Roman's Study of Butler

Bruce Herald, Volume XXVIII, Issue 2849, 30 April 1897, Page 3

Roman's Study of Butler

kdy reporter on the staff of the pranci-co Chronicle ' interviewed 1r in 8 a0 * B^ ort^y ft' ter his arrest 'ajQ Francisco. We giro some tt from her story :— -, jg is a man who ha 3 pag;ed a ■rime knocking about the world. j a combination of miner and c D o worse than the lowest of the type ß - Underneath the grime '° fagtaents of education show, and f )j be looks equal to the deeds the Iftives are triumphantly plastering Ljto lam not sure but that if he 6 well dressed, combed, and washed be as presentable as plenty of oD the docks, the street even in, ? counting -house, none of whom -it murder because their eyea »re f o f drawing or their noses irregular. it be were well dressed no doubt ,i 4 n be crying " Impossible !" But, as he is, he iita his reputation. Th»d waited a bid quarter of an J r the House of Smells while the boarder of the prison bowed out uunieious c-tllers. Yon would ipO ge | to se« the crowd, that feedingji n a menagerie had arrived. jand Butler's cage the curious mass K craning their necks, joatling, Bering on tiptoe, climbing up by Bhouldets of others. Even the B ners hereabout fight for place to the man of the hour. | v first glimpse of him is when, ,ed by Captain Robinson, he crosses coo], damp, stone-flagged corridor ha brisk, springy atep, the artist T following his nimble lead to the on kitchen. He claims to have ia cavalryman, and he w-tlks like ildier, looking neither to the right to the left — a purposeful m*n, and not easily swerved from his intean the prison kitchen I am prov and formally presented. The r viewee offers his hand, and, it I never heard of his nationality, I ild know from that, terrific grip he was English. Later the Ausim detectives cau-e me the same Qisb in triplicate. Never say that hearty handclasp speaks the honest i, It's purely a quention ot which I cradled you. fcsit ac opposite sides of a long table, scrubbed with scrupulous nlineSß. For seats there are white benches, like the forms of * backds school. Butler slides sinuously hia place, crossing his slippered unatockinged feet beneath the », I sit opposite him, separated by feet from this man with the bloody couple of white-aproned cooks & agape, and keep up a quite rflttouß brushing of invisible ibs within easy earshot. At the Captain Robinson paces sentineland we are alone for our threeBred tete atete. r some reason the prisoner dislikes newer his head. Even in the ■aing kitchen, redolent of soupy A, and uncomfortably warm, he Ato his ugly little hat. It is of Aiape they call a dicer — a low, flat Ay, rusty with age, with a crown ilely three inches high, and a low, ■rim—most unbecoming to Butler's lAet eyebiowa and broad nose. lAce I asked him to take off his hat, ■he tout ensemble of his face was ■ improved. I fail to nee the youth ■he reporters have noted so blithely Ac man's face. He baa a head Amos somewhat to a point, shaped |A cocoanut, but well covered by a Al thatch of h*ir, combed but not "A. The hair ia a bit tim^-worn jAizzled, as is hiu moustache, which carefully waxed and twisted, A greying just enough to look jjAd and faded. Its quality is ■ and tough, and refinement never J under a shock like that. The Ad is reasonably high, marred **Aitally by two deep creases, the [jAkin ruing in foldß between. The iAe so deep that they are as if laid jjA charcoal, and as the man talks Aavy forehead wrinkles up and Aand moves the chipper little hat. jnose iH bioad and red, swollen ifcAough weather. It is a hairy Adding well out from the piam&"B£ace — a nofifi of determination. -Abrowß are grizzled and heavy, jjwhind them grey gimlet eyes, »lAi a ferret'p, piny at hide and the world. The pupils »re pßUnd the iri« so pale that you jjjB r ce!y tell when the owner is i«at ynu. He does glance at you JW, catching you off guard and jß^g you with that sharp gaze. oiHyoQ are looking his eyes are inSre hut on youra, restless, nhifty, '^K. 00^ 1 "^ aDove » below, beyond, ' B so^ you — but never submitting ■"'I, alert pupils to scrutiny. *■ y eß f as cinate you. They yPjßfoe little eyes of snakes fixing UJB^acea. It was not imagina o bV at the rootx of my hair a iow^th seemed to stir and chill. tij» thnne unpleasant little eyes c^ cr ° H 'B feet which laughter and gyj 76 behind them. It is a face ( eiSr P acidly smile with dreams o.W^'on. But the smiles are ' ' an^ Bolnewnere on the fiß Qt ' er dropped the mirthtoB 6 Q(^ 8 v impossible to muster hiJ erI >«P8 he never had it. If >r i 9VW au B ne d aloud it would JjjW 1 of ridicule, hatred, and *tBA 8 it is, the noise babbles "2 ■ m k' 8 tnroat » and tne kiW^ioeß irake his face a guidead WP^* nev er came from a life tfW D B' They are in the wrong ptfß^oe book of his face, wide £jM** y° u . reads wrong from mouth I speak with re

luctance. Like many a better man Butler uses a moastaohe to cover a multitude of sins. His hairy ornament is like a shoebrush, stiff, coarse, unmanageable, encouraged to hide the upper lip entirely. The upper lip is heavy and hanging ; but the chin redeems it with a glimmering dimple, cleft in the bony structure. There are long deep lines athwart the mouth ; ears of the type that old wiveß call generous, and a jaw strongly defined ; a face conscienceless and cruel with matter always ruling over mind. But between conversational fragments I could catch no glimpse of the lust of killing. I cannot imagine those email, greedy eyes gloating over the ivory of a dead face for pure love of the deed. But I can see those bands methodically rifling the pockets of a corpse or unlocking the stiffening fingeru of a dead band. With Butler murder is a traffic, a trade — killing a profession. It is the greed of gold tbat bas been the undoing of him. He is abnormal, not insane. Under tbat small, peaked skull no conscience keeps the balance of power. It is not even murder as a fine art that he has engaged in, but killing for what there wa6 in it —£5 perhaps, or a speculation. Heie are no fine-spun nerves to Henri haunting dreams. No faint cries at uight, no echo of a sudden pistol shot in lonely Australian mountains come to discurb (.he fine physical poise of this brain. Thia man i 3 no high-srung murderer of tLe play. He fears neither God nor man, not the haher nor the hereafter. Mammon is his god, and in bis way towards wealth he cut and slashed whatever barred the path. O'Ce only did he appeal for nymjjiithy or belief. "Do I look like a man with a bad record ?" ho Baid, smilingly. I was glad that he followed it quickly with another question. H« appreciates the comedies of his capture an keenly as the next man, for he has the saving grace of humor. He i^ keeu enough to be circumspec . in criticising the men who are to be his enforced travelling companions j bu: hf twinkles his small evH* when he remembers how Detective M'Hittie, the Australian amateur, snatched off his false whiskers and pounced at the manacled prisoner like a Newfoundland dog, and how the t>ame detective praDced up and down the deck, thank, ing God fervently for fifteen minu'es' running, when he should have thanked Captaiu Fraser. Or how Conroy had pistols even in his boots and vest pockets, while Sergeant Bunner snapped his pistol eight timeß at the tip of the sailor's nose. The prisoner is not as clever as he is credited, or he would not have sailed into a trap with all the damaging evidence upon him. But he is cooler and keener than his captors, for all that. When the prisoner is excited, which is seldom, he relapses into the broadest of English. " One fellar shoved a gun in me face and told me to put me 'ands hup," he said; "and two other fellars kept 'old of me 'ands and wouldn't let me put 'em hup. Tsey won't let me 'aye me clo's lest I won't j look as worse as I can. And they say aB how I was religious on the ship. | They're religious in the colonies, but that's all hypocrisy. Why, it, I never thought of such a thing." At heart, the man has all the vanity and egotism of the clhbb tbat kills He shows it in his speech and in his anxiety for his clothes; and he looks proudly at his slim, trim hands, where he is e'ching out tb« tattoo marks with milk, and which look as though thpy bad done very little grubbing in the earth or furling of sails. His pa?t does not rise to trouble bim ; he sees the future cloudless, and the present — well, he iB very comfortable He finds gaol life luxurious after the Swanhilda. " I had no hidea I'd so many friends in 'Frisco," he remarked. " I'm doing a very big trade in autographs and cigars. I'm very fond of smoking. Does this smoke annoy you?" He tries to handle his ci^ar like a gentleman, as though he knew the etiquette of tobacco, with crooked and quirked finger, like a girl mincing with be 1 teacup. The only sign thao underneath all is not calm as on the surface is in the constant, quick puffing of those long, black cigars. When Hutogi aph-aearchers come to him he askß them what name they will have. " You see, I've fo many aliases,'' he says. " Most of them your papers have given me, but I'll write any name yon want." He's fond of autographing, and, left to himself, writes the name of the victim who proved bis nemesis. "Lee Weller," " Lee Weller," he writes over and over, in a big, black, flowing character, the letters bent the wrong way, like his nature, and the chirography unmistakably English. One would think the name would conjure unpleasant images of a bent figure huddled in a tunnel in the far Australian bush, but these grey eyes never see ghoßts. He is not cursed with second sight. " They say I've lost flesh," he said. " Well, it's not remorse. I lost about five pounds during the voyage, from want of proper sleep. We'ad such a beaßtly rough trip that it's put the ' kibosh ' on my ever going to sea again. Why, last night you couldn't have woke me with a band of music." Later he talked of Lee Weller. " Wouldn't a man be a fool to take that much money into the bush? I tell you (passionately) Weller had no money. Why, I wouldn't shoot a man for five shillings." But how about five pounds, Mr Butler? I

Then be had a laugh at ■ men and methods here. "Why, I'm great; I'm famouß," he said. "Thin morning a newspaper offered me 500 dollars or even 1000 dollars if I'd make a statement. But I dont want money." "Be sure to say I'm not afraid of getting hoff," he flung at me from his cage.