City Crimes Part 14

_Showing how the Dead Man escaped from the State Prison at Sing Sing._

The New York State Prison is situated at Sing Sing, a village on the banks of the Hudson river, a few miles above the city. Being built in the strongest manner, it is deemed almost an impossibility for a prisoner to effect his escape from its ma.s.sive walls. The discipline is strict and severe, and the system one of hard labor and unbroken silence, with reference to any conversation among the convicts--though in respect to the last regulation, it is impossible to enforce it always, where so many men are brought together in the prison and workshops attached to it.

The Dead Man, (who it will be recollected formerly made his escape from the prison,) on being returned there, after his capture by the two officers at Sydney's house, was locked in one of the cells, and left to his own not very agreeable reflections. He had been sentenced to imprisonment for life; and as his conduct and character precluded all hope of his ever being made the object of executive clemency, he was certain to remain there during the rest of his days, unless he could again manage to escape; and this he determined to do, or perish in the attempt.

For three days he was kept locked in his solitary cell, the only food allowed him being bread and water. On the third day he was brought out, stripped, and severely flogged with the _cats_, an instrument of torture similar to that used (to our national disgrace be it said,) on board of the men-of-war in our naval service. Then, with his back all lacerated and bleeding, the miscreant was placed at work in the shop where cabinet making was carried on--that having been his occupation in the prison, previous to his escape; an occupation which he had learned, while a boy, within the walls of some penitentiary.

The convict applied himself to his labor with a look which only bespoke a sullen apathy; but in his heart there raged a h.e.l.l of evil pa.s.sions.

That night when he was locked in his cell, he slept not, but sat till morning endeavoring to devise some plan of escape.

The next day it chanced that he and another convict employed in the cabinet-maker's shop were engaged in packing furniture in large boxes to be conveyed in a sloop to the city of New York. These boxes, as soon as they were filled and nailed up, were carried down to the wharf, and stowed on board the sloop, which was to sail as soon as she was loaded.

It instantly occurred to the Dead Man that these operations might afford him a chance to escape; and he determined to attempt it, at all hazards.

Upon an elevated platform in the centre of the shop (which was extensive) was stationed an overseer, whose duty it was to see that the convicts attended strictly to their work, and held no communication with each other. This officer had received special instructions from the Warden of the prison, to watch the Dead Man with all possible vigilance, and by no means to lose sight of him for a single moment, inasmuch as his former escape had been accomplished through the inattention of the overseer who had charge of him. Upon that occasion, he had watched for a favorable moment, slipped out of the shop unperceived, entered the Warden's dwelling house (which is situated within the walls of the prison) and helping himself to a suit of citizen's clothes, dressed himself therein, and deliberately marched out of the front gate, before the eyes of half a dozen keepers and guards, who supposed him to be some gentleman visiting the establishment, his hideous and well-known features being partially concealed by the broad-brimmed hat of a respectable Quaker.

To prevent a repet.i.tion of that maneuver, and to detect any other which might be attempted by the bold and desperate ruffian, the overseer kept his eyes almost constantly upon him, being resolved that no second chance should be afforded him to 'take French leave.' The Dead Man soon became conscious that he was watched with extraordinary vigilance; he was sagacious as well as criminal, and he deemed it to be good policy to a.s.sume the air of a man who was resigned to his fate, knowing it to be inevitable. He therefore worked with alacrity and endeavored to wear upon his villainous face an expression of contentment almost amounting to cheerfulness.

Near him labored a prisoner whose countenance indicated good-nature and courage;--and to him the Dead Man said, in an almost inaudible whisper, but without raising his eyes from his work, or moving his lips:--

'My friend, there is something in your appearance which a.s.sures me that you can be trusted; listen to me with attention, but do not look towards me. I am sentenced here for life: I am anxious to escape, and a plan has suggested itself to my mind, but you must a.s.sist me--will you do it?'

'Yes, poor fellow, I will, if it lies in my power, provided you were not sent here for any offence which I disapprove of,' replied the other, in a similar tone. 'I was sentenced here for the term of seven years, for manslaughter; a villain seduced my daughter, and I shot him dead--the honor of my child was worth a million of such accursed lives as his.--I consider myself guilty of no crime; he sacrificed my daughter to his l.u.s.t, and then abandoned her--I sacrificed him to my vengeance, and never regretted the deed. The term of imprisonment will expire the day after to-morrow, and I shall then be a free man; therefore, I can a.s.sist you without running any great risk of myself. But you shall not have my aid if you were sent here for any deliberate villainy or black crime--for, thank G.o.d! I have a conscience, and that conscience permits me, though a prisoner, to call myself an honest man.'

'Be a.s.sured,' whispered the Dead Man, perceiving the necessity of using a falsehood to accomplish his ends--'that I am neither a deliberate villain nor hardened criminal; an enemy attacked me, and in _self defense_ I slew him, for which I was sentenced here for life.'

'In that case,' rejoined the other--'I will cheerfully a.s.sist you to escape from this earthly h.e.l.l--for self-defense is Nature's first law.

Had you been a willful murderer, a robber, or aught of that kind, I would refuse to aid you--but the case is different.--But what is your plan?'

'I will get into one of these boxes, and you will nail on the cover, and I shall be conveyed on board the sloop, which will sail in less than an hour hence. When the vessel arrives at New York I shall perhaps have an opportunity to get on sh.o.r.e unperceived, and escape into the city, where I know of a place of refuge which the devil himself could not find,'--and the Dead Man chuckled inwardly as he thought of the Dark Vaults.

'The plan is a good one, and worthy of a trial,' said the other. 'But the overseer has his eye constantly upon you--how can you escape his vigilance?'

'There's the only difficulty,' replied the Dead Man--and his subtle brain was beginning to hatch some plan of surmounting that difficulty, when a large party of visitors, among whom were several ladies, entered the shop.

Now the overseer was a young man, and withal a tolerably good-looking one; and among the ladies were two or three whose beauty commended them to his gallant attentions.

He therefore left his station on the platform, and went forward to receive them, and make himself agreeable.

'Now's my time, by G----d!' whispered the Dead Man to his fellow prisoner; instantly he lay down in one of the boxes, and the other nailed on the cover securely. A few moments afterwards, the box which contained the Dead Man was carried down to the wharf, by two convicts, and placed on board the vessel.

Meanwhile, the overseer had become the oracle of the party of ladies and gentlemen who had visited the shop; surrounded by the group, he occupied half an hour in replying to the many questions put to him, relative to the prison discipline, and other matters connected with it. In answer to a question addressed to him concerning the character of those under his charge, the overseer remarked in a tone of much self-complacency:

'I have now in this shop a convict who is the most diabolical villain that ever was confined in this prison. He is called the Dead Man, from the fact that his countenance resembles that of a dead person. He was sentenced here for life, for a murder, but contrived to escape about a year ago. However, he was arrested on a burglary not long since, sent back here, and placed under my particular care. I flatter myself that he will not escape a second time. Step this way, ladies and gentlemen, and view the hideous criminal.'

With a smirk of satisfaction, the overseer presented his arm to a pretty young lady, whose dark eyes had somewhat smitten him, and led the way to the further end of the shop, followed by the whole party.

The Dead Man was nowhere to be seen!

'Hullo, here! Where the devil is that rascal gone?' cried the overseer, in great alarm, gazing wildly about him. 'Say, you fellows there, where is the Dead Man?'

This inquiry, addressed to the convicts who were at work in that part of the shop, was answered by a general 'don't know, sir.'

With one exception they all spoke the truth; for only the man who had nailed the Dead Man in the box, was cognizant of the affair, and he did not choose to confess his agency in the matter. An instant search was made throughout the premises, but without success--and the officers of the prison were forced to arrive at the disagreeable conclusion that the miscreant had again given them the slip. Not one of them had suspected that he was nailed up in a box on board the sloop which was then on her way to New York. The Warden sent for the luckless overseer who had charge of the escaped convict, and sternly informed him that his services were no longer needed in that establishment; he added to the discomfiture of the poor young man by darkly hinting his suspicions that he (the overseer) had connived at the escape of the prisoner--but, as the reader knows, this charge was unfounded and unjust.

The distance between Sing Sing and the city is not great: wind and tide both being favorable, the vessel soon reached her place of destination, and was attached to one of the numerous wharves which extend around the city. The boxes of furniture on board were immediately placed upon carts, for conveyance to a large warehouse in Pearl street.

The tightness of the box in which the Dead Man was placed, produced no small inconvenience to that worthy, who during the pa.s.sage was nearly suffocated; however, he consoled himself with the thought that in a short time he would be free. The box was about six feet in length; and two in breadth and depth; and in this narrow compa.s.s the villain felt as if he were in a coffin. He was greatly rejoiced when the men who were unloading the vessel raised the box from the deck and carried it towards one of the carts.

But oh, horrible! unconscious that there was a man in the box, they stood it upon one end, and the Dead Man was left _standing upon his head_. The next moment the cart was driven rapidly over the rough pavement, towards the warehouse.

There were but two alternatives left for him--either to endure the torments of that unnatural position until the box was taken from the cart, or to cry out for some one to rescue him, in which case, clothed as he was in the garb of the prison, he would be immediately recognized as an escaped convict, and sent back to his old quarters. This latter alternative was so dreadful to him that he resolved to endure the torture if possible; and he could not help shuddering when he thought that perhaps he might be placed in the same position in the warehouse!

The drive from the wharf to Pearl street occupied scarce five minutes, yet during that brief period of time, the Dead man endured all the torments of the d.a.m.ned. The blood settled in his head, and gushed from his mouth and nostrils; unable to hold out longer, he was about to yell in his agony for aid, when the cart stopped, and in a few moments he was relieved by his box being taken down and carried into the warehouse, where, to his inexpressible joy, it was placed in a position to cause him no further inconvenience. The warehouse being an extensive one, many persons were employed in it; and he deemed it prudent to remain in his box until night, as the clerks and porters were constantly running about, and they would be sure to observe him if he issued from his place of concealment then.

As he lay in his narrow quarters, he heard the voices of two persons conversing near him, one of whom was evidently the proprietor of the establishment.

'We have just heard from Sing Sing,' said the proprietor--'that the villain they call the Dead Man made his escape this morning, in what manner n.o.body knows. I am sorry for it, because such a wretch is dangerous to society; but my regret that he has escaped arises princ.i.p.ally from the fact that he is an excellent workman, and I, as contractor, enjoyed the advantages of his labor, paying the State a trifle of thirty cents a day for him, when he could earn me two dollars and a half. This system of convict labor is a glorious thing for us master mechanics, though it plays the devil with the journeymen. Why, I formerly employed fifty workmen, who earned on an average two dollars a day; but since I contracted with the State to employ its convicts, the work which cost me one hundred dollars a day I now get for _fifteen_ dollars.' And he laughed heartily.

'So it seems,' remarked the other,'that you are enriching yourself at the expense of the State, while honest mechanics are thrown out of employment.'

'Precisely so,' responded the proprietor--'and if the _honest mechanics_, as you call them, wish to work for me, they must commit a crime and be sent to Sing Sing, where they can enjoy that satisfaction--ha, ha, ha.'

Just then, a poor woman miserably clad, holding in her hand a sc.r.a.p of paper, entered the store, and advanced timidly to where the wealthy proprietor and his friend were seated.

The former, observing her, said to her in a harsh tone--

'There, woman, turn right around and march out, and don't come here again with your begging pet.i.tion, or I'll have you taken up as a vagrant.'

'If you please, sir,' answered the poor creature, humbly--'I haven't come to beg, but to ask if you won't be so kind as to pay this bill of my husband's. It's only five dollars, sir, and he is lying sick in bed, and we are in great distress from want of food and fire-wood. Since you discharged him he has not been able to get work, and--'

'Oh, get out!' interrupted the wealthy proprietor, brutally--'don't come bothering _me_ with your distress and such humbug. I paid your husband more than he ought to have had--giving two dollars a day to a fellow, when I now get the same work for thirty cents! If you're in distress, go to the Poor House, but don't come here again--d'ye hear?'

The poor woman merely bowed her head in token of a.s.sent, and left the store, her pale cheeks moistened with tears. The friend of the wealthy proprietor said nothing, but thought to himself, 'You're a d----d scoundrel.' And, reader, we think so too, though not in the habit of swearing.

She had not proceeded two dozen steps from the store, when a rough-looking man in coa.r.s.e overalls touched her arm, and thus addressed her:

'Beg your pardon, ma'am, but I'm a porter in the store of that blasted rascal as wouldn't pay your poor husband's bill for his work, and treated you so insultingly; I overheard what pa.s.sed betwixt you and him, and I felt mad enough to go at him and _knock blazes_ out of him. No matter--every dog has his day, as the saying is; and he may yet be brought to know what poverty is. I'm poor, but you are welcome to all the money I've got in the world--take this, and G.o.d bless you.'

The n.o.ble fellow pa.s.sed three or four dollars in silver into her hand, and walked away ere she could thank him.

The recording angel above opened the great Book wherein all human actions are written, and affixed another _black mark_ to the name of the wealthy proprietor. There were many black marks attached to that name already.

The angel then sought out another name, and upon it impressed the stamp of a celestial seal. It was the name of the poor laborer.

Oh, laborer! Thou art uncouth to look upon: thy face is unshaven, thy s.h.i.+rt dirty, and lo! thy overalls smell of paint and grease; thy speech is ungrammatical, and thy manners unpolished--but give us the grasp of thy honest hand, and the warm feelings of thy generous heart, fifty, yes a million times sooner than the mean heart and n.i.g.g.ard hand of the selfish cur that calls itself thy master!

And oh, wealthy proprietor how smooth and smiling is thy face, how precise thy dress and snow-white thy linen! thy words (except to the poor,) are well-chosen and marked with strict grammatical propriety.--The world doffs its hat to thee, and calls thee 'respectable,' and 'good.' Thou rotten-hearted villain!--morally thou art not fit to brush the cowhide boots of the MAN that thou callst thy servant! Out upon ye, base-soul'd wretch!