Conveyance of convicts beyond seas—Early abuses—Neglect and starvation on board—Large mortality—Question of command—Weak discipline maintained—Constant dread of outbreak—Military guard—Notable conspiracies—Barrington's conduct—Fears of mutiny groundless—Epidemic of scurvy on board the Waterloo—Loss of the Waterloo—Amphitrite cast away at Boulogne—Arrangements for embarking convicts—Millbank stairs—Reforms introduced—Horrors of convict ships beyond description—Dr. Browning—His labours and influence over his charges.

No account of deportation beyond the seas would be complete without some reference to the passage out to the antipodes, which naturally was an integral part of the whole scheme. From first to last many hundreds of ships were employed on this service. Those that composed the "first fleet" under Captain Phillip, R. N., in 1788, head the list; last of all comes the steamer London, which went to Gibraltar in November, 1871. The London was the last prison ship that has left our shores. In the long interval between these dates the conditions under which deportation was carried out have varied not a little. Abuses in the earliest days were many and flagrant. As time passed there came all that was possible in the way of reform, and those charged with the execution of the system did their utmost to reduce the evils inseparable from it. But even to the last they were hardly obviated altogether; and this difficulty of carrying out under proper restrictions the removal of convicts by sea-passage to a distant land, is one—and by no means the weakest—of the many arguments against transportation.

At the close of the eighteenth century, and during the early years of the nineteenth, when the whole system was still somewhat new and untried, the arrangements were about as bad as it was possible for them to be. Great horrors were perpetrated in one particular convoy: the neglect and starvation produced epidemic sickness and terrible mortality. These shameful proceedings were due entirely to the rapacity and dishonesty of the ship-captains, who sought to increase their profits by improper means. Happily when their misconduct was brought to light, repetition was prevented by new and salutary regulations. The ships were no longer victualled by the contractors, but by the commissioners of the navy, and certain checks and safeguards were introduced to insure the issue to every man of his proper allowance. Nevertheless, the mortality continued at times to be disproportionately large. Especially was this the case in the ships General Hewitt, Surrey, and Three Bees; and, aroused thereby to the necessity of further reform, Governor Macquarie instituted at Sydney, in 1814, a full inquiry into the conduct of convict ships in general. Great alterations were recommended by Dr. Redfern, at that time assistant surgeon of the colony. His suggestions embraced principally the points on which he was specially competent to speak—the necessity, that is to say, for the proper issue of clothing, sufficient diet and air space, with proper medical assistance if required. Most of his recommendations were adopted, and they were all amply justified by the diminished mortality in subsequent voyages. Previous to this period the owners usually provided a surgeon, who was paid by them, receiving only a reward from government, after the completion of his duty; but this reward was dependent on the production by him of a certificate from the governor of New South Wales, to the effect that the latter was perfectly satisfied. The surgeon's letter of service stated that, on the production of this certificate, he would be recompensed for his "assiduity and humanity by a present at the discretion of His Majesty's Secretary of State. On the other hand, any neglect of essential duties will not fail to be properly noticed."

Full instructions were issued for the guidance of the surgeon. He was to inspect the "people"—this term seems to have been adopted from the earliest times to describe the convict passengers—daily; the sick twice a day, those in health once. The former he was to treat according to his judgment; the latter were to be examined closely for signs of fever, flux, or scurvy, in order that "early and effectual means may be taken to stop the progress of these diseases." He was moreover to keep a diary for the entry of everything connected with the sick, noting also the "daily number of convicts admitted upon deck, the times when the decks were scraped, the ship fumigated, the berths cleaned and ventilated, and all other circumstances which may, immediately or remotely, affect the health of the crew or convicts." How closely he performed his duties may be judged by the fact that Mr. Commissioner Bigge advances as one reason for keeping the hospital in the fore part of the ship, that "any arrangement by which the personal inspection of the surgeons is frequently directed to the whole of the prison (which must be the case if they have to traverse it on their visits to the hospital), ought not to be exchanged for another and more commodious position of that apartment, unless the advantages of such a change are clear and decisive." This does not look as if these surgeons were over zealous, at least in the duty of frequently visiting and inspecting the prison decks.

Similarly, precise rules governed the conduct of the master of the ship. He also was promised a reward if his conduct gave satisfaction. He was especially desired to see to the preservation of health, by keeping his ship constantly sweet and clean, and by taking on board before departure everything necessary for the purpose. The master was especially charged with the care of provisions, and in this respect his conduct was to be closely watched. The fear was not so much lest the convicts should receive short allowance, although this happened too, in spite of all precautions, but that there should be a substitution of inferior stores for those of government, which were always supposed to be good of their kind. The former fraud was to some extent guarded against, chiefly by publishing plainly, in several parts of the prison, the scale of diet to which every convict was entitled; but even this was sometimes upset by the captain giving money compensation at the end of the voyage for food not issued. Another precaution lay in making every man of each convict "mess" attend in rotation to receive the rations, instead of having one standing delegate for the whole voyage as heretofore. It was found that imposition and corruption were less frequently tried with many than with few. As to the other kind of dishonesty, it was provided for by requiring the surgeon's attendance at the opening of each new cask of provision—a sufficient check, no doubt, so long as the interests of captain and surgeon were not identical. It was just possible, however, that they might play into each other's hands.

But one of the wisest steps taken after 1814, was when the government itself appointed the medical officers, giving the preference, as far as possible, to surgeons of the Royal Navy. On this point Bigge says, "A great improvement has undoubtedly arisen in the transportation of convicts from the appointment of naval surgeons to the superintendence of the ships taken up for this service. Much attention has been paid by them to the instructions of the navy board, that enjoin an attention to the performance of religious duties; and their efforts in preserving health have been no less conspicuous and successful." There was every reason to expect that the government would be better served by an officer of its own, than by some one taken indiscriminately from outside. But equally probable was it that there would be a conflict of authority between the master, who had been hitherto practically supreme, and the new style of official, who might be said to possess, to some extent, the confidence of the crown. This came to pass; and the difficulty was not smoothed away by the tenor of the early acts regulating transportation in which had been incorporated the provisions of the 4 Geo. I, cap. II, whereby a property in the services of the convict was vested (or assigned) to the persons who contracted to transport them.

The master of the ship, as representing the contractors, had this property with all its responsibilities; but he was bound also to obey all orders from the commissioners of the navy and attend all requisitions from the surgeon-superintendent. This apparent contradiction led to frequent altercations between these two modern Kings of Brentford. Where one looked only to the preservation of health, the other thought chiefly of safe custody. If the doctor wished to fumigate the prison, or send the "people" all on deck, the captain demurred, and talked of the danger he ran of losing his ship and his cargo, too, by one and the same blow. Being thus personally concerned in the security of all they had on board, the masters of convict ships for a long time maintained that they must be the fittest persons to hold the supreme power. On the other hand, many of the higher authorities leaned toward entrusting the real command to the surgeon. This, which was clearly the proper decision, did in time become the rule. The reasons for it yearly became more apparent. In the first place, the naval surgeon, as a commissioned officer, was more under the control of the crown; besides which, by degrees these surgeon-superintendents could fairly claim that they had gained experience, and had proved their aptitude for the service in which they were employed. As ship after ship was chartered the captains came and went. There was no certainty that the same vessel with the same master would be taken up twice over for the conveyance of convicts. But the surgeons remained, and sailed voyage after voyage to the penal colonies. Ere long, the power which had been at first contested rested altogether in their hands.

All contemporary authorities give but a sorry account of the condition of the convicts during the passage. Even when everything possible had been done to reduce the death-rate, by insuring a sufficient supply of food and proper medical attendance, the plain fact remained that here were a couple of hundred felons (or more) boxed up together for months, with no other employment or object in life than that of contaminating one another. As a rule all of the convict passengers remained idle throughout the voyage. A few might assist in the navigation of the ship so far as was possible without going aloft. Others who were mechanics found it to their interest to make themselves useful in their particular trades, gaining in return greater freedom as to coming up on deck, and perhaps some additional articles of food. "But the greater proportion of the convicts," says Bigge, "are sunk in indolence, to which the ordinary duties of washing and cleansing the prisons, though highly salutary in themselves and performed with great regularity, afford but slight interruption."

They spent their time in gambling, quarrelling, and thieving from one another. In these relaxations the crew generally joined, as it was impossible to prevent intercommunication between convicts and sailors. The latter were not always immaculate, and were not seldom charged with purloining the private property of the prisoners, which had been provided by friends when leaving England. The medium for gambling was chiefly the wine and lime juice issued as part of the daily rations. If the convicts had money—which was unusual, except in small quantities—then they played for cash, but this was prevented by taking all money from them, as far as possible, on embarkation, to be kept for them till the voyage was at an end. The other method of speculation was also checked to some extent by "strictly observing that the allowance of wine and lime juice is taken by every convict in the presence of an officer at the time of distribution." Another plan was to deprive the offenders of their allowance, but to compel them to attend at the "grog-tub," and administer that which they had thus forfeited to some other prisoner who had behaved well.

The only discipline enforced on board was just so much as was necessary to insure a moderate amount of repression. For this purpose the people were all for a time in irons; for the same reason, only certain fixed proportions of the whole number were allowed upon deck at one time. As a final bulwark behind all, should an ultimate appeal to the strong arm be at any time needed, stood the military guard. Every ship carried a detachment of soldiers: recruits sometimes, going out as drafts to join their regiments in Australia; at others, part of a battalion, which embarked in instalments on ship after ship, ending, according to one writer, with the commanding officer and the band. The guard, or the portion of it actually on duty, always carried loaded firearms; from it came sentries forever on the watch, some at the doors of the prisons, others upon the poop. As a general rule, ships with poops were preferred for convict ships, because the soldiers stationed thereon were sufficiently elevated above the deck to be able to control the movements of the convicts at exercise below, though altogether separated from them.

The dread of some outbreak among the "people," or convicts, seems to have been an ever present sensation with those in authority on board these ships. Nor was the alarm confined to those connected with the ship itself. Whenever a strange sail, in those days of profound peace, appeared above the horizon, she was set down always as a convict ship seized by its felon passengers, who were supposed to have turned pirates and to have hoisted the black flag to range the high seas in search of plunder. I suppose there was not one among the hundred ships that left the Nore or the Mother Bank, through the long years that transportation lasted, in which rumours of conspiracy did not prevail at some time or other during the passage. Yet nine times out of ten these fears were absolutely groundless. Outbreaks did occur, of course; but few of them were serious in nature, and nearly all were forestalled by the timely perfidy of one of the conspirators. Colonel Breton, in his evidence before the parliamentary committee of 1837, said that he had heard of one ship with female convicts which had been captured by the crew and carried into Rio. But I can find no corroboration of this statement elsewhere. The same authority talks vaguely of another plot in his own ship, which came to nothing, because another and a more desperate character turned informer. Convict ships with females on board were as a rule more easily managed than those with males. But the following extract from a letter from the matron on board the convict ship Elizabeth and Henry, in 1848, relates a curious incident:—

"Off Cape of Good Hope (April 30th).—We were likely to have a mutiny on board a few weeks since. The [female] prisoners laid a plan for strangling the doctor, but providentially it was made known by M. A. Stewart, a convict, just before it was executed. McNalty and Brennan were the ringleaders in the affair. When it was known, the officers of the ship went down in the prison with firearms. Fancy the scene! The doctor has now promised to forgive them if they conduct themselves well the rest of the voyage."

More serious was the conspiracy which was discovered in a ship of which Doctor Galloway, R. N., was the surgeon-superintendent. This was brought to light just after the ship had left Plymouth Sound—as a general rule all such attempts are made in the early part of a voyage—and it was discovered by a sentinel who overheard a fragment of a conversation by the hatchway during the morning watch. The plot was cleverly laid. The convicts had observed that the old guard discharged their firelocks always at sunrise, and that the new guard did not reload till eleven o'clock. They planned therefore to mutiny in the early morning, just after the guard had fired, resolving to seize these weapons, and then overpower the captain, the rest of the soldiers, and the crew. The total strength of the military detachment was forty, and the convicts were two hundred and fifty. The plotters of this outbreak were promptly punished on proof of their guilt, twelve of them being carried in double irons for seven or eight weeks.

In one of the earliest ships the opposing parties actually came to blows—so says one Barrington, at least, who went as a convict in 1790 to Botany Bay. The memoirs of this man (a very different person from Sir Jonah Barrington) were widely successful, and soon ran through several editions. His career of crime was more than curious. His London hunting-grounds were royal levÉes, court balls, Ranelagh, and the opera-house. At the palace he found it easy in the crush to cut the diamonds out of orders and stars. At the opera he picked Prince Orloff's pocket of a snuff-box worth £30,000, but being collared by the owner he restored the booty. He was eventually transported for stealing a gold watch at Enfield races from Mr. H. H. Townshend. According to Barrington's account two Americans among the people persuaded the others to conspire to seize the ship. They declared that the capture effected, it would be easy to carry the prize into some American port, where all would receive a hearty welcome. Not only would all obtain their liberty as a matter of course, but Congress would give them also a tract of land, and a share of the money accruing from the sale of the ship and her cargo.

The plan of action was to seize the arm-chest while the officers were at dinner. This was kept upon the quarter-deck, under the charge of sentries. The latter were to be engaged in conversation till the supreme moment arrived, and then, at a signal given, seized. This was to be followed by a general rush on deck of all the convicts from below. Barrington relates that he was standing with the man at the wheel when the mutiny actually broke out. Hearing a scuffle upon the main deck, he was on the point of going forward, when he was stopped by one of the Americans, who made a stroke at his head with a sword taken from a sentry. "Another snapped at me a pistol. I had a handspike, and felled the first to the ground." Meanwhile the man at the wheel ran down and gave the alarm. The captain was below, seeing to the stowage of some wine; but Barrington held the mutineers at bay, at the head of the companion ladder, till the captain came up with a blunderbuss in his hand and fired. This dispersed the enemy, and they thereupon retired. An immediate example was made of the ringleaders in this affair. Two were forthwith hanged at the yard-arm, and a number flogged. To Barrington, the captain and his officers were profuse in thanks, and at the end of the voyage they made him a substantial present. Told in Mr. Barrington's own words, the story of this mutiny tends rather to his own glorification. It is just possible that he may have exaggerated some of the details—his own valiant deeds with the rest. This trusty convict was received into high favour on landing in New South Wales and after holding several subordinate appointments became at length a police officer and gained high rank.

But as a rule the efforts made by the convicts to rise against their rulers on shipboard were futile in the extreme. Even Mr. Commissioner Bigge, in 1822, laughs at all notion of the convicts combining to capture the ships. He is commenting on the different practice of different doctors and captains, as to allowing the people upon deck and removing their irons. Some, he says, who are inexperienced and timid, dread the assemblage of even half on the upper deck, and they would not for worlds remove the irons till the voyage is half over. Others do not care if all the people come up together, and they take off all irons before the ship is out of the Channel. But he considers free access to the deck so important in preserving discipline, as well as health, during the voyage, that "no unwarrantable distrust of the convicts" ought to interfere with it, and "no apprehension of any combined attempt to obtain possession of the ship." He thus continues:—

"The fear of combinations among the convicts to take the ship is proved by experience of later years to be groundless; and it may be safely affirmed, that if the instructions of the navy board are carried into due effect by the surgeon-superintendent and the master, and if the convicts obtain the full allowance of provisions made to them by government, as well as reasonable access to the deck, they possess neither fidelity to each other, nor courage sufficient to make any simultaneous effort that may not be disconcerted by timely information, and punished before an act of aggression is committed. A short acquaintance with the characters of the convicts, promises of recommendation to the governor on their arrival in New South Wales, and an ordinary degree of skill in the business of preventive police, will at all times afford means of obtaining information."

The passage out of all these convict ships was upon the whole exceedingly prosperous. The voyage could be performed with perfect safety. Mr. Bigge says that up to his time no ships had arrived disabled; more than this, no disasters had occurred to any in Bass Straits, where serious mishaps so frequently happened. The chief and only difficulty really was the tendency to delay upon the road. There was a great temptation to both master and surgeon to call at Rio. All sorts of excuses were made to compass this—that the ship was running short of water, for instance, or that the passengers absolutely required a change of diet. Sugar was to be bought at Rio, and tobacco, and with a freight of these the officials could make a profitable speculation on reaching Sydney. For the doctor the temptation was especially strong, because he was for years allowed to land his goods at New South Wales duty-free. But if the superiors thus benefited themselves, it was at the cost of the discipline of the convicts, such as it was. The ship was for the time neglected utterly; the captain was busy and so was the doctor with their commercial enterprises. The convicts, for security's sake, were relegated to irons; but they found means to obtain spirits from shore, and wholesale intoxication and demoralisation naturally followed. In view of all this the masters of convict ships were ordered to make the run outwards direct. The requisite supplies might be calculated with care in advance, so as to preclude the chance of any scarcity before the end of the voyage. But if it so happened that to touch at some port or other was imperative, then the Cape of Good Hope was to be invariably chosen instead of Rio.

These orders to bear up for the Cape in case of necessity were clearly right and proper, but in one case they were attended with very serious consequences. I allude to the loss of the Waterloo convict ship in Table Bay, in September, 1842. In this case scurvy had appeared on board, and therefore the surgeon-superintendent gave the master a written order to change his course. It was necessary to touch at the Cape to obtain supplies of vegetables and fresh meat. To Table Bay they came in due course, and there remained—ignorant, seemingly, of the danger they ran, of which they would have been duly warned had the naval authorities been aware of their arrival. But the surgeon-superintendent failed to report it; and "in this omission," says Vice-Admiral Sir E. King when animadverting upon the whole occurrence, "he has only followed the common and very reprehensible neglect of duty in this respect of surgeon-superintendents of convict ships." Ill-luck followed the Waterloo. The master went on shore and left his ship to the care of his chief mate, a young and inexperienced seaman, who showed himself when the moment of emergency came either utterly incompetent or culpably negligent—probably both. One of those sudden gales which frequently ravage Table Bay rose without warning, and the Waterloo went straight on the rocks. Nothing was done to save her. The masts were not cut away, and everybody on board seemed helpless. Another ship, the transport Abercrombie Robinson, which was lying in Table Bay at the time, was also driven ashore; but her people were rescued, and she did not become an entire wreck. But the moment the Waterloo struck she broke up, and went to pieces. Terrible loss of life followed: 188 out of a total of 302 on board were drowned, and but for the merest chance not a soul among the convict passengers would have reached the land alive. The prisoners had been at first set free, but they were then ordered below again by the surgeon-superintendent, who feared they would rush violently into the surf boats coming to the rescue, and so swamp them. The poor creatures went below—obediently enough, and then followed one of those fatal but inexplicable mistakes which might have led to the most terrible consequences. The doctor as a matter of precaution had ordered the prisons to be bolted down, but the bolts in the hatches could have been easily at any moment withdrawn. However, the officious corporal in command of the military guard proprio motu affixed a padlock to the bolt to make it secure, and forgot to take it off again. The excuse made for him was that he was "under the influence of the panic incident to the unexpected and almost instantaneous demolition of the ship." Thus several hundred men were in momentary danger of being drowned like rats in a hole. "Most providentially," says the report from which I quote, "the awful consequences of the unaccountable conduct of the corporal were averted by one of the prisoners striking off the padlock with a hammer that had accidentally been left in the prison early that morning, it having been used to remove the irons from the only prisoners who wore them for some offence." So the convicts reached the deck in time to avail themselves of such means of escape as offered. But these were few. Had the masts been cut down, when the long boat was lowered, they might have formed a temporary bridge over which the people might have passed in comparative safety to the surf boats. As it was, nearly two-thirds of them were drowned.

This catastrophe attracted great attention at the time. At Cape Town the sudden and apparently unaccountable destruction of the ship led to great excitement in the public mind. A very searching inquiry was therefore set on foot. The dÉbris of the wreck having been carefully examined by Captain Sir John Marshall, R. N., he reported unhesitatingly that the Waterloo must have been unseaworthy when she left England. "General decay and rottenness of the timbers appeared in every step we took." She had been repeatedly repaired at considerable outlay, but she had run so long that she was quite beyond cure.

As a further explanation of the disaster the mate and crew were charged with being drunk at the time the ship struck. But the only evidence in support of this was an intercepted letter of one of the convicts who had been saved. He asserted that the chief mate could not keep his legs; that in trying to drive in a nail he staggered and fell. The rolling of the vessel was deemed a more than sufficient explanation of this. Another charge was made against one of the seamen who swam back to the ship after he had once actually reached the shore. No man in his sober senses, urged the convict witness, would have risked his life in this way; whereas it was clearly proved that no man otherwise than sober could possibly have battled successfully with the surf.

It is but fair to add that the unseaworthy condition of the Waterloo was distinctly denied at Lloyd's. They certified that at the time of sailing she was "in an efficient state of repair and equipment, and fully competent for the safe performance of any voyage to any part of the world." And as the credit of the transport office had been more or less impugned, a return was about this time called for by the House, of the number of convict-ships which had foundered at sea, or not been heard of, between 1816 and 1842. It was satisfactorily shown that in this way not one single ship had been lost through all those years.

But there had been other shipwrecks, and among these none with more fatal results than that of the Amphitrite, which went ashore at Boulogne, in September, 1833. The story of this mishap is an instructive homily in more ways than one. The ship was proceeding gaily down channel, with a freight of one hundred and eight female convicts, when she was met by a violent and unexpected gale, accompanied by a very heavy sea. She was on a lee shore. The conduct of the master in presence of danger is described as seamanlike, judicious, and decisive. Seeing no help for it, and that he could not save his vessel from the land, he said openly to the mate that he must look for the best berth and run her straight on shore. They ran her up as high as possible, hoping the tide as it rose would drive her higher. Then with as much complacency as if they were safely lodged in a secure harbour, the crew went below, had supper, and turned in. Before daybreak the ship was smashed to atoms and only three lives were saved. The ship's fate was indeed sealed from the moment she went ashore. Nothing possibly could have saved her, and it was a matter of surprise to all who witnessed the catastrophe that she was not deserted while there was yet time. "All might have been saved, but for the deplorable error in judgment on the part of the crew."

More than this, the lives of the female convicts, at least, might have been preserved but for the strange obstinacy of the surgeon's wife. According to the evidence of one of the survivors, the doctor ordered the long boat to be lowered soon after the ship struck. He was not in the least afraid of losing his prisoners, and meant to put them all forthwith on shore. Here, however, his wife interposed. She would not go ashore in the boat. Nothing would induce her to sit in the same boat with the convicts. "Her pride," says the narrator, "revolted at the idea." Whether her husband expostulated does not appear; in the end he gave way. No boat should leave the ship that night. Next morning it was too late. Complete destruction, as I have said, followed the rising of the tide.

Upon the introduction of the new rÉgime by the Act of 1843, embarkation of drafts for Australia took place every week or two from the stone steps on the river bank, opposite the main entrance of Millbank prison. As the dawn broke the convicts filed silently across the deserted roadway, and aboard the tug that was to convey them to the Nore. Only the night previous were they made aware that the hour of their departure had arrived. Then had followed such necessary preparations as a close medical inspection, to guard against the propagation of infectious disease; shaving, bathing, and the issue of the necessary clothing and kit bags. Every convict was furnished with a new suit, which was to last him all the voyage; but they carried a second suit in their bags, with underclothing, and, in some cases, an outfit to serve on landing at their journey's end. Substantial shoes and gray guernsey nightcaps completed their attire.

The next morning the whole draft was wakened about three o'clock, and breakfasted. They were then marched to the reception ward, where their names were called over by the chief warder. Next came the "shackling," or chaining them together in gangs of ten men upon one chain, the chain passing through a bracelet on each man's arm. The same plan is pursued to this day in ordinary removals from prison to prison, except that a D lock is now introduced between every two prisoners. This practically handcuffs the men together two and two. Under the old system, if one link in the chain was cut, the whole ten were free; now, when a link goes five couples only are set loose. As soon as these precautions were completed, the side door of the reception ward was opened, and the prisoners passed on to the outer gate, and so to the river side.

If the embarkation was to be at low tide, old Collins, a well-known bargee, who had permission to make his boats fast opposite the Millbank steps, had brought them some hours before and run them aground so as to form a passage or gangway to the steam-tug. This Collins was a well-known character in his time and later served as the model for Rogue Riderhood in "Our Mutual Friend." His spare hours were devoted to gathering up the bodies of people drowned in the Thames. It was said that he had secured in this way no fewer than two hundred corpses. The parish authorities paid him at the rate of ten shillings per head. It was his invariable custom, so he assured the coroner, to wash the face of every corpse he picked up and kiss it. But he did other jobs, such as dredging for sand, which he sold to the builders, and anything else that he might pick up. It was all fish that came to his net. On one occasion he found a bag full of sovereigns, upon which, so the story runs, both he and his family lived gloriously till the money was all gone. This piece of luck proved fatal to his wife. Returning from one of her drinking bouts to their home on board a barge—for Collins occupied the oldest of his boats, roofed in—Mrs. Collins slipped off the plank into the Thames, and was picked up by her husband next day. He had lived all his life in this barge, rearing there a large family, most of whom, I believe, turned out ill. His daughters were, however, known as the best oarswomen on the river. Poor old Collins himself came to a bad end. He was caught in his old age, in the act of stealing coals from a neighbouring barge, and for this he was sentenced to six months' imprisonment. When he came out his barges were sold, and the place knew him no more. But for many years he actively assisted in all embarkations from Millbank stairs.

Of course there was a large staff of officials who were really responsible. In charge of all generally went the deputy-governor, and under him were sometimes as many as thirty warders. Their duties were principally to insure safe custody, and to enforce silence and soberness of demeanour on the passage down stream. Occasionally the tug halted at Woolwich, to take in more passengers from the hulks; more often it made the run direct to Gravesend or the Nore. Here, with blue peter flying and anchor atrip, was the prison ship waiting for its living cargo. The surgeon-superintendent was on board, ready to sign receipts for the bodies of all committed to his charge; the convicts climbed the sides, were unshackled, told off to messes, and sent below. Before mid-day the ship had got under weigh, and had taken her place among the rest of the outward bound.

The interior fittings of all the old convict ships varied little. The "prison" occupied the main deck. It was separated fore and aft by strong bulkheads, sheeted with iron. In the forward part the crew lodged as usual; aft, the military guard. The only access from the prison to the deck was by the main hatchway. This was secured by barred gates at the foot of the ladder, so that the prison within looked like a huge cage. A substantial bulkhead ran across the upper deck, dividing the part used by the prisoners from the poop. There were doors in this, at each of which a sentry was always stationed. The hatches were also provided with stout padlocks. The "prison" was divided into "bunks" or "bays," as in a troop-ship, each of which had a table for eight men, and at night eight hammocks. For a long time prison ships sailed always without any special staff for supervision. Later a small proportion of warders embarked in each. During the day these officers took turns to patrol the deck and keep a general look-out. But on the whole, they preferred to interfere as little as possible with the "people." At night five convict sentries kept watch on deck, and were held responsible that no others came up; but below, the prisoners were left entirely to themselves. This, of itself, was one of the chief blots in the whole plan of deportation. To permit men of this class to herd together just as they please, is the surest way to encourage the spread of wickedness and vice. The tendency of any collection of human beings, it is to be feared, is rather to sink to the level of the worst than to rise to that of the best. In a ship load of convicts, free to talk and associate at all hours of the day and night, the deterioration is almost inevitable. For this reason, the elaborate machinery for providing for the religious wants and teaching of the ships sent out in later years was rendered nearly useless. A slight veneer of propriety in diction and demeanour might lie on top, but beneath, the real stuff was as bad as ever. It could not be denied even in after years, when every possible precaution had been taken. It was admitted, before the parliamentary commission on transportation in 1861, that "the horrors of convict ships were really past description." The arrangements for the conveyance of convicts by sea were never really put on a satisfactory footing until 1870, when the steamship London was especially fitted up for the purpose of taking convicts to Gibraltar; a portion of her forward hold was turned into a "prison," in every respect the same as a separate prison on shore. Here officers patrolled on duty day and night. This, with the rapidity of the voyage, reduced the chances of contamination to the lowest.

The Convict Ship "Success;" Tasmania

On the convict ship transporting prisoners to the Antipodes it was necessary in order to maintain discipline to put them all in irons for a part of the voyage. The worst class of convicts were sent to Tasmania from the prisons of England, where they remained until by good conduct they were removed to the probation gang; the second stage in the elaborate scheme for convict colonies which ended so disastrously.

I cannot refrain, however, from paying a tribute here to one who appears to have worked wonders in the various ships he had in charge. I allude to Dr. C. A. Browning, R. N., who has himself, in "The Convict Ship and England's Exiles," given us an interesting account of his labours, and the success that attended them. He was clearly a man of great piety, gifted also with singular earnestness of character. The influence of such a person cannot fail to be soon felt, especially in a society of which he is himself the recognised head. Wonderful as were the results obtained by Dr. Browning, they are substantiated by the testimony of high colonial officials. Writing on the subject, Sir George Arthur, the lieutenant-governor of Van Diemen's Land, says, "The convicts brought out in the Arab, in 1834, were put on board, I have every reason to believe, as ignorant, as profane, and in every respect as reckless as transported criminals usually are. But when they were disembarked, it was evident the character of many of them had undergone a most remarkable change. Their tempers had been subdued; they had been induced to think and reflect; and they had been instructed, so as to know them familiarly, in the principles of religion." It was said that in after years the convicts whom Dr. Browning reformed, seldom if ever fell away; but on this point I can find no reliable evidence. That quoted above refers only to these men at the moment they landed on shore, when Dr. Browning's impressive lessons were still ringing in their ears. An examination of the parliamentary returns, however, leads me to conclude that instances of after misconduct, as proved by the number of convictions, summary and otherwise, were just as plentiful among the men of Dr. Browning's ships as of any others.

But I should be loath to detract from Dr. Browning, who, besides being a preacher of some power, was also a practical man with considerable talent for organisation. His ships must have been patterns of propriety and cleanliness. Yet he worked single-handed. The only officials under him were convicts chosen among the "people," according to character received with them, and "the impression," to use his own words, "formed on my own mind by the expression of their countenances, and general demeanour." At the doctor's right hand was the first captain, who was at the head of the whole establishment; next to him came a second captain; and below them the captains of divisions. Each had his duties prescribed according to a carefully prepared scale. There were also appointed cooks, barber, delegates, head of messes, a clerk, librarian, hospital steward, and, last, not least, schoolmasters and inspectors of schools. The routine of work for every day of the week was also laid down, and was punctually carried out. As a rule, after the necessary cleaning operations, it resolved itself almost entirely into school instruction, and constant exhortation from the surgeon himself. Dr. Browning was apparently much beloved even by the convicts; and his orders are said to have been readily and implicitly obeyed. In return his confidence in them was so great that when he was attacked with serious illness he had his hammock hung inside on the prison deck, and gave himself up to be nursed altogether by the convicts.

In after years the example set by Dr. Browning was so far followed that every ship carried a religious instructor to teach, and perform the services—duties which every surgeon-superintendent could not be expected to perform, as did Dr. Browning. These instructors were selected from among the Scripture readers and schoolmasters at Millbank or Pentonville, and no doubt they were conscientious men, fairly anxious to do their best. But this best fell far short of that which an enthusiast of superior education like Dr. Browning could accomplish; and in most of the ships, in spite of all the efforts of the instructors, wickedness reigned supreme to the last.