Freemantle, W.A., April 18, 1876.
My dear Mother,—You owe to the accidental detention of the mail steamer the letter which I am now writing. The cause of the delay is an event which will probably excite so much attention in the Old Country and America, that it will form the principal if not the sole topic of my note.
You are aware before now that Western Australia is a convict colony. Hither were sent some seven or eight years ago a number of the prisoners sentenced to penal servitude on the occasion of the Fenian disturbances a little before that date. These were gradually released, and at the beginning of the present month only eight remained in confinement in Western Australia. All eight had been soldiers. The prisoners of the establishment work in various gangs throughout the town, and the Fenians were distributed at different points with the rest. Amongst the prisoners some are chosen to fill offices of trust in connection with the prison arrangements, and are called constables. One of the Fenians was a constable, and by delivering pretended orders to the warders in charge of the working parties, he was enabled to get six of the Fenians together when occasion required.
The occasion came yesterday. At nine o'clock he withdrew these whom he required from under the warders in charge. The six prisoners assembled at a spot just outside Freemantle. Two carriages, with two horses each, were in readiness. They got in, and away they go.
I must retrace my steps a little. Towards the end of last year a gentleman represented as from one of the neighboring colonies arrived here. He put up at the best hotel at the port, and has since mixed with the best society. He went by the name of Mr. Collins. His business here was always an enigma to the residents, but it was supposed by some that he had come here with a view of seeing his way to the opening of some business. Another person lately arrived here too, named Jones, a Yankee; but as he worked at a trade no one noticed him. Now it appears these two persons were the chief actors in the plot. They arranged the details of the flight, and awaited the fugitives with carriages at the place of rendezvous yesterday.
The party drove to a spot sixteen miles or so from Freemantle, where they were seen to enter a boat evidently belonging to a whaler in the offing.
Yesterday, port and metropolis were in a state of intense excitement. The government chartered an only steamer, a peaceful mail boat, put on board a guard of pensioners and police,—we have no soldiers in the colony,—and sent it in pursuit. A little before the steamer an open boat manned with water police had started on the trail of the runaways.
To-day, at four, the steamer returned. A crowd had assembled on the jetty to see her come in; I was amongst the number; she did not bring the prisoners; she reported having been alongside the whaler. The captain and one boat's crew were absent. The authorities in the steamer requested to go on board, but were refused permission. As the vessel lay in neutral waters, they could not use force to attain their desires.
The water police boat is still in chase of the missing ship's boat, but I doubt if they will come up with her. Under cover of the darkness of the night—and it threatens to be dark indeed—the absent crew, with the fugitives, will make the ship; and even if the police crew found them, and there was a fight, as there would be pretty sure to be, if a forced capture were attempted, it is very doubtful who would be the victors. Against the fifteen water police, there would be the six prisoners, their two accomplices, and the boat's crew.
The whistle is sounding its warning, and my letter must hurry to the post. With kindest love to all, believe me,
Your affectionate son, J. O'Reilly.
—Pilot, June 24, 1876.
THE ESCAPE OF THE POLITICAL PRISONERS
"There was a torchlight procession in Dublin on Saturday night, June 10, in celebration of the escape of the political convicts from West Australia, and Disraeli was burned in effigy." So runs the latest telegram from Ireland, and the news is fully significant. Ireland knows the meaning of the escape, and will act on it. It was planned and carried out by her sons in America; and this fact will intensify the national spirit of the Old Country, and make her feel that she is beginning to reap the harvest of her motherhood.
The first news of the escape of the Irish prisoners appeared last week in the following dispatch:—
"London, June 6. A dispatch from Melbourne, Australia, states that all the political prisoners confined in Western Australia have escaped on the American whaleship Catalpa."
About the same time the SS. Colima from Sydney, Australia, reached San Francisco with news to the same effect, but adding that the ocean cable from Australia to Java had been cut on April 27, immediately before the escape.
Two weeks ago the English Prime Minister scornfully refused to release those prisoners at the earnest request of Ireland. It was in his hands then to render this escape meaningless, and to make Irishmen believe that they had better wait for the slow course of English justice. But the old spirit of domineering insolence was too strong in the British House of Commons. To show mercy to Ireland would be a confession of weakness; they determined to refuse the Irish petition, and at their own haughty will select the time to release the prisoners.
But Ireland has had satisfaction this time. At the moment that Disraeli was jauntily telling the House that he would not release the prisoners, they were on board a Yankee ship, free as air, thousands of miles from an English chain or an English dungeon. Ireland laughs at England at home; and all America joins in our jeer across the Atlantic.