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
At 4 o'clock the sky put on a ragged edge of gray in the east, and
feeling pretty well satisfied with my progress I began to think of
selecting a retreat for the hours of daylight. Suddenly I found myself
upon what was evidently the neck of a swamp extending far and wide into
the land. I had discovered during the night that there was a
well-traveled road skirting and following the beach at a distance of a
few hundred yards, but there was danger of my meeting some one there, so
I stuck to the beach.
In the middle of the swamp was a clear space of water with marshy banks.
As it was nearly daylight, and being in no hurry, my presence in the
country unknown, and in no immediate danger, I determined to halt and
not tackle the swamp until nightfall again. Then, if seen by any one, I
would have some hours of darkness to make myself scarce in the
neighborhood.
Turning to follow the edge of the swamp I saw before me on a little
lower level than where I stood in the sand what appeared a plot of vivid
green grass, and without any precaution stupidly stepped with my full
weight upon it, and instantly found myself floundering in four feet of
mud and water. I had fallen, and getting back on the solid ground I
found myself wet to the shoulders, my legs covered with mud and my
pistols, bread, etc., soaking with salt water. At once I ran across the
beach and sat down in the warm water of the sea, washing off the mud
as well as possible. Then I made my way into the jungle, crossing the
road, and going into the thicket a short distance sat down waiting for
daylight, purposing to remain concealed near enough to the road to see
all passers-by, so that I might judge what sort of people I was among.
[Illustration: DARTMOOR CONVICT ESTABLISHMENT.--ABOUT 2000 PRISONERS.]
As the ground where I stood was low and wet, and my clothes soaking, I
feared catching the fever, so made my way well back to where some fallen
trees had made a rift in the dense mass of trunks, creepers and foliage,
letting in the sunlight. There I pulled off my garments to dry, taking
great care not to let any of the poisonous leaves come into contact with
my flesh, and made myself comfortable, sitting down to lunch nearly in
the state of nature. I was more concerned over my damaged cigars than my
dampened cartridges. On examination I found the cigars but slightly wet,
so, spreading them out to dry along with the drapery, I lit one and
surveyed the position. As the moisture was already steaming out of my
garments I took matters cheerfully and considered the outlook good.
Having finished one of my bottles of water, I made up my mind to carry
only one, and to take my chance of replenishing that. So long as my
health continued perfect I did not require much water; what I feared was
that my exposure and change of diet might make me feverish; if so, I
would suffer from thirst unless I struck a hilly country.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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