मेरा आजीवन कारावास / माझी जन्मठेप (स्वातंत्र्यवीर सावरकर - काले पानी का ऐतिहासिक संस्मरण)

As men trained by our organisation began to spread all over the Andamans and influenced the working in the prison itself, and, as orders from above had directed that the political convicts were to be kept in peace as much as possible, Mr. Barrie's position in his office was no better than that of an extinct volcano. He had always a long cigar in his mouth which he kept on smoking and puffing all the time that he was in the office. The fire that went up in curls of smoke from his cigar was the only sign of his volcanic temper. All else was as cold as snow. And in these days his health also had considerably gone down. He had lumbago of which he was constantly complaining, and he was fed up with it. At last he had got long leave for which he had applied, and he was making ready to depart from Port Blair.

He was at Port Blair for from twenty to thirty years and, therefore, packing up his things was a long process. He was now on the eve of retirement, and leave prior to it was already granted to him. It will not be out of place, therefore, to refer here to a past story when four years ago he had applied for similar leave to proceed home to Ireland. When he came to India from Ireland, as the report goes, he had come a poor man and was going back to Ireland with a few thousand rupees in his pocket. He then used to say to me, "Mr. Savarkar, I have completed my twenty years of transportation to the Andamans, and am now going back. For was I not bound up to this place as much as you?" He decided to start, but the very harsh treatment that he had given during that career to the political convicts of that Jail, made him afraid of travelling via India. Those were the days when an official or two like him, were despatched to heaven by the political prisoner's knife or bullet, and the news of such happenings in India had reached the ears of Mr. Barrie. One day discussion arose on this subject in his office between Mr. Barrie and his European friends. They came to the conclusion that it was dangerous for Mr. Barrie to travel via Calcutta, for, in that case, he ran the risk of being done to death by an anarchist in India who knew the treatment he had meted out to political prisoners in this jail. It was decided, therefore, that he should proceed to Ireland by a different route. This news was conveyed to me by a clerk in his office. I realised the fact that it was a wise decision for him to take at that time. Mr. Barrie was much flattered by the discussion. That evening he came to my room and said, full of self-importance, "Well, Savarkar I hear that your friends in India are going to throw a bomb at me, as soon as I step on her shores. Is it a fact?" I replied to him in the same ironical tone, "I don't think so. They don't waste their bombs in killing crows and sparrows. I don't think there is such a fool among terrorists there who would waste his powder on these poor birds when he can kill a tiger with it." Mr. Barrie's pride melted away like a clod of earth in a pool of water. I do not know what happened to his fear about us. Of course, he knows it all right.

This is all about his last leave. The story of his recent leave stands on a different footing. He was to leave us this time for good. He was so much reduced in health that he was not sure he would live long after reaching his native Ireland. Suffering from the curses of hundreds of political prisoners in that Silver Jail, Mr. Barrie had to be lifted up by two men into the steamer that was to take off from Port Blair. In this dying condition, he reached India. And there, after great physical suffering, he breathed his last. He is remembered because the political prisoners, whom he had persecuted so cruelly, had