by Sly, Nicola;
Children playing in the gardens of the nearby prison cottages had seen Salter fall and raised the alarm. A party of rescuers descended the cliffs, finding Salter still alive but terribly injured. He was brought carefully to the top and taken to the prison infirmary, where he died half an hour later.
Groom asked Wise if he had pushed Salter, but Wise made no reply, and just continued to laugh maniacally, so much so that his legs would no longer support him and he fell to the ground. By now, all the frightened Groom could think of was to get Wise back to the Boscawen. He seized Wise’s hands, pulled him upright and began to walk him towards the ship. However, on their way back they met one of the ship’s officers, Petty Officer First-Class Benjamin Stuckey, and, to his relief, Groom was able to hand Wise over into his charge, after telling the officer that he wished to report Wise because he believed that he had pushed Salter over the cliff. Wise immediately confessed to Stuckey that he had indeed done exactly that – he had deliberately pushed Salter over the cliff in order to get hanged.
Bow and Arrow Castle, Portland, 1917.
Doubting that Wise could be in his right mind, Stuckey asked the boy if there was anything the matter with him, to which Wise replied that he was subject to ‘fits of frenzy’ and that he must have killed Salter in one of those fits.
Back on board the Boscawen, Wise repeated this statement to Lieutenant Andrew Stafford Mills, saying that he had gone ashore with the sole intention of killing somebody. ‘I tried to settle one last leave and I have succeeded this time’, he cheerfully told Mills, continuing to smile and laugh all the while he was being questioned.
An inquest was opened into the death of Lawrence Salter on 17 November, at the Grove Inn, Portland, before Coroner Sir Richard Howard. Wise smiled throughout, even as the coroner’s jury recorded a verdict of wilful murder against him. At this, he was arrested and remanded in Dorchester Prison. Shortly afterwards he was brought before Mr Justice Cave at the Dorset Assizes, but the judge was not prepared to hear the case since the alleged murder had happened less than a week before and Wise had not yet been before magistrates. Describing Wise as a poor, friendless boy, Cave warned against pressing on with the case too hastily. In fairness, he said, Wise should be permitted to have witnesses for his defence and, since there were questions about his sanity, he also deserved the benefit of medical opinion.
John Wise duly appeared before magistrates at Dorchester on 11 December 1891. Mr Howard Bowen prosecuted the case and Wise was not defended. It was noted that he was in the hands of a medical expert who would give evidence at ‘the proper time’. Wise was committed for trial at the next Assizes.
By the time the trial opened on 7 March 1892, before Mr Justice Wills at Dorchester, extensive investigations had been made into both his medical history and his current state of mind. Mr M.W. McKellar and Mr Evelyn Cecil prosecuted the case and Wise had by now been appointed a defence counsel, Mr A. Cardew.
The court heard accounts of the events of the day of the murder, followed by evidence from the master-at-arms of the Boscawen, Robert Franklin.
Franklin told the court that Salter, a native of West Ealing, London, had celebrated his sixteenth birthday the day before his death. He had joined the Boscawen on 16 September 1891 and was ‘well conducted’, as indeed was Wise.
Wise was sixteen-and-a-half years old at the time of Salter’s death and had seven months service. During that time he had tried to commit suicide by swallowing oxalic acid. On 23 July 1891, he had boasted to his crewmates that, before joining the ship, he had strangled a young boy at Croydon and buried him behind the Roman Catholic school. When it was suggested that he was delusional, he had assured people that he wished he could think so, but sadly he knew it to be true. It was never established whether Wise’s story was actually true or merely a figment of his fevered imagination. What was established, however, was that Wise was a very troubled young man.
Witnesses described him as being ‘eccentric’ ever since he was a child of eight years old, and his father and several other relatives had died in lunatic asylums. Although he had now changed his account of the events surrounding the death of Salter to say that the young sailor’s death had been an accident, Wise had assured everyone prior to his trial that he had no personal grudge against his victim but had just seized the opportunity to kill him. There had been no scuffling or fighting, just one swift push. Wise had also said that he did not dislike being in the Navy but that he would just as soon be out of this world that in it.
The jury retired only briefly before returning with their verdict, finding John Wise guilty of the wilful murder of Lawrence Salter but stating that he was insane at the time of the killing. Ironically, for a boy who, by his own account, had committed murder specifically so that he might be hanged, Mr Justice Wills directed that Wise should be detained as a criminal lunatic in Dorchester Prison ‘until her Majesty’s pleasure should be known.’
9
‘THIS IS ALL THROUGH MEN GOING TO MY HOUSE WHILE I’M AWAY’
Isle of Portland, 1902
Frank Burden was one of three brothers, originally from Gutch Common, Semley. Although Frank was close to his parents and his brothers, Ernest and Walter – so close that the boys were known locally as ‘the triplets’ – he had realised early on in life that the family farm was not large enough to support all of them comfortably. Hence, as soon as he was of age, Frank had prudently moved away from the area, first working as a carter for the biscuit-makers Huntley & Palmer at Reading, then taking up horticulture. He had lived a parsimonious life, carefully saving his money for the day when he would marry.
On 15 April 1899, his dreams came true when, at thirty-one years old, he married Emily Green. It was a strange union. Twenty-year-old Emily was a tall, rather beautiful young woman, while her husband was a thickset but small, almost dwarfish man, with a spinal deformity that twisted his back making him seem even smaller. He had un-shapely features and a sallow complexion, with an abnormally large nose, beneath which grew a luxuriant, black moustache. Nevertheless, in spite of his physical ugliness, he was a mild-mannered and good-natured man and his radiant bride seemed genuinely happy to be marrying him.
Only one thing threatened to mar the joy of the wedding celebrations. As Frank’s brother Ernest came to congratulate his brother and wish him luck, he couldn’t help but notice that Frank seemed strangely downhearted. When Ernest questioned him, Frank admitted that his sadness came from knowing that his marriage would never be blessed with children. When Ernest told him that he couldn’t possibly know that, Frank assured him that he knew for a fact that he was unable to father a child. Emily had not been told, said Frank, swearing his brother to secrecy and promising that he would tell her himself when he felt that the time was right.
The Isle of Portland.
Frank had secured a gardening job with a Mr Edward Pierce on the Isle of Portland and the newlyweds moved into rented rooms in Grove Street. Frank seemed somewhat ashamed of not being able to provide a house for his new wife, but Emily soon made their rooms comfortable and homely. However, Frank was an ambitious man who wanted to give her the best he possibly could and so, before long, the couple secured half a house on Reforne. Financially, renting half a house was still beyond their means, so the couple let out a room to a lodger, Jack Roberts. Before long, Ernest and Walter left the family farm and moved to Portland to be near their brother.
Frank and Emily lived happily together in their rented house, but their relationship was the subject of much gossip and innuendo in the small, tight-knit community. Unable to comprehend why a woman as beautiful as Emily would marry a man as ugly as Frank, people began to gossip behind her back, suggesting that she was enjoying an extra-marital relationship with the lodger.
The gossip eventually reached Frank’s ears – as it was most probably intended to – and, although he didn’t say anything to Emily, he reacted by giving Jack Roberts notice to leave his home and replacing him with his brother, Ernest. However, the gossip
continued and now the alleged recipients of Emily’s sexual favours were rent collector Abe Winter and his friend John Pearce. Frank brooded silently over the rumours, unable to talk to Emily about them, but inwardly seething with jealousy.
View of Portland.
In January 1902 Emily announced to Frank that they were to have a baby. She was completely unprepared for her husband’s reaction as he immediately rounded on her and angrily asked, ‘What man have you been with?’
Stunned, Emily assured Frank that he was the only man she had slept with, telling him, ‘This is your Emily you are talking to.’
‘My Emily?’ raged Frank. ‘Ain’t you Jack Roberts’ Emily?’
The discussion turned into an argument, with Frank only now telling Emily the rumours he had heard about her supposed infidelity. When Ernest arrived home from work, Frank was still raging and his brother tried in vain to calm him down.
‘Show me evidence that you can’t father a child.’ Ernest eventually demanded, when it was obvious that his efforts to placate Frank were not succeeding.
Frank had no answer. He continued to fume, announcing his intentions of coming home at unexpected times in the future and putting a ladder to his bedroom window in order to catch his wife ‘at it’. Ernest eventually gave up trying to mediate and went to bed. Throughout the night he could hear the argument between his brother and sister-in-law continuing from their bedroom, although he was unaware that the verbal tirade had become a physical fight.
Eventually, pushed beyond her limits by her husband’s irrationality, Emily landed a punch on his nose that immediately drew blood. Frank retaliated with a prolonged assault on his wife, although even in his extreme anger he was careful to confine his blows to areas that would be covered by her clothing.
The following morning Frank went to work as normal but, as he had told his brother, he made a surprise visit home in the afternoon. He found Emily in the company of her friend and former neighbour, Alice Scard. The two women were about to go for a walk and Frank expressed his surprise, reminding Emily that earlier that day she had told him that she could scarcely move for pain.
‘Have you been unwell?’ asked a concerned Mrs Scard, at which Emily promptly hitched up her skirts to show her neighbour the extensive bruising to her legs and hips which had resulted from Frank’s savage beating.
Within days, Emily had written to her mother asking for money so that she could leave Frank. When a sovereign was sent, Emily told Mrs Scard that she was leaving.
As she packed her cases, Frank made another surprise visit home and quickly realised her intentions. Soon Mrs Scard was caught in the middle of a blazing row between the two. In trying to mediate between the couple, she suggested to Frank that he was being ridiculous and that he should simply ignore the rumours and gossip and go back to the way his marriage had been before he had first heard them.
Frank and Emily eventually agreed to try again and, on 31 January, Frank himself penned a letter to his wife’s parents to tell them that he and Emily had now sorted everything out between them. In the letter, he wrote ‘Neither of us would want to part as we had love for one another’ and promised to ‘be as good to her as I can’, telling his inlaws that ‘you can both rest your hearts contented that she shan’t want for anything’.
Emily’s mother, Caroline Green, wrote straight back. In her letter she wrote of her concerns for her daughter, telling Frank ‘God only knows what it has been to me. I do hope with all my heart that you will never say such dreadful things to her again’, continuing ‘no one on the face of this earth will ever make me believe that she has been unfaithful to you. She has always had too much love for you to do such a thing and I do hope that you will never be led away by others to think such a thing of her. I know her dear heart has been almost broken with the trouble she has, but I do trust that it will never occur again’.
Although Frank and Emily had agreed to give their marriage another chance, the rumours about Emily’s infidelity continued unabated. Frank tried his hardest not to listen but was unable to help himself. Outwardly he maintained a façade of being a loving, caring husband, but inwardly his suspicions and jealousy were slowly but surely twisting his mind.
Matters finally came to a head on 11 February 1902. Frank and Ernest sat down at the table for tea and Frank immediately flew into a rage because Emily had not cooked fish for him. In spite of Emily’s protests that today was not their day for fish and that she had cooked a perfectly good tea, Frank continued to shout and harangue her, telling her that she didn’t care about him or the house but thought only of her fancy man.
Ernest was forced to intervene, receiving short shrift from Frank who told him to mind his own business. Concerned for Emily’s safety and yet expected back at work, Ernest tried to extract a promise from Frank that he wouldn’t hurt her after he had gone. Frank blustered and raged for a few minutes longer, before his anger finally seemed spent and he sheepishly agreed to do Emily no harm.
Reforne, Portland, 2008. (© R. Sly)
However, barely had Ernest left the house when the argument started again. Mrs Damon, who rented the other half of the house on Reforme, heard the couple yelling at each other, with Frank accusing his wife of having relations with another man and Emily strenuously denying his allegations. Eventually Emily retorted, ‘If that’s what you think, I’m leaving’, and ran up the stairs. What Mrs Damon heard next sent chills running down her spine.
Frank calmly locked the outside door of the house and followed his wife upstairs. There were the sounds of a brief scuffle, followed by a single bloodcurdling scream.
Courageously, Mrs Damon ran to help. Finding the door to the Burdens’ half of the house locked, she alerted their next-door neighbour of her fears. Mr Jonathan Lano, a local magistrate, refused point blank to interfere in a tiff between man and wife and advised Mrs Damon to refrain from doing so, ignoring her protestations that this was no ordinary quarrel.
Her attempts at getting help thus thwarted, Mrs Damon walked back towards her own home. As she did, the Burdens’ front door flew open and Frank ran out, crossing the back yard and hurdling the surrounding wall. The door now open, Mrs Damon hesitantly called up the stairs, ‘Missus? Missus?’ Receiving no reply, she fetched a candle and bravely went up to the bedroom, where she found Emily lying half dressed on the floor in a huge pool of blood.
Mrs Damon’s horrified screams finally elicited a response from Mr Lano, who rushed up the stairs, his two sons, Richard and Reginald, following him. Lano quickly took charge of the situation, sending Richard to fetch Dr Henley and Reginald to fetch the local police constable. Meanwhile, he himself tried to telephone the police at Underhill, without success since, at that time, the police station was not on the telephone. Lano eventually telephoned a friend and got him to go to the island’s main police station in person.
Church Ope Cove, Portland, 1916.
The doctor could do little but pronounce Emily Burden dead. On examination he found her to have numerous wounds on her body, including two long, deep slashes in her stomach and two cuts across her throat, which had severed her carotid artery. Since either of the wounds to her throat would have caused almost instantaneous death, it was believed that the stab wounds to Emily’s stomach had been made first and she had several cuts on her hands and fingers, suggesting that she had tried in vain to grab the weapon from her attacker.
Police began a search of the island for Frank Burden, but he was not discovered until the following morning, when he was spotted crawling on his hands and knees onto the road from Church Ope Cove. After wandering around aimlessly for hours, he had tried three times during the night to drown himself, but each time had been unsuccessful. Now cold, wet and suffering from severe cramp, he had but one question for Mr Elliott, the quarryman who first found him: ‘Is my wife dead?’
Assisted by a work colleague, Ambrose Stone, and a passing postman, Elliot half carried Burden to Easton Square, from where the police were called. When PC Osman arriv
ed to collect him, Burden again asked about Emily. Having been told that she was indeed dead, Burden said that she hadn’t been when he left her. He went on to explain to the policeman that, ‘This is all through men going to my house while I’m away.’
On his arrest, police found the remnants of three letters that Burden had started to write to his parents but never finished. Once in custody, he sent another letter in which he told his parents:
She drove me to kill her. She would not stop her games. Nearly drove me out of my mind. I was nearly crazy when I done it. I own up to it. I could not help myself. She was a bad one to drive me to it. I hope and trust God will forgive me. What I have done, I couldn’t help myself. Dear Mother, don’t worry about me for I am not worth it now. I will pray to God all the time I have in this world. I suppose everybody will cry shame at me. If they do I can’t help it. All her fault. She drove me to do it. I hope and trust you won’t make yourself bad over it, I wish I never seen her. Too late now. Dear Mother, if I never see you again, I hope and trust I may see you both in Heaven, for I am going to pray with all my heart for forgiveness. I hope I shall get it, but I am afraid I shan’t. Give my love to all. I don’t know how soon it will come. The sooner the better, for I am tired of this life.
