only three at one time. Eighteen executions that would have to be completed in one day was more than a challenge and it did not take him long to calculate that he would have hang them in six batches in one day to complete his orders.
The tiny island was chosen by the not then fully independent Singapore to keep violent, dangerous criminals from the general population in isolation and it was believed such men could be reformed and turned into good citizens. The government saw it as an ideal solution and chose an idealistic British prison officer, Daniel Stanley Dutton, as the perfect man to run the place. He would supervise the building of the settlement and teach the inmates pride and self-reliance. Although a strict disciplinarian who believed in hard work to keep their minds off other things, he treated them all with respect. Dutton, who had seen active service in the British army when he parachuted into German-occupied Greece during the Second World War and then in Palestine, spurned armed guards to protect him and his small staff from potential violence and refused any kind of personal weapons.
The tropical island was deceptive in name as well as appearance. The new arrivals found they had to carve a settlement out of formidable virgin jungle to make it habitable for themselves and their overseers. The sparkling blue waters surrounding the 202-acre island were home to vicious man-eating sharks, powerful currents and treacherous hidden coral reefs which were thought sufficient deterrent to make any detainee think twice before attempting to escape. Apart from 277 officially-counted coconut trees, everything else that swayed was formidable jungle. If all this was not depressing enough for the new inhabitants the island had a long gloomy history, a past they soon learned about and tagged on to. When the first survey was made in January 1960 the island's population totalled two: Adolf Monteiro, a one-time keeper of Raffles Lighthouse and his son, Steven. The Monteiros had moved to the deserted island in 1937 to run a tiny copra industry out of those coconut trees. According to legend the original inhabitants of the island became victims of the curse of a thirsty old man. One day long, long ago, so the legend goes, the old man went looking for a drink of water. But the islanders, always in fear of their two meagre streams running dry, refused to give him any. So the old man put a curse on them and while the tiny streams continue to flow, the original inhabitants mysteriously disappeared one by one.
The modern history of the island is equally gloomy. Monteiro Senior and Steven remained during the Japanese occupation and although they were left alone, they witnessed the brutal treatment of labour gangs forced to grow tapioca and other crops. Through disease and hunger and ill-treatment the labourers too died one by one. All over the island shallow graves of those men can still be found. If the Isle of Ease had a gloomy history it was about to get gloomier still in 1963. And chief executioner Darshan Singh would become an important part of that particular story. The first escape bid was staged in January 1961 when three detainees vanished into the jungles. They were back only days later exhausted and hungry with thoughts of freedom far from their minds. As time passed, the escape attempts became a little more sophisticated, more daring and just as futile. The most dramatic occurred in December 1962 when five prisoners seized a powerful military speedboat and raced to find cover among one of Indonesia's thousands of islands. A customs boat intercepted and rammed the fleeing speedboat, throwing the occupants into the shark-infested waters. Luckily for them they were not eaten alive.
The first indication of any large-scale revolt came in early 1963 when 14 inmates armed with changkol (hoes) attacked a settlement assistant and then fled into the jungle only to be recaptured a few days later. While an inquiry was still pending, an
The tiny island was chosen by the not then fully independent Singapore to keep violent, dangerous criminals from the general population in isolation and it was believed such men could be reformed and turned into good citizens. The government saw it as an ideal solution and chose an idealistic British prison officer, Daniel Stanley Dutton, as the perfect man to run the place. He would supervise the building of the settlement and teach the inmates pride and self-reliance. Although a strict disciplinarian who believed in hard work to keep their minds off other things, he treated them all with respect. Dutton, who had seen active service in the British army when he parachuted into German-occupied Greece during the Second World War and then in Palestine, spurned armed guards to protect him and his small staff from potential violence and refused any kind of personal weapons.
The tropical island was deceptive in name as well as appearance. The new arrivals found they had to carve a settlement out of formidable virgin jungle to make it habitable for themselves and their overseers. The sparkling blue waters surrounding the 202-acre island were home to vicious man-eating sharks, powerful currents and treacherous hidden coral reefs which were thought sufficient deterrent to make any detainee think twice before attempting to escape. Apart from 277 officially-counted coconut trees, everything else that swayed was formidable jungle. If all this was not depressing enough for the new inhabitants the island had a long gloomy history, a past they soon learned about and tagged on to. When the first survey was made in January 1960 the island's population totalled two: Adolf Monteiro, a one-time keeper of Raffles Lighthouse and his son, Steven. The Monteiros had moved to the deserted island in 1937 to run a tiny copra industry out of those coconut trees. According to legend the original inhabitants of the island became victims of the curse of a thirsty old man. One day long, long ago, so the legend goes, the old man went looking for a drink of water. But the islanders, always in fear of their two meagre streams running dry, refused to give him any. So the old man put a curse on them and while the tiny streams continue to flow, the original inhabitants mysteriously disappeared one by one.
The modern history of the island is equally gloomy. Monteiro Senior and Steven remained during the Japanese occupation and although they were left alone, they witnessed the brutal treatment of labour gangs forced to grow tapioca and other crops. Through disease and hunger and ill-treatment the labourers too died one by one. All over the island shallow graves of those men can still be found. If the Isle of Ease had a gloomy history it was about to get gloomier still in 1963. And chief executioner Darshan Singh would become an important part of that particular story. The first escape bid was staged in January 1961 when three detainees vanished into the jungles. They were back only days later exhausted and hungry with thoughts of freedom far from their minds. As time passed, the escape attempts became a little more sophisticated, more daring and just as futile. The most dramatic occurred in December 1962 when five prisoners seized a powerful military speedboat and raced to find cover among one of Indonesia's thousands of islands. A customs boat intercepted and rammed the fleeing speedboat, throwing the occupants into the shark-infested waters. Luckily for them they were not eaten alive.
The first indication of any large-scale revolt came in early 1963 when 14 inmates armed with changkol (hoes) attacked a settlement assistant and then fled into the jungle only to be recaptured a few days later. While an inquiry was still pending, an
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