out of every seven would die for want of rations. But at length the blow fell. On the 14th February, 1823, Ann Smith died in the infirmary at half-past nine. On the 17th, Mary Ann Davidson; on the 19th, Mary Esp; on the 23rd, William Cardwell; on the 24th, Humphrey Adams; on the 28th, Margaret Patterson. And now, by order of the visitor, the prisoners were allowed more walking exercise. Then follow the first steps taken by Drs. Roget and Latham. The governor records, on the 3rd March, that the doctors recommend each prisoner should have daily four ounces of meat and three oranges; that their bread should be divided into three parts, an orange taken at each meal. Accordingly the steward was sent to Thames Street to lay in a week’s consumption of oranges.
An entry soon afterwards gives the first distinct reference to the epidemic. “The medical gentlemen having begged for the bodies of such prisoners as might die of the disorder now prevalent in the prison, in order to make post-mortem examinations, the same was sanctioned if the friends of the prisoner did not wish to interfere.” Deaths were now very frequent, and hardly a week passed without a visit from the coroner or his deputy.
On the 25th of March the governor, Mr. Couch, who had been ailing for some time past, resigned his charge into the hands of Captain Benjamin Chapman. Soon afterwards there were further additions to the dietary—on the 26th of April two more ounces of meat and twelve ounces of boiled potatoes; and the day after, it was ordered that each prisoner should drink toast-and-water,—three half-pints daily. Lime, in large tubs, was to be provided in all the pentagons for the purpose of disinfection.
About this period there was a great increase of insubordination among the prisoners. It is easy to understand that discipline must be relaxed when all were more or less ailing and unable to bear punishment. The sick wards were especially noisy and turbulent. One man, for instance, was charged with shouting loudly and using atrocious language; all of which, of course, he denied, declaring he had only said, “God bless the king, my tongue is very much swelled.” Upon this the turnkey in charge observed that it was a pity it was not swelled more, and Smith (the prisoner) pursued the argument by hitting his officer on the head with a pint pot. Later on they broke out almost into mutiny. The governor writes as follows: “At a quarter to eight o’clock Taskmaster Swift informed me that the whole of the prisoners in the infirmary ward of his pentagon were in the most disorderly and riotous state, in consequence of the wooden doors of the cells having been ordered by the surgeon to be shut during the night; that the prisoners peremptorily refused to permit the turnkeys to shut their doors, and made use of the most opprobrious terms, threatening destruction to whoever might attempt to shut their doors. Their shouts and yells were so loud as to be heard at a considerable distance. I immediately summoned the patrols, and several of the turnkeys, and making them take their cutlasses, I repaired to the sick ward. I found the wooden doors all open, and the prisoners, for the most part, at their iron gates, which were shut. The first prisoner I came to was John Hall. I asked him the reason he refused to shut his door when ordered. He answered in a very insolent tone and manner, ‘Why should I do so?’ I then said, ‘Shut your door instantly,’ but he would not comply. I took him away and confined him in a dark cell. In conveying him to the cell he made use of most abusive and threatening language, but did not make any personal resistance.” Five others who were pointed out as prominent in the mutiny were also punished on bread and water in a dark cell, by the surgeon’s permission.
Nor were matters much more satisfactory in the female infirmary wards. “Mrs. Briant, having reported yesterday, during my absence at Woolwich, that Mary Willson had ‘wilfully cut her shoes,’ and, having stated the same verbally this morning, I went with her into the infirmary, where the prisoner was, and having produced the shoes to her (the upper-leather of one of them being palpably cut from the sole), and asked her why she cut them, she said she had not cut them, that they had come undone whilst walking in the garden. This being an evident falsehood, I told her I feared she was doing something worse than cutting her shoes by telling an untruth. She answered in a very saucy manner, they were not her shoes, and that she had not cut them. She became at length very insolent, when I told her she deserved to be punished. She replied she did not care whether she was or not. I then directed the surgeon to be sent for; when not only the prisoner, but several others in the infirmary, became very clamorous, and evinced a great degree of insubordination. I went out with the intention of getting a couple of patrols, when I heard the crash of broken glass and loud screams. I returned as soon as possible with the patrols into the infirmary. The women generally attempted to oppose my entrance, and a group had got Willson amongst them, and said she should not be confined. I desired the patrols to lay hold of her, and take her to the dark cell (I had met with Dr. Hugh when going for the patrols, who under the circumstances sanctioned the removal of the prisoner). In doing so, Betts and Stone were assaulted with the utmost violence; I myself was violently laid hold of, and my wrist and finger painfully twisted. I had Willson, however, taken to the dark cell, when, having summoned several of the turnkeys and officers of the prison, I with considerable difficulty succeeded in taking six more of them who appeared to be most forward in this disgraceful riot. Several of the large panes in the passage windows were broken; and the women seized everything they could lay their hands on, and flung them at the officers, who, in self-defence, were at length compelled to strike in return. I immediately reported the circumstance to Sir George Farrant, the visitor, who came to the prison soon after. I accompanied him, with Dr. Bennett (the chaplain) and Mr. Pratt (the surgeon), through the female pentagon and infirmary, when a strong spirit of insubordination was obvious. Sir George addressed them, and so did Dr. Bennett, and pointed out the serious injury they were doing themselves, and that such conduct would not pass unpunished. We afterwards visited the dark refractory cells, where the worst were confined; two of whom, on account of previous good-conduct and favourable circumstances, were liberated. For myself, I never beheld such a scene of outrage, nor did I observe a single individual who was not culpably active.”
As a general rule, the prisoners in the Penitentiary were in these days so little looked after, and had so much leisure time, that they soon found the proverbial mischief for idle hands. Having some suspicions, the governor searched several, and found up the sleeves of five of them, knives, playing cards (made from an old copy-book), two articles to hold ink, a baby’s straw hat, some papers (written upon), and an original song of questionable tendency. The hearts and diamonds in the cards had been covered with red chalk, the clubs and spades with blacking. “Having received information that there were more cards about, he caused strict search to be made, and found in John Brown’s Bible, one card and the materials for making more, also a small knife made of bone. In another prisoner’s cell was found another knife and some paste, ingeniously contrived from old bread-crumbs.” But even these amusements did not keep the prisoners from continually quarrelling and fighting with one another. Any one who had made himself obnoxious was severely handled. A body of prisoners fell upon one Tompkins, and half killed him because he had reported the irreverent conduct of several of them while at divine service. The place was like a bear-garden; insubordination, riots, foul language, and continual wranglings among themselves—it could hardly be said that the prisoners were making that rapid progress towards improvement which was among the principal objects of the Penitentiary.
And now the scene shifts to the Woolwich hulks, whither by this time the whole of the inmates were being by degrees transferred. The first batch of males were sent off on the 16th August, embarking at Millbank, and proceeding by launch to Woolwich. Great precautions were taken. All the disposable taskmasters, turnkeys, and patrols being armed and stationed from the outer lodge to the quay (River Stairs), the prisoners were assembled by six at a time, and placed without irons in the launch. The same plan was pursued from time to time, till at length the entire number were removed. The hulks were the Ethalion, Narcissus, Dromedary. A master was on board in charge of each, under the general supervision of Captain Chapman, the governor of the Penitentiary. There was immediately a further great deterioration in the conduct of the prisoners. Not only were they mischievous, as appeared from their favourite pastime, which was to drag off one another’s bedclothes in the middle of the night, by means of a crooked nail attached to a long string, but the decks which they occupied were for ever in a state of anarchy and confusion. “All the prisoners below,” says the overseer of the Ethalion, “conducted
