Rensselaer Union, Volume 7, Number 27, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 25 March 1875 — Terrible Punishment—Flogging In New Zealand. [ARTICLE]

Terrible Punishment—Flogging In New Zealand.

The Auckland (Xew Zealand) Herald of a late date contain? the following description of a flogging scene I obtained an order from the Governor of the jail to be presents few weeks ago while three prisoners who were underfoing sentence received punishment,' 'he doctor was there too, but beyond a few casual remarks that passed nothing was said. 1 looked around and At a glance saw the machinery—if it may be called so—which formed the sole furniture of the yard. On the right stood a small, wooden kind of shop, which, with the opposite wfill of the jail-ward, formed a narrow recess. In this stood the triangle*, round about which the groand was void of grass and green with damp. The triangles are horribly suggestive

things to look at, three leaning poles converging at the top and firmly planted ini the ground. Two of them face oat into the yard, their bases being in the same straight line. Across these and be-tween-them lies a broad board pierced with holes through which ,a strap hung loosely down. Higher up on each pole was a similar strap and another at the foot of each again. On the left stood the powerful fellow—who, I learned, was the public executioner—stripped to his shirt, which was rolled up on his arms and displayed an extraordinary mass of sinew and strength. Beside him on the ground was a box in which were ranged the instruments of punishment—the “ cat-o’-nine-tails.” There were several of different sizes—long, knotted, whitethonged things, with short handles like a stock-whip, only covered with cloth to keep them from slipping in the hand. Turning to a warder the Governor gave some order, and the next moment a man was let in through the iron gate, which closed behind him. He was a middleaged, hard-featured fellow’, with a sullen face made more repulsive by being clean shaved. “This is; his first time,” the Governor whispered to me, adding the offense for which he was convicted and sentenced to be flogged. The man looked at the executioner for a moment, and at his order commenced to strip. Divesting himself of his hat, coat and shirt he was led to the triangles and the straps passed around his w’rists, ankles and waist. It was impossible to move. He shuddered for a moment as the cold air swept along the yard. “Tw’enty-five,” cried the w’arder standing by, and the executioner took up one of the heaviest “cats” from among those in the box. Standing about six feet behind the prisoner, a little to the left, he passed his fingers through the nine tails of the whip, which, with a rapid movement, he then brought across his chest, high up above his head, with a horrible “ swish,” and down with the w hole force of his arm and weight upon the culprit’s back. There w’as a shriek of agony, and in livid blue lines like cords the flesh stood out upon the poor wretch’s shoulders. “ One!” cried, the warder, and again the cat swung high up in the air to descend a second time. "The piteous moaning which followed the first blow gave place to another shriek, intense and long. The deep blue lines turned fed, the blood oozed through a dozen different cuts, and the skin began to peel in strips along his back. “Two!” and again the terrible instrument came down. Shriek after shriek rent the air. The sight was sickening—horrible. As each blow was dealt the prisoner writhed in agony at the triangles, and when the lash fell for the last time and the straps were loosed that held him he turned away faint, weak, scarcely recognizable as human, disgraced and marked for life. His place was soon reoccupied by another, w’hose appealing, terrified looks told only too plainly w’hat he suffered. He would have resisted were it of any use. He had been there before, knew what it was, and would have almost given life to be.reprieved. Stripped and strapped to the triangles, unlike the prisoner before him he turned his head over his shoulder and watched the executioner. There were the old marks of a former flogging on his back —black spots and lines —left there six months before. He tried to be brave, and bear it ; but it was no good; the “swish” sounded once more, the horrible, knotted cords swept cuttingly across his back, and with a burst of agony he broke out in long-con-tinued shrieks. One of his legs got twisted with cramp. He tried to stay the lash for a minute —anything for time —anything for one moment of peace. But there was none; the pitiless lash descended till the sentence was carried through. Then, when it was over, he went away, muttering thanks to God, as with bent form and tottering steps they led him to the ceils. It was the last time he would enter that yard —and that w T as his sole relief. There was one more victim —a mere lad, sixteen years of age. I had heard him convicted the day before in court for an offense he could scarcely know the nature of. He was a good-looking little fellow, with a clear skin and bright blue eyes. He looked upon it all as a thrashing at schools, walked forward with a light, jaunty step, and stripped as coolly as if he were going to plunge into the river. They strapped him up, and then there came the order once again: “ Twenty-five.” The executioner took up a lighter cat, with thinner thongs than those he had used before. It whittled for a moment in the air, and then the fair, white skin of the boy was waled, and livid, and blue. There ’was a sudden jerk of the body, a quick drawing of the breath that made the chest expand and the ribs stand out more prominent. A second blow, and still no cry. He was game and would see it out. At the third the pent-up suffering burst out, and with a yell I shall never forget the lad’s head was thrown back, and he wrenched at the wrist straps till they almost cut the flesh upon his arms. Once more—another blow —again—each followed by heartrending cries. Another—- “ For God’s sake! Oh, Christ! God! Let me go!” There was a quick, choking, gasping sound. His head fell back, and all was. silent save sos a horrible surging in the throat as each blow fell upon his streaming back. They loosed the straps and led him from the yard scarcely conscious. Thank God, it was over. “So that is how they flog,” said I. “Yes; it isn’t pleasant, is it!” and we left the place.