His conduct was exemplary, and his
disposition most humane; his treatment of runaway convicts was
conciliatory, and even kind. He would go into the forests, among
the natives, to allow these poor creatures, the runaways, an
opportunity of returning to their former condition; and, half dead
with cold and hunger, they would come and drop on their knees
before him, imploring pardon for their behaviour.
"'Well,' he would say to them, 'now that you have lived in the
bush, do you think the change you made was for the better? Are you
sorry for what you have done?'
"'Yes, sir.'
"'And will you promise me never to go away again?'
"'Never, sir.'
"'Go to the storekeeper, then,' the benevolent Collins would say,
'and get a suit of slops and your week's rations, and then go to
the overseer and attend to your work. I give you my pardon, but
remember that I expect you will keep your promise to me.'
"I never heard of any governor or commandant acting in this
manner, nor did I ever witness such leniency from any governor."
Of the marines it has already been said they behaved fairly well. Some of
them were punished--six, as a matter of fact, were hanged for thieving
from the public stores, a crime then of the greatest magnitude--but the
crimes committed were by individuals, and offences were very severely
punished in those days, even in England.
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