He never was in such company, nor ever met with such an accident—not he!” This scar may be observed in the portraits of the Deacon by Kay.
Deacon Brodie had brought with him to London an introduction from his cousin to Mr. William Walker, attorney in the Adelphi, who busied himself in the fugitive’s affairs, lent him twelve guineas, and arranged to have him shipped safely off to the Continent so soon as the coast was sufficiently clear.
On Sunday, 23rd March, that “constant trader,” the sloop “Endeavour,” of Carron, John Dent, master, bound for the port of Leith, lay at her anchor at Blackwall. About twelve o’clock that night the captain, who had gone ashore, came aboard with the owners, Messrs. Hamilton and Pinkerton, and an elderly gentleman, apparently in feeble health. After a short conversation the owners left the ship; the passenger, who had been “allotted a bed in the state-room near the fire, as he was sick,” withdrew to the privacy of his cabin; and the “Endeavour” began her voyage. Off Tilbury Point, however, she went aground, and did not clear the Thames for a fortnight. No one seems to have thought this misadventure at all remarkable, and such incidents were doubtless common enough in those spacious days, when time, generally speaking, was no object.
The only other passengers on board were John Geddes, a tobacconist in Mid-Calder, and his wife, who were returning to Leith after a visit to the metropolis. The leisurely methods of the “Endeavour” afforded ample opportunity for cultivating the acquaintance of their fellow-passenger, whose name they found was Mr. John Dixon. They passed the time agreeably together, and Mr. Dixon on one occasion entertained his fellow-voyagers to dinner at a neighbouring village, though for the most part, while the vessel was aground, he remained on board.
At length, having been successfully refloated, the “Endeavour” resumed her interrupted voyage. No sooner, however, were they well out at sea than Mr. John Dixon produced and handed to Captain Dent sealed orders from the owners, wherein he was instructed to make sail for Ostend, where Mr. Dixon was to be landed, before proceeding to Leith, and the vessel was accordingly headed for the coast of Flanders. Owing to thick weather and cross winds, she failed to make that port, and finally put in to Flushing. Even this fresh delay appears in no way to have disturbed the equanimity of the easy-going Geddeses; and, having arrived on the 8th of April at their unlooked-for destination, they improved the occasion by making some purchases of contraband goods as a memento of their visit. Mr. John Dixon, meanwhile, before leaving the ship, wrote three letters—which he entrusted to the care of Geddes for delivery on his arrival in Edinburgh—directed respectively to Michael Henderson, stabler in the Grassmarket; Mrs. Anne Grant, Cant’s Close; and Mr. Matthew Sheriff, upholsterer in Edinburgh. Having taken a cordial farewell of each other, Mr. Dixon and Geddes parted company, the former—in whom the astute reader has ere now discerned the perfidious Deacon—setting out for Ostend in a skiff, and the latter resuming his protracted voyage.
When the “Endeavour” eventually arrived at Leith, where her non-appearance had caused considerable anxiety, Geddes, on perusing the newspapers, saw the Deacon’s description; but, though satisfied that the letters he carried were written by the notorious William Brodie, for three weeks after making the discovery he did nothing further in the matter. Perhaps a dilatory habit had been induced by his late experiences, or his conscience may have required some persuasion. Having at last decided to open the letters, he showed them to various persons, and subsequently delivered them over to the Sheriff. In taking this course, Geddes was probably actuated less by a sense of duty to his country than by a desire to secure the reward. If so, it is satisfactory to find that he did not receive it. The authorities had now, through the Deacon’s singular imprudence, obtained the necessary clue to his whereabouts, and no time was lost in following it up.
What were the contents of the letter to Anne Grant we have now no means of knowing, for that document was not produced at the trial, but the other two letters will be found at length in the following report. In all the contemporary accounts of the trial the names of persons referred to by Deacon Brodie in his letters were, for obvious reasons, omitted. These are now printed in full for the first time from the originals in the Justiciary Office, Edinburgh. In that addressed to his brother-in-law, Matthew Sheriff, dated 8th April, the Deacon writes—“My stock is seven guineas; but by I reach Ostend will be reduced to less than six. My wardrobe is all on my back, excepting two check shirts and two white ones; one of them an old rag I had from my cousin Milton, with an old hat (which I left behind). My coat, an old blue one, out at arms and elbows, I also had from him, with an old striped waistcoat and a pair of good boots. Perhaps my cousin judged right that old things were best for my purpose. However, no reflections; he is my cousin and a good prudent lad, and showed great anxiety for my safety; rather too anxious, for he would not let me take my black coat with me. I could not extract one guinea from him, although he owes me twenty-four pounds for three years past. He cannot help his natural temper.” Evidently the spruce and dapper gentleman keenly felt the sartorial straits to which his cousin’s parsimony had reduced him. He requests that wearing apparel, tools, and certain articles connected with his trade be forwarded to him at an address in New York; desires that his remittances may be as liberal as possible—“for without money I can make but a poor shift”; and adds in a postscript, “Let my name and destination be a profound secret, for fear of bad consequences.”
To Michael Henderson he writes, on 10th April, after the passages already quoted, asking what is likely to become of “poor Ainslie, Smith, and his wife; I hope that neither you nor any of your connections has been innocently involved by these unfortunate men. Write me how the Main went; how you came on in it; if my black cock fought and gained, &c., &c.”—from which we are pleased to note that the Deacon, amid the ruin of his fortunes, retained his kindly disposition and sporting instincts. One hopes that the black cock came off victorious. It is interesting to find in the Edinburgh Evening Courant of 5th April, 1788, the following advertisement of the “Main” to which the Deacon refers:—
COCK FIGHTING.
The LONG MAIN betwixt William Hamilton, Esq., of Wishaw, and Captain Cheap of Rossie, begins at twelve o’clock on Monday, the 7th curt., and will continue at the same hour every day during the week, at HENDERSON’S PIT, Grassmarket.
SUNLEY and SMALL, Feeders and Handlers.
Brodie concludes his letter thus—“I am very uneasy on account of Mrs. Grant and my three children by her; they will miss me more than any other in Scotland. May God in His infinite goodness stir up some friendly aid for their support, for it is not in my power at present to give them the smallest assistance. Yet I think they will not absolutely starve in a Christian land, where their father once had friends, and who was always liberal to the distressed. My eldest daughter, Cecil, should be put apprentice to the milliner or mantuamaking business; but I wish she could learn a little writing and arithmetic first. I wish to God some of my friends would take some charge of Cecil; she is a fine, sensible girl, considering the little opportunity she has had for improvement.” Here we have a glimpse of another and better element in the complex character of this extraordinary man.
Information of the circumstances disclosed in these letters was instantly despatched to the authorities in London, and the Secretary of State, Lord Carmarthen, at once communicated with Sir John Potter, the British Consul at Ostend, in consequence of which Deacon Brodie was traced to Flushing and Middleburgh, and from thence to Amsterdam. Application was immediately made to Sir James Harris, British Consul there, with the result that the Deacon was apprehended in an alehouse, through the instrumentality of John Daly, an Irishman, on the eve of embarking for America.
The circumstances of his capture were as follows:—Daly, armed with an exact description of the fugitive, ascertained his whereabouts in Amsterdam from two Jews “who attend the passengers that arrive in the treck schoots.” On reaching the alehouse where Brodie was lodged, the landlord told him that the gentleman he inquired for was above. Daly proceeded to the first floor, knocked once or twice at the door, and, receiving no answer, entered the room. It was seemingly empty, but a search of the apartment disclosed the unlucky tenant hiding in a cupboard. “How do you do, Captain John Dixon alias William Brodie?” said Daly; “come along with me”; and the Deacon, realising that resistance was useless, surrendered at discretion, and was duly lodged in the Stadthouse. It is disappointing to