An Account of the Court Martial, Sentence, and Execution of Richard Parker for Mutiny
Held on board His Majesty’s ship the NEPTUNE, lying in the river Thames, off Greenhithe.
The Court was formed on Thursday, June 22, 1797, and the prisoner was charged with making, and having endeavoured to make, a mutiny among the seamen of His Majesty’s ships at the Nore; with having caused assemblies of these seamen to meet frequently, and with having behaved himself contemptuously toward and disobeyed his officers.
Captain Moss, of the Sandwich, was the prosecutor, and after the whole of the evidence had been gone through, the prisoner was ordered to withdraw, and the court was cleared for the purpose of leaving the members to deliberate on the sentence.
In two hours and a half the Court was re-opened, and the prisoner being called in, the sentence of the Court was read by the Judge Advocate to the following purport:—“That Richard Parker do suffer death, and to be hanged by the neck on board of one of His Majesty’s ships, and at such time as the Lords of the Admiralty may think proper.”
On Friday, June 30, at eight o’clock in the morning, a gun was fired from on board His Majesty’s ship L’Espion, lying off Sheerness garrison, Vice-Admiral Lutwidge’s flag ship, and the yellow flag, the signal of capital punishment, was hoisted, which was immediately repeated by the Sandwich hoisting the same colour on her fore-top. At half-past eight Parker was told the chaplain was ready to attend him. He now requested a minute to collect himself, and knelt down in prayer, then, rising up, said, “I am ready,” and holding his head up, said to the boatswain’s mate, “take off my handkerchief,” which being done, the Provost-Marshal placed the halter over his head (which had been prepared with grease), but doing it awkwardly, the prisoner said rather pettishly to the boatswain’s mate, “Do you do it, for he seems to know nothing about it!” The halter was then spliced to the reeved rope; all this being adjusted, the Marshal attempted to put a cap on, which he refused; but on being told it was indispensible, he submitted, requesting it might not be pulled over his eyes till he desired it. He then turned round for the first time, and gave a steady look at his shipmates on the forecastle, and, with an affectionate kind of a smile, nodded his head, and said, “Good-bye to you!” He now said, “Captain Moss, is the gun primed?” “It is.” “Is the match alight” “All is ready.” He now ascended the platform, repeated the same questions about the gun, then the cap being drawn over his face, walking by firm degrees up to the extremity of the scaffold, he dropped the handkerchief, put his hands in his coat pocket with great rapidity, and at the moment as he was springing off, the fatal bow-gun fired, and the reeve rope catching him, run him up, though not with great velocity, to the yard arm. When suspended about midway, his body appeared extremely convulsed for a few seconds, immediately after which no appearance of life remained. He suffered exactly at half-past nine, and was lowered down, after hanging at the yard-arm a full hour, when the yellow flag was struck, and his body instantly put into a shell that had been prepared for it, with all his clothes on; and soon after it was taken in one of the Sandwich’s boats and rowed to the east point of the garrison, and there being landed was carried to the new naval burying ground, out of the Red Barrier Gate, leading to Minster; the coffin lid was here taken off to the spectators for a few minutes; his countenance appeared not much altered, but his eyes were wide open. He was interred exactly at noon. His body was afterward secretly taken up, and conveyed to London, and decently interred in Whitechapel church yard.
THE DEATH OF PARKER.
Ye Gods above protect the widow,
And with pity look on me,
Help me, help me out of trouble,
And out of all calamity.
For by the death of my brave Parker,
Fortune has proved to me unkind,
Tho’ doom’d by law he was to suffer
I can’t erase him from my mind.
Parker he was my joyful husband,
My bosom friend I love so dear;
At the awful moment he was going to suffer
I was not allowed to come near.
In vain I strove, in vain I ask’d
Three times o’er and o’er again,
But they replied you must be denied,
You must return on shore again.
First time I ’tempted my love to see
I was obliged to go away,
Oppres’t with grief and broken hearted
To think that they should me stay.
I thought I saw the yellow flag flying,
A signal for those who was to die;
A gun was fired as they required,
As the time it did draw nigh.
The boatswain did his best endeavour
To get me on shore without delay,
When I stood trembling and confounded,
Ready to take his body away.
Though his trembling hand did wave
As a signal of farewell,
The grief I suffered at this moment
No heart can paint, no tongue can tell.
My fleeting spirit I thought would follow
The soul of him I lov’d most dear,
No friend or neighbour would come nigh me,
For to ease me of grief or care.
Every moment I thought an hour
Till the law its course had run;
I wished to finish the doleful task
His imprudence first began.
In the dead of the night ’tis silent,
And all the world are fast asleep;
My trembling heart that knows no comfort
O’er his grave does often weep.
Each lingering minute that passes
Brings me nearer to his grave,
Where we shall shine in endless glory,
Never to be parted more.
Farewell Parker, thou bright genius,
That was once my only pride;
Tho’ parted now it won’t be long
E’er I’m buried by thy side.
All you that see my tender ditty,
Don’t laugh at me in disdain,
But look down with eyes of pity,
For it is my only claim.
Pitts, Printer, Toy and Marble Warehouse, 9, Great St. Andrew Street, Seven Dials.
Trial and Execution of Mary Nott, for the dreadful Murder of a French emigrant; and the Trial and Execution of Richard Ludman and Eleanor Hughes, for the Murder of George Hebner in a Brothel.
Mary Nott was tried at the Old Bailey, for the wilful murder of the Count de Greffiere de Laval, a French emigrant. It appeared in evidence, that she had the care of a house, which was let out in lodgings, in Monmouth court, Whitcomb street, the front room on the first floor of which was occupied by the count. The lodger in the room adjoining, not hearing the count as usual, had, for several mornings, enquired after him; when the prisoner said she supposed he was gone into the country with a French man and woman who used to call on him, but had not been there since his absence, for she had not seen him; that the key was not in his door, and, upon looking through the keyhole, she observed the room was just as she left it.—To another witness, who had called to see the count, she said that he had gone out very early that morning, and that she did not expect him home until it was late. Some doubts, however, arising from his absence, a ladder was procured, perfectly with the consent of the prisoner, to look into the room of the deceased; and upon the person’s calling out that there was a man upon the bed, she cried out, that she would not have remained there last night if she had known there was a man dead in the house; and upon which she, in fact, alarmed the neighbourhood. A smith was sent for, and the door forced open: the deceased was found lying on the bed with all his clothes on but his coat; he was wrapped up in the bedclothes, and pillows covered his head: there was a great deal of blood in the room, a wound was observed in the neck, and the body was nearly in a state of putrefaction. A woman, who lived in an opposite house, and who had observed the prisoner shut one of the windows, which prevented her seeing into the prisoner’s room, on the day the murder was supposed to have been committed, went up with her at the time the door was opened, and observing his right hand pocket was turned out, said, “He has been robbed;” to which the prisoner instantly replied, “He did it himself;” upon this witness made a similar remark that he must have been murdered, she again said, “He did it himself;” and upon her noticing a wash-hand basin with some water in it tinged with blood, as if some person had wrinsed their hands therein, the prisoner said, “It is not strange, not strange at all; what do you come here to raise suspicion for?” Another neighbour had heard a scream about two o’clock on that day, but could not say whence it came. The deceased was seen coming toward home between twelve and one o’clock, and as the lodger in the next room went home as early as five, the supposition was that the murder had been committed in that time. The surgeon who examined the body swore positively there was no wound in the side of the deceased, but that the raised skin, supposed to be such, was from the putrefaction; nor would he undertake to say what was the cause of his death, although a considerable quantity of blood might have issued from the wound in his neck.—Beside this testimony, which included all that related to the prisoner, it appeared that the deceased’s portmanteau had been cut; that there was a knife upon the table, which was by no means bloody; that in his left-hand pocket he had a knife and a key, the latter of which opened a drawer, wherein were several pieces of French coin and three guineas; that the deceased had been possessed of a very considerable property in France, and upon emigrating to this country, an agent in the city had allowed him twenty pounds per month: but affairs taking such a turn there, that pittance had been stopped, and he was so reduced, that a friend had forced upon him the loan of four guineas; he having no other clothes than those on his back. The prisoner denied the charge generally, and called three persons to her character, one of whom said she was of so humane a disposition, that if a worm lay in her way, she would turn aside rather than do it an injury. The jury returned a verdict of guilty. She is aged 63.—Richard Ludman, Ann Rhodes, Eleanor Hughes, and Mary Baker, were likewise indicted for the murder of George Hebner. This murder was committed in King street, East Smithfield, in one of those obscure receptacles of debauchery with which this metropolis abounds. The body of the deceased was found on the morning of Sunday, the 22nd of May, suspended by the neck from a bed-post, in a room on the second floor, with his hands tied behind his back. It was proved that the four prisoners were in the house (which belonged to Eleanor Hughes) on the evening of Saturday, the 21st, and next morning. They were seen, and some of their conversations heard, by two women who lived in an adjoining house; this house was separated from that in which the deceased was found by only a lath partition, perforated in several places, and the holes and crevices affording a distinct view of almost all the apartments of the latter.—The manner in which the hands of the deceased were bound with a piece of tape was described in the court. The knot that had been used was what seamen call a timber hitch, and it was obviously such could not have been done by himself. There was no direct and positive proof of the guilt of the prisoners; but there was a chain of most suspicious circumstances pointing strongly against Ludman and Hughes. The lord chief baron summed up the evidence with great precision, candour, and humanity. It was on the expressions used by the prisoners that the proof chiefly rested, and his lordship nicely discriminated between those which seemed to arise from surprise, on the discovery of the situation of the deceased, and those which could be supposed to proceed only from a knowledge of the murder. The jury returned a verdict, finding Richard Ludman and Eleanor Hughes guilty. Ann Rhodes and Mary Baker not guilty.—Eleanor Hughes pleaded pregnancy, to stay the execution of her sentence. On which a jury of matrons was collected and sworn, to examine her, and report their opinion to the court. They retired with the prisoner about half-an-hour, and at their return declared her to be “with child, but not quick with child.”
The Execution
Yesterday, Mary Nott, convicted of the murder of Le Comte de Laval, an emigrant nobleman; and also Richard Ludman and Eleanor Hughes, convicted of the murder of George Hebner, were executed on a temporary platform in the Old Bailey, before the gaol of Newgate, pursuant to their sentence; after which the bodies were delivered at Surgeons’-hall for dissection.
John Clarke, Printer, Swan Street, Minories, London.