The plan pursued by the governor with Robinson was to keep him low so that he failed at the crank, and then torture him in the jacket.  “He will break out before long,” said Hawes to himself, “and then—­”

Robinson saw the game, and a deep hatred of his enemy fought on the side of his prudence.  This bitter struggle in the thief’s heart harmed his soul more than all the years of burglary and petty larceny.  All the vices of the old gaol system were nothing compared with the diabolical effect of solitude on a heart smarting with daily wrongs.  He made a desperate appeal to the chaplain:  “We have no friends here, sir, but you—­not one.  Have pity on us.”

But Mr. Jones, the chaplain, was a weak man—­unequal to the task of standing between the prisoners and their torturers, the justices and governor, and he held out no hope to No. 19.

Robinson now became a far worse man.  He hated the human race, and said to himself, “From this hour I speak no more to any of these beasts!”

It was then that Mr. Jones, unequal to his task, resigned his office, and a new chaplain, the Rev. Francis Eden, took his place.

Mr. Eden, having ascertained the effects of both the black-hole and the punishment jacket, at once began a strenuous battle for the prisoners, and in the end triumphed handsomely.  Hawes, in the face of an official inquiry by the Home Office, threw up the governorship, and a more humane regime was instituted in the gaol.

For a time Robinson resisted all the advances of the new chaplain, but when Mr. Eden came to him in the black-hole, and cheered him through the darkness and solitude by talking to him, not only was Robinson’s sanity preserved,—­the man’s heart was touched, and from that hour he was sworn to honesty.

Then came the time for Robinson to be transported to Australia, with the promise of an early ticket-of-leave.  Mr. Eden, anxious for the man’s future, thought of George Fielding.  Taking Sunday duty in the parish where Merton and his neighbours lived, Mr. Eden had become acquainted with Susan, and had learnt her story.  He now wrote to her:  “Thomas Robinson goes to Australia next week; he will get a ticket-of-leave almost immediately.  I have thought of George Fielding, and am sure that poor Robinson with such a companion would be as honest as the day, and a useful friend, for he is full of resources.  So I want you to do a Christian act, and write a note to Mr. Fielding, and let this poor fellow take it to him.”

Susan’s letter came by return of post.  Robinson sailed in the convict ship for Australia, and in due time was released.  He found George Fielding at Bathurst recovering from fever, and the letter from Susan, and his own readiness to help, soon revived the old good feeling between the two men.

III.—­Between Australia and Berkshire