Seeing and knowing all this, the officials one and all agreed that no person was better adapted to the task than Knoulton, who was generally acknowledged to be an excellent nurse.
In addition to this he was a young man of rather a superior class. He was well educated, had moved in respectable society, and was generally liked by all who knew him.
Prior to his conviction he held a good appointment in a mercantile house in one of our provincial towns, and was greatly esteemed by his employers, who, it was said, allowed him too much latitude.
His downfall was brought about by a concurrence of circumstances. He began by betting, then he indulged in a plurality of mistresses, besides other little foibles, which it is perhaps needless to mention. The end of it was that to bridge over a difficulty, he made use of his employers’ money.
The first time he escaped discovery, as he made up the deficiency just in the nick of time, but he had recourse to the same desperate alternative several times afterwards, and the result was that his defalcations were discovered, and he was given into custody.
He was convicted upon the charge of embezzling, but his prosecutors strongly recommended him to mercy. It was thought that he would have a mere nominal sentence—a few days’ imprisonment perhaps—but he had the misfortune of being tried before a severe judge, who never, under any circumstances, gave less than six months’ imprisonment; so six months’ young Knoulton had, and hence his becoming a fellow-prisoner with Murdock, the smuggler.
It would be difficult for me to attempt to convey to the reader the bold and fearless nature of this man, who, like a caged tiger, was for ever clawing at the bars of his cage. Nothing appeared to intimidate him. After his attempt to escape at Dartmoor he had for several months been forced to work at the quarries in chains weighing some thirty pounds, or more. Every vigilance had been exercised by his guards to prevent the possibility of his flight, and yet the idea of escape haunted his imagination, and became a never-dying, never-yielding monomania.
The thought of regaining his liberty seemed to be the one acting principle of his life. He used to observe to his companions in crime that he would much prefer being executed than having to endure a life-long imprisonment.
Whether this was merely said out of bravado or not we cannot determine, but one fact is quite clear—of all the prisoners in this gaol and others he had been drafted to, he was the most restless and discontented—he of all men else pined most for liberty.
When young Knoulton entered the apartment occupied by the sick man, Murdock gave a grunt of satisfaction, but he said nothing at first beyond that momentary expression.