STEALING A BRITISH SHIP
In the old days, when I was cavorting with contraband throughout the
West Indies and South America, I ran into one unpleasant incident which
left me with a large moral,--or immoral, according to the point of
view,--obligation on my hands. During a quiet spell I had bought, at
a bargain, a little schooner at St. Thomas, loaded her with mahogany
at Santo Domingo, and started for Liverpool, to see what was going on
in that part of the world. We were caught in a heavy gale and were
forced to run into Yarmouth, Nova Scotia, where we arrived in a sinking
condition. On the false charge that my papers were forged the agent
for Lloyds’, with whom the ship was insured, seized the vessel as I
was having her repaired, and had me arrested for barratry. I was taken
to Halifax, where I was put to considerable inconvenience in securing
bail. I pleaded my own case and, as soon as I could get a hearing,
was released, but in the meantime the agent for the underwriters had
libelled my ship and sold her at auction, and her new owners had sent
her away to South America. It was a downright steal but I did not
consider it worth my while to stay there and fight the case, so I
simply swore to some day make Lloyds’ pay dearly for the loss of my
ship, and let it go at that for the time being.
My last real adventure had ended with the burial of the “Leckwith,”
for there had been nothing thrilling in the delivery of the arms I
had carried to Montenegro and Peru, and I was hungry for some new
excitement, the very essence and sole enjoyment of my life. While
casting about for something to satisfy my appetite the recollection of
the Yarmouth outrage came over me and I decided to steal a ship and let
the underwriters pay for her, as partial compensation for the one they
had stolen from me. After a survey of the available supply, following
my return to London from Peru, late in the Summer of 1879, I hit on the
“Ferret,” a handsome and fairly fast little passenger steamer belonging
to the Highland Railway Company, which was lying at Gourock Bay on the
Clyde. They would not let her out on a general charter, which was what
I wanted, so I concluded to charter her for a year for a cruise in
the Mediterranean, with the option of purchase for fourteen thousand
pounds at the end of that time. All of the negotiations were conducted
and the deal closed by Joe Wilson, my trusted aide, and I was careful
to impress him with the necessity for the insertion of the option of
purchase clause. I had so much confidence in him that I did not closely
examine the charter papers and not until it was too late did I discover
that he had neglected to cover the one vital point. My plan was to go
back out East and dig up the guns which Frank Norton and I had buried
on a little island when we left the China Sea, and perhaps, if I
found that I could stand it to revisit the scenes of the supreme joy
and sadness which had come to me with the discovery of the Beautiful
White Devil, resume the unholy occupation of preying on the pirates
between Singapore and Hong Kong. I wanted the option of purchase clause
inserted in the charter partly as a sop to my conscience and partly
with the idea that if we were, by any remote chance, apprehended before
we reached the China Sea, I could announce that I had exercised my
option and was prepared to pay for the ship. I was not sure that my
conscience, for I still had one, would let me carry the deal through,
and I figured that I could comfort it, if it troubled me too much, with
the assurance that I might really buy the ship after all, though I am
frank to say I had no such intention.
With the delivery of the charter, in proper form as I supposed, I made
a great show of fitting the ship out for a yachting cruise, at the
same time smuggling on board two small cannon and a lot of rifles and
ammunition. Lorensen, my old captain, was seriously ill, so I took on
as sailing master a man named Watkins. He was well recommended but it
later developed that he had a strain of negro blood and a well-defined
streak of yellow. Tom Leigh, one of my old men, was first officer, and
next to him was George Ross, another new one. We coaled at Cardiff and
cleared for Malaga. We passed Gibraltar late in the afternoon, as was
intended, and signalled “All well” to the observer for Lloyds’. As soon
as it was dark we headed over toward the other shore for twelve or
fifteen miles and then stood straight out to sea again. As we made the
second change in our course we stove in a couple of our boats and threw
them overboard, along with a lot of life preservers. I wanted to make
it appear that the “Ferret” had foundered, and we ran into a heavy blow
which dovetailed beautifully into my scheme. At daylight we were well
clear of Gibraltar but within sight of the Morrocan coast. I called the
crew aft and addressed them to this effect:
“Taking advantage of the option of purchase clause in the charter,
I now declare myself the owner of this ship and will pay for her, as
stipulated, at the end of the period for which she is chartered. We are
going on a very different trip from that for which you signed. It will
be attended by some danger but, probably, by profits which will more
than compensate you for the risk you run. Those of you who wish to go
with me will receive double pay, a bonus of fifty dollars for signing
new papers, and a share of the profits from the trip. Those who do not
care to go may take a boat and go ashore.”
Every man agreed to stay with me. I thereupon rechristened the ship the
“India,” a name legitimately held by a vessel on the other side of the
world, as was indicated by Lloyds’ register, fired a gun and dipped the
flag and declared her in commission. At the same time I rechristened
myself, a ceremony to which I was equally accustomed, and took the
name of James Stuart Henderson. I presented the ship with a new log
and certificate of registry and other necessary papers, from the
counterfeit blanks I always carried, and all of the men signed the new
articles. We then headed for Santos, Brazil, with the idea of keeping
clear of British waters until the loss of the “Ferret” had become an
established fact. On the way the brass plate on the main beam, showing
that the engines were built for the “Ferret,” was removed, and the
new name took the place of the old one everywhere about the ship. The
chart room and wheelhouse were taken off the bridge and rebuilt over
the wheel amidships. Some of the upper works were stripped away and the
whole appearance of the vessel was changed to such an extent that even
her builders would hardly have recognized her.
At Santos I bought outright a cargo of coffee and headed for Cape Town,
South Africa, where I consigned it to Wm. G. Anderson & Son, with
instructions to sell it for cash, and quickly. On the trip across the
Atlantic, Ross, the second officer, who had been one of the boldest
at first, all at once became very anxious regarding the outcome of
the trip and his future welfare. Watkins, the sailing master, who had
shown a domineering nature that I did not like, also hoisted the white
feather. Griffin, too, the chief engineer, displayed some symptoms of
cold feet, but he was a brave man at heart and his trouble was easily
cured. I allowed Ross to return to England from Cape Town, and Watkins
caught the gold fever and started for Pretoria. I had no fear that
either of them would engage in any unwise talk, for both had signed
forged articles with their eyes wide open. I made Leigh sailing master
and we cleared light for Australia, with a short stop at the Mauritius
for coal. We coaled again at Albany, West Australia. From there we went
to Port Adelaide, South Australia, and then on to Melbourne, where we
came to grief. Off Port Philip Head we signalled for a pilot and a
canny Scot came aboard. He seemed suspicious of us from the first and
I noticed that he was studying the ship closely as we steamed up to an
anchorage off Williamstown. Two young royal princes had just arrived
on a British fleet and there were gala goings-on when we entered the
harbor.
I landed at once and went to the Civil Service Club Hotel to recuperate
from a bad case of malaria which I had contracted at the Mauritius.
While not alarmed by the apparent suspicion of the pilot, I was
impressed by it, and gave strict orders to Leigh to allow no one to
come aboard. Leigh’s one weakness was drink and to guard against his
becoming helplessly intoxicated I instructed Wilson to either remain
on board or visit the ship every day. My fever grew worse after I went
ashore and in two or three days the doctor decided that I should have
a nurse, as I was all alone. The doctor was with me when the nurse
arrived and as he entered the door the doctor made a quick movement
as though something had startled him, and looked from one of us to
the other in amazement. I could not imagine what had happened until he
said: “That man looks enough like you to be your twin brother. I never
have seen such a resemblance between two men.”
I surveyed the nurse more critically and saw that we did look strangely
alike, even to the scarred face. He had a scar on his left cheek,
whereas mine is on my right, and it was shorter than mine, but it
served to heighten our resemblance. We could not have been more alike
in build if we had been cast from the same mould, and any one who
did not know us intimately could easily have been excused for taking
one of us for the other. The nurse said his name was William Nourse
and that he had arrived in Melbourne only two or three days before
from Tasmania, where he had worked in the Hobartstown hospital. As
we got better acquainted he told me he had had a run of hard luck in
Hobartstown; that his wife had deserted him and he had taken to drink
and lost his position, and that he had come to Australia to make a
fresh start.
While I was recovering at the hotel events were transpiring in
connection with the ship which tended to dissuade my spirit from
becoming overproud. Wilson, it developed, soon relaxed his vigilance
and gave himself up to pleasures ashore but without coming near me,
whereupon old Leigh blithely betook himself to his beloved bottle.
After a few days the shrewd Scotch pilot paid the ship a friendly
visit, found Leigh full three sheets in the wind, encouraged him to
proceed with his potations until he fell asleep, and then went over
the ship at his leisure, taking measurements and making observations.
Naturally, her measurements corresponded exactly with those of the
“Ferret,” which had been reported as missing with a probability that
she had gone down in the Mediterranean, and he reported his suspicions
and the result of his investigation to the authorities. Being a
Scotchman he was not actuated so much by honesty and a desire that
right should prevail as by the expectation of a substantial reward.
The ship was promptly seized for some technical violation of the port
regulations, which gave the officials an opportunity to make a detailed
inspection and take all of her measurements, and Leigh and the few
members of the crew who were on board when the seizure was made were
detained there. Leigh refused to say a word but one or two of the crew,
believing the fat was in the fire and wishing to save their own bacon,
told enough to confirm all of the suspicions that were entertained
regarding us. Leigh was then formally placed under arrest and search
was instituted for Wilson and me.
I was greatly surprised when, late one afternoon about ten days after
our arrival at Melbourne, I received word from Joe that the ship had
been recognized as the “Ferret” and seized, that he had taken to the
bush and that I had better disappear as quickly and quietly as possible
if I wished to escape arrest, for the officers were looking for both
of us. Fearful, for the first time, that Joe had made a mistake, and
cursing my carelessness, I dug into my papers and discovered that the
charter contained no option of purchase clause. That made it serious
business and I understood why Joe had taken such precipitate flight.
I knew if I stayed at the hotel my arrest was only a matter of a few
hours and that if I sought to escape, the chances were that I would be
caught, but I determined to make a try for it. By that time I was able
to be up and walk around my room, though I had not left it, but I had
Nourse pass the word around the hotel that I had had a serious relapse
and was in such a precarious condition that I must not be disturbed by
visitors nor by any noise near my rooms.
I told Nourse that a warrant was out for my arrest on some technical
violation of the port regulations and that, while I had no fear of the
result of a trial, I did not feel strong enough to go through it, and
therefore I intended to leave at once and secretly and stay away until
the trouble blew over. He agreed to go with me and soon after dark we
left the hotel quietly by a rear entrance which opened onto an alley.
I left behind all of my luggage except a bag in which I carried about
five thousand, five hundred pounds in gold and Bank of England notes,
and a few articles of clothing. We engaged a carriage and drove to a
suburb on the railroad running to Sydney, where we stayed all night,
as all of the evening trains had left. My idea was to get to Sydney
or Newcastle, where I hoped to bribe the captain of some outgoing
ship to take me on board as a stowaway. We took the morning train
and rode as far as Seymour, about seventy-five miles from Melbourne.
There we hired a rig and drove across country to Longwood, where we
picked up the railroad after it had passed an important junction point
which I wished to avoid as I feared the officers would be watching
for us there. On the long drive to Longwood I became convinced that
my capture was certain, for the country was so thinly settled that we
were sure to attract attention and be easily followed, if we undertook
to drive through it, while if I stuck to the railroad I was sure to
be apprehended. In seeking some new way out of the dilemma I conceived
the idea of having Nourse take my place. There was no reason that money
could not remove to prevent him from doing so, for neither of us was
known, and a physical description, such as the police would have, would
fit either of us. I was becoming more and more apprehensive of danger
and as we neared Longwood I put the proposition up to him.
“What do you say, Nourse, to changing places with me and letting
yourself be arrested, if it comes to that? I will engage a good lawyer
to defend you and even if you should be convicted, which I doubt, you
would not have to spend more than a few months in jail, at the most.
You are strong and could stand the confinement, while it would about
put me under the turf. According to your own story there is no one
who cares what trouble you get into, and even if you went to jail you
probably would be as happy there as anywhere. How much will you take to
do it?”
“I had been thinking of that very thing,” he replied. “I don’t care
much what happens to me, but I am not exactly hungry for a long term in
Pentridge. If this thing is no worse than you say it is, though, I’ll
swap places with you and see it through for two hundred pounds.”
I accepted his terms without argument. He already knew enough about me
so that he could adopt my identity, without fear of detection except
under a searching inquiry, but I quickly framed up a life history for
him and told him the full and true story of the “Ferret.” I cautioned
him, however, if he was arrested, to make no statement of any kind
until he had talked with the lawyer I would send to him. As soon as we
reached Longwood we exchanged clothing, even down to our underwear,
socks, and shoes. Nourse was transformed into James Stuart Henderson,
dressed by Pool of London, and I became a rather shabbily attired
nurse. I paid Nourse his money, which relieved me of most of my load of
gold, and concealed the rest of my money in my rough and roomy shoes
and under my more or less dirty garments.
We had just finished dinner and were sitting alone in the hotel office,
rehearsing the part Nourse was to play, when a sergeant and two
officers, who had got track of us at Seymour, rode up on horseback.
We saw them through the window and I moved back into the shadow for,
though I did not look greatly unlike Nourse in our changed garb, I did
not wish the officers to notice our facial resemblance. With only
a glance at me they walked right up to Nourse and placed him under
arrest. He professed amazement but readily admitted that he was James
Stuart Henderson. He said he was driving through the country, with a
nurse, for his health, having just recovered from the fever.
The orders of the officers called for the arrest of only one man so
I was not interfered with. They were after big game and, much to my
satisfaction, considered me hardly worthy of their notice. Still
anxious to avoid close range comparison with Nourse, I did not return
to Melbourne on the same train with them the next morning, but went
down by the one that followed it. I kept well clear of the jail to
which the bogus Henderson had been hustled and went to a little hotel
on Swanston Street, kept by a German named Hellwig. The first thing
I heard was that Joe, who had taken the train ahead of me, had been
captured at Albury, where the railroad crosses the Murray River, which
divides Victoria from New South Wales, and was on his way back, in
charge of an officer, to join Leigh and my counterfeit presentment
behind the bars.
I at once engaged Jarvis, the best barrister in Australia, to defend
them, and later employed Gillette & Stanton, another high-class
firm, to assist him. I told them, of course, the real facts, and had
them instruct Leigh and Joe to coach Nourse in the part he was to
play and to maintain the proper attitude toward him. The moment Leigh
saw “Henderson” he knew there was something wrong somewhere but he
was too shrewd to indicate it and greeted the newcomer cordially. I
had described Leigh to Nourse so that he could not mistake him and
he walked right up to him and shook hands. When Joe joined them in
jail Leigh got to him first and posted him. They were charged with
conspiracy and barratry and were indicted, altogether, on seven counts.
Nourse was as game as a hornet and played his part well, yet he was
not born a gentleman and he was altogether lacking in that _savoir
faire_ which is regarded as a necessary makeup of the typical soldier
of fortune, which Henderson was supposed to be. George Smyth, the
prosecuting attorney, was a shrewd chap, as well as a gilt-edged sea
lawyer, and it was not long until he began to suspect that he had a
bogus Henderson in limbo and that the real ravisher of maritime law
was still at liberty. Some of the other officials came to doubt that
they had the right man and this suspicion became so strong by the time
the trial came on that they had detectives out quietly searching for
the real Henderson. This information reached the lawyers whom I had
employed, but whom I saw infrequently as I remained discreetly in the
background, and they insisted, as they had previously suggested, that I
go away until the case was concluded.
“This case is much more serious than you realize,” said Gillette, as
he again urged me to leave Melbourne for my own protection, or go into
close hiding and stay there. “Unfortunately, Nourse is not nearly so
clever as you. You are damned clever, but you are not clever enough to
avoid being nabbed if you stay around here while the trial is on.”
“I think you’re wrong,” I told him, “but I’m paying you for your advice
and if it is good enough to buy it ought to be good enough to take.
I’ll go out and bury myself.”
“Right,” he said. “See that you make a good job of it.”
“I will,” I replied. “I am going to bury myself in a real tomb.”
The lawyer looked up a bit startled. “You don’t mean that you intend to
kill yourself?” he asked with some anxiety.
I laughed at him. “Not much,” I told him. “I like to explore strange
lands but I always want to come back. If there really are any
detectives on my trail, the last place they will look for me is the
cemetery, and I will go out there and cache myself away in Sir William
Clark’s tomb. It is an ideal hiding place, so far as security is
concerned, and you can devote all of your thought to the trial, without
any fear that I will be discovered and disarrange things.”
“But people are buried in there,” exclaimed the man of law with a show
of horror which evidenced great reverence for the dead.
“So much the better for my purpose,” I said, as I walked out of his
office. “I’m off for my tomb.”
The idea of using the Clark tomb, which I had previously noticed
while walking through the cemetery, as a hiding place, had come to me
while the lawyer was urgently renewing his advice to me to get under
cover until the conclusion of the trial. The mausoleum was in an
out-of-the-way corner of the dead city and I knew that if I could get
inside of it I would be safe from intrusion. It was about twelve by
sixteen feet in size and was closed with a solid iron door, but above
it was a grating which would furnish plenty of ventilation.
The landlord of the hotel where I was stopping had a delightful Dutch
daughter, with whom I had become very friendly, and when I returned
there after my talk with the lawyer, she informed me that two men
had been around making guarded inquiries regarding a man answering
my description. She took them for detectives, she said, and without
knowing or suspecting why they were looking for me she had thrown them
off the scent. This convinced me that there was a chase on, after all,
and that it was getting so hot that I had no time to lose.
With a blanket wrapped about the upper part of my body, and with the
pockets of Nourse’s dirty old white overcoat stuffed with pilot bread,
canned meats, candles, a dark lantern, and books, I went out to the
cemetery that evening. I had some doubt about being able to get into
the tomb but I succeeded in picking the lock with a piece of heavy
wire and proceeded to take up my abode with the departed Clarks. There
were three of them and from the sizes of the caskets I took them to be
father, mother, and child. There was one unoccupied niche and in that I
arranged my bed, with my blanket and Nourse’s overcoat.
I lived in the tomb for three weeks without arousing the slightest
suspicion that it was occupied. My surroundings did not worry me at
all--in fact I never had such quiet and orderly companions--and after
I had adapted myself to them I was fairly comfortable. My meals were
simple to a degree that would have delighted a social settlement
worker. I was accustomed to softer beds, but the change did me no
harm. I did most of my sleeping during the day, when I could not smoke
without fear of being discovered, and every night, between midnight and
dawn, I took a walk through the cemetery. Twice a week, at an appointed
rendezvous, I met the landlord’s daughter, who brought me a fresh
supply of canned stuff, bread, and reading matter, and the latest news
of the trial. Twice, toward the last of it, when I was very hungry I
ventured into the outskirts of the city and filled up at a cheap eating
house. During the early morning and evening I read by the light of the
dark lantern, which was so placed, with the blanket as a screen, that
its rays could not be seen through the grating over the door. By the
time the trial was well over and I was free to come out I had fallen
into the routine of my new hotel and was so well situated that, if I
could have been assured of about three square meals a week, I would not
have complained greatly if I had been forced to stay there six months.
The trial was held before Judge Williams and resulted in a conviction.
I had expected no other verdict, for with the option of purchase clause
missing from the charter it was a clear case. The lawyers for the
defence contended, of course, that Henderson had announced that he had
purchased the ship and that only his illness had prevented him from so
advising her owners, but they could not satisfactorily explain why he
and Wilson had taken to the bush when the vessel was seized. Nourse was
subjected to a most severe examination by the prosecuting attorney in
an effort to prove that he was not the real Henderson, but he had been
thoroughly coached by Joe and Leigh and acquitted himself so well that
much of the suspicion which had been entertained that he was playing a
part was removed, but not all of it.
The crucial moment came when the clerk of the court called out, “James
Stuart Henderson, stand up,” and Judge Williams asked him if he knew
of any reason why sentence should not be passed upon him. According
to the lawyers, the situation was intensely dramatic. The judge, the
prosecuting attorney, and all of the more or less skeptical officials,
were boring holes through poor Nourse’s head with their eyes. He had
but to open his mouth to clear himself and start every officer in
Australia on a hunt for me from which I would have found it hard to
escape, but he was true blue. He looked back at the judge bravely and
simply said, “No, sir.”
Nourse and Wilson were sentenced to seven years and Leigh to three and
one-half years in Pentridge prison. With the time deducted for good
behavior, this meant five years and three months for Nourse and Joe and
less than three years for Leigh. When the case assumed a more serious
aspect than I had believed it would when I bargained with Nourse to
take my place, I sent word to him that I would pay him well if he would
“play the string out,” and as soon as I left the tomb I deposited five
thousand dollars which was to be paid to him when he was released. I
spent some time and considerable money in an effort to secure a pardon
for my companions, but when I found that was impossible I returned
to England, with a promise to be back in Australia by the time their
terms expired. On the long trip back to London I spent a lot of time
in reproaching myself for the result of the unfortunate cruise. It was
the first mistake I had ever made and, while I was not primarily to
blame, the responsibility was mine, for I was at fault in not having
seen that all of the papers were in proper form. That experience taught
me a lesson and I never again fell into a blunder of that sort. The
Highland Railway subsequently sold the “Ferret” to run between Albany
and Adelaide.