HOW I BECAME A CONVICT.
I was born on the estate of Lord ——, in the north of England. My father was one of the under-gardeners, and lived in one of the lodges on the domain. As soon as I entered upon my teens, I was taken into the great house as a sort of page, where I was treated with much kindness and favour. In a while I outgrew my ‘buttons,’ and was then sent to the stables as an under-groom. Before I had reached my eighteenth birthday, my noble master died. The son who succeeded to the title and estates was quite unlike his father. A clean sweep was made in the establishment: the racing-stud was done away with; the elder servants discharged; a retrenchment was made all round; and in the change I was one of the many who had to seek work elsewhere.
My lot was next cast in the large town of B——, whither I had gone to seek employment. A successful shopkeeper, who advertised his wares by sending round the town a showy van drawn by two handsome horses, driven by a good-looking, well-dressed coachman, wanted a suitable groom to complete the show. Coming fresh and ruddy from Lord ——’s stables, I obtained the post without any trouble, and added very much, I think, to the attraction of the shopkeeper’s show as long as the bloom of youth and country air remained on my cheeks. But I found the new life very different from the old one. Coachee and I had more leisure than was good for us in this perambulating business. Hurry was no part of our duty in the delivery of parcels, and so our driver frequently turned aside into some by-street to indulge his weakness for drink. I had been accustomed to have my glass of home-brew in the servants’ hall, and up to this time I can truly say that my habits were sober. But companionship with my van-fellow led me to join him in his tippling, until at length I was almost as bad as himself. One evening, after the usual calling at our favourite houses, we were both without a copper to take a parting glass for the night. In the stable-loft, at the back of our master’s premises, a pier-glass had been stowed. It lay there for several weeks. We were in doubt about its ownership, and in our need of cash, the coachman suggested that we might raise a few shillings upon it. At first, I hesitated to take any part in the matter; but my scruples and fears were overcome by my companion. ‘Nay, lad, you have nought to fear. On pay-day we’ll get it out of pawn, and no one will be any the wiser.’
Thus persuaded, I joined in the first dishonest act of my life. As fate would have it, the pier-glass was wanted before pay-day came round. The guilt was brought home to our door, and the coachman and myself had to change our livery for a prison dress. ‘Three months’ hard labour,’ came like a death-knell upon my ears; and with a choking lump in my throat, I was lodged in the borough prison.
After the expiration of my sentence, the shame of my disgrace prevented me from going back to my father’s cottage. All the people on the estate must have heard of my crime, and how could I dare to show myself there! Much down-hearted, I walked back to the town from which I had been imprisoned. The only opening that occurred to me was to join the army. I could hide myself there, I thought. So I walked to the recruiting quarters, took the Queen’s shilling, and enlisted.
I was then under twenty years of age, and ‘a promising youngster,’ as the sergeant said. All in good time, I was sent to Aldershot. A few months’ stay there made me home-sick. I repented of the step I had taken, and I made up my mind to give up soldiering as soon as I got the chance. My difficulty was to get the clothing of a civilian. I dare not buy clothes, for my purpose would thus be made known; neither could I take a comrade into my confidence. I resolved at length to bolt and take my chance. Passing through a Hampshire village, I saw a countryman’s smock and trousers drying on a cottage hedge. ‘The very thing,’ I thought: ‘all is fair in war;’ and with such notions in my mind, I stole the articles and made off. But luck was against me. The theft was soon discovered, and I was pursued and arrested before I had gone far on the road. For this offence I was sent to Winchester jail for a couple of months. It also brought about my dismissal from the army, for the regiment was too respectable to keep a felon in its ranks.
During my imprisonment at Winchester, a circumstance took place, which, though trivial at the time, had much to do with me some time afterwards. One day, as I was taking exercise in the ring, a visitor stepped on to the ground. I immediately recognised in the stranger the chief superintendent of the prison where I had served three months. It seems that he had come from the north to prove a conviction against a man then awaiting trial in Winchester. He recognised me as quickly as I recognised him; but I little thought that such a meeting would affect my destiny. How? You shall know in good time.
From Winchester I made my way back to the north, to the town where I first fell into trouble, and was lucky enough to get employment as a ‘striker’ in some large iron-works. With wages at four shillings a day, I managed very nicely, and was comfortably off. After a while, another labourer in the same works, Joe Smith as he called himself, came to lodge in the same house as myself. Naturally we became somewhat familiar; but he was very silent about himself, so that I never got to know where he came from, or anything of his history. One day I saw that he had got possession of a watch, a far better-looking thing than I had been accustomed to see among working-men. ‘Hillo, Joe,’ said I, ‘you’re getting smart. Where did ye get that ticker from?’
‘Oh, I won it in a shilling raffle. It’s a beauty, isn’t it?’
The following Saturday afternoon, just as I was leaving the house for a stroll, Joe met me rather hurriedly, saying: ‘Tom, I’m going to Manchester till Tuesday. I haven’t much time to catch t’ train, and I just want one or two things in t’ house, and a few shillings extra like. Just run and pawn this watch for me, there’s a good lad, and we’ll both go to station together.’
‘All right, Joe,’ I said; ‘give it to me.’
‘I’ll follow thee in a minute,’ he shouted, as I hurried to the nearest pawnshop.
When I handed the watch to the shopman, he examined it closely, and once or twice looked rather queerly at me. ‘Where did you get this?’ he asked.
‘A mate of mine just gave it me to pawn,’ I answered. ‘He won it in a raffle; I expect him here directly.’
‘Boy!’ he shouted to an assistant in the shop, ‘I shall want some change; run and get some as quick as you can.’
In a few minutes the boy came back with a policeman—the ‘change’ he was sent out for, as it proved.
‘Officer,’ said the shopman, ‘this young man has just handed in a watch that’s wanted. Here’s the notice of warning sent round from the police office.’
‘What have you got to say?’ said the policeman.
‘I know nothing about it; I will take it directly to the man who gave it me.’
But on going into the street, nothing was seen of Joe. We went to the lodgings, but no Joe was there. He must have seen the officer taken to the shop, and then thought it best to run away.
‘Well, young man, you must come with me to the station. The watch is stolen, and has been found upon you;’ so said the officer, as he laid hold of my arm to take me to the lock-up.
In due time I was brought before the magistrates, charged with having stolen a watch. I told my story, which, from the smiles on the faces in court, seemed to be a very stale one.
‘Is anything known of this man?’ sharply asked one of the magistrates.
‘Yes, your worship,’ answered an official, as he read from a large book. ‘Convicted for stealing a pier-glass, April 19, 1867, and sentenced to three months’ hard labour.’
It was now October 1868, only about eighteen months after my first appearance in the same dock. I saw that this fact told against my tale.
‘You stand committed to the sessions,’ was the reply of the Bench; and I went down below, lamenting my hard luck.
A day or two after my committal to the borough prison, the chief superintendent visited my cell, note-book in hand. ‘You have been previously convicted,’ he said. ‘Once in this prison last year. Haven’t you been in Winchester jail since?’
I saw it was useless to deny it; and now I began to realise the seriousness of my position. The superintendent was getting up my criminal history for the recorder, and two convictions in so short a time would certainly insure for me a long sentence. The knowledge of my innocence in the present case made my position all the more grievous.
Each of the cells in this prison was provided with a small cistern for water, let into the outside wall, but with one of its sides flush with the interior wall. I found one of the screws, by which it was fastened, loose. Curiosity led me to try and loosen the others. This I at last accomplished. Then I took the cistern out, and saw a space in depth more than half the thickness of the wall, and large enough to admit the passage of my body. The thought of escape at once suggested itself, and I resolved to make the attempt. I carefully put back the cistern, replaced the screws, and covered them with whitewash from the walls.
Having several weeks to wait for trial, I was taken out of the cell a good deal, and was employed in many ways. One day, as I was doing a light job in the basement, I saw an iron bar about three feet long lying about. This I concealed in my clothes, and safely carried to my cell. My first object was to break the bar in two; but how was it to be done without a file? My eyes lighted upon the scrubbing-stone used for cleaning the floor. I tried the hardest piece I could find, and rubbed away with all my might. Imagine my delight when I found the iron showing signs of wear! Stone was to be had in abundance, and I persevered until success crowned my work and the iron bar lay in two pieces. I then began my attack upon the wall. The dinner-hour was usually a very safe time for prisoners to play pranks. Only one or two warders were left in charge, though the prison was a very large one and pretty full. Fortunately for my schemes, my cell was situated on the fourth landing from the basement, and in the reception ward, which at that time contained very few persons awaiting trial. Every dinner-hour, therefore, I pulled out the cistern and set to chipping away the brick wall behind it. The rubbish was carefully kept in the space thus made, and no suspicion seems to have been aroused of my movements. By the end of the week or so, I had broken away all but the thin outer edge, so that a vigorous shove would send the remaining part out.
The question now was how to get down to the ground outside. The distance from the hole to the yard below was fully sixty feet. A rope I must have somehow. All my ingenuity was called into play to get one. The rugs of my bed were double, and fastened together as if one was the lining of the other. The under ones I tore off and made into strips, which I plaited into a rope. Sundry other little things, which I found from day to day in my work about the corridors, were stealthily put aside and changed into rope. At length I had plaited what I thought sufficient. My materials were stowed away behind the cistern, and I determined to attempt an escape on the next Saturday evening. I chose that evening because it was usually the most free from any chance of interruption from the officers, and the most favourable for escaping detection, if I succeeded in reaching the crowded thoroughfares of the town.
Saturday came. Supper was served at five; the cells were locked up for the night; and by six o’clock the officers, excepting a couple left in charge, had left the building. ‘The night watchman will be on duty outside at eight,’ I said to myself; ‘I must be out of this before then. Now for it.’ I removed the cistern for the last time, pulled from their hiding-place the coils and irons, and with a thrust or two, sent the thin portion of wall into the yard below. I then fastened a bar of iron to each end of the rope. One of these, placed across the opening on the inside, afforded a safe holding; the other kept the hanging rope steady. I put my legs through the opening to descend, and managed to get through, and reached the basement yard, though not without fear and trembling. By a shake of the rope, the iron bar fell from its holding, and I was able to pull it down for my further use in scaling the outer wall. It was a November night—dark, cold, and windy. I now made for a part of the outer wall which separated the chaplain’s garden from the prison, and where there was a suitable corner for the use of my rope. I had frequently noticed this spot from the reception ward, and guessed its height to be about fifteen feet. Over this spot I threw the iron bar at the end of the rope; by good luck, it caught somehow on the other side. I mounted quickly, sailor fashion, and in another minute I was free.
The by-road from the prison joined the highway to the town about six hundred yards off and skirted the warders’ cottages. When I reached the junction I saw under the gas lamp one of the warders smoking and chatting with a policeman. At the sight my heart sank; but I quickly recovered courage, crossed the road, swinging my arms about in a careless way, and passed on safely towards the town. As I proceeded, it struck me as very foolish to venture into the lighted streets in prison dress; besides, there was no one in the town that I particularly cared to see. I therefore turned my steps in an opposite direction, and marched northwards into the country. After walking about seven miles, I took refuge for the night in an outhouse belonging to a small farm on the roadside. I hid myself in the loft among the hay and straw, and slept like a top. Early on the Sunday morning I was aroused by some one coming to milk the cows. I kept close under cover, but no one came into the loft.
As soon as darkness came on, I slipped away, and went on still northwards. All that night I tramped, scarcely meeting with a soul. By daybreak I had reached the outskirts of a large town, whose name I did not know. An empty house offered an enticing place of rest, and in I went for a few hours. By this time, I knew that the hue and cry would be abroad. Without a disguise, my liberty would be but short. The police of this unknown town would, I am sure, be now on the lookout, for the prison could not be thirty miles off. An empty house could supply me with nothing, so I resolved to go prospecting. I got through an attic window on the roof, and crawled to the nearest inhabited house. Looking through its attic window, I saw on a chair a suit of clothes—evidently some one’s Sunday suit, not yet put away. They were quickly in my grasp, and a few moments found me back again in my refuge. I was, indeed, in luck’s way, for in the trousers’ pockets were twenty-three shillings. I stowed the prison clothes up the chimney, and walked into the street dressed in the stolen suit. I hailed a cab coming down the road, and after one or two questions for information, I directed him to drive me to the barracks. Strange to say, this cabman was the owner of the clothes I had on. You may scarcely believe it; but it is quite true, as after events proved. And I paid the poor fellow with his own coin!
I enlisted in a foot regiment, under a feigned name of course. For a fortnight or so I kept pretty close to barracks; I then foolishly asked the wife of one of the sergeants to pawn the stolen clothes. It was the story of the watch over again. The theft had been reported to the police; the pawnbrokers had been warned; and now the woman’s errand transferred me from the barracks to the police station. My photograph was taken and circulated. It was recognised at the prison from which I escaped. In a day or two I was visited by my old friend the chief superintendent, who claiming me as his property, took me forthwith back to my old quarters.
‘Young man,’ said he, ‘do you know what you are likely to get for this?’
‘A few months extra, I suppose,’ I answered.
He smiled grimly, saying: ‘Seven years, as sure as anything.’
‘What! penal servitude?’ I gasped. ‘I never thought of that.’
And so it came to pass. I was sentenced to seven years’ penal servitude for ‘breaking out of prison.’ Thus I became a convict.