A curious feature of the trial was the identification of Chandler as John Smith by Casson, who told how at Amsterdam he (Chandler) had received payment for his bills partly in silver—£150 worth of ducats and Spanish pistoles—which broke down both his pockets, so that the witness had to get a rice-sack and hire a wheelbarrow to convey the coin to the Delft “scout,” where it was deposited in a chest and so conveyed to England.
HOW DENOVAN RAN DOWN MACKOULL.
Detailed reference has been made in previous pages to the Bow Street runners, to Vickery, Lavender, Sayer, Donaldson, and Townsend, whose exploits in capturing criminals were often remarkable. None of them did better, however, than a certain Mr. Denovan, a Scots officer of great intelligence and unwearied patience, who was employed by the Paisley Union Bank of Glasgow to defend it against the extraordinary pretensions of a man who had robbed it and yet sued it for the restoration of property which was clearly the bank’s and not his. For the first and probably the only time known in this country, an acknowledged thief was seen contending with people in open court for property he had stolen from them.
The hero of this strange episode was one James Mackoull, a hardened and, as we should say nowadays, an “habitual” criminal. He was one of the most extraordinary characters that have ever appeared in the annals of crime. His was a clear case of heredity in vice, for his mother had been a shoplifter and low-class thief, who had married, however, a respectable tradesman; all her children—three sons and two daughters—had turned out badly, becoming in due course notorious offenders. One of them, John Mackoull, was well educated, and the author of a work entitled “The Abuses of Justice,” which he brought out after his acquittal on a charge of forgery; another brother, Ben Mackoull, was hanged for robbery in 1786.
James Mackoull began early, and at school stole from his companions. He studied little, but soon became an expert in the science of self-defence, and, being active and athletic, took rank in due course as an accomplished pugilist. His first public theft was from a cat’s-meat man, whom he robbed by throwing snuff in his eyes; while the man was blinded, he cut the bag of coppers fastened to the barrow and bolted. Henceforth he became a professional thief, and with two noted associates, Bill Drake and Sam Williams, did much business on a large scale.
One of his most remarkable feats was his robbery from the person of a rich undertaker, known as “The Old Raven,” who was fond of parading himself in St. James’s Park, London, dressed out in smart clothes and wearing conspicuously exposed a fine gold watch set with diamonds. Mackoull knew that on most days “The Old Raven” entered the park from Spring Gardens at 4 p.m., so he timed himself to arrive a little earlier. He waited till the undertaker had passed him, then pushed on in front, when he turned round suddenly, and, clutching the watch with one hand, knocked his victim’s hat over his eyes with the other. Fearing detection for this theft, which caused considerable noise, Mackoull thought it prudent to go to sea. He entered the Royal Navy, and served for two years on board H.M.S. Apollo as an officer’s servant. His conduct was exemplary, and he was presently transferred to H.M.S. Centurion, on which ship he rose to be purser’s steward. He was discharged with a good character after nine years’ service afloat, and returned to London about 1785 with a considerable sum of money, the accumulations of prize-money and pay.
The moment he landed he resumed his evil courses. Having rapidly wasted his substance in the ring, in the cockpit, and at the gaming-table, he devoted himself with great success to picking pockets. He gave himself out as the captain of a West Indiaman, and being much improved in appearance, having a genteel address and fluent speech, he was well received in a certain class of society. At the end of a debauch he generally managed to clear out the company. He was an adept in what is known as “hocussing,” and this served him well in despoiling his companions of their purses and valuables.
It was at this time that he gained the sobriquet of the “Heathen Philosopher” among his associates. He owed it to a trick played upon a master baker, whom he encountered at an election at Brentford. This worthy soul affected to be learned in astronomy, and
