This proposal being rejected, another was offered and agreed to, and that was—to go to old Major Mills, and fetch him away from thence, and carry him up to Harris’s Well, near Lady Holt Park, and throw him in there, as they intended to have done with Galley, as the most effectual method to secrete the murder from the knowledge of the world; forgetting that the eye of Providence was constantly upon them, watched all their motions, and would certainly, one day or other, bring to light their deeds of darkness; and that Divine Justice never forgets the cries of the oppressed, but will, in due time, retaliate the cruelties exercised on the innocent, on the heads of their inexorable tormentors.
All this while the unhappy Chater remained in the most deplorable situation that ever miserable wretch was confined to; his mind full of horror, and his body all over pain and anguish with the blows and scourges they had given him, and every moment in expectation of worse treatment than he had yet met with, without any sustenance to support his wretched life, than now and then a little bread and water, and once some pease porridge. Besides all this, he was continually visited by one or other of them, not to comfort or relieve him with words of kindness, or promises of better usage; not to refresh him with cordials or agreeable nourishment, but to renew their cruel exercise of beating and abusing him, and to swear and upbraid him in the vilest terms and the most scurrilous language that their tongues could utter.
Having at length concluded what to do with their poor unhappy prisoner, they all went down to Old Mills’s, where they immediately opened a fresh scene of barbarity. For as soon as they came in, Tapner, Cobby, and some others of them, went directly into the turf-house, where they found Chater in the most piteous condition, enough to melt a heart not made of stone into compassion; but was so far from moving the pity of these merciless bloodhounds, that it only served them as a fresh motive to renew their cruelties, and aggravate his afflictions. Tapner, in particular, immediately pulled out a large clasp knife, and expressed himself in this horrible manner: “G—d d—n your b—d, down on your knees and go to prayers, for with this knife I will be your butcher.” The poor man being terrified at this dreadful menace, and expecting that every moment would be his last, knelt down upon a turf, as he was ordered, and lifted up his heart and hands to Heaven, in the best manner that his pains and anguish would suffer him; and while he was thus piously offering up his prayers to God, Cobby got behind him, and kicked him, and with the most bitter taunts, upbraided him for being an informing villain. Chater suffered all his torments with great patience and resignation; and though there was scarce a limb or a joint of him free from the most excruciating pains, yet in the midst of all he did not forget his friend Galley, and believing that he was either dead or very near it, he begged they would tell him what they had done with him. Tapner replied, “D—n you, we have killed him, and we will do so by you”; and then, without more ado, or any other provocation, drew his knife aslant over his eyes and nose, with such violence, that he almost cut both his eyes out, and the gristle of his nose quite through. Poor Chater was absolutely at his mercy, for it was not in his power to make any resistance; his great and only comfort was that he suffered in a righteous cause, and supported with this consideration, he resigned himself to the will of heaven, which he was persuaded took cognizance of his sufferings, and would reward his tormentors according to their demerits.
Tapner, however, not satisfied with this wanton act of cruelty, in another fit of frenzy, aimed another stroke at his face, designing to cut him again in the same wound; but happening to strike a little higher, made a terrible gash across his forehead, from which the blood flowed in abundance. What a lamentable figure must the poor creature make! His face deeply furrowed with the most ghastly wounds, his eyes cut almost out of his head, and the blood running down in torrents upon the rest of his body. What a spectacle was here! yet not miserable enough to move the compassion of these bloodthirsty tigers! Old Mills, however, not from any pity, or that his heart relented at the terrible condition of this deplorable object, but apprehending bad consequences to himself, in case he should die under their hands, and under his roof, said to them, “Take him away, and do not murder him here, but murder him somewhere else.”
Chater, Chained in ye Turff House at Old Mills’s. Cobby, kicking him & Tapner, cutting him Cross ye Eyes & Nose, while he is saying the Lords Prayer. Several of ye other Smugglers standing by.
It is surprising that this poor miserable man, who was far advanced in years, had strength and vigour enough to sustain such a variety of torments, which were inflicted upon him, almost without intermission, for several days successively; yet even after this last act of barbarity, he had more severe trials to come before he was suffered to part with his wearisome life. And as the last scene of this woful tragedy appears more astonishing and more monstrous than anything they had hitherto transacted, we shall give a very particular and circumstantial account of everything that was done on this sad occasion. Being all agreed in the measures they were about to take, they mounted Chater on a horse, and set out together for Harris’s Well. Mills, however, and his two sons, stayed behind, desiring to be excused, because their horses were not in the way; or they would readily have borne them company on the occasion if they could, for they were as hearty in the same cause as the best of them. Besides, there was no great necessity for their assistance, since there were enough of them, as the Mills’s said, to kill one man; and as Harris’s Well lay just in their way homewards, the execution would be little or no hindrance to them in their journey.
Everything being now settled, they proceeded towards the well. Tapner, however, more cruel, if possible than the rest, fell to whipping poor Chater again over his face and eyes, and made his wounds, which he had before given him with his murdering knife, bleed afresh; and, what was still more amazing, swore, “That if he blooded his saddle” (for it seems Chater was set upon his horse) “he would destroy him that moment and send his soul to Hell:” which is such an unparalleled instance of barbarity, that one would think it impossible that there should be a creature living, that pretends to reason, and would be ranked among men, could be guilty of. What! to threaten to murder a man for a thing which was not in his power to avoid, and which the villain himself was the sole occasion of! Horrible, shocking wickedness! but let us proceed in our melancholy story.
At last poor Chater, in this disfigured lamentable condition, is brought to the well. By the time they got there, it was the very dead of night, and so near the middle of it, that it was uncertain whether it was Wednesday night or Thursday morning. The well was between twenty and thirty feet deep, without water, and paled round at a small distance to keep the cattle from falling in. Being come up to the pales, they dismounted Chater, and Tapner, taking a cord out of his pocket which he had brought for that purpose, made a noose in it and then fastened it round his neck. This being done, they bade him get over the pales to the well. The poor man observing a small opening, where a pale or two had been broken away, made an attempt to go through; but that was a favour too great to be allowed to so heinous an offender, as it seems poor Chater was in their opinion; and therefore one of them swore he should get over in the condition he was and with the rope about his neck, all over blood, his wounds gaping and himself extremely weak and ready to faint through loss of blood; yet in this miserable plight these cruel executioners obliged him to get over the pales as well as he could.
