were afterwards found in the bush, and supposed to be the remains of a couple of the villains, murdered by the others. The soldier and the remaining survivors were reported to have got on to the “Glenelg,” and crossed the border into South Australia, but it was never satisfactorily confirmed.
On the night of the sth May, 1844, a daring but unsuccessful attempt to break prison was made, but eventuated in a spoiled trick, Four desperadoes fabricated an excavating implement by tearing the handle off a night-tub, and fastening it to a broom-stick. Some of the flooring-boards in the ward were removed, when the door suddenly opened, and revealed the forms of the gaoler and the guard. The burrowers were dumbfounded, and as soon as some of them recovered their gift of the gab, they poured out a volley of abusive obscenity and defiance, but Wintle’s stern look, and the fixed bayonets of his companions now brought to the “charge,” quickly caused the reprobates to knock under, and they were secured and heayily ironed. Their names were, George Abbot, waiting trial for murder; Terence O’Neal and George Bryan, “Jifers,” the first for forgery, and the other, shooting with intent; and George Philip Loyd, a “seven yearer,” for horsestealing. There were fifteen other prisoners herded in the same cell, who took no part in the outrage. They remained in bed, and seemingly enjoying the little night-scene enacted on the boards before them. A turnkey on watch, hearing some mysterious muffled noises, aroused the gaoler, who had the guard turned out, with the coolness and promptitude so characteristic of him, and thus was the meditated escape frustrated.
So this gaol continued until the beginning of 1845 (when the prisoners were transferred to the new gaol in Russell Street), and notwithstanding all its drawbacks, it did duty much better than could have been expected, especially when the desperate character of some of the persons incarcerated there is considered. It is remarkable, that during the five years it served as a prison, no death occurred there, a fact which ought, in a large degree, to be placed to the credit of the Colonial Surgeon, Dr. Cussen. When what got to be known as the Old Gaol, was vacated, efforts were made to obtain it as a District Police Court, to which the Government would not agree. So it was ultimately turned into a barracks for the military detachment then serving in Melbourne.
THE RusSELL STREET PRISON.
The brick gaol in Collins Street was not long in use before its utter inadequacy to meet the ordinary prison requirements of the district, became so manifest as to force a conviction on the Executive Government, that it should be replaced by a more substantial and commodious structure. Two thousand pounds had been yoted by the Legislature towards the erection of a suitable building; but the public purse-strings had to be opened to more than ten times that amount, before the object in view was attained. After much wavering and incertitude a slice of the then verdant plateau away to the north of the town was selected ; and this is the section of land whereon the Metropolitan prison now stands. It was then a nice afternoon stroll from the inhabited portions of the township, amongst the luxuriant gum and she-oak trees beyond (now) Carlton, spread out as in some grand old park. No one outside a Lunatic Asylum would then think of going into business beyond Lonsdale Street, which was the point of demarcation between town and country ; and, except the residents of three or four weather-board cottages, planted at far intervals between Fitzroy and Flemington, no human being had an abiding-place there. Here it was that the new prison-house was to be built, and it may be now seen in the old weather-browned southern wing next the Court-house. It was commenced in 1841, and arranged to be out of the contractor’s hands in eighteen months. It was to be a strong stone structure, but the design after which it was modelled, was, as in the case of its predecessor, muddled to a degree. It will scarcely be credited that the draughtsman; unbenefited by previous experience, never thought of such an appanage as an outer wall until after the main building was finished.
However, up it went, raising itself by degrees like a gaunt spectre, until it overlooked the town, and very much as a spectacular eye-sore did the Melbournians then regard it. Not only that, but its size so alarmed the people, that they half fancied the absentee Government of New South Wales had some sinister purpose in hand, and was bent on erecting an immense place of confinement, into which every man, woman, and child might possibly be impounded some day, like a mob of cattle. It was not only the
