From Penny’s Traditions of Perth comes the following market trick:
‘As much straw plait as made a bonnet was sold for four shillings, and, being exceedingly neat, it was much inquired after. In this trade many a one got a bite, for the straw was all made up in parcels, and for fear of detection smuggled into the pockets of the purchasers.
‘An unsuspecting man having been induced by his wife to purchase a quantity of straw plait for a bonnet, he attended the market and soon found a seller. He paid the money, but, lest he should be observed, he turned his back on the prisoner, and got the things slipped into his hand, and thence into his pocket. Away he went with his parcel, well pleased that he had escaped detection (for outsiders found buying straw plait were severely dealt with by the law), and on his way home he thought he would examine his purchase, when, to his astonishment and no doubt to his deep mortification, he found instead of straw plait, a bundle of shavings very neatly tied up. The man instantly returned, and told of the deception, and insisted on getting back his money. But the prisoner from whom the purchase had been made could not be seen. Whilst trying to get a glimpse of his seller, he was told that if he did not go away he would be informed against, and fined for buying the supposed straw plait. He was retiring when another prisoner came forward and said he would find the other, and make him take back the shavings and return the money. Pretending deep commiseration, the second prisoner said he had no change, but if the straw plait buyer would give him sixteen shillings, he would give him a one pound note, and take his chance of the man returning the money. The dupe gave the money and took the note—which was a forgery on a Perth Bank.’
Attempts to escape were almost a weekly occurrence, and some of them exhibited very notable ingenuity, patience, and daring. On March 26, 1813, the discovery was made of a subterranean excavation from the latrine of No. 2 Prison, forty-two feet long, and so near the base of the outer wall that another hour’s work would have finished it.
On April 4, 1813, was found a pit twenty feet deep in the floor of No. 2 Prison, with a lateral cut at about six feet from the bottom. The space below this cut was to receive water, and the cut was to pass obliquely upwards to allow water to run down. A prisoner in hospital was suspected by the others of giving information about this, and when he was discharged he was violently assaulted, the intention being to cut off his ears. He resisted, however, so that only one was taken off. Then a rope was fastened to him, and he was dragged through the moat while men jumped on him. He was rescued just in time by a Durham Militiaman.
On the 28th of the same month three prisoners got with false keys into an empty cellar under the central tower. They had provided themselves with ordinary civilian attire which they intended to slip over their prison clothes, and mix with the market crowd. They were discovered by a man going into the cellar to examine the water pipes. Had they succeeded a great many more would have followed.
On May 5, 1813, some prisoners promised a big bribe to a soldier of the Durham Militia if he would help them to escape. He pretended to accede, but promptly informed his superiors, who told him to keep up the delusion. So he allowed six prisoners to get over the outer wall by a rope ladder which they had made. Four were out and two were on the burial ground which was between the north boundary wall and the Cow Inch, when they were captured by a party of soldiers who had been posted there. The other two were caught in a dry ditch. They were all lodged in the cachot. It was well for the ‘faithful Durham’, for the doubloons he got were only three-shilling pieces, and the bank notes were forgeries!
In June three men escaped by breaking the bar of a window, and dropping therefrom by a rope ladder. One of them who had got on board a neutral vessel at Dundee ventured ashore and was captured; one got as far as Montrose, but was recognized; of the fate of the third we do not hear.
A duel took place between two officers with sharpened foils. The strictest punctilio was observed at the affair, and after one had badly wounded the other, hands were shaken, and honour satisfied.
About this time a clerk in the Dépôt was suspended for attempting to introduce a profligate woman into the prison.
The usual market was prohibited on Midsummer market day, 1813, and the public were excluded, as it was feared that the extraordinary concourse of people would afford opportunities for the prisoners to escape by mixing with them in disguise.