and
cutting rain; a day when few passengers were abroad, and when the
boatmen were gathered in knots among the sheltered spots upon the
quays, waiting to hear of disasters at sea; when the ships creaked and
groaned at the wharfs, and the harbour was a sheet of wind-driven foam,
and the domain was strewed with broken boughs. On such a day as this,
Major Buckley and myself, after a sharp walk, found ourselves in front
of the principal gaol in Sydney.

We were admitted, for we had orders; and a small, wiry, clever-looking
man about fifty bowed to us as we entered the white-washed corridor,
which led from the entrance hall. We had a few words with him, and then
followed him.

To the darkest passage in the darkest end, of that dreary place; to the
condemned cells. And my heart sank as the heavy bolt shot back, and we
went into the first one on the right.

Before us was a kind of bed-place. And on that bedplace lay the figure
of a man. Though it is twenty years ago since I saw it, I can remember
that scene as though it were yesterday.

He lay upon a heap of tumbled blankets, with his face buried in a
pillow. One leg touched the ground, and round it was a ring, connecting
the limb to a long iron bar, which ran along beneath the bed. One arm
also hung listlessly on the cold stone floor, and the other was thrown
around his head, a head covered with short black curls, worthy of an
Antinous, above a bare muscular neck, worthy of a Farnese Hercules. I
advanced towards him.

The governor held me back. "My God, sir," he said, "take care. Don't,
as you value your life, go within length of his chain." But at that
moment the handsome head was raised from the pillow, and my eyes met
George Hawker's. Oh, Lord! such a piteous wild look. I could not see
the fierce desperate villain who had kept our country-side in terror so
long. No, thank God, I could only see the handsome curly-headed boy who
used to play with James Stockbridge and myself among the gravestones in
Drumston churchyard. I saw again the merry lad who used to bathe with
us in Hatherleigh water, and whom, with all his faults, I had once
loved well. And seeing him, and him only, before me, in spite of a
terrified gesture from the governor, I walked up to the bed, and,
sitting down beside him, put my arm round his neck.

"George! George! Dear old friend!" I said. "O George, my boy, has it
come to this?"

I don't want to be instructed in my duty. I know what my duty was o