The Plymouth tribune. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1901-1911, 1906-04-05


eyes staring into the gloom, and fixed
steadily on the vessel, he lay along the
barren cliff of his lonely prison as mo-
tionless as the rock on which he had
stretched himself.
This. solitary man was Rufus Dawes
In the house of Major yickers. com
mandant of Macquarie Harbor, there
was. on this evening of December. I'M
u gayety. Lieut.. Maurice Frere,
late in command at Maria Island. had
unexpectedly come down with news
from headquarters. The Ladybird, gov
eminent schooner, visited the settlement
on ordinary occasions twice a year. To
the ~convicts the arrival of the Ladybird
meant arrival of new faces, intelligence
OF old comrades, news of how the world
from which they were exiled, was pro-
crossing. When the Ladybird arrived,
the chained and toil-worn felons fe t
that they were yet human, that the uni
verse was not bounded by the gloomv
forests which surrounded their prison,
but that there was a world beyond. To
the convicts the L.adybird was town
talk, theater, stock quotations and latest
kilograms. She was their newspaper,
postoffice, the one excitement of their
dreary existence, the one link between
their w misery and the happiness of
their fellow creatures. To the COM
mandant and the ''freemen" this mes
senger from the outer life was scarcely
less welcome. There was not a man on
the island who did not feel his heart
grow heavier when her white sails dis
appeared behind the shoulder of the
hill.
On the present occasion business of
more than ordinary Importance had pro-
cured for Major Vickers this pleasurable
excitement. 1t had been resolved by
Gov. Arthur that the convict establish
ment should be broken up. A succession
of murders and attempted escapes had
| called public attention to the place. and
its distance from Hobart Town render
| ed it inconvenient and expensive. Ar
thur had fixed upon Tasman's PENN
sula as a future convict depot, and nam
ing it Port Arthur. in honor of himself.
had sent down Lieut. Maurice Frere
| with instructions for Vickers to convey
the prisoners of Macquarie Harbor
| thither.
Seven classes of criminals were es-
tablished, when the new barracks for
| prisoners at Hobart Town were finished.
The first class were allowed to sleep
out Of barracks. and to work for them
selves on Saturday; the second had only
| the last-named indulgence; the third
were only allowed Saturday afternoon;
| the fourth and fifth were refractory
and disorderly characterize work in
irons;" tie sixth were "Pen of the most
| degraded and incorrigible character-to
be worked in irons and kept entirely
| separate from the other prisoners"
while the seventh were the refuse of
| this refuse-the murderers, bandits and
| villains, whom nither chain nor lash
| could tame. They were regarded as So
ciaIly dead, md shipped to Hel's Gates
| or Maria Island. Hell's Gates was the
| most dreaded of all these houses of
| bondage. The discipline at the place
was so severe, and the life so terrible.
that prisoners would risk all to escape
from it. In one year, Of eighty-fye
| deaths there, only thirty were from nat
ural causes; of the remaining dead.
| twenty-seven were drowned, eight killed
accidentally, three shot by the soldiers.
and twelve murdered by their comrades.
In another year one hundred and sixty
nine men out of one hundred and eighty
two were punished TO the extent of two
thousand lashes. During the ten years
Of its existence one hundred and twelve
men escaped, out of whom sixty-two only
were found-dead. The prisoners killed
themselves to avoid living any longer,
and, if SO fortunate as to penetrate the
desert of scrub, heath and swamp which
lay between their prison and the settled
districts. preferred death to ~recapture.
Successfully to transport the remnant of
this desperate band of doubly convicted
felons to Arthur's new prison was the
mission of Maurice Frere.
"We,L Mrs. Vicke-s," he said, as he
took a cur of tea from the hands of that
lady, Il suppose you won't be sorry to
get away from this place, eh?"
mo, indeed" says poor Mrs. WICK
ers, with the old girlishnesa Swallowed
by six years; Il shall be only too glad.
| A dreadful placei Johns duties. how
ever, are imperative. But the wind! My
dear Mr.. Frere, you've no idea of it;
l wanted to send Sylvia to Hobart Town,
| but John would not let her co."
by the way, how is Miss Sylvia p
asked Frere, with the p~atronizing air
which men of his stamp adopt when they
| speak of children.
"Not very well, I'm sorry to say" re-
| turned yickers. "You see, it's lonely
for her here. There are no children of
her own age, with the exception of the
pilots little girl, and she cannot asso-
ciate with her. But l did not like to
leave her behind. and endeavored to
teach her myself"
Hum, There was a-ha-governess,
or something, was there not" said
Frere, staring into his teacup. THAT
maid, you know-what was her name?"
Miss Purfoy." said Mrs. yickers, a
little g~ravely. Yes, poor thing; a sad
story, Mr.. Frere."
Indeed, l left, you know, shortly
after the trial of the mutineers, and
never heard the full particulars" He
spoke carelessly, but he awaited the re-
ply with keen curiosity.
"a sad story" repeated Mrs. Wick
ers. "She was the wife of that wretch
ed man, Rex, and came out as my maid
in order to be near him. She would
never tell me her history, poor thing,
though all through the dreadful accusa-
tions made by that horrid doctor, l beg
Scu hcf diHoSl ou NY knees. lou KNOW
how she nursed Sylvia and poor John.
Really a most superior creature. / think
she must have been a governess. Her
conduct WIS most exemplary, and dur
ing the six months we were in Hobart
Town she taught little Sylvia a great
deal. Of course she could not help her
wretched husband, y0i know. Could
she?"
Certainly not" said Frere, heartily.
Il heard something about him, too. Got
into some scrape, did he notT'
Miss Purfoy, or Mrs. Rex. as she
really wss, though I don't suppose Rex
Is her real name, either, came into a
little legacy from an old aunt in Eng
land and left my service. She took a
little cottage on the New Town road,
and Rex was assigned to her as her
servant"
Il see. The old dodge!" says Frere,
flushing a little. "Well?"
stNnII 4ho ~-&ol~I 49, e. .