Borlum, who knew that his trial would speedily take place, meditated on plans for emulating the success of Forster. Strange to say, notwithstanding a knowledge of the irregularities that were carried on in Newgate, the public authorities made no change in the administration of affairs. Wine flowed, punch was sent round, and the prisoners suffered scarcely any stint in their indulgences. Things were indeed rather worse than better—all which was favourable to a plan concocted by Borlum and his fellow-captives. ‘The prisoners,’ says Dr Doran, ‘might cool themselves after their drink, by walking and talking, singing and planning, in the court-yard, till within an hour of midnight. Evil came of it. On the night of the 4th [May] the feast being over, nearly five dozen of the prisoners were walking about the press-yard. Suddenly, the whole body of them made an ugly rush at the keeper with the keys. He was knocked down, the doors were opened, and the prisoners swept forth to freedom. All, however, did not succeed in gaining liberty. As the attempt was being made, soldiers and turnkeys were alarmed. The fugitives were then driven in different directions. Brigadier Mackintosh, his son, and seven others overcame all opposition. They reached the street, and they were so well befriended, or were so lucky, as to disappear at once, and to evade all pursuit. They fled in various directions.’ Some others less fortunate were secured, ‘and were not only heavily ironed and thrust into loathsome holes, but treated with exceptional brutality.’ What a picture of a metropolitan prison in the reign of George I.! The escape of Borlum from Newgate with certain other convicts produced an immense sensation. For decency’s sake, if for nothing else, the Lord Mayor and Aldermen came down to the prison, and solemnly gathered some evidence on the subject. The least thing in the way of amends was to offer a reward for the capture of ‘William Mackintosh, commonly called Brigadier Mackintosh.’ Placards were profusely posted up describing the appearance of Borlum. ‘A tall, raw-boned man, about sixty years of age, fair complexioned, beetle-browed, gray-eyed, speaks broad Scotch.’ The reward for capturing him was two hundred pounds, to which sum, however, were added a thousand pounds by the government. Every effort failed to secure the old Highland chief. He and his son succeeded in getting on board a vessel in the Thames, by which they reached the coast of France, and there for the present we must leave him.