"Hell's Gates," formed by a rocky point, which runs abruptly northward,almost touches, on its eastern side, a projecting arm of land whichguards the entrance to King's River. In the middle of the gates is anatural bolt--that is to say, an island-which, lying on a sandy bar inthe very jaws of the current, creates a double whirlpool, impossibleto pass in the smoothest weather. Once through the gates, the convict,chained on the deck of the inward-bound vessel, sees in front of him thebald cone of the Frenchman's Cap, piercing the moist air at a height offive thousand feet; while, gloomed by overhanging rocks, and shadowedby gigantic forests, the black sides of the basin narrow to the mouth ofthe Gordon. The turbulent stream is the colour of indigo, and, being fedby numerous rivulets, which ooze through masses of decaying vegetablematter, is of so poisonous a nature that it is not only undrinkable, butabsolutely kills the fish, which in stormy weather are driven in fromthe sea. As may be imagined, the furious tempests which beat upon thisexposed coast create a strong surf-line. After a few days of north-westwind the waters of the Gordon will be found salt for twelve miles upfrom the bar. The head-quarters of the settlement were placed on anisland not far from the mouth of this inhospitable river, called SarahIsland.
Though now the whole place is desolate, and a few rotting posts and logsalone remain-mute witnesses of scenes of agony never to be revived--inthe year 1833 the buildings were numerous and extensive. On Philip'sIsland, on the north side of the harbour, was a small farm, wherevegetables were grown for the use of the officers of the establishment;and, on Sarah Island, were sawpits, forges, dockyards, gaol,guard-house, barracks, and jetty. The military force numbered aboutsixty men, who, with convict-warders and constables, took charge ofmore than three hundred and fifty prisoners. These miserable wretches,deprived of every hope, were employed in the most degrading labour.No beast of burden was allowed on the settlement; all the pulling anddragging was done by human beings. About one hundred "good-conduct" menwere allowed the lighter toil of dragging timber to the wharf, toassist in shipbuilding; the others cut down the trees that fringed themainland, and carried them on their shoulders to the water's edge. Thedenseness of the scrub and bush rendered it necessary for a "roadway,"perhaps a quarter of a mile in length, to be first constructed; and thetrunks of trees, stripped of their branches, were rolled together inthis roadway, until a "slide" was made, down which the heavier logscould be shunted towards the harbour. The timber thus obtained was madeinto rafts, and floated to the sheds, or arranged for transportationto Hobart Town. The convicts were lodged on Sarah Island, in barracksflanked by a two-storied prison, whose "cells" were the terror of themost hardened. Each morning they received their breakfast of porridge,water, and salt, and then rowed, under the protection of their guard, tothe wood-cutting stations, where they worked without food, until night.The launching and hewing of the timber compelled them to work up totheir waists in water. Many of them were heavily ironed. Those who diedwere buried on a little plot of ground, called Halliday's Island (fromthe name of the first man buried there), and a plank stuck into theearth, and carved with the initials of the deceased, was the onlymonument vouchsafed him.
Sarah Island, situated at the south-east corner of the harbour, is longand low. The commandant's house was built in the centre, having thechaplain's house and barracks between it and the gaol. The hospital wason the west shore, and in a line with it lay the two penitentiaries.Lines of lofty palisades ran round the settlement, giving it theappearance of a fortified town. These palisades were built for thepurpose of warding off the terrific blasts of wind, which, shriekingthrough the long and narrow bay as through the keyhole of a door, had informer times tore off roofs and levelled boat-sheds. The little townwas set, as it were, in defiance of Nature, at the very extreme ofcivilization, and its inhabitants maintained perpetual warfare with thewinds and waves.
But the gaol of Sarah Island was not the only prison in this desolateregion.
At a little distance from the mainland is a rock, over the rude sideof which the waves dash in rough weather. On the evening of the 3rdDecember, 1833, as the sun was sinking behind the tree-tops on the leftside of the harbour, the figure of a man appeared on the top of thisrock. He was clad in the coarse garb of a convict, and wore round hisankles two iron rings, connected by a short and heavy chain. To themiddle of this chain a leathern strap was attached, which, splittingin the form of a T, buckled round his waist, and pulled the chain highenough to prevent him from stumbling over it as he walked. His head wasbare, and his coarse, blue-striped shirt, open at the throat, displayedan embrowned and muscular neck. Emerging from out a sort of cell, orden, contrived by nature or art in the side of the cliff, he threw ona scanty fire, which burned between two hollowed rocks, a small log ofpine wood, and then returning to his cave, and bringing from it an ironpot, which contained water, he scooped with his toil-hardened hands aresting-place for it in the ashes, and placed it on the embers. It wasevident that the cave was at once his storehouse and larder, and thatthe two hollowed rocks formed his kitchen.
Having thus made preparations for supper, he ascended a pathway whichled to the highest point of the rock. His fetters compelled him to takeshort steps, and, as he walked, he winced as though the iron bit him.A handkerchief or strip of cloth was twisted round his left ankle; onwhich the circlet had chafed a sore. Painfully and slowly, he gained hisdestination, and flinging himself on the ground, gazed around him. Theafternoon had been stormy, and the rays of the setting sun shone redlyon the turbid and rushing waters of the bay. On the right lay SarahIsland; on the left the bleak shore of the opposite and the tall peak ofthe Frenchman's Cap; while the storm hung sullenly over the barren hillsto the eastward. Below him appeared the only sign of life. A brig wasbeing towed up the harbour by two convict-manned boats.
The sight of this brig seemed to rouse in the mind of the solitary ofthe rock a strain of reflection, for, sinking his chin upon his hand,he fixed his eyes on the incoming vessel, and immersed himself in moodythought. More than an hour had passed, yet he did not move. The shipanchored, the boats detached themselves from her sides, the sun sank,and the bay was plunged in gloom. Lights began to twinkle along theshore of the settlement. The little fire died, and the water in the ironpot grew cold; yet the watcher on the rock did not stir. With his eyesstaring into the gloom, and fixed steadily on the vessel, he lay alongthe barren cliff of his lonely prison as motionless as the rock on whichhe had stretched himself.
This solitary man was Rufus Dawes.
CHAPTER III. A SOCIAL EVENING.
For the Term of His Natural Life Page 15