by Barrie Jones
Chapter XX. Henry recounts the day of his discharge from Parkhurst Prison, after serving a period of imprisonment just three months short of his nine year sentence.
The Dark Side of Convict Life (Being the Account of the Career of Harry Williams, a Merthyr Man). Merthyr Express, 11th June 1910, page 9.
Chapter XX
I do not think that, after the events related in my last chapter, you would care to hear more of them, so I will give an account of my liberation. I was released from Parkhurst Prison in August, 1907, having served eight years and nine months of my sentence, the remaining three was all I was granted. On the happy morning of my discharge I left the prison at 6.30, together with a gang of convicts who were escorted to Dartmoor Prison to serve the remainder of their time. We all got into a four-wheeler, which was to carry us to Cowes, and a nice journey it was, too, at least, for me – the other poor fellows had their chains on. After the six miles had been covered we arrived at Cowes pier-head, where we were taken into a waiting room. It was some time before the boat arrived which was to take us across to Southampton. She arrived at last, and the chained gang was led aboard, and I followed.
But how about my ticket-of-leave and the few shillings gratuity? This is where the stringent part of the rules governing discharged convicts comes into force.
No convicts are allowed to be in possession of anything until the boat moves from the landing stage, and not until then can a convict say he is a free man. An officer who accompanies him stands on the pier-head after seeing him safely on board, and as soon as the boat glides away from the side he stretches forth his arms and hands over to the convict his ticket-of-leave together with his gratuity sealed in a n envelope, and he is then left to fight in the world against sin. I can well remember when on board ship one of the convicts who was being escorted to Dartmoor asked me if I would pay for a drink for him. “Certainly,” I said, and going over to the bar where drinks were sold, I was on the point of ordering a glass for all six of them, when up came the warder in charge saying, “Now, I cannot allow this, Williams; it is strictly against the rules.” It was a very hot day, and the poor fellows were almost dropping with thirst, so I up and said, “shall I order a cup of coffee for each of them.” “I have my rules, and I must obey them,” replied the officer, and at the same time he had a glass of beer before him. Certainly, he was on duty, and was not supposed to eat or drink while on duty, and he, knowing this, refused the poor fellows a drink. They would receive nothing till they arrived at Dartmoor Prison, and then it would only be a pint of water. one or two of the convicts when they heard this, called him cruel. Convicts are all accustomed to ill-treatment, and do not mind, especially at the time of escort, to pour some sweet words into the ears of the officer, and in the hearing of the public, and a good thing, too, if a newspaper reporter had been on board that day to have heard the request and refusal, and seen the officer enjoying his own glass.
Arriving at Southampton the gang bade me good-bye and wished me luck, and in return, I said, “Cheer up, for there will come your time someday,” and with that I left them. I arrived at the railway station, but had no sooner done so than two gentlemen who had seen me waving good-bye to the gang, entered into conversation with me, asking me if I had been serving time at Parkhurst, and several other questions, which I felt was no harm to answer. I had purchased a pipe and some tobacco and the gentlemen seeing me trying to burst myself at the first draw, asked me if I would like a nice cigar or two, which, of course, I accepted. Instead of smoking them I rolled one of them up in a small plug, and put it into my cheek, but I was sorry after that I had done so for they both gave way to a fit of laughter, which caused the other occupants of the carriage to do the same. Anyhow, I took it all in good part, and seeing that one of the gentlemen said to me, “Why do you chew it instead of smoking it?” “God bless you, sir,” says I, “this is the first chew of genuine stuff I have had for nine years.” They very nearly jumped from the seat of the carriage when they heard the sentence I had undergone and the offences I had committed. One said, “Poor fellow,” and turning to his friend said, “That’s where the injustice of the laws of this country come in. That poor chap has no earthly chance whatever.” I think they said it was a thing that wanted badly looking into. I received good advice from these gentlemen, and one of them left me his address, but somehow or other I dropped it.
Thus the train steaming into Newport Station put all end to our conversation, when they wished me good luck. I stepped out of the carriage on to the platform to await the motor train, which was to convey me to Merthyr Tydfil, and to the home of my childhood.
To be continued….