The Noose of Samuel Burrows, page 14
It must have been a difficult situation for a young Charles, watching his father in this state both around the streets of Chester and also at home. Perhaps it was no wonder Charles’s behaviour began to change as he searched for some kind of acceptance away from the drunken chaos of his father and the deep grief of his mother. Needless to say, given the circumstances that he found himself in, the young and susceptible Burrows began to stumble into the world of petty crime.
Samuel later said that Charles was ‘a bad lad, and would not keep from evil company’,1 but at the same time he had failed to realise his own part in the making of his own son’s behaviour. As the city’s executioner, he knew all too well that having a son who was veering towards the realms of criminality would not be looked on too kindly by his own employers. Charles was frequently getting into trouble but was not quite on the radar of the Chester authorities as he was largely committing his petty crimes away from the city itself.
Charles’ crimes were not seen as enough to warrant too much punishment in terms of nineteenth-century law. He was convicted of stealing two ducks alongside Robert Evans in the township of Burton in January 1823 but was released soon after.2 But if Samuel thought that could be enough to scare his wayward son straight then he would be sorely mistaken as his son’s name would appear in the papers again in January 1824.
This time Charles was arrested in Wrexham but with little evidence to hold him he was swiftly released from custody. However, this small piece that appeared in the Chester Chronicle revealed who Charles’ father was. It stated:
Charles Burrows, son of the Jack Ketch for ‘this and the adjacent counties’, was apprehended in Wrexham, on a charge of too closely inspecting the pockets of those whom he came in contact with. There not being sufficient evidence to send him to trial, he was discharged.3
Samuel would have been incensed as he read the piece. His son’s behaviour was becoming more and more dangerous and the reference to Jack Ketch, a common slang term for all hangmen around the country named after the infamous executioner of the fifteenth century, had identified him personally. Yet, according to Burrows himself, there was also an element of fatherly concern. With his son on a path towards more serious criminality, which could eventually lead to execution, Burrows knew that he had to do something in order to save his own son’s neck.
William Jones sold stockings. Every Saturday morning, Jones would bring his stall to the city, quietly set his stall up, and prepare for what he hoped would be a lucrative day on the streets of Chester. He had firmly established himself among other traders within Eastgate Street as his voice boomed through the area highlighting his latest stock. Keeping an eye on the stall as people came and went was Charles Burrows and some of his friends. As they admired the contents of the stall, they certainly had no intention of paying for the goods that they fancied.
Yet Jones was a wily old tradesman. He was always on constant alert for any potential thieves and had developed a method of selling while also remaining vigilant. He spotted Charles stalking his stall, walking back and forth waiting for his opportunity to pinch whatever he could. When Jones’ back was turned for a moment, Burrows pounced. However, at the time Jones saw nothing.
It was only when he was checking his stock that Jones realised that he had been robbed as some stockings that he later claimed were not sold that day had now vanished. His thoughts immediately switched to the young man he had seen earlier who stalked his stall suspiciously.
Burrows was later apprehended by the city watchman, John Ryley, who searched him. Ryley found the missing stockings under Charles’s hat and inside his jacket pocket. It was enough to lock him away.4 Samuel would later claim that he was in some way involved in the apprehension of his own son. He stated clearly that, ‘I was the means for sending him off, for I could not screen such evils, for it would be the greatest injustice to mankind.’5
Despite Samuel’s claims, he did not appear on any official record with regard to his own involvement in Charles’s subsequent arrest. Perhaps he tipped off John Ryley as to his son’s whereabouts or maybe he had asked him to keep a close eye on him? Whether Charles knew about his father’s involvement in his apprehension is unclear and maybe Samuel even kept this knowledge away from his own wife. Either way, Charles was caught.
Charles was placed into the very same gaol where his own father unashamedly executed the criminals who were condemned to hang. Burrows’ 16-year-old son was now awaiting his own trial at the Assizes at Chester Castle. Only a year earlier, Charles would have been facing the prospect of a potential execution himself to be carried out by his own father but with the recent changes to the law and the introduction of the Judgement of Death Act that had seen Samuel’s role diminish, it would also be the act that would save his son’s life. Charles was incarcerated until his trial date at the city sessions.
He would be found guilty at the city sessions on 10 April 1824. It was news that the young Burrows did not take well. Enraged by the verdict and his sentence of seven years’ transportation to the colonies, Charles went on to bad mouth everyone involved and damned them all to hell. He claimed that he never stole the stockings but knew who did and would never reveal that particular information.6
Charles was later transported to a prison hulk ship, where he would stay until he could be transported to Van Diemen’s Land. He would not be alone. In total, five men that day would be sentenced to the same punishment, all of whom would join Burrows on the long journey by cart from Chester to the Justitia hulk on 4 May 1824. William Jones would join Burrows on the cart for stealing books, as well as Richard Sant, Thomas and James Broomhall. All five were aged between 15 and 23 years old as they made their way towards Woolwich on the docks of the River Thames.7
What awaited Charles Burrows shocked him to the core. Far away from the relative quaintness of Chester, he arrived in London to see his first glimpse of what would be his temporary home before his inevitable transportation to Van Diemen’s Land. The River Thames was lined with prison hulks used to imprison inmates from all walks of life. With a degree of trepidation, Charles entered the Justitia hulk, which was now permanently moored in the centre of the river, via a small boat that was painstakingly rowed towards the 260-ton hulk that seemed all but impossible to escape from. With the river now acting as a natural moat and heavily guarded both on the hulk itself and on the shoreline, Burrows knew that he was completely trapped.
Unlike Chester Castle, where he was largely surrounded by petty criminals, the hulks represented something entirely new to him. Any safety that he thought he could have expected due to his age quickly evaporated as he now found himself surrounded by some of the country’s most hardened criminals. Furthermore, he was expected to work for his bread and board. Each day until his eventual transportation, Burrows would leave the hulk to be taken back to shore, where he would be expected to work on the docks. While his work would vary, it was always hard physical labour from digging canals to building walls. This would become the norm for around ten hours a day before he was taken back to the hulk and chained to the floor to prevent any chance of escape. Compared to his previous incarceration, this was hell on Earth.8
Samuel, of course, heard nothing from his son during the duration of his sentence. He had no idea what life was like for his son on board the hulk and the subsequent journey to Van Diemen’s Land. An ever-concerned Mary sank into a further depression. In her eyes, she had now lost both her sons. Even though Charles was still alive, she still mourned him as she did Henry. Despite Samuel continuing to attempt to ease his wife’s concerns, it fell on deaf ears as the two of them continued with their everyday lives.
Charles survived his two-month stint on the Justitia hulk but it had hardened him. If Mary had seen him following his incarceration on the Justitia, she would barely recognise him as he adapted to his surroundings with relative ease. Charles, although only 16 years old, had become a man and a fearsome one at that.
On 3 July 1824, Burrows boarded the Princess Charlotte ahead of his four-month voyage to Van Diemen’s Land.9 He was 1 of 140 convicts who boarded the ship to face the long journey. On board, Charles would have experienced slightly better conditions than that on the hulk. By the time he was transported to the other side of the world, the journey had somewhat improved. Previously, many convicts would have died en route as disease and pestilence took over the boats. The late eighteenth century had seen the worst of the conditions for transported criminals, with around one in ten convicts dying during the journey. However, by the time Charles made his journey, conditions had improved and the mortality rate had reduced significantly.
The Princess Charlotte came equipped with a small infirmary and its own surgeon-superintendent, who was responsible for looking after all who boarded the ship. John Dobie was Princess Charlotte’s surgeon-superintendent for the journey on which Charles found himself and he kept a meticulous journal, recording everyone who came to him seeking attention.10
For Dobie, the line between convict and guard meant nothing. All were entitled to any medical assistance, not only for their own individual well-being but for the wellness of the ship as a whole. Disease was particularly contagious on board ships transporting convicts and any sign of it was monitored closely. Thankfully for Dobie, everyone made the journey with only minor illnesses recorded. Many of the illnesses on board the Princess Charlotte amounted to vomiting, diarrhoea, nausea, and pulsating headaches, which were all typical illnesses experienced by those travelling on ships.
Concerned about ongoing vomiting and diarrhoea on board that affected a few convicts, Dobie suggested that the journey should temporarily halt in Rio de Janeiro. Dysentery was a constant fear on board the ship given its ability to spread like wildfire. In order to precaution against the disease, Dobie recommended to the master that Princess Charlotte be restocked with fresh beef and vegetables while in Brazil.
Charles Burrows’ never appears in Dobie’s journal, indicating that he never sought any medical treatment. The hangman’s youngest son was 1 of approximately 72,500 British convicts who arrived on the shores of Van Diemen’s Land between 1803 and 1853 and, like many who arrived, the newly established town of Hobart would be his home for the foreseeable future.11 Although he was sentenced to seven years, many convicts would never return to Britain, opting instead to use their freedom to rebuild their lives in either Van Diemen’s Land or via a brief trip over water north to New South Wales in Australia.
What exactly happened to Charles Burrows while in Van Diemen’s Land is a mystery. Only three documents have survived from his time there. The passenger list shows that he arrived safely. Once on dry land, Burrows entered the Hobart Penitentiary. All convicts received a tick by their name to indicate that they had arrived. Charles was then measured and any identifiable marks were compiled on to the description list.
Standing at 5ft 6in with light brown hair and blue eyes, the 16-year-old Burrows who left Chester in April now claimed that he was 19 years of age. He stated that his occupation was that of a labourer, and he was described as ‘much pock pitted’ over his face and body. Given his occupation, there is a great likelihood that he would have stayed in Hobart in order to help build the town or worked elsewhere under a guardianship. His release date was stated as 13 April 1831.12
Burrows appears to have survived his sentence, unlike some of his fellow inmates. Francis Brooker was sentenced to life on the colony yet in a ghastly postscript it simply states on the record that he was ‘murdered by the natives’. John Burk was another unfortunate who, despite being released on 11 August 1830, was later executed in 1835.13
The final document focuses on Charles’s conduct during his sentence. Compared to many, he appears to have kept his nose relatively clean. He appears twice for somewhat minor misdemeanours. Forming a gang with fellow Cestrian convicts, they refused to turn out for work and were subsequently punished. As part of this gang, he was involved in an incident of ‘taking a boat from her moorings’.14 His transgressions while serving his sentence appear somewhat juvenile in their nature. Charles, it appears at least, either left Van Diemen’s Land following his release or remained there and rebuilt his life.
From that point on, Charles vanishes from any official documents. What became of him is unknown. For Samuel Burrows and his wife, the time had come to move from one end of Chester to another. The family home on Northgate Street had served its purpose, although with an ever-dwindling income during the course of the late 1820s, the couple had no choice but to move elsewhere. Packing their few worldly possessions, they looked around their once-busy room. It was a room full of memories, some of love and others of loathing, but either way Mary gazed around with a tear in her eye. Samuel put his arm around her in an attempt to comfort her.
They looked in the corner of the room and smiled at each other. It was here where a young Charles slept, laughed, cried, and played with his brother. Recalling their memories, the pair comforted each other before Mary turned to Samuel with a tear on her cheek. Their boys were now gone and the memories were all they had left to cling to. Now they had to take themselves and their possessions to Brook Street, where cheaper dwellings awaited them.
Chapter 16
The Hangman’s Idle Hands
BURROWS DID NOT respond to Robert Peel’s reforms to the Bloody Code too well, nor to the fact that Charles was on his way to Van Diemen’s Land. In the space of a few months, his world had turned upside down. His primary income was now from rat catching and the dwindling income had forced both Mary and himself to move away from Northgate Street. His old way of life was slowly becoming but a faded memory. The regular executions that he once thrived on were becoming more sporadic and the respect that he foolishly believed his position gave him had all but evaporated.
He now lived in Brook Street, away from the centre of Chester. The Gorse Stacks area of Chester was more industrial than that of Northgate Street and he was surrounded by the cattle market and the local tanneries that thrived in the area.1 The industries around the canal had also grown but Burrows longed to be back in the centre of the action rather than waking every morning to the smell of the tannery just down the road.
Whether he liked it or not, this was his new home as the number of executions he was asked to perform slowly dwindled. However, it was an ideal location for his other occupation as a rat-catcher as the number of rats grew around the canal making the most of the mills around the area to feed. Burrows was only a short walk away from the centre of the city but in moving to this area he felt as if the importance of his main profession was ebbing away.
Thankfully for Burrows, Brook Street had its own public house in the form of the Cottage Tavern, which was run by John Davies.2 Burrows would become a frequent visitor. When he entered, the tavern would temporarily fall silent as the tanners, cattlemen and canal workers recognised him. The hangman’s notoriety followed him wherever he went but here he did not possess the level of celebrity that he once felt that he had in Northgate Street. Careful of the judgemental eyes that surrounded him, Burrows took a seat and removed his hat. Davies cared little for how Burrows gained his income. For him, the man who sat before him was worth his weight in gold in terms of business. Despite the earlier apprehension of the regulars, Burrows would soon call the place his local.
Yet, the centre of the city was constantly calling to him. It was a place where he felt more alive as the hustle and bustle not only excited him, but it was where he thought he could make the most of his notoriety. His level of self-importance may have swelled his head but in reality he had become a figure to be mocked rather than feared. With little to do, Burrows did not need much persuasion to roam the streets and frequent the public houses, desperately attempting to sell merchandise from previous executions. His life was slowly becoming a regular pub crawl as his depression firmly took hold.
While his noose made a brief appearance in 1824 following the execution of Joseph Dale for the murder of William Wood, he was growing ever more dependent on his income as a rat-catcher and he loathed every moment of it. While rat catching was a means to an end, he was beginning to feel that his role was becoming diminished as the city’s executioner. Furthermore, he began to feel the mockery of the local press and his fellow Cestrians. The once infamous, arrogant stride around the streets of Chester that had previously installed fear among those who saw it had diminished severely.
Yet, Burrows was fully aware of the law and was more than happy to submit anyone who was brave enough to stand against him to the power of the courts. In order to remind people about who he was, Burrows continued to roam the streets with his noose in hand as his drinking gathered pace.
One such incident that caught the attention of newspaper editors was that of an altercation with Thomas Roby in September 1825, after which Burrows was brought to the courts on a charge of assault. Burrows would often stroll along the Shambles on Northgate Street, keen to remember his former career as a butcher and chat to those who knew him well. Burrows’ allegation was that Roby, unprovoked, kicked him down on the street and then violently kicked him on the shins. In his view of events, he was just harmlessly minding his own business before being attacked.3
However, Roby’s evidence was quite different. Standing before the court, Roby testified his innocence, stating that: ‘Upon my word and honour it’s all a lie, and if you’ll believe him then you’ll believe anything … He was staring drunk and when I went towards him, he fell down. I’ll bring all the women in the Shambles to prove his misconduct.’4
Burrows had been drunk and this was becoming a regular sight around the streets of Chester. Walking around with his noose in hand, he was alleged to have been ‘swaggering ... and telling how you hung folks’.5 Burrows’ arrogance and desire to be noticed had caught up with him.
