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THE
LIFE ...
AND
... EXPERIENCES
OF
AN EX-CONVICT
IN
PORT MACQUARIE
NEW SOUTH WALES:
R. DAVIDSON, Printer, Port Macquarie.
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
PAGE
INTRODUCTION iii
CHAPTER I. Farewell To My Native Land. 1
CHAPTER II. Arrival at Sydney. 5
CHAPTER III. "Fresh Fields and Pastures New." 6
CHAPTER IV. To Port Macquarie. 8
CHAPTER V. The Iron Gang. 11
CHAPTER VI. Assigned to Lake Innes. 22
CHAPTER VII. The Blind Mob. 33
CHAPTER VIII. The Road Parties. 35
CHAPTER IX. "Specials" and Others. 49
CHAPTER X. Some Notable Constables. 55
CHAPTER XI. At Rollands Plains. 65
CHAPTER XII. The Female Convicts. 68
CHAPTER XIII. Some Practical Jokes. 72
CHAPTER XIV. The Aborigines. 75
CHAPTER XV. A Free Man. 79
CHAPTER XVI. The Yacht "Wanderer." 84
CHAPTER XVII. Escape of Prisoners. 89
CHAPTER XVIII. A Last Word. 91
INTRODUCTION.
Port Macquarie, as is generally known, was one of the first Settlements
made in New South Wales. It is intended herein to give a full and
authentic synopsis of the Life of the Oldest Living Ex-Convict on
the Hastings River, near Port Macquarie, extending from the thirties
onwards. The information comes purely from memory, hence exact dates
on which certain events occurred cannot be given; nevertheless the
greatest care has been taken to give dates as near as possible.
The Life of an Ex-Convict.
CHAPTER I.
FAREWELL TO MY NATIVE LAND.
"The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together; our
virtues would be proud if our faults whipped them not, and our crimes
would despair if they were not cherished by our virtues."
--SHAKESPEARE.
I was born at Shoreditch, near London, on the 28th of May, 1819, and
was nearing the age of sixteen when one day I was accused of committing
a paltry theft. Of this I was innocent, and naturally denied it, but
the constable who accosted me insisted, no matter what I said, that
I had to go with him. My feelings were anything but high-flown as I
passed along the street with him--what boy's feelings would be?--on
the other hand they were down almost below zero. It was no use; I
soon realised my position, it was this:--If I am found guilty of this
offence--and I have little hope of proving my innocence--Heaven only
knows where I may find myself. My trial came on before a Bench of
Magistrates in Worship Street, London, on July the 3rd, 1834, and I
was committed to take my trial. When a man had the bad luck to get
committed, he was sent to Clerkenwell, or to the Old Bailey, and if
he listened to the conversations of his associates at either of these
places, during intervals that he might be remanded, it was quite
possible that a previously innocent man would be converted into an
adept at picking pockets and house-screwing. I was a new-chum in places
of this kind, and also at such pursuits. New-chums generally fell into,
and were made the subject of, numbers of practical jokes, too, at the
hands of these fellows, and I was saved none the less in this respect.
"Go upstairs and get the bellows," one of them said to me: and when I
got to the top of the stairs, some others sent me to the far end of
the ward for it. On arrival there, another crowd met me with knotted
handkerchiefs, and 'pasted' me all the way back. "Pricking a crow's
nest," was another of their games. This consisted in making a round
ring on the wall with a piece of charcoal, and placing a black dot in
the centre of it. One was then blindfolded, and his object was to place
his finger on this black dot; but instead of doing this, another fellow
stood with open mouth to receive the finger, and he didn't forget to
bite it either. If anyone took money into this place they might as well
say 'au revoir' to it, for they were not asleep. After a few days of
this life my trial came on--I was sentenced to Australia for 7 years'
penal servitude. Then I was sent to Newgate, and when the door opened
there, I was met by a large number of "Jack Shepherds," all in irons,
and the place was as dismal-looking as the grave. First I entered the
receiving-room, and remained there a day; afterwards I was put in
with a fine assemblage of characters, and one might as well begin to
count the stars in the Heavens as attempt to define who was the worst
individual there. Night came on and I began to look around for a bed;
this I found consisted of a rug and a mat, of which I availed myself.
If a man was sentenced to seven years he was only kept there for a few
days, and was then taken in irons, by means of a van, to the "hulk" at
Portsmouth. This was the fate I shared. On arrival there I was stripped
of my clothes, and after the barber came round and cut my hair so
close that it was only with difficulty I could catch hold of it, I was
washed from two tubs of water which stood close by. Then I was dressed
in a pair of knee breeches, stockings, shirt, and a pair of shoes so
large that I could have almost crossed the Atlantic in them, and a hat
capable of weathering the greatest hurricane that ever blew. Whilst
on board the hulk an old Jew paid several visits, for the purpose of
buying up all the ordinary clothes of the men, and no matter how new a
suit might be, it was either a matter of take half-a-crown for it or
throw it away. Fortunately, my best clothes were left behind, and I
lost nothing by this.
I remained on the hulk from Friday till Monday morning, and was then
transferred to what was known as the Bay Ship--the "Hoogly"--by means
of a cutter. There were 260 prisoners on board this ship altogether.
Before leaving the hulk, the irons worn in Australia were attached to
the legs, but these were removed on getting to sea. Men, however, were
branded all over--shirt, trousers, and everything else. The "Hoogly"
left Portsmouth harbour on the 28th July, 1834, and was 120 days coming
to Australia, and the passage on the whole was not unfavorable. Four
men, however, were flogged during the passage for misconduct. One of
those on board was transported for stealing articles from a Roman
Catholic Chapel, and he had by some means managed to get a quantity of
tobacco into his possession. One night whilst he was asleep some of the
others conspired to get this tobacco, and they put his big toe into the
bunghole of a cask. He used to sleep on the tobacco, and as soon as
he sat up to release his toe the tobacco was passed away through the
crowd, and that was the last he saw of it.