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Mary and Ann, transport, Plymouth,
2nd March, 1791.
Our departure from Newgate was so Sudden it was utterly impossible to leave you even a single word. We had not the least notice of it till four o'clock in the morning; and before we could well get the better of the shock three hundred and nineteen of us were conveyed to the river-side. Dreadful reflection! The unfortunate wretches were all of them loaded with irons and chained together except me, who was permitted to walk unfettered between the Sheriff and Mr. Akerman, whose humanity to me will long be remembered.
You may be sure I have often pictured to myself the state of your mind upon finding me dragged away without our seeing one another at parting! But such are laws of our country! It has, however, given me infinitely more pain and misery than the punishment itself. [56] The many years' endearment, the fond affections of a father, and all the flattering hopes of a reclaimed life, in case I had been fortunate enough to have excaped on my hate trial, crowded before me, and made me anxious, indeed, to have remained with you and my dear child, and to have continued an useful member of society - at least, to have bid a short adieu to you and the public. With respect to the prospect before me, sad and distressing as it may appear, all may ultimately be for our good. With the best of hearts and best of dispositions there is, God knows, an overbearing fate that counteracts our best designs, and makes us act (that is pickpockets) in spite of ourselves. But no more of that. It is now too late for me to reason.
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