On the arrival of a vessel, the chief officers of the government examined the prisoners, and the Governor himself addressed them. He pointed out their future position, their duties, and their dangers; the tone of promise usual in times past was considerably abated, but the awful rigours of their servitude were explained, often to their astonishment and horror.[161] Often the private examination of the prisoner confounded him with amazement: a gentleman, whom he had never seen before, unravelled with facility the mystery of his life. If he had been often in prison; if his brother had been transported; if his sweetheart had been deserted; whether he had been a pest to the lords of the manor, or to the parish, by poaching or bastardy: his whole life was read by his inquisitor, with supernatural clearness. The raw countryman did not know how far his course had been subject to the gaze of the stranger: denial gave way rapidly; he assented, and explained, and enlarged--and thus the office of the superintendent answered the purpose of a confessional. It was the practice to furnish all possible information to the local government, and to keep its details a secret from the prisoners: such had been the advice of the Commissioner. Thus the wonder of the country transport, to find that the picture of his life had preceded him--that all was known at the world's end. Though no persons could have greater cause to confuse their identity, the prisoners often stamped on their persons indelible distinctions; a custom, perhaps, introduced by the sailors, and encouraged by the officers, but which prevailed among London thieves. Those who suffered these figures to be pierced, were usually the most simple minded, or the most depraved. The figures themselves were sometimes obscene, but not commonly: often mermaids, still more frequently hearts and darts; sometimes the name, or the initials of the prisoner. Thus, in the runaway notices (1825), one had a hope and anchor; another, a castle, flower pots, hearts and darts; another, a man and woman, a heart and a laurel; another, a masonic arch, and moon and stars, and initials in abundance. An Irishman had a crucifix on the arm, a cross on the right hand, and the figure of a woman on the breast! Such were the ingenious methods which, induced by indolence and vanity, these men permitted, to lessen the chances of escape. The initials generally differed from those of the known name, and indicated that the wearer, some time or other, had occasion for disguise: others were obviously memorials of past affection, and of names perhaps associated with blighted hopes and better days. Besides these marks, were others; scars, usually the result of a life of mingled intemperance and violence: thus, almost in succession, the list of absconders gives the following--"a scar on the forehead;" "scar on the right eye;" "his arm has been broken;" "his nose inclines to the left cheek;" "a broken nose."[162]