passed to Connor in the fore hold.”
On the 27th November it was found that some prisoners had made their escape from the Ethalion hulk. On mustering the prisoners in the morning three were missing. Search was immediately made, but they were not to be found. All the hatches on the lower deck were secure; but it was ascertained, on examination of the after hold, that the prisoners must have made their way into the steward’s store-room, where they had taken out the window. One of them then swam off to the Shear hulk, secured the boat, brought it to the after windows, and by that means, assisting each other, the three effected their escape. The boat belonging to the Shear hulk was found at the Prince Regent’s Ferry House, on the Essex coast. After a close investigation it was not possible to bring the blame home to any one. All the guards proved, of course, that they were on the alert all night. The steward said he had had a blister on, and could not sleep a wink, but he never missed hearing the bell struck (by the watch) every quarter of an hour. Stevenson, one of those who had escaped, had always been employed in the steward’s store-room, hence he knew his way about the ship. Being a sailor and a good swimmer, it was probably he who had gone to the Shear hulk and got a boat, taking with him one end of a rope made of hammock nettings, the other being fast to a beam in the store-room. By this rope the Shear hulk boat was hauled gently to the Ethalion; then the other two prisoners got into it, and it was allowed to drift down for some distance with the tide. No sound whatever of oars had been heard during the night by the sentries on board or on shore. The escape must have been made between one and two o’clock in the morning, as at three the men were seen landing from a boat on the Essex coast.
Information of the escape soon spread among the other prisoners, and it was pretty certain that many would attempt to follow. They were reported to be ripe for any mischief. The fire-arms were carefully inspected by the governor, who insisted on their being kept constantly in good order and “well flinted.” At the same time a strict search was made through the ship, particularly of the lower deck, for any implements that might be secreted to facilitate escape. False keys were reported to be in existence, but none could be found; only a large sledge-hammer, a ripping chisel, and some iron bolts which were concealed in the caboose. A few days afterwards the master of the Ethalion reported the discovery of a number of other dangerous articles in various parts of the ship, several more sledge-hammers, chisels, iron bars, spike nails, etc., all calculated to do much mischief, and endanger the safety of the ship. At the same time, four prisoners were overheard planning another escape. They were to steal the key of a closet on the deck, and alter it so as to fit the locks of the bulk heads into the infirmary wards, and pass by this means to the cabin, and out through one of the ports. The key was immediately impounded, and a strict watch kept all night. Between eleven and twelve the guard reported that he heard a noise like filing through iron bars; so the master got into a boat with two others and rowed round the ship. They were armed with a cutlass and blunderbus, “which,” says the master, “I particularly requested might be put out of sight.” But everything was perfectly quiet on the lower deck, and on going through the upper deck the only discovery made was a prisoner sitting by a lamp, manufacturing a draught board, which he refused to part with. They left the deck quite quiet; yet at half-past three the whole place was in an uproar. A regular stand-up fight took place between two prisoners, Elgar and Blore, in which the former got his eyes blackened and face damaged in the most shameful manner. This Elgar was the man who gave information of the projected escape, thereby incurring the resentment of the rest. It is improbable, however, that any attempt was actually intended this time, though escape was in every mouth, and had been since the event of the previous Thursday.
Speaking of the hulks at this time, the governor says, “It is but too true that little if any discipline exists among the prisoners, and that the state of insubordination is extremely alarming. This may, in a great degree, be attributed to the lamentable state of idleness, the facility of communicating with each other, concerning and perpetrating mischief, and the inadequate means of punishment when contrasted with the hulks establishment.”
But by this time news had come of the missing three. At nine o’clock one night a person called at the Penitentiary and asked to see the governor in private. He was shown into the office. “You had three prisoners escape from Woolwich lately? One of them is my brother, Charles Knight. I am very anxious he should be brought back. What is the penalty for escaping?” He was informed; also that there was a charge of stealing from the steward’s store. Knight’s brother said he would willingly pay the damage of that, and wished to make conditions for the fugitive if he was given up. The governor would not promise beyond an assurance of speaking in Knight’s favour to the committee; and said all would depend upon his making a full and candid disclosure of all the circumstances connected with the escape, and giving all the information in his power which would lead to the arrest of the other two. The visitor then observed that his brother was very young, and by no means a hardened offender; that he was led into this act and was sorry for it; that none of his relations would harbour him, and that he was quite ready to return. Next morning he was brought back by his mother and brother, and gave immediately a full account of the affair. The escape had been concerted a full week before it was carried into effect, and had been arranged entirely by Stevenson, who having been employed in the store-room, had purloined a key, filed out the wards and made a skeleton key, with which he opened the hatches. The rope was made out of spun yarn, found in the hold by Stevenson, who also got there the sledge-hammer, chisel, and iron spikes. There was not a soul moving or awake on the lower deck, and no one knew of their intention to escape. They then got away in a boat, just as had been surmised. On landing at the new ferry on the Essex coast, they went across the chain pier, Payne changing a shilling to pay the toll. This was all the money they had amongst them, and had been conveyed to Payne by some person in the ship. They then proceeded to London, and were supplied with hats by a Jew named Wolff, living in Somerset Street, Whitechapel, to whose house they were taken by Stevenson. Afterwards they went to the West End. Payne separated from them in Waterloo Place, saying he meant to go to a brother living at Stratford-on-Avon. Stevenson then took Knight to his brother’s, who was a working jeweller, and who gave them money to buy clothes. They hid together for the night in a house in George Street, St. Giles; and then Knight went home to his aunt’s in Hanover Street, Long Acre, but was refused admittance. The same happened with all his other relatives, and at last he was compelled to give himself up in the manner described. Through information which he gave the others also were apprehended.
The numbers on board the several ships at this time were over six hundred; they were not classified; the distinctions of the Penitentiary, as well as the dress, were done away with. All alike were clothed in a coarse brown suit. They were kept in divisions of seventy-five, with a wardsman in charge of each division; besides which, a number of well-conducted prisoners were appointed to keep watch during the night, who were to report any irregularity that might occur during the watch. There was no employment for the prisoners: the making of great-coats was tried, but it did not succeed. There was no work to be got on shore, and it was doubtful whether these prisoners could be legally employed for that. In fact the whole establishment was considered a sort of house of recovery, and all the prisoners were more or less under hospital treatment throughout. The general conduct of the prisoners was “unruly to a degree, and in some instances to the extent of mutiny.” This continued month after month through the winter till well into the spring of 1824, when for a time, indeed, the conduct of all improved. They were in hopes that they were about to get some remission of their sentences, and feared lest misconduct should militate against their release. They were all in full expectation that something would be done for them by Parliament, in consequence of their very great sufferings. The tenor of all their letters to their friends was to the same effect. They were, however, doomed to disappointment; for on the 14th April, Mr. Kellock states, “This morning I received information that the bill for the labour and removal of the male convicts under the Penitentiary rules, and at present on board the prison ships, had received the royal assent. When informed that they were to be removed to labour at the hulks, they received the news with some degree of surprise and astonishment.” But the same day the exodus took place, and they are reported to have gone away “very quietly and resigned.”
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