by Barrie Jones
Chapter XVIII. Henry recounts his removal from the asylum hall, and his work on a ‘labour privileged party’.
The Dark Side of Convict Life (Being the Account of the Career of Harry Williams, a Merthyr Man). Merthyr Express, 21st May 1910, page 9.
Chapter XVIII
After the event related in my last chapter I could not possibly remain in C Hall any longer, so I applied to the medical officer for a removal to another part of the prison, but my request was refused. After a further interview with the doctor, that worthy granted my request, and I was transferred to a prison known as A Hall, and placed among the intellectual convicts, that is to say the right-minded men. One morning early in the year 1907 I was told off parade to join No. 19 party. There were only eight men in this party, and our work was cut out for us, it being a first-class labour privileged party. We were occupied in drawing a coal cart, each man being supplied with a collar attached to a strong rope, after the manner of horses, and our work was to bring coal for the hospitals, blacksmiths, shoe maker’s shop, etc. In the afternoon of each day we went our round to the officers’ quarters, doctors, governor’s, chief and principal warders’ houses to clean and take away the refuse, and many a relic we often clapped our eyes and hands on when we got half a chance.
I must specially mention here that the wives of the officials were very kind to us in the shape of luxuries, as very often they would wrap up in a small piece of paper a bit of cake or meat, which we shared equally among the gang. Of course, we had to keep it all dark, and not even breath it to our boot laces. But no matter how careful we might be, there was always to be found a man in every gang who would bring it to the notice of the authorities, and, of course, they were duty bound to give the whole gang a special search, and then the poor fellow suffered as well as those they tried to get into trouble. The official in charge of the gang, to give him hid due, was not a bad sort of a , though strict. He was just, and there was no favouritism with him; for he would treat every man alike. He had a systematic way in working them, and when he saw one of his men doing all the work and others looking on he would say, “Now, come on, give this man a share of your strength.” I remember an argument once between two convicts, whose turn it was to lift a bag of coal. The officer, hearing the dispute, said, “Shall I lift the bag?” That was quite enough, for they both lifted it together. On another occasion two convicts were going to fight, and instead of reporting them, he separated them, remarking, “Now, I do not want any trouble with any of you, but from what I can see of it, you’re asking for it. You are like two little infants wrangling over a doll.”
This party was considered one of the best in the prison, also for seeing a bit of life, as on our journey back and fore to the prison we walked in close contact with free people along the country lanes, roads and fields. There was one thing our officer was down on us for, and that was tobacco. He would not have a single man of his stop to pick up fag ends, and when he himself saw any cigars or cigarette ends upon the ground he would either pick them up or put his foot on them. This was not for spite, but in order to keep temptation out of his man’s way. He was unlike some officials who would have allowed men to stoop and pick up things, and then pounce upon them for a report, which would mean three days’ bread and water, and perhaps eleven days remission. He was a different man altogether, and a Welshman, too. But no matter how careful he would be in keeping us out of trouble, one would sometimes drop right into it. An old game was to stick a bit of soap underneath the boot near the toe, and when they came across a bit of tobacco they would just put their foot on it, and it would stick to the soap.
I can well remember playing a good joke with our officer. We found some tissue paper, and one day got some dry dung, and made cigarettes of it. When walking along the road we dropped them one by one, and, of course, our officer, who possessed wonderful eyesight, would pick them up until he had nearly his pouch full. On arriving at the prison he would stop one of the senior officers, saying, “Look here, sir, I have picked up about a dozen cigarettes on the road, and I am sure somebody has been dropping them for the convicts. Now, this is only tempting my men.” “All right,” said the senior officer, “I will have a look around to see if there is anyone hanging about.” Shortly after, we were out again, and dropped some more, but the senior officer picked some up this time. Giving our gang the order to halt, he called our officer aside, and the both burst out laughing, for when looking at one of the cigarettes, they found out what they were. Never in all my life did I laugh so heartily.
On Easter Monday, 1907, our gang had a good feed of cakes, but I must confess we stole them. I myself did not steal them, but I received some of them, so I was quite as bad. It happened this way. Our regular officer went out on night duty, and for one whole week we had a substitute, He, too, was not a bad sort of a man. We were told off to go to the governor’s house to cart away the refuse. There are some trees at the back of the house, and near the trees is the larder and scullery, and in the larder were the cakes. Through the window we saw the cook cleaning some cabbage, the stumps of which she threw into a tub. Of course, we had arranged what to do. “What tree would you call that, sir,” said one of the gang to our officer, who turned round to look at the tree. Immediately one of the chaps slipped into the scullery, and filling his shirt full of hot scones, caught up the tub of stumps, which the cook had left, and was out again before the officer had turned his head. “Here you are, sir,” says he, “here’s the stumps.” Placing the tub in we hitched our collars on the rope, and away we went to the farm.
To be continued…..
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