which he filled at the kid, and, spoon in hand, prepared to attack this unsavoury mess.
Words must fail to describe the loathsome taste, even worse than the villainous smell, of this abominable compound, which Rashleigh declared he never could liken to anything earthly, and which he never from first to last could taste. He afterwards found out this food was composed of a very coarse kind of barley, similar to that called Scotch or pearl barley, boiled up with the soup made from the meat which was allowed to the convicts upon every alternate day, this latter being designated bull — and if the flesh of bulls be most indescribably tough, then did it well deserve the sobriquet.
The dietary of the hulk, exclusive of meat and barley soup, was, three days in each week, a portion of a mysterious semi-petrifaction, very much akin to chalk both in taste and durability. Nay, it was even much harder; but by the courtesy of the contractors dubbed for the nonce cheese, it was indeed. as Bloomfield described Suffolk bang, “too big to swallow and too hard to bite”. It possessed most singular qualities, its obduracy being proof against any mollifying influence arising from cookery of any sort. As it was perfectly uninflammable, it might have made most excellent fire-bricks. Nay, it could not be in any degree softened by boiling, so that by far the greater portion of it was thrown overboard every day, as the captain’s pigs were too haughty to touch any portion of this excellent relish.
For breakfast and supper, when meat was not allowed, each man received a pint of the barley before named, plain boiled in water; and lucky was the wight who could muster a small quantity of salt to season it. Besides the above articles, a pound of very black unpalatable bread formed the daily allowance of each man, with a pint of very had vinegar, here dignified with the name of table beer.
The whole of the convicts, save those employed on board in cleaning the hulk, cooking, and attending on the officers, were sent every morning to labour in the dockyard, where they were employed in large parties, most appropriately designated gangs, at various works. Ralph was placed in a timber gang, and was quickly yoked to a large truck with twenty others, each man having a broad hempen band or collar put over one shoulder and beneath the other arm, so that in pulling, his weight pressed against it across his breast. Each gang was under the orders of a veteran sailor of the Royal Navy, some of whom were glad to repay upon the wretched convicts the tyranny with which they had been treated by their officers in former times, while others were more occupied in screwing out money from those under their charge, to enable them to pay frequent visits to the tap, where they solaced themselves with repeated libations of heavy wet.
Rashleigh’s ganger, or overseer, was of the first class. He assumed a the self-important airs which he perhaps thought became the quarter-deck of a man-of-war, and many a poor wretch was crippled under him; for being utterly ignorant of any proper mode of working among timber, he would frequently compel his gang to proceed so awkwardly that immense pieces of timber would fall from skids or other elevations and smash a leg or two, when the sufferers were carried off to the hospital ship, where they either lived or died as best pleased the naval surgeon who swayed the destinies of that receptacle, and who frequently was heard to say “that he must set to and dock (amputate) a dozen or two of those fellows, for he was getting most awfully out of practice”. Truly the latter was very strange, for scarcely a week passed without some poor devil being minus a leg or an arm through his case of instruments.
Rashleigh, who had never before worked at any species of manual labour, was quickly termed a skulker, and was obliged to endure a double share of the oppression of his overseer on this account. The misery of his abode, he being thus overwrought and rather more than half starved all day, and being devoured by myriads of vermin all night, made Ralph long for the arrival of the vessel which was to remove him to New South Wales; but that period was yet distant, as but a few days before his arrival, a draft had sailed from Portsmouth, and another was not to be dispatched for three months thereafter.
In the mean time he was taken sick; and though the doctor was of opinion he was only shamming, he was placed on board the hospital ship. By means of powerful purgatives, bleeding and blistering. that skilful medico quickly brought his patient to death’s door; but after a few weeks’ illness, nature reasserted her sovereignty, and as Ralph carefully avoided taking any of the medicine lately provided for him, which he cunningly contrived instead to throw into the urinal, he rapidly recovered, in spite of medical art, when he was removed to the convalescent wards.
One day three of the patients died, and as deceased convicts were then usually buried in a graveyard near a number of ruined buildings on the Gosport side which were among the prisoners called “Rats’ Castle”, some of the convalescent patients, of whom Rashleigh was one, were selected to go there and dig the graves. Accordingly, over the water they went, under the care of one of the old sailors before referred to, in a boat manned by convicts.
The soil was very light, and their task an easy one. When it was done the guard made a signal by waving a handkerchief upon a stick. While they were awaiting the return of their boat — which had on their arrival been dispatched for the coffins — Rashleigh and Ins companions lay or sat, as best suited them, among the nameless, shapeless grassy mounds which filled the convicts’ graveyard, each marking the narrow resting-place of one who had died degraded, forgotten and unknown, his last moments uncheered by the voice of affection or the soothing sympathies of kindred, and whose remains were scarcely cold ere he was hurried into the rude shell, hustled off in the boat, amid jokes or oaths, as the prevailing mood of the boatmen might be, and finally thrust into the ground, without a prayer, scarcely six inches below the surface of the earth,
These and many other melancholy thoughts passed rapidly through the mind of our adventurer, and after a time he looked up to see whether the boat was returning; but it had not yet left the side of the hospital ship. He gazed round on his companions, most of whom slept; the guard was at some distance, with his back turned. A thought of freedom darted into his brain; it was adopted with the speed of light. Not ten yards from him were the ruins; if he could reach them he would be screened from observation — and close to the ruins was the water. His irons had been struck from one of his legs while he was sick, so that all his chains were attached to the other side only. and he doubted not but he could easily swim or dive unimpeded by them. The weather was warm, and if he could gain about a mile higher up, there was a wood of osiers, in which he might conceal himself until he could take off his cumbrous appendages.
Before he had done thinking about it, he was at the edge of the water, among the ruins, had thrown off all his clothing except his nether garments, and now slipped down into the stream, swimming very softly. When he had attained depth enough, he trod water until he got round a projecting point which formed the boundary of the graveyard. Beyond this point there were many bulrushes, which served to shelter him; nor did he hear any alarm given. Having by dint of swimming, wading, and treading water, at, last reached the osiers unobserved, he found a small creek, up which he swam, and coming in a thickly wooded spot, he scrambled through the mud, until he gained a piece of land hard enough to bear his weight. Here he began to think what should be his next step.
It was imperatively necessary he should get rid of his chain, and forturiately finding he was much wasted through his sickness, he persevered in his struggles until at last he slipped it down over his ankle. He now threw both it and his remaining garment into deep water. The evening was very chilly, and he was fain to betake himself again to the stream, as he found that much warmer than the land. He next crossed the river again, and upon landing made towards a pile of buildings he saw standing at a short distance from the shore. These proved to be cattle sheds; but there were no human dwellings near and Ralph hardly knew what to do. At last he decided upon remaining where he was until the cattle tender should come, who might be induced by some pitiful tale to help him to a few rags, as decency forbade his going much about in his present utter nakedness.
Accordingly, our shivering adventurer prowled among some stalls on one side of the square formed by these buildings, and was at last lucky enough to find some litter, which had apparently been used only sufficiently to make it warm. Having successfully disputed possession of this treasure with an old cow, he crept in among it, heaping it over and around him, and finding himself very warm and comfortable, quickly went to sleep.
When he awoke, it was hardly daylight; but a boy was turning out the cattle. Ralph called most lustily to him for some time before the youngster heard. This youth gaped with astonishment at the tale Rashleigh told, that he was a poor sailor who, having got drunk, had lain down by the water-side, where some wretches had stripped him naked. He begged the lad, for God’s sake, to procure him any sort of old things that might cover him until he could get into Portsmouth.
The boy seemed a good deal moved by the recital, and promised he would go up to his master’s house, to try whether he could get anything for him to wear. In less than ar hour he returned, bringing a blue smock frock, checked shirt, waggoner’s hat, pair of cord breeches, and high-low shoes, all very old, but still whole and tolerably clean, saying, at the same time, if Ralph would go up to the house, he might get “zummat t’ yeat, if he wor an ‘ongry”.
Rashleigh took the clothes most thankfully and asked the way to the house, telling the lad he would first go and wash himself in the river and then follow him. Having received directions, he once more thanked the boy, who departed with a speed that indicated he was “an ‘ongry”, if Ralph was not.
Our adventurer, after having cleansed his person in the river from the impurities of his last night’s lodgings, now clad himself in this unwonted guise. He then debated within himself whether it might not he dangerous to accept the hospitable invitation of the cow-boy, and finally resolved not to linger in such a perilous neighbourhood; so he set forth at a brisk pace along the stream, keeping his back to Portsmouth.
After walking upwards of a mile, he heard a female voice hailing loudly, “Whoi, Tummas! Tummas, I zay!”
As his name was not “Tummas”, and he was not thinking of anything except making the best of his way, he did not stop, until the voice, now close behind him, roared out, “Dam thee! Stop, I zay!”
He suddenly turned round and confronted the speaker, who was a pretty-looking country girl, about seventeen or eighteen years of age, and who had plainly lost what little breath the run had left her with astonishment at finding out she had overtaken a stranger.
The damsel opened both her mouth and eyes to the utmost of their capacity and stammered out, “Whoi, it bean’t Tummas, arter all.”
“No, I’m not Thomas, my pretty dear,” said Rashleigh; “but I would be just as willing to do anything to oblige you as ever he could be.”
“Drat it,” continued the maiden. “That be’s so loike our Tummas’s slop! Whoi, I could a’most ha’ sworn to it, b’ the patch on the back.”
“And very likely,” quoth Rashleigh, “it was your Thomas’s slop; for it was given to me not far away when I’d been robbed of all my own clothes.”
“What, robbed of your Clothes, all on ’em?” responded the girl in amazement. “And did ’em leave you quite naked?”
“They did so,” replied Ralph, “and I have got a very long way to go, without a penny to help myself.’’
“Poor fellow!” said the kind-hearted girl. If thee’ll come back again a bit, M mother’ll give thee zummat t’ yeat, I do know, at any rate, and thee’ll be my the better of that!’
Rashleigh willingly accompanied his guide to her lowly home, where a hearty laugh ensued between the girl and her mother at the mistake made by the former; and his misfortune being related, the old dame bestowed her warm sympathy, and a substantial breakfast of bread, bacon and small beer to the traveller, who shortly after took his leave, much refreshed and very thankful for the kind hospitality he had so very unexpectedly received.
He then travelled in the direction of Winchester. Upon Portsdown Heath he overtook a pedlar, who, in addition to his pack, had a very heavy bundle to carry. This man entered into conversation with our adventurer, who feigned a country dialect in his speech as much as possible, and learning that they were likely to travel some short distance together, the dealer offered Ralph a shilling if he would carry the bundle for him during the rest of the day. Rashleigh willingly complied with this offer, and they journeyed on till evening was drawing near, when they reached a village inn, at which the pedlar declared his intention of stopping for the night. Having given to our adventurer the sum agreed on, the latter also went in for the purpose of obtaining some bread and cheese, with a draught of beer, for supper.
The room he entered was full of various sorts of people, who took small notice of him. Having discussed his food, he was sitting in a corner, when in marched a party of soldiers, who stopped both the doors, while the sergeant who led them began to look most narrowly into the faces of every person present.
Rashleigh had taken off his hat, and the man of scarlet favoured him with a gaze of more attentive scrutiny than he seemed to bestow upon the rest. At last the sergeant asked our hero’s name.
“Thomas Harper,” was the reply.
“What are you?” was the next query.
“A labouring man.”
“Where do you come from now?” demanded the “non-cornmissioned”.
“Havant.”
“Oh, do your” said the son of Mars. “When were you there last?”
“A week ago,” replied Rashleigh.
“Humph! A week ago . . . And where have you been to since?” demanded the martialist.
“Why, at Portsmouth, if you must know,” responded Rashleigh, beginning to lose his temper at the pertinacity of the querist, who now drew his sword saying, “Yes. At Portsmouth. I knew that; and you ‘listed there.”
“Me ‘listed?” said Ralph. “Not I, indeed, my good fellow.” Rashleigh, in the excitement of the moment, had thrown off his country accent and spoke with his natural idiom.
“Aha!” cried the sergeant. “Does anybody think this chap comes from Havant now, with such a tongue as that?
“No, no, my fine starter,” resumed the man of war, “you never come from Havant; and now I’ve got you, I’ll take care you don’t go there neither in a hurry.”
So saying, he gave a sign to two of his comrades, who advanced upon Ralph and quickly secured him with a pair of handcuffs, after which the sergeant ordered the whole party outside. Presently they were ordered to take possession of a loft above a stable, where the military shortly afterwards had their suppers brought to them. This over, an additional pair of handcuffs being provided, they were placed one on each of Rashleigh’s wrists. He being in this way secured between two soldiers that were fettered to him by one hand apiece, they lay down in this manner to rest. it was evident that he had been taken up, not as a runaway convict, but as a deserter; and he conceived he would soon be liberated, as it must quickly be discovered to be a mistake. He therefore felt little anxiety for the result, and resigned himself to sleep as well as he could under such very uncomfortable circumstances.
At a very early hour of the next morning the party were aroused by their commander, and having partaken of a humble breakfast, began their march to Portsmouth. After journeying some time in silence, the sergeant came to the side of Ralph and with a jeering manner asked him whether he didn’t think he was a fool for trying to impose upon an old soldier like the sergeant — as if he were a raw recruit — by striving to pass himself off for a countryman. Ralph only replied that they would soon find out their mistake, to which the other rejoined with a laugh, “Why, then, I suppose you are some King’s son in disguise; but no matter. The next time you desart from the army, I’d advise you to buy yourself a wig, for anybody could tell you had been a soldier by the way your hair is cut.”
Ralph now found out that the sergeant had been induced to believe him a deserter and to question him by this very circumstance, so that if he had only kept his hat on, it is probable he might have escaped the arrest of this vigilant commander. Being doubly vexed on this account by the annoyance of the sergeant’s sarcasms, he retorted that he was no deserter, that he had never enlisted in his life, because he always thought the life of a dog far better than that of a soldier, and for his own part, had rather turn a nightman than enlist. The son of Mars flew into a rage at this highly insulting speech, and threatened to knock his teeth down his throat if he did not hold his tongue; and for the remainder of the journey the sergeant and escort put every species of annoyance in practice towards their prisoner.
At length the weary march was ended, and they reached the “lines” of Portsmouth, inside of which was a guard-room, where they deposited their prisoner. Here he passed the night, and the next day was removed to Gosport Barracks, where it was quickly found out he was not the person whom the party had been dispatched in quest of; and Ralph had the great satisfaction of hearing the sergeant soundly rated for his stupidity in making such a mistake.
He was now set at liberty; but just as he was about to leave the barrack yard, he saw this same petty officer who had taken him in custody, and could not resist the opportunity of repaying him in abuse for the oppression he had endured in the journey under his command. The sergeant roared out for the guard and gave our adventurer in charge for abusing him while on duty, and in a little while the luckless Rashleigh was again handcuffed and marched off to the watch-house, from whence he was taken in the evening before the Mayor of Portsmouth.
Upon being interrogated as to his name, place of abode, etc., Ralph said it was Jenkins and that he was a clerk out of employment who had come to Portsmouth a few days before; but having been robbed of his clothing on his return to London, he had been obliged to beg the articles he then wore. The clerk to the bench eyed him during this narrative with much distrust, and leaning over, whispered to the Mayor, who nodded with profound gravity. The sergeant was called on to state his complaint, which he did with a volubility of tongue that did not confine itself to the truth, but wound up by stating that the prisoner had threatened to take his life.
“Upon my word!” said the magisterial Solon. “A werry pretty feller, to abuse the honourable profession of a soldier, who spends his life fighting for his King and country, while such rapscallions as himself are skulking about, looking out for chances to rob their neighbours’ hen-roosts! What have you to say for yourself, you blackguard?”
To this highly temperate and very becoming speech, Rashleigh only replied that the sergeant had much exaggerated the truth, for that he (the prisoner) had not threatened the other at all, but only reproached him for his harsh treatment to himself while a prisoner under his charge.
Two or three non-commissioned officers now stepped forth, each anxious to be heard first, and all offering to swear to the truth of the sergeant’s statement; which of course they could very well do, as having been in Court all the time, not a word of what he had said had escaped them. The Mayor, however, declined to give them so much trouble, and after a short conference with his clerk, he again addressed the prisoner.
“Now, my fine feller, you might think to impose upon this ’ere Court with that there fine story of yourn; but I can tell you as how you shan’t; for I’m resolved, if I can’t do anything else, to send you to gaol for a month as a rogue and a wagabond what can’t give no proper account of himself, not by no manner of means. But then I thinks as how you are a suspicious feller besides, and I makes no manners of doubt but we shall have a hue and cry arter you in a werry little while for some willainous despredation or other; so I’ll remand you for a week, that our wigilant perleece may have time to make enquiries about you. Take him away.” And away Rashleigh was taken accordingly.
He had not been removed from the office, before he saw one of the guards of the hulk Leviathan, who, it seemed, had come there to report the escape of another convict from the dockyard that day. This person was possessed of the lynx-eyed sagacity proper for his calling, and he no sooner saw our hero than he went close up to him, and removing the waggoner’s hat worn by the luckless runaway, cried out, “Aha, my gentleman! You’re nabbed, are you?”
The constable who had Rashleigh in charge eagerly enquired if the guard knew his prisoner, and he being answered in the affirmative, the unfortunate Ralph was again placed before “His Worship”, to whom the tale was soon related of his being an escaped convict.
“Aha!” said that functionary in great exultation. “I knew he was a dangerous willain. I am worry seldom deceived in my opinions about sitch ruffians. But as you say he’s already transported for life, I don’t see as how we can add anything to his sentence. I suppose the best thing we can do is to send him back to the hulk at once, and let the captain punish him for running away.”
In a few moments Ralph was hurried to the boat which had brought the officer on shore. Strongly chained and handcuffed, with the muzzle of a pistol held close to his head, he was rapidly reconveyed to his former gloomy place of abode.
Having been brought on board, he was ushered down to the “black hole”, as it was called — a dungeon in the ship’s eyes below the water-level, and there left to his solitary reflections, which, however, could scarcely he termed so, inasmuch as many myriads of rats inhabited this den, which leaped, ran and gambolled about, over and around their human companion.
The tedious hours of night wore away. The day had begun some time, as the noise of the men trampling to and fro on the different decks indicated. These sounds ceased: all the convicts had gone to work. For some hours more Ralph still remained unvisited; but at length he heard a footstep approaching. His prison was opened and he was ordered to follow the guard, who preceded him to the quarter-deck. Here stood the captain, his mates, the surgeon and other officers of the hulk, in their full naval uniforms. The prisoner was placed on a certain spot indicated by a sign from the commander, and the tale of his escape, having been succinctly related by the guard in whose charge he had been sent to dig the graves, was followed by a recital of his recapture from the officer who had brought him from the shore. He was asked what he had to say, and having only the natural love of liberty inherent in the breast of all men to urge, he was sentenced to receive ten dozen lashes in presence of all the convicts that same day.
He was now again conducted to the black hole, and a little before sunset he was once more led to the quarter-deck, having now to pass through the lines of his fellow-prisoners, ranged there to witness his degrading punishment. His offence and sentence having been related aloud, he was commanded to strip and was quickly secured to the gratings, which had been lashed to the bulwarks. A brawny boatswain’s mate now commenced the infliction of the agonising torture.
Rashleigh had long before been assured by persons who had suffered it, that shrieking out only added to the pain, which became less the quieter and more immovable the sufferer kept himself. When he was being tied up he had crammed his shirt into his mouth in such a way that it was jammed between his face and the grating; so that he could not get it out until he was released. Thus, during the whole time, he could breathe only through his nostrils, and though the pain was most harrowingly intense — for he long afterwards declared it could only be likened to the sensation of having furrows torn in your flesh with jagged wire, and ore they closed filled up with burning molten lead running in streams of fire down your back — yet he could not at first cry out. By the time be had received four of the dozens, at each of which a fresh instrument and a fresh operator were applied, the whole of his body had been entirely numbed, and he only felt as if his lacerated flesh were receiving heavy blows from some huge club.
The punishment lasted more than an hour, at the end of which time he was released from the grating and fell insensible on the deck, whence he was carried to the hospital ship, where he was quickly resuscitated, with a vengeance, by the application of a dressing which was applied to his back, and which, he was subsequently assured, was composed chiefly of pepper and salt!!! — in compliance with the usual mild and merciful system pursued by the naval and military surgeons of that day; and the excruciating torment occasioned by this remedy completely mocked the horrors of the actual suffering of the lash. So often as this dressing was removed and replaced by a new one — which was done every day for nearly a month — the sufferings of the wretched patient made him roar aloud with their intensity; which could only have been equalled by the torture inflicted on the unfortunate cacique Atabalipa, when stretched upon his bed of fire by the monster Hernan Cortes.
Under even this discipline, however, Rashleigh slowly recovered, and became convalescent just in time to go in a draft that was ordered to proceed to New South Wales by the good ship Magnet of London, Captain, James Boltrope.
Onward she goes, over ripple and spray,
Over the waters — away — and away.
It was in the evening when, according to the custom of the hulk, the names of all those who were destined to depart were called aloud on each deck by the boatswain, and they were directed to prepare for the “Bay ship” on the morrow. Our hero was doubly rejoiced at hearing his own name among the rest, for since the torturing disgraceful punishment he had received, the Leviathan had become perfectly hateful to him, and he spent the whole of the night in rumination as to his probable fortune in Australia.
The next day the convicts were duly washed, shaved, cropped, and supplied with two suits each of new slop clothing. They were all ironed too afresh, having each a new pair of double irons put on, and were then paraded before the surgeon superintendent of the vessel in which they were to sail. This officer rejected a few of those who appeared sickly, and others were called in their room. Shortly afterwards the whole body was transferred to a large lighter, which conveyed them out to Spithead, where the good ship fraught with their destinies lay like a mighty sea-bird asleep on the bosom of the open roadstead. On being placed on board, the prisoners were mustered down below, between the decks, into their proper sleeping-places, where each found a numbered bed and blanket. They were then left to pass the night as they listed.
The ship Magnet, which was to convey our adventurer and his companions to the Antipodes, was of about 500 tons burden. The chief part of the maindeck was appropriated to the use of the convicts, of whom there were 150 originally embarked. The deck had been subdivided by a strong bulkhead into two apartments, the smaller by far of which was destined to the reception of the boy convicts, of whom there were about thirty. The hatchways were secured with upright elm stanchions in a stout framing, the whole rendered impervious to any attempt at cutting them by having innumerable broadheaded nails driven home as close together as possible into every portion of the stanchions and frame that was exposed to view. In one of these hatchways were the doors leading to the men’s and the boys’ prisons. These openings were purposely made so small that only one person at a time could pass through them, and a military sentry was posted day and night in the hatchway to prevent any mutiny or other irregularity.
The military guard consisted of two commissioned and six non-commissioned officers, with about forty private soldiers, some of whom wore married and accompanied by their wives and families. While at Spithead, the prisoners were only allowed to come on deck in divisions, three-fourths remaining below while the others enjoyed the fresh air, six soldiers being posted at different parts of the ship. When they sailed, however, the convicts were allowed the liberty of the deck, the whole body except the sick being obliged to leave the prison every fine day by sunrise, and taking their meals on the deck, returning to their berths only at sunset, when they were mustered down by an officer.
Order was maintained among them, and a due regard to cleanliness enforced, by a boatswain and six mates, selected by the surgeon superintendent from the convicts, of whom he had the exclusive care. Their food consisted of the ration which was commonly known in the transport service by the name of “six upon four”, it being four men-of-war sailors’ allowance among six of the prisoners. When the voyage advanced, a small portion of wine or lime-juice was issued on alternate days. There was, in fact, no lack of anything felt on board save water, which was necessarily carefully husbanded, and the want of which was chiefly endured by those who devoured their salt provisions too greedily.
The day after the arrival of the draft, a boatswain, two cooks and other petty officers were chosen from among them, and the men distributed into messes or parties of eight in each, who were to receive their stated allowance of food and water together. It being known that nearly a fortnight would elapse before they sailed for their destination, many of the convicts busied themselves by writing to their friends or relatives to bid them farewell or to request a parting visit. As for Rashleigh, he had resolved not to let any person know his fate, and as his name was an assumed one, he conceived none of his connexions were aware of his degradation.
Bumboats with all manner of supplies attended the Magnet at her moorings daily; and as the time for their departure drew nigh, the deck frequently presented an animating and lively appearance, sorrowfully diversified at times by groups of weeping females or children assembled round some parent or brother who was about to be severed from them, most probably for ever.
Ralph had little to do with either leave-taking or bargaining. His slender store of money was soon expended in purchasing a little tea and sugar, with a few other trifling comforts, for his long voyage; and it was with no very poignant feelings of regret that he saw the anchor weighed and the sails loosed which were to waft him away from the land of his birth.
The vessel passed near the Isle of Wight, and standing out into mid channel, they continued their course until evening, when all were ordered below. The sleeping-berths between decks were framed of deal boards, supported by stanchions and quartering of the same kind of timber, and subdivided into compartments in which six men slept in a space of about as many feet. These bed-places were framed in rows along each side of the ship, and a double row was also formed in the centre, between which and the sides and hatchways, narrow passages were left.
This being their first night at sea, the broken waves of the channel tossed them about considerably, and the wind being aft, the vessel rolled much more than was agreeable to such raw sailors. A scene of great confusion was therefore the result, some swearing, some casting up their accounts, a very, very few indeed praying, and many lying without daring to stir. Rashleigh was not much affected by the motion, and when the tumult had a little subsided, he went to sleep; though, as he lay athwart the vessel, his rest was much disturbed by the rolling. Towards midnight he awoke and made the discovery that his feet were elevated about a yard higher than his head, an order of things which, as he had not been accustomed to it, he forthwith proceeded to alter. But scarce had he done so when he found himself subject to the same inconvenience in his fresh position, so that he was fain to replace his head against the ship’s side, as he had at first lain down, being fearful, while he lay the other way, that some roll more violent than the rest might suddenly dislodge him and cast him headlong into the opposite sleeping-berths: a mode of visiting his shipmates which he could very well dispense with.
He could not sleep more, however, in any position, so he sat up at last, leaning against the ship’s side and ever and anon wondering what it was that continually struck the bows of the vessel — as it seemed to him — with such tremendous fury, little thinking it was the waves, every time her head went down to meet them.
At length he heard a dreadful crash above, followed by the hurtling fall of timbers on the deck. At the same moment a tremendous sea broke over the bulwarks of the vessel and swept with fury down into the main hatchway, in which the sentry was posted. The violence of the rushing water drove the poor soldier with great force against the barricade, and a perfect deluge poured into the prison.
Dire was now the clamour. A hundred sleepers were aroused at once, to find themselves and their bedding immersed in water which every fresh roll of the vessel dashed from side to side, as it had no outlet. Most of them, in a state of mortal terror, deemed the ship was sinking, and a wild outcry of lamentation pealed from many tongues.
Very soon a few of the boldest rushed at the little gateway, hoping to force it and gain the deck, that they might not, as one of their number expressed it, “be drowned like rats, shut up in a cage”; but the wicket bade defiance to all their ill-directed strength. Meanwhile the tones of the sentry might sometimes be heard above the din of voices or the rush of the mighty waters, pouring forth a jeremiad in terms like the following: “Wirrah, it’s murdered, and kilt, losht, destroyed and drownded I am! Swate mother o’ Jasus! And my firelock gone. Shure, if I escape this turn, I’ll be hanged tomorrow for losing my arrums. Och, Wirrah! Wirrah!” And in the darkness the poor fellow would grope for his lost musket, when suddenly a roll of the ship would throw him forcibly against one of the sides, until, a lighted lantern being brought, his dilemma was observed and another sentry placed on his post.
The prisoners, however, were compelled to pass the night in the best manner they could, only being assured that there was no danger, the noise and confusion on deck having arisen from one of the yards giving way. They set to work and bailed the water into the privies as well as they could, and by morning everything was once more quiet below.
Nothing of moment now passed for some time. The good ship still gallantly breasted the billows on her watery way, and at last they neared the Equinoctial, where the ceremony of shaving, on crossing the line, was productive of much fun, about fifty of the prisoners undergoing that operation for the merriment of the others, who, with the captain, officers and passengers, were all equally amused thereby.
Some time prior to this event Ralph Rashleigh had been selected by the surgeon to act as his clerk, a circumstance which, while it procured him many comforts, also probably prevented his having any hand in a scheme that was now set on foot among the prisoners for seizing the vessel, which was shortly after their crossing the line brought to maturity, and but very narrowly defeated.
The boys’ prison was separated only by a bulkhead on either side from the portion occupied by the military and the older prisoners, with relation to which it occupied the centre. Some of these adroit young thieves had contrived to loosen a board in the bulkhead between their own and the soldiers’ apartment. Through this aperture one of the smallest among them used to get into the berth of the military when the latter were asleep, and steal tea, sugar, tobacco, biscuits, or in short, anything he could lay his hands on. This became known to some of the men, who concocted a plot, in which they were joined by others, that this boy should on a certain night steal three muskets which stood in an open arm rack in the soldiers’ berth, and which were visible from the deck and were supposed to be kept continually loaded. These muskets were to be passed from the boys’ into the men’s prison, and in the morning, when the convicts were let up to wash the deck, some of those who were first up were to go to the fore hatchway, and the stolen fire-arms were then to be handed to them from the prison. The rest of the convicts on deck were to be very active in throwing water about and bustling to and fro, so as to attract the notice of the sentries there, of whom there would be three, one at the forecastle, one at the waist, and the third on the poop, of whom only the last would have fire-arms with him. The two sentries forward, being surprised by men from behind them, were to be seized and thrown overboard, while the one on the poop was to be shot dead at the same signal. One party was then to cast loose the breeching of a cannon on the deck, which was known to be loaded, and run it to the companion ladder leading down to the soldiers’ berth, while in the mean time another party was to rush aft and secure the officers.
All this, to a certain extent, fell out exactly as the mutineers had anticipated. The sentries forward were seized, and one of the prisoners snapped his piece at the soldier on the poop; but it did not go off. The other two muskets were then tried with as little success-in fact, there was no priming in either. In the mean time the sentry on the poop roared out “To arms!” But a rush being made upon him, he fired his piece at random and the instant afterwards was thrown overboard. The party who should have cast loose the cannon found that the stubbornness of the fastenings bade defiance to all their efforts of loosening them by hand, and not one of them possessed a knife.
The soldiers now came pouring up the ladder. The first two or three were tumbled back on their companions by blows from the stocks of the mutineers’ muskets, until two of the military officers, who had leaped through the cabin skylight on finding themselves attacked, and who had now gained the poop with their fowling-pieces, levelled them and shot two of the boldest among the convicts dead alongside the ladder. Their companions recoiled. The soldiers now rushed upon deck. A volley of musketry was poured in among the prisoners, of whom five fell, three jumped overboard and all the rest were driven below, many being wounded severely by the bayonets of the exasperated guard. All that day they were kept below without food, and the next morning, the prison doors being thrown open, they were ordered to come on deck.
When Rashleigh did so, he found the whole of the military under arms, one line being drawn across the poop, and another line across the forecastle. Two guns had also been lashed in front of both parties, beside which stood a seaman with a lighted match, the muzzle of each cannon being pointed inwards towards the main hatchway, around which the convicts were huddled in a group. When all the latter had come up the ladder, the ship’s boatswain ordered them to answer their names and go on the quarter-deck as they were called. They did so; and when our adventurer’s turn came, he followed his predecessor into the presence of the surgeon, ship’s captain and military officers, who, dressed in full uniform, occupied the front of the poop stairs. The only sentry who remained alive out of the three that had been on guard the previous morning, and who had fortunately escaped by clinging to a rope that was towing overboard, stood near his officers, his business apparently being to identify the men who had been on deck during the attempt. Each prisoner was also stripped to ascertain if he had been wounded. If no wound appeared, and the sentry could not say that he had been concerned in the mutiny, he was then asked whether he knew anything of the attempted seizure, and informed that if he would give accurate intelligence respecting the authors of the plot he should be highly rewarded instanter, and strongly recommended for his liberty at the expiration of the voyage.
Rashleigh had always loved his bed too well to be an early riser. He had never been on deck any day since they left the land until he was compelled, and his being employed by the surgeon probably precluded any confidence being placed in him by his fellows; so after he had declared his ignorance he was dismissed. The affair ended by about twenty of the prisoners either being identified by the soldier, or being shown to have been wounded. These were now severely flogged and placed in heavy irons until the vessel should reach Port Jackson, being confined all the time besides in a sort of den under the forecastle. Although many of the convicts afterwards professed to give details of the plot and the names of the chief actors in it, nearly all the tales were found to be mere fabrications, and it was generally believed that the leaders in this abortive mutiny were among the number who had been shot dead, or who had leaped overboard on their discomfiture.
After this émeute there were always five sentries on deck in the daytime with loaded muskets, two of whom were stationed on the poop, two at the forecastle, and another at the waist with drawn bayonet only. All else on board resumed its wonted course, nor did anything of moment more occur until, a few days after passing the island of St Peter and St Paul, the captain descried a sail, and found it was standing on such a course that the Magnet must certainly pass very near her, which happened accordingly, and the vessels were quickly within hail. The stranger was a long low schooner, whose masts raked very much, and as the mariners said, “she loomed very suspicious altogether”; but as she had then apparently altered her course, no more was thought of it that day. In the grey haze of the next morning, however, she again bore down, and was close to them before she was perceived by anyone on board the convict ship. Suddenly a call was heard: “Port! Port your helm!”
The next instant the loud sullen boom of a heavy piece of artillery awoke the slumbers of that watery world. Directly after, a voice was heard to hail in some foreign tongue from the schooner, to which Captain Boltrope replied, “An English convict ship bound from Portsmouth to New South Wales.”
Ralph Rashleigh hurried on dock. This, being quite an event in the annals of their voyage, had roused his curiosity, and he now found the schooner lying to at a short distance, her sails flapping idly against her masts. Most of the passengers by the Magnet, and the military officers, were on her poop. From the observations made among these, it appeared that none on board the stranger seemed to understand English; but immediately afterwards the gaudy flag of Portugal was hoisted at the schooner’s gaff, and another gun fired towards the English vessel.
“That gun was shotted, by ——!” roared out the old mate, as he looked aloft, apparently pursuing the course of the ball.
“Nay, then,” rejoined one of the military officers; “it is time we began to look out, captain.”
Captain Boltrope replied, “Aye, aye, sit. We’ll soon see what sort of stuff she’s made of. Hoist away the union jack there. Mr Travis, jump down below, and hand up a lot of cartridges and wads. Dr MacMorrogh, will you turn all your men up on deck? They can help to load and run the guns in and out. Ease her off, my lad at the helm! Bring her starboard side to bear on the stranger. By the Lord, we’ll astonish you, my joker, directly.”
“Do you mean to fight her then, sir?” enquired Dr Dullmere, a Scottish Presbyterian minister who was on board. in great fear.
“Fight?” replied the old tar. “Fight, aye? Why, that is a good ’un. To be sure, I do mean to fight. Do you think for a moment I’m going to have my ship plundered, and that glorious bit of buntin’” (pointing to the flag of England now flying at the peak) “insulted by a damned rogue like that? No, no! jemmy Boltrope will never stand that, while we’ve got forty sojers on board, besides all this mob, who are most of ’em wicked enough to fight the devil himself, were he to rise out of the ocean with seven heads and ten horns, like the beast in the Book of Revelations.”
While the captain was talking he was also busy, clearing away the poop for action; but the parson had vanished, and his place was far better supplied by ten or a dozen of the soldiers, who now appeared, as the skipper said, “in full fighting fig”. The military officer, at his request, now detached four more soldiers into each of the tops, and great was the laughter of Captain Boltrope at the lubberly way in which the “leather necks”, as he called them, got up to their new posts.
In the mean time a boat had been lowered from the stranger, apparently full of armed men, and was rowed towards the Leviathan; but on seeing the military guard displayed on the poop, forecastle and tops, the commander of the boat shouted out again to someone in his own vessel, and loud cries of “prisonniers! prisonniers!” or something of the kind, burst from many voices in both the schooner and the boat. The latter was now rowed back to the stranger, which soon after filled its sails and stood away.
From this incident until the end of their dreary voyage no other occurrence of any moment took place, and many were the hearts that bounded with mingled anticipations when one evening the cry of “Land ho!” was heard from the mast-head; which, upon the vessel’s approaching a little nearer, was declared to be the coast of New Holland, but some distance to the southward of their expected haven, which it was supposed, however, they would be nearly abreast of by the next morning; and eve sank down upon all on board the Magnet engaged in various contemplations of what fate might have in store for them in the land to which they were now exiled and which they were so rapidly approaching.