Lost Lenore: The Adventures of a Rolling Stone Page 52

beentransported: it was for killing a policeman.

  One evening, as we sate in our tent, he related to me the story of hislife; but, before giving it to my readers, I must treat them to a littleexplanation.

  This narrative is entitled the "Adventures of a Rolling Stone," and suchbeing its title, there may be a complaint of its inappropriateness:because it also details the adventures of others. But part of theoccupation of the hero, has been to observe what was going on aroundhim; and, therefore, a faithful account, not only of what he did, butwhat he saw and heard--or in any way learnt--should be included in atrue narrative of his adventures. Hearing a man relate the particularsof his past life, was to the "Rolling Stone," an event in his ownhistory; and, therefore, has he recorded it.

  The reality of what is here written may be doubted; and the questionwill be asked:--how it was, that nearly every man who came in contactwith the "Rolling Stone," had a history to relate, and also related it?

  The answer may be found in the following explanation:--

  A majority of the men met with on the gold-fields of California andAustralia, are universally, or at least generally, unlike those theyhave left behind them in the lands of their birth. Most gold-diggersare men of character, of some kind or other; and have, through theirfollies or misfortunes, made for themselves a history. There willalmost always be found some passage of interest in the story of theirlives--often in the event itself, which has forced them into exile, andcaused them to wander thousands of miles away from their homes and theirfriends.

  When it is further remembered: that the principle amusement of the mostrespectable of the gold-diggers, is that of holding social converse intheir tents, or around their evening camp-fires, it will appear lessstrange, that amongst so many "men of character" one should becomeacquainted with not a few "romances of real life"--such as that of the"Vandemonian" who became my associate in the "sweet vale of Avoca," andwhich is here recorded, as one of many a "convict's story," of which Ihave been the confidant.

  Volume Three, Chapter V.

  A CONVICT'S STORY.

  "You have expressed a desire to hear the story of my life," said mymining partner. "I make you welcome to it. There is not much of myhistory that I should be ashamed to tell you of; but with that little Ishall not trouble you. I have never done anything very bad,--that is, Ihave never robbed anybody, nor stolen anything that I did not reallywant.

  "I am a native of Birmingham, in which town I resided until I was abouttwenty years of age.

  "My father was a confirmed drunkard; and the little money he used toearn by working as a journeyman cutler, was pretty certain to be spentin gin.

  "The support of himself, and four young children fell upon my mother,myself, and a brother--who was one year younger than I. In allBirmingham, there were not two boys more dutiful to their parents, morekind to their younger brothers and sisters, more industrious, and lessselfish, than my brother and myself--at the time I am speaking of.

  "Our hours were wholly occupied in doing all we could, to supply thewants of my father's family.

  "We sometimes attended an evening school. There we learnt to read andwrite; but even the time devoted to this, we would have considered assquandered, if we could have been doing anything else--to benefit theunfortunate family to which we belonged.

  "One evening, after we had got to be grown up to manhood, my youngerbrother and I were returning from our work, when we saw our father atsome distance off, in the middle of the street. We saw that he wasintoxicated. Three policemen were around him--two of them with handsupon him.

  "As usual with my father on such occasions, he was refractory; and thepolicemen were handling him in a very rough manner. One of them hadstruck him on the head with his baton, and my father's face was coveredwith blood.

  "My brother and I ran up, and offered to take him quietly home--if thepolicemen would allow us to do so; but as he had assaulted them, andtorn their clothes, they refused to let us have him, and insisted inlocking him up. My brother and I, then offered to take him to thelock-up ourselves; and, taking him by the hand, I entreated him to goquietly along with us.

  "The policeman rudely pushed me aside, again collared my father, andcommenced dragging him onward. Once more we interfered--though thistime, only to entice our father to go with the policemen, without makingany resistance.

  "At that moment, one of the constables shouted `a rescue;' and thethree, without further provocation, commenced an assault upon my brotherand myself.

  "One of them seized me by the throat; and struck me several times on thehead with his baton. We struggled awhile, and then both fell to theground. I turned my head, while trying to get up again, and saw mybrother lying on the pavement, with his face covered all over withblood. The policeman, who had fallen with me, still retained his clutchupon my throat; and again commenced beating me as soon as we had bothrecovered our feet. A loose stone, weighing about ten pounds, was lyingupon the pavement. I seized hold of it, and struck my antagonist on theforehead. He fell like a bullock. When I looked around, I saw that myfather--who was a very powerful man--had conquered the other twopolicemen. He seemed suddenly to have recovered from his intoxication;and now helped me to carry the constable I had felled, to the nearestpublic-house--where the man died a few hours after the affray.

  "I was tried for manslaughter; and sentenced to ten yearstransportation.

  "Not until then, did evil thoughts ever make their home in my mind.

  "Up till the time I was torn from my relatives--for whom I had a greataffection--and from the girl whom I fondly loved, I am willing to beresponsible to God and man, for every thought I had, or every act I did.Ever since, having been deprived of liberty--dragged from all near anddear--with every social tie broken--and robbed of everything for which Icared to live--I do not think myself to blame for anything I may havedone. I have been only a link in a chain of circumstances--a victim ofthe transportation system of England, that transforms incipient crimeinto hardened villainy.

  "On arriving in New South Wales, I was placed in a gang with otherconvicts; and put to the business of pushing a wheel-barrow. We wereemployed in removing a hill, from the place where nature had set it: forno other reason, I believe, than for the purpose of keeping us frombeing idle! The labour was not severe; but the life was a very wearyone. It was not the work that made it so to me. I was used to work,and did not dislike it, if there had been any sense in the task we hadto perform. But I had no more idea of what my labour was for, than thewheel-barrow with which I performed it; and therefore I could feel nomore interest in the work, than did the barrow itself.

  "My toil was not sweetened with the reflection that it was in behalf ofthose I loved. On the contrary, I knew that the best years of my lifewere being uselessly squandered, while my mother and her children wereperhaps suffering for food!

  "I often asked myself the question: why I had been sent from home? Itcould not have been to reform me, and make me lead a better life, afterthe expiration of the term for which I had been sentenced. It could nothave been for that: for no youth could have been more innocent of allevil intentions than I was, up to the time of my unfortunate affair withthe policeman. All the philosophers of earth could not devise a schemebetter adapted to corrupt the morals of a young man--make him forget allthe good he had ever learnt--harden his soul against all the betterfeelings of human nature--and transform him from a weak frail mortal,with good intentions, into a very demon--than the transportation systemof England.

  "From the age of twenty years, until that of thirty, I consider the mostvaluable part of a man's existence; and as this whole period was takenfrom me, I naturally regarded the future of my life, as scarce worthpossessing. I became recklessly indifferent as to what my actions mightbe; and from that time they were wholly guided by the circumstances ofthe hour.

  "Each month, I either heard, or saw, something calculated to conduct mestill further along the path of crime. I do not say that all mycompanions were bad men;
but most of them were: since my dailyassociates were thieves, and men guilty of crimes even worse than theftI am willing to acknowledge--which is more than some of them would do--that the fact of their being convicts was strong evidence of their beingwicked men.

  "After having spent nearly a year, between the trams of the wheel-barrowin the neighbourhood of Sydney, I was despatched with a gang to do somelabourer's work up the country.

  "Most of the men in this gang, were wickeder than those, with whom I hadpreviously been associated. This was perhaps owing to the fact that mynew companions had been longer abroad, and were of course better trainedto the transportation system.

  "Some of them were suffering great agony through the want of tobacco andstrong drink, in both of which--being many of them `ticket-of-leave'holders--they had lately had a chance of freely indulging.