If that be
a consolation to any one; let him enjoy it. To say more is disgusting to
me and would prove so to any one, whose motto is 'Fair-play.'
A dish of 'hominy' (Indian meal), now and then fattened with grubs,
was my breakfast.
A dish of scalding water, with half a dozen grains of rice, called soup,
a morsel of dry bullock's flesh, now and then high-flavoured, a bit of
bread eternally sour - any how the cause of my suffering so much of
dysentery, and a couple of black murphies were my dinner.
For tea, a similar dish of hominy as in the morning, with the privilege
of having now and then a bushranger or a horse-stealer for my mess-mate,
and often I enjoyed the company of the famous robbers of the Victoria Bank.
But the Sunday! Oh the Sunday! was the most trying day. The turnkeys,
of course, must enjoy the benefit of the sabbath cant, let the prisoners
pray or curse in their cells. I was let out along with the catholics,
to hear mass. I really felt the want of Christian consolation. Our
priest was always in a hurry, twice did not come, once said half the mass
without any assistant; never could I hear two words together out of his
short sermon. Not once ever came to see us prisoners.
After mass, I returned to my cell, and was let out again for half an hour
among all sorts of criminals, some convicted, some waiting their trial,
in the large yard, to eat our dinner, and again shut up in the cell till
the following Monday.
Chapter LXXIX.
'Souvenirs' De Melbourne.
Five things I wish to register: the first for shame; the second for
encouragement; the third for duty; the fourth for information; the fifth
for record.
1. We were one afternoon taken by surprise by the whole gang of turnkeys,
ordered to strip, and subjected to an ignominious search. The very
private parts were discovered and touched. 'Veritatem dico, non mentior.'
2. Manning felt very much the want of a chew of tobacco. He and Tuhey
would make me strike up some favourite piece out of the Italian opera,
and the charm succeeded. A gentle tap at the door of our cell was the
signal to get from a crack below a stick of tobacco, and then we were all
jolly. We decreed and proclaimed that even in hell there must be some
good devils.
3. Mr. Wintle, the governor, inclining to the John Bull in corporation,
had preserved even in a Melbourne gaol, crammed as it is at the end of
each month with the worst class of confirmed criminals, his good, kind
heart. With us state prisoners, without relaxing discipline, he used no
cruelty - spoke always kindly to us - was sorry at our position, and wished
us well. He had regard for me, on account of my bad health; that I shall
always remember.
4. Some day in January we received a New-Year's Present - that is a copy
of the indictment. I protest at once against recording it here: it is
the coarsest fustian ever spun by Toorak Spiders. I solemnly declare that
to my knowledge the name of Her Most Gracious Majesty was never mentioned
in any way, shape, or form whatever, during the whole of the late
transactions on Ballaarat. I devoured the whole of the indictment with
both my eyes, expecting to meet with some count charging us with riot.
The disappointment was welcome, and I considered myself safe. Not so,
however, by a parcel of shabby solicitors. They said it would go hard
with any one if found guilty. The government meant to make an example of
some of of us, as a lesson to the ill-affected, in the shape of some
fifteen years in the hulks. They had learned from Lynn of Ballaarat that
there were no funds collected from the diggers for the defence. 'Cetera
quando rursum scribam' - and thus they won some 200 pounds out of the
frightened state prisoners, who possessed ready cash.
"What will be the end of us, Joe?" was my question to the nigger-rebel.
"Why, if the jury lets us go, I guess we'll jump our holes again on the
diggings. If the jury won't let us go, then" - and bowing his head over
the left shoulder, poking his thumb between the windpipe and the
collarbone, opened wide his eyes, and gave such an unearthly whistle,
that I understood perfectly well what he meant.
Chapter LXXX.
The State Prisoners.
(From 'The Age', February 14th, 1855.)
The following is the copy of a letter addressed by the state prisoners now
awaiting their trial in the Melbourne Gaol, to the Sheriff, complaining
of the treatment they have received:-
Her Majesty's Gaol, Melbourne,
February 6th, 1855.
To the Sheriff of the Colony of Victoria:-
Sir - As the chief officer of the government, regulating
prison discipline in Victoria, we, the undersigned Ballaarat
state prisoners, respectfully beg to acquaint you with
the mode of our treatment since our imprisonment in this
gaol, in the hope that you will be pleased to make some
alteration for the better.
At seven o'clock in the morning we are led into a small
yard of about thirty yards long and eight wide, where
we must either stand, walk or seat ourselves upon the
cold earth (no seats or benches being afforded us), and
which at meal times serves as chair, table, etc., with
the additional consequence of having our food saturated
with sand, dust, and with every kind of disgusting filth
which the wind may happen to stir up within the yard.
We are locked in, about three o'clock in the afternoon,
four or five of us together, in a cell whose dimensions
are three feet by twelve, being thus debarred from the
free air of heaven for sixteen hours out of the twenty-four.
The food is of the very worst description ever used by
civilized beings.
