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.’