PERSONAL ENCOUNTERS.
When I had finished the last chapter I thought I had completed my work,
but the gentleman who is to edit these "Confessions" now tells me that I
am to confess more. He reminds me that I cannot have been an active
poacher nearly all my life without having had numerous personal
encounters with keepers and others. And in this he is right. But there
is some difficulty in my additional task for the following reasons: I
have never cared to take much credit to myself for having broken the
head of a keeper, and there is but little pleasure to me in recounting
the occasions when keepers have broken mine. However, speaking of broken
heads reminds me of an incident which was amusing, though, at the time,
somewhat painful to me.
One night in November when the trees were bare, and the pheasants had
taken to the branches, we were in a mixed wood of pine and beech. A good
many birds roosted on its confines, and, to a practised eye, were not
difficult to see against the moon as they sat on the lower limbs of the
trees, near the trunks. I and my companion had old, strong guns with
barrels filed down, and, as we got very near to the birds, we were using
small charges of powder. As the night was windy the shots would not be
heard very far, and we felt fairly safe. When we had obtained about
three brace of birds, however, I heard a sudden crash among the
underwood, when I immediately jumped behind the bole of a tree, and kept
closely against it.
The head-keeper had my companion down before he could resist, and I only
remained undiscovered for a few seconds. One of the under-keepers seized
me, but, being a good wrestler, I soon threw him into a dense brake of
brambles and blackthorn. Then I bolted with the third man close behind.
I could easily have outrun him over the rough country that lay outside
the wood, but--ah! these "buts"--there was a stiff stone fence fully
five feet high betwixt me and the open. Unless I could "fly" the fence
he would have me. I clutched my pockets, steadied myself for the
leap--and then sprang. I heard my pursuer stop for a second to await the
issue. Weighted as I was I caught the coping, and fell back heavily into
the wood. As soon as the keeper saw I was down he rushed forward and hit
me heavily on the head with a stave. The sharp corner cut right through
the skin, and blood spurted out in little jets. Then I turned about,
determined to close with my opponent if he was inclined for further
roughness. But he was not. When he saw that the blood was almost
blinding me he dropped his hedge-stake, and ran, apparently terrified at
what he had done. I leaned for a few moments against the wall, then
dragged myself over, and started for a stream which ran down the field.
But I felt weaker at every step, and soon crept into a bed of tall
brackens, and plugged the wound in my head with a handful of wet moss,
keeping it in position with my neckerchief. After this I munched some
bread and hard cheese, sucked the dew from the fern fronds, and then
fell into a broken sleep. I must have slept for four or five hours, when
I woke thirsty and feverish, and very weak. I tried to walk, but again
and again fell down. Then I crawled for about a hundred yards, but this
caused my wound to bleed afresh, and I fainted. Just as day was coming a
farm labourer came across, and kindly helped me to his cottage. He and
his wife bathed my head and eyes, and then assisted me to the bed from
which they had just risen. At noon I was able to take some bread and
milk, and at night, an hour after darkness had fallen, I was able to
start for home.
Well, the sequel came in due time. We each received a summons (my
companion had been released after identification), we were tried in
about a fortnight from the date of our capture. There was a full bench
of Magistrates; my companion pleaded guilty (with a view to a lenient
sentence); myself--not guilty. In the first instance the case was clear,
but not one of the three keepers (to their credit) would swear to me.
They looked me carefully over, particularly my assailant. He was
reminded that it was a fine, moonlight night. Yes, but his man, he
thought, was taller, was more strongly built, and looked pale and
haggard--no, he would not say that I was the man--in short, he thought I
was not. Then came my innings. The keeper had sworn that, after running
a mile, the poacher he chased had turned on him, and threatened to "do
for him," if he advanced; that he had hit him on the head with his
stick, and must have wounded him severely. He was also careful to
explain that he had done this in "self defence." I then pointed out to
the "bench" that it was no longer a matter of opinion; that I claimed to
have my head examined, and asked that the Police Superintendent, who was
conducting the case, should settle the point.
But my assumption of an air of injured innocence had already done its
work, and the presiding Magistrate said there was no evidence against
me; that the case as against me was dismissed.
I had hard work to get out of the box without smiling, for even then the
pain in my head was acute, and I was not right for weeks after. I knew,
however, that my wound was a dangerous possession, and close attention
to my thick, soft hair, enabled me to hide it, always providing that it
was not too closely examined. My companion was less fortunate, and his
share of the proceedings, poor fellow, was "two months."
[Illustration]
Here is the record of another encounter. There was a certain wood, the
timber in which had been felled and carted. It had previously contained
a good deal of "coppice," and after the wood-cutters had done their
work, this had been utilized by the charcoal burners. The ashes from the
charcoal had promoted quite an unseasonable growth, and everywhere about
the stoles of the ash roots and hazel snags, fresh green grass and
clover were springing. The hares on the neighbouring estate had found
out this, and came nightly to the clearing to feed. As there were
neither gaps nor gates we found it impossible to net them, and so had to
resort to another device. Before the wood had been cleared rabbits had
swarmed in it, and these had found ingress and egress through "smoots"
in the stone fences. Upon examination we found that the larger of these
were regularly used by our quarry, and, as we could not net them, we
determined to plant a purse net at every smoot, drive the wood with fast
dogs, and so bag our game. When everything was ready the lurchers
commenced their work, and, thoroughly grasping the programme, worked up
to it admirably. Each dog that "found" drove its hare fast and furiously
(this was necessary), and, in an hour, a dozen were bagged. There was
only this disadvantage. The wood was so large, the smoots so far apart,
that many of the hares screamed for some seconds before they could be
dispatched. The continuance of this screaming brought up the keepers,
and our game was up, and with it what we had bagged. The watchers
numbered four or five, and, leaving everything, we ran. In our line of
retreat was an abandoned hut built by the charcoal burners, consisting
of poles, with heather and fern for roof and sides. We made for this,
hoping, in the darkness, to elude our pursuers, then double in our
tracks as soon as they had passed. But they were not so easily deceived.
As soon as the crackling of the dead sticks caused by our tread had
ceased, they evidently suspected some trick, and knew that we were still
in the wood. And the hut was the first object of search. As they were
quite unaware of our number they declined to enter, but invited us into
the open. We replied by barricading the narrow doorway with poles and
planks which we found within. Of course this was only completing our
imprisonment, but we felt that one or more of their number would be sent
for further help, and that then we would make a dash to escape. We
agreed to take off in different directions, to divide the attacking
force, and then lead them across the roughest country we could find. A
deep stream was not far off, and here we would probably escape. But our
scheme went wrong--or, rather, we had no opportunity to put it into
practice. After waiting and listening awhile we saw lights glisten in
the chinks of the heather walls, and then fumes of smoke began to creep
up them. They were burning us out. Quietly as we could we undid the
barricading, and, as the air rushed in, tiny tongues of flame shot up
the heather. Now we lay low with our faces on the damp floor. Then a
pole was thrust through. Another current of air and the flames shot
everywhere. The thick smoke nearly stifled us, and the heat became
intense. The fire ran up the poles, and burning bits of the heather roof
began to fall. Then came the crisis. A fir pole had been raised without,
and then was to crash through the hut. This was the first outside
proceeding we had seen--we saw it through the riddled walls. As soon as
the men loosed their hold of the tree for its fall we sprang from the
doorway; and then for a few seconds the sight was magnificent. As the
roof crashed in the whole hut was one bright mass of flame, and a sheet
of fire shot upwards into the night. The burning brackens and ling sent
out myriads of sparks, and these falling around gave us a few seconds'
start. As agreed, we each hurled a burning brand among the keepers, then
disappeared in the darkness. Certainly no one followed us out of the
wood. We had simply scored by lying low with the fire about us, taking
advantage of the confusion and dazzling light, and then knowing our way
out of the difficulty. The squire's son, we saw, was one of the
attacking party. We were a bit burnt, we lost the game and nets, but
were quite content to have escaped so easily.
[Illustration]
There is another incident which I have good cause to remember all my
life. It is of a somewhat different nature to the foregoing, and
occurred on the estuary of the river which I used frequently to net with
good results. Someone who was certainly not very friendly disposed had
seen me and my companion start for our fishing ground, and had made the
most of their knowledge. After getting to the near vicinity of our work,
we lay down beneath a hay-rick to wait for a degree of darkness. Then we
crawled on hands and knees by the side of a fence until it brought us to
a familiar pool which we knew to be well stocked with salmon and trout.
As we surveyed the water we heard voices, and knew that the pool was
watched. These sounds seemed to come from the lower limbs of a big tree,
and soon one of the watchers hidden in the branches stupidly struck a
match to light his pipe. This not only frescoed two forms against the
night, but lit up their faces with a red glow. The discovery was a
stroke of luck. We knew where we had the water bailiffs, and the rest
was easy. We got quietly away from the spot, and soon were at work in a
pool further up stream. No one but a gaunt heron objected to our
fishing, and we made a splendid haul. The salmon and sea-trout had begun
to run, and swarmed everywhere along the reaches. We hid our net in the
"otter" holes, and, under heavy loads, made for home across the meadows.
We were well aware that the local police changed duty at six in the
morning, and timed our entry into town precisely at that hour. But our
absence of the previous night had gone further abroad, and the local
Angling Association, the Conservancy Board, and the police had each
interested themselves in our doings. It was quite unsafe to hide the
spoil, as was usual, and home it must be carried. I was now alone. In
the open I felt comparatively safe, but as I neared my destination I
knew not whom I should meet round the next turn. Presently, however, it
seemed as though I was in luck. Every wall, every hedgerow, every
mound aided my going. Now a dash across an open field would land me
almost at my own door. Then I should be safe. I had hardly had time to
congratulate myself on my getting in unobserved when a constable, then a
second, and a third were all tearing down upon me from watch points,
where they had been in hiding. The odds were against me, but I grasped
my load desperately, drew it tightly upon my shoulders, and ran. The
police had thrown down their capes, and were rapidly gaining upon me. I
got into a long slouching trot, however, determined to make a desperate
effort to get in, where I should have been safe. This they knew. Strong
and fleet as I was I was too heavily handicapped, but I felt that even
though I fell exhausted on the other side of the door-way, I would gain
it. My pursuers--all heavy men--were blown, and in trouble, and I knew
there was now no obstacle before me. Now it was only a distance of
twenty yards--now a dozen. The great thuds of the men's feet were close
upon me, and they breathed like beaten horses. My legs trembled beneath
me, and I was blinded by perspiration. "Seize him," "seize him," gasped
the sergeant--but I was only a yard from the door. With a desperate
feeling that I had won, I grasped the handle and threw my whole weight
and that of my load against the door, only to find it--locked. I fell
back on to the stones, and the stern chase was ended.
For a minute nobody spoke--nobody was able to. I lay where I fell, and
the men leaned against what was nearest them. Then the sergeant
condescended to say "poor beggar"--and we all moved off. The fish were
turned out on the grass in the police station yard, and were a sight to
see. There were ninety trout, thirty-seven salmon-morts, and two salmon.
I was not detained. One of the men handed me a mort, telling me I would
be ready for a substantial breakfast. I knew what it all meant, and
first thought of bolting, then settled that I would do as I had always
done--face it out. But I little knew what this meant, as will
presently be seen. I knew sufficient of the law to forsee that I should
be charged with trespassing; with night poaching; with being in illegal
possession of fish; with illegally killing and taking salmon; perhaps
other counts besides. But what I did _not_ know was that I should be
charged, in addition, with being in illegal possession of one hundred
and twenty-nine salmon and trout _during the close season_.
[Illustration]
And this is how it came about. There had been an agitation throughout
the whole of the Conservancy district. It was contended that the fishing
season extended too far into Autumn by a fortnight--that by that time
the fish had begun to spawn. The old condition of things had held for
years, and the new Conservancy bye-laws had only just come into
operation. And so I was trapped. The case came on, and a great shoal of
magistrates with it. Two of them were personally interested, and were
charitable enough to retire from the Bench--they pushed their chairs
back about an inch from the table. I pleaded guilty to all the charges
except the last, and explained the case as clearly as I could. The
Conservancy solicitor, who prosecuted, did then what he had never done
before. It was a bad case he said, but added that I had never before
been charged with netting during "close-time," and had never used lime
or other wholesale methods of poisoning. He pointed out, too, to the
presiding Justice that I always claimed to "poach square"--at which all
the young ones laughed. He did not press for the heaviest penalty. But
this was quite unnecessary, as I got it without. I never quite
understood how they made it up, but I was fined ninety-seven pounds. I
told the Chairman that I should pay it "in kind," and went to "hard" for
nine months.
WORKS BY JOHN WATSON.
NATURE AND WOODCRAFT.
Crown 8vo, 5/.
With Illustrations by G. E. LODGE.
LONDON: SMITH & INNES.
* * * * *
SYLVAN FOLK:
SKETCHES OF BIRD AND ANIMAL LIFE IN BRITAIN.
Crown 8vo, 3/6.
LONDON: T. FISHER UNWIN.
* * * * *
BRITISH SPORTING FISHES.
Crown 8vo, with Frontispiece, 3/6.
LONDON: CHAPMAN & HALL.
* * * * *
_IN THE PRESS._
THE ANNALS OF A QUIET VALLEY.
_Crown 8vo, 286 pp., cloth, 3s. 6d._
SYLVAN FOLK:
Sketches of Bird and Animal Life in Britain,
BY
JOHN WATSON, F.L.S.,
_Author of "Nature and Woodcraft," etc._
NOTICES OF THE PRESS.
"Written by a born naturalist.... Characterised by that indefinable
something which distinguishes the observer of the fields and woods
from the mere book student."--_Daily News._
"It is this freshness, this out-door atmosphere, that gives its
charm to these sketches of bird and animal life, and that leads the
reader along in fascinated interest from the first to the last
page."--_Literary World._
"May be placed on the same shelf with that of the greatest of all
writers on English rural life without any quarrel being
incurred.... At once a morally bracing and most instructive
book."--_Christian Leader._
"He fully deserves the high compliment of being compared with
Jefferies.... This beautiful book, in which a zoologist might find
new facts, a poet light, and any thoughtful reader an
inspiration."--_Fishing Gazette._
"There is the same enthusiasm and sincerity that marked Jefferies'
work. Mr. Watson always writes like a man who has his eye on his
subject. 'Nature by Night' is a thoroughly charming prose idyl,
every detail in which is obviously taken at first hand from
Nature."--_Observer._
"Full of delicate description as enchanting as a fairy tale. Dull
indeed must be the reader who is insensible to its delightful
charm.... Does the increase of such books mean that we are tired of
the civilisation of the streets, and are ready to turn back for a
while to the relics of a freer and wilder state?"--_Manchester
Examiner._
"After the laboured imitations of Jefferies, Mr. Watson's 'Sylvan
Folk' comes like a breath of sweet country air into the atmosphere
of an emporium of stuffed birds and calico flowers. A sympathetic,
keen-eyed, worshipful observer of Nature, Mr. Watson writes with
the simplicity and directness of a man who knows what he is about.
There is not an uninteresting page in 'Sylvan Folk' from first to
last."--_Echo._
"He knows how to interpret many of the innumerable signs and
symbols which are readily misunderstood, or altogether overlooked,
by less careful inquirers.... His descriptions are so fresh--they
suggest so vividly the idea of happy hours spent among attractive
scenes in the open air--that they will give genuine pleasure to
everyone who reads them."--_Nature._
LONDON: T. FISHER UNWIN, PATERNOSTER SQUARE, E.C.
_Crown 8vo, 302 pp., cloth, 3s. 6d._
NATURE AND WOODCRAFT
BY
JOHN WATSON, F.L.S.,
_Author of "Sylvan Folk," &c._
NOTICES OF THE PRESS.
"A delightfully fresh and enjoyable book. Those who know the open
air and the life of animated nature will enjoy the skill with which
Mr. Watson translates its aspects and its actions into literary
expression. Those who dwell in cities will enjoy it because the
papers induce the illusion that one is in the
country."--_Scotsman._
"Written with real ability as well as adequate knowledge. On every
page there is evidence of genuine though never paraded enthusiasm
for the calm delights of the country. Mr. Watson writes in a clear
and attractive manner, and one, moreover, around which an
imaginative glamour rests."--_Leeds Mercury._
"Mr. Watson writes effectively, from the accumulations of years of
close observation of nature. Since the death of Mr. Jefferies few
living writers can compete with him in this particular path of
literature."--_Bookseller._
"This is the best written and most valuable of Mr. Watson's books.
Best of all are his chapters on the old Statesman theory of life in
the North."--_Academy._
"Nothing can be better than all those chapters which describe life
among the Cumbrian mountains; this is Mr. Watson's real theme, and
he deserves all the thanks we can give him for executing it with
such true feeling."--_Manchester Guardian._
"Mr. Watson's volume 'Nature and Woodcraft' deserves a hearty
welcome, and will doubtless get it. He writes with a grace and
fluency that make his book hard to leave."--_Yorkshire Post._
"Many admirers of Richard Jefferies will be glad to see that one
still lives who can write so charmingly of nature and
woodcraft."--_Perthshire Advertiser._
"As an observer pure and simple, and as a bright and pleasing
recorder, Mr. Watson can hold his own with anybody; and his range
is sufficiently extensive to secure, in addition to all other
charms, the charm of variety."--_Manchester Examiner._
LONDON: WALTER SMITH & INNES, BEDFORD ST., STRAND, W.C.
Transcriber's Note
Illustrations have been moved near the relevant section of the text.
Inconsistencies have been retained in hyphenation and grammar, except
where indicated in the list below.
Here is a list of the minor typographical corrections made:
- "curiouly" changed to "curiously" on Page 15
- Period added after "2" on Page 19
- "the the" changed to "the" on Page 22
- "avourable" changed to "favourable" on Page 22
- Period moved from after "Chapter" to after "3" on Page 32
- "sucseeded" changed to "succeeded" on Page 38
- "succesfully" changed to "successfully" on Page 39
- "dfficult" changed to "difficult" on Page 45
- Period added after "apart" on Page 65
- Period added after "day" on Page 69
- "croocked" changed to "crooked" on Page 92
- "difficut" changed to "difficult" on Page 114
- "is is" changed to "is" on Page 116
- "an" changed to "and" on Page 124
- "ha" changed to "has" on Page 124
- "troub" changed to "trouble" on Page 124
- "alwasy" changed to "always" on Page 126
- Comma removed after "Bench" on Page 137
- "its" changed to "it's" on Page 144
- "fnrther" changed to "further" on Page 159
- Single quote changed to double quote after "Nature." on Page 174
- "witten" changed to "written" on Page 175
End of Project Gutenberg's The Confessions of a Poacher, by Anonymous