The Confessions of a Poacher

There is another incident which I have good cause to remember all my life. It is of a somewhat different nature to the foregoing, and occurred on the estuary of the river which I used frequently to net with good results. Someone who was certainly not very friendly disposed had seen me and my companion start for our fishing ground, and had made the most of their knowledge. After getting to the near vicinity of our work, we lay down beneath a hay-rick to wait for a degree of darkness. Then we crawled on hands and knees by the side of a fence until it brought us to a familiar pool which we knew to be well stocked with salmon and trout. As we surveyed the water we heard voices, and knew that the pool was watched. These sounds seemed to come from the lower limbs of a big tree, and soon one of the watchers hidden in the branches stupidly struck a match to light his pipe. This not only frescoed two forms against the night, but lit up their faces with a red glow. The discovery was a stroke of luck. We knew where we had the water bailiffs, and the rest was easy. We got quietly away from the spot, and soon were at work in a pool further up stream. No one but a gaunt heron objected to our fishing, and we made a splendid haul. The salmon and sea-trout had begun to run, and swarmed everywhere along the reaches. We hid our net in the "otter" holes, and, under heavy loads, made for home across the meadows. We were well aware that the local police changed duty at six in the morning, and timed our entry into town precisely at that hour. But our absence of the previous night had gone further abroad, and the local Angling Association, the Conservancy Board, and the police had each interested themselves in our doings. It was quite unsafe to hide the spoil, as was usual, and home it must be carried. I was now alone. In the open I felt comparatively safe, but as I neared my destination I knew not whom I should meet round the next turn. Presently, however, it seemed as though I was in luck. Every wall, every hedgerow, every mound aided my going. Now a dash across an open field would land me almost at my own door. Then I should be safe. I had hardly had time to congratulate myself on my getting in unobserved when a constable, then a second, and a third were all tearing down upon me from watch points, where they had been in hiding. The odds were against me, but I grasped my load desperately, drew it tightly upon my shoulders, and ran. The police had thrown down their capes, and were rapidly gaining upon me. I got into a long slouching trot, however, determined to make a desperate effort to get in, where I should have been safe. This they knew. Strong and fleet as I was I was too heavily handicapped, but I felt that even though I fell exhausted on the other side of the door-way, I would gain it. My pursuers—all heavy men—were blown, and in trouble, and I knew there was now no obstacle before me. Now it was only a distance of twenty yards—now a dozen. The great thuds of the men's feet were close upon me, and they breathed like beaten horses. My legs trembled beneath me, and I was blinded by perspiration. "Seize him," "seize him," gasped the sergeant—but I was only a yard from the door. With a desperate feeling that I had won, I grasped the handle and threw my whole weight and that of my load against the door, only to find it—locked. I fell back on to the stones, and the stern chase was ended.

For a minute nobody spoke—nobody was able to. I lay where I fell, and the men leaned against what was nearest them. Then the sergeant condescended to say "poor beggar"—and we all moved off. The fish were turned out on the grass in the police station yard, and were a sight to see. There were ninety trout, thirty-seven salmon-morts, and two salmon. I was not detained. One of the men handed me a mort, telling me I would be ready for a substantial breakfast. I knew what it all meant, and first thought of bolting, then settled that I would do as I had always done—face it out. But I little knew what this meant, as will presently be seen. I knew sufficient of the law to forsee that I should be charged with trespassing; with night poaching; with being in illegal possession of fish; with illegally killing and taking salmon; perhaps other counts besides. But what I did not know was that I should be charged, in addition, with being in illegal possession of one hundred and twenty-nine salmon and trout during the close season.

And this is how it came about. There had been an agitation throughout the whole of the Conservancy district. It was contended that the fishing season extended too far into Autumn by a fortnight—that by that time the fish had begun to spawn. The old condition of things had held for years, and the new Conservancy bye-laws had only just come into operation. And so I was trapped. The case came on, and a great shoal of magistrates with it. Two of them were personally interested, and were charitable enough to retire from the Bench—they pushed their chairs back about an inch from the table. I pleaded guilty to all the charges except the last, and explained the case as clearly as I could. The Conservancy solicitor, who prosecuted, did then what he had never done before. It was a bad case he said, but added that I had never before been charged with netting during "close-time," and had never used lime or other wholesale methods of poisoning. He pointed out, too, to the presiding Justice that I always claimed to "poach square"—at which all the young ones laughed. He did not press for the heaviest penalty. But this was quite unnecessary, as I got it without. I never quite understood how they made it up, but I was fined ninety-seven pounds. I told the Chairman that I should pay it "in kind," and went to "hard" for nine months.