Thus, as the committee described, the criminal sentenced to transportation for crimes to which the law affixed the penalty of death, passed his time, well fed, well clothed, indulging in riotous enjoyment by night, vexed with but moderate labour by day. No wonder that confinement on the hulks failed to excite a proper feeling of terror in the minds of those likely to come under its operation. The hulks were indeed not dreaded; prisoners described their life in them as a “pretty jolly life.” If any convict could but overcome the sense of shame which the degradation of his position might evoke, he would feel himself to be better off than large numbers of the working-classes, who have nothing but their daily labour to depend on for subsistence. At the dockyards, among the free men the situation of a convict was looked upon with envy; and many labourers would have been glad to change places with him, in order that they might better their situation. It was not strange, then, that the discontented denizens of the Penitentiary found even the moderate rigour of that establishment too irksome, and that they were eager to be transferred to the hulks.
Towards the end of September, 1826, came the first indications of disturbance. A prisoner having smashed his bedstead, demolished also the iron grating to his window, and thrust through it his handkerchief, tied to a stick, shouting and hallooing the while loud enough to be heard in Surrey. The same day, Hussey, another notorious offender, returning from confinement in the dark, was given a pail of water to wash his cell out, but instead, discharged the whole contents over his warder’s head. Before he could be secured he had destroyed everything in his cell, and had thrown the pieces out of the window. Next, a number of prisoners during the night took to rolling their cell-blocks and rattling their tables about. By this time the dark cells had many occupants, who spent the night in singing, dancing, and shouting to each other.
Early next morning, about 5 A.M., in this same ward from which all the rioters came, Stephen Harman broke everything he could lay hands on—the window frame and all its panes of glass, his cell table, stool, shelf, trencher, salt-box, spoon, drinking-cup, and all his cell furniture. He had first barricaded his door, and could not be secured till all the mischief was done. Later in the day from another cell came a long low whistle, followed by the crash of broken glass. The culprit here, when seized, confessed he had been persuaded by others; all were to join after dinner, the whistle being the signal to commence. The governor was now really apprehensive, anticipating something of a serious nature. He had a strong force of spare warders and patrols posted in the tower of the pentagon; but though the whistle[2] was frequently heard during the night, nothing occurred till next day, at half-past eight, when George Vigers and another followed Harman’s lead and destroyed everything in their cells. They joined their companions in the dark cells, all of whom, being outrageously violent, were now in handcuffs. In the dark they continued their misconduct; using the most shocking and revolting language to all officials who approached them; assaulting them, deluging them with dirty water, resolutely refusing to give up their beds, and breaking locks, door panels, and windows, and this although they were restrained in irons. These handcuffs having failed to produce any salutary effect, they were now removed; although several of the prisoners did not wait for that, and had riddled themselves of their bracelets. For the next few days “the Dark,” as these underground cells were styled in official language, continued to be the scene of the most unseemly uproar. When Archdeacon Potts, one of the committee, visited it he was received with hoots and yells; and this noise was kept up incessantly day and night. But at length, after nearly a fortnight of close confinement, the strength of the rioters broke down, several of them being removed to the hospital, while the others went back to their cells. But there was no lack of reinforcements: fresh offenders took up the game, and the dark cells were continually full. As soon as those first punished were sufficiently recovered, they broke out again. The cases of misconduct, generally of the same description, were varied now and then by a plot to break the water-mill by whirling round the cranks too fast, continuous noise, insolence, dancing defiantly the double shuffle, attempts to incite a whole ward, when in the corridor at school, to rise against their warders, overpower them, and take possession of their keys.