South Eastern Gazette, Tuesday 1 June 1841.

The Woolwich Convicts. Four more deaths.

On Thursday evening an inquest was held at the "Salvation Tavern," Arsenal Gates," Woolwich, before Mr. C. J. Carttar, and a respectable jury, on the bodies of the following convicts, viz. William Brown, aged 32, convicted at Peterborough, and sentenced to 7 years' transportation; John Braddock, age 31, convicted at Knutsford, Cheshire, and sentenced to 7 years' transportation; Nathaniel Welton, age 42, convicted at Ipswich, and sentenced to 7 years' transportation; and Beujah Blaun, aged 35, convicted at Stafford, and sentenced to 7 years' transportation.

Doctors Hope and Bossey stated that every attention have been paid to deceased while under their care. Brown was ill 6 months and died on the 18th inst, of pulmonary consumption. Braddock have been ill a fortnight, and died of influenza on the 18th. Welton ill 3 weeks, and died of diabetes, 19th inst.; and Brown, ill 8 days, and died of erysipelas and inflammation, on the 19th inst. The jury Returned verdicts in accordance with the medical testimony.

Kentish Gazette, Tuesday 10 June 1856.

The convicts at Woolwich.

The subjoined extracts are from Mayhews "Great world of London" - a work which we are glad to find is very popular. It certainly contains details of great interest.

The turning out of the convicts.

On reaching the top deck we found it divided, by strong iron rails (very like those in the zoological gardens, which protect visitors from the fury of the wild beasts) from one end to the other, into two long cages as it were, with a passage between them. In this passage a warder was pacing to and fro, commanding a few of the men, who was slung up in hammocks, fastened in two rows, in each cage or compartment of the ship. There was also a little traverse passage at the end of each ward, that allowed the officers on duty to take a side view of the sleepers, and to cast the light of his bull's-eye under the hammocks, to assure himself that the men were quite in their beds.

The deep-toned bell against the forecastle now sounded three bells. The men had been expecting the unwelcome sound; for, a few minutes before, as we traverse the lower deck to examine the air passages and ventilators, we saw heads popping up here and there from the dingy hammocks to have a peep at us as we pass. The usual hour for rising was evidently at hand. The effect of the bell, however, was astonishing. In a minute scores and scores of men tumbled out of their beds, and were wriggling and stretching themselves in their blue shirts. "All up! Turn out, men!" cries the officer; and the convicts are in their trousers in an inconceivably short time.

Presently the gates are opened, and the men turned out one after another, carrying their bolster like beds on their shoulders. Long lines of men with their hammocks upon their shoulders, wind along the decks. The sides of the black hammock houses are open, discovering lettered compartments, as A1, A2, B1, &c; and the warders on duty go into the houses, and see the hammocks stowed, and the prisoners deliver them, under their proper letters, verying the work by directions, "Show that a bit further there. Now then, stow away there, my lads - stoy away! Do you belong here? How come you so late? Any more C1? Is that the last of C1? Now then, come on, lads! Move up!"

The prisoners continue to pour out as we descend again between the decks, and finds that many have got the tables shipped against the bars, and the benches arranged beside them. Now some of the men are washing in buckets, placed ready overnight; and others arranging their hair by the reflection of the window pane; and others, again, scrubbing the tables ready for breakfast. Everything and everybody seemed to be undergoing a cleansing process more or less searching.

We next proceeded once more to the deck below, following our guide. The scene was a busy one. Some of the prisoners were still combing their hair; others were washing the deck boards, which were shining under the plentiful supply of water; others, again, were covering the white deal tables (which are scrubbed also every morning) with painted-canvas table-cloths; then there were groups of men, down on one knee, brushing their boots, all the messmen were busy at the preparations for breakfast. The tables, ranged in a row along the wards, accommodate eight prisoners each. Each man takes his turn as messmen, while the service of the ward is divided.
All the breakfast things are in block tin, and they glisten as though they had never been used. Some of the men have polished theirs over night, and tied them up in handkerchiefs, to give themselves a little extra time in the morning. "Where's your plates? Where's your plates?" cry the messman. For water, one prisoner at a time is left out of each ward, and as soon as he Returns another is allowed to go on deck.

The various processes, collectively called getting up, may now be said to be complete, and the prisoners are all fairly padlocked in their wards, under the eye of a single wader. After 6 o'clock in the morning, however, there are two officers upon the lower deck till nine o'clock in the evening, when the men turn in. The costume of the prisoners, as we now see them completely dressed, is the same as that warn at Pentonville, viz., rusty brown, with red stripes up on it.

The first business of the morning being over, the men break into groups or read. Many a one, to our astonishment, took his Bible, and began reading it with no little earnestness. Here and altercation ensued between two prisoners about tins, which one of them was still cleaning. This was proper suppressed by cry of "Halloa! What are you about there, losing your tempers?"

Muster and breakfast, diet &c.

We went down once more between decks. The muster of the prisoners have just commenced. Two officers were occupied in the wards. The prisoners were ranged behind the tables - "Silence! Keep silence there!" shouted an office; and then, when one officer called the names of the prisoners the other marked down the absentees upon a slate. As each name was called, the men owning it responded, "Yessir," accompanying his reply with a military salute. The replies of "Yessir," in every variety of voice, rang along the wards. "Now, then, A ward!" was shouted down the hatchway. "This is A, sir," said our attendant, "coming up for breakfast." Instantly four of the convicts, following one another. "That's for A ward." "B ward!" was next shouted down. "Now, then, B ward here!" And in this way the messmen of the various wards were summoned from the decks, to fetch their breakfast of their comrades, the messmen of each appearing at different hatchways; for it may be here observe that there is a separate hatchway for each floor of the vessel. The messmen were now moving along in file towards a ship's galley, and presently they re-appeared, each man carrying a large beer can full of cocoa, the bread being taken down in baskets, and serve date by the officers at the ward-doors.

Nine bells (seven o'clock) sounded, as we went once more below, and found that the men had just finished cleaning their tin mugs, and were gathering up the bits of chalk into bags, and arranging these same mugs on top of the inverted plates, round their tables ready for dinner. Some, too, were washing the tables again, to get before hand with their work; while others were covering their bright tin plates and mugs with the course tablecloths, to keep dirt from them; and others, the again, were reading their Bibles, or lounging lazily about.

Seven o'clock is the hour for the officers' parade upon the quarterdeck; the object being to see that they are all sober and fit for duty. The parade over, the guard appears on deck. It consists of four men, armed with carbines and with their cartouche boxes slung behind them by broad black belt. This guard stands near the gangway; the men having their carbines loaded, and held ready to fire, while the prisoners pass to the boats.

Declaration of prisoners for work.

Scarcely has one boat landed its felon crew, before another is filled, and making for the arsenal pier and the shore. Nor is it less picturesque to see the prisoners clamber up the parade ground; fall in line there with military precision; separate according to the chief officers' directions into working parties (each working party be in charge of a warden); and move off to the scene of their day's labour, in long brown strings. A third or surplus small cutter puts off with a few remaining prisoners, and more guards. These guards, we observe, wear cutlasses; such cutlasses being carried as a special protection, for the officers wearing them have charge of working parties employed beyond the bounds of the arsenal; as, for instance, upon mortar battery in the marshes. The men are now off to work. Those prisoners who remain in the ship are in the deck cabins, plying their handicraft for the use of the hulk.

Escapes.

It is exceedingly difficult to prevent prevent attempts at escape, especially while there are so many free men in the arsenal. Last year there were no less than 14,000 free labourers employed there, and these men taken on without reference to character. The convicts, we are told, were generally assisted by the free labourers, who deposited clothes for them in some convenient spot. The convicts slipped for a moment from his gang, put the clothes on, and passed out of the arsenal gates with the crowds of free men. Or else he made a dash for it, bolted past sentinels, swam the canal, reached the marshes, and made off to the wood at hand. These attempts sometimes defied the utmost vigilance of the officers. It was the duty of a guard, from whose gang a man escaped, to hasten on board with the rest of his men (unless he can find an officer to undertake his duty while he runs after the lost man), and report the escape. We then signal to the police authorities by telegraph, to Bow Street, Erith, Guildford, Ilford, Bexleyheath, and Shooters' Hills, so as to surround him with a band of vigilant policemen, and prevent his getting clear. It was impossible to guard entirely against these attempts under this mixed system. They could not prevent the men from talking by night. But how much worse was it under the old system, when some 600 or 700 prisoners were crammed into one hulk, and with only one officer all night to watch them.