Bidwell's Travels, from Wall Street to London Prison: Fifteen Years in SolitudeBidwell, Austin
General
Bidwell's Travels, from Wall Street to London Prison: Fifteen Years in Solitude
Bidwell, Austin
Bank fraud -- England; Bank of England; Bidwell, Austin; Criminals -- Biography
"A whole column regarding myself and my supposed movements was published
in the Dublin papers of that morning. Not suspecting they contained
'news' regarding me, I neglected purchasing one, and, remaining ignorant
of my imminent danger, took the train for Cork, where I arrived about 4
p.m. I had two or three London papers of the previous day in my hand as
I left the station. I had never been in Cork until then, and as I passed
into the street two detectives, who were watching the passengers, turned
and followed me. A few yards from the station one of them stepped up by
my side and said:
"'Have you ever been here before?'
"I slightly turned my head toward him, gave a haughty glance as I
replied: 'Yes,' then looked straight ahead and continued my slow gait,
paying no further attention to him. He continued walking by my side for
a few steps, as if irresolute, then dropped to the rear, rejoining his
companion. I did not dare to look around or make inquiry as to the
location of the wharf from which the tugboat started to convey mail and
passengers to the New York steamers, which waited in the outer harbor.
Therefore I continued my walk along what appeared to be the main
business street, perhaps for a quarter of a mile, then turned into a
druggist's and called for some Spanish licorice. This was done to enable
me to ascertain if the detectives were still following. In a moment they
passed the shop gazing intently in and saw me leaning carelessly against
the counter with my face partially turned to the street. As soon as I
had paid for the licorice I continued my walk in the same direction, but
saw nothing of the men, they having evidently stopped in some place to
let me get ahead once more. In a short time I approached an inclosure
over the gate of which was a sign that informed me I had come by
accident direct to the wharf of the New York steamers. Entering I found
the place crowded and the tugboat ready to convey the passengers to the
steamer Atlantic. Before attempting to step aboard the tug I took a
covert look around and saw my two detectives standing back in one corner
with their eyes fixed upon me, all but their heads being concealed
behind the crowd waiting to see their friends off for America.
Apparently unconscious of their presence, I threw my papers, one by one,
down among the passengers; and as the deck of the boat was eight or ten
feet below, the detectives could not see to whom they were thrown. I
stood leaning on the rail a short time gazing at the scene, then left
the wharf not even glancing in the direction of the detectives. I felt
that any attempt of mine to embark would precipitate their movements,
therefore I at once abandoned all ideas of taking passage from
Queenstown.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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