Flash For Freedom!

14

It was held in a great white room with brown panelling, like a lecture theatre, with tiers of crescentshaped benches to one end for the spectators, a little rostrum and desk for the adjudicator and his two assessors at the other, and in between, right beneath the rostrum, were three great tables. At one sat Clitheroe and Dunne, and on a bench behind were just myself and — to my astonishment — two of the prettiest yellow girls you ever saw, all in New Orleans finery, with an old female in charge of them. They were giggling to each other under the broad brims of their bonnets, and when I sat down they looked slantendicular and giggled more than ever, whispering in each other's ears until the old biddy told them to leave off. My escort left me and went to sit on the first of the public benches, beside Captain Bailey, who was in full fig; he nodded to me and smiled confidently, and I gave him back a terrified grin.

At the centre table were a few clerks, but the far table was empty until just before the proceedings began. By that time the public benches were crowded with folk — nearly all men, and consequential people at that, talking and taking snuff and calling out to each other; I felt plenty of eyes on me, although most were directed at the two yellow girls, who preened and simpered and played with their gloves and parasols. Who the blazes they might be, I couldn't imagine, or what they were doing here.

And then a door behind the far table opened, in rolls Anderson, and to a rising buzz of chatter and comment, John Charity Spring entered and took his seat, with Anderson pulling at his elbow. The last time I had seen him he had been rolling on his own deck with Looney's bullet in his back; he looked a trifle paler now, but the beard and tight-buttoned jacket were as trim as ever, and when the pale eyes looked across directly into my own, I saw his lips twitch and the scar on his forehead began to darken. He stared at me fixedly for a full minute, with his hands clenched on the table before him, and then Anderson whispered in his ear, and he sat back, looking slowly about the court. He didn't look like a prisoner, I'll say that for him; if anyone looked guilty you may have three guesses who it was.

Then the adjudicator came in and we all stood up; he was a little, sharp-faced man, who smiled briefly to Clitheroe and Anderson, shot quick, accusing glances at everyone else, and told the nigger boy behind his chair to mind what he was about, and fetch some lime juice directly. Everyone fell silent, the two assessors sat either side of the adjudicator, and the clerk called out the case for hearing of the barque Balliol College, reputedly owned and registered in Mexico, master John Charity Spring, a British citizen; the said barque taken by U.S. brig Cormorant, in latitude 85 west 22.30 north or thereabouts, on such and such a day, and then carrying aboard her certain slaves and slaving equipment, in contravention of United States law —

Anderson was on his feet at once. "May the adjudicator take note that the Balliol College was not and is not an American vessel, and that her master is not an American citizen."

"Nevertheless," says Clitheroe, rising, "may the adjudicator note that the ownership is disputed, and recall the case of the ship Butterfly, condemned in similar circumstances.⁴² Further, it will appear that the Balliol College was carrying slaves intended for trans-shipment to the United States, which is a clear violation of American law, and that when challenged by a United States ship of war, such challenge being proper and lawful, the Balliol College fired upon her challenger, which is piracy under American law."

"If these things are proved, sir," says Anderson, beaming.

"As they will be manifestly proved," says Clitheroe.

"Proceed," says the, adjudicator.

The clerk read on that the Balliol College had resisted arrest, that an attempt had been made to dispose of the slaves aboard her by drowning them, and that the plaintiff, Abraham Fairbrother, U.S. Navy — it was news to me that the case was undertaken in his name — sought the confiscation and condemnation of the Balliol College as a slave-trading vessel.

That done, Clitheroe and Anderson and the adjudicator went into a great wrangle about procedure which lasted most of the morning, and had everyone yawning and trooping out and in, and fidgetting, until they had it settled. It was beyond me, but the result was that the business was conducted in a most informal way — more like a discussion than a court. But this, apparently, was the case with these adjudications; they had evolved a strange procedure that was all their own.⁴³

For example, when they were at last ready to begin, it was Anderson who got up and addressed the adjudicator, not Clitheroe. I didn't know that it was common for the defendant to show his innocence, rather than the other way about. And for the life of me I couldn't see that Spring had a leg to stand on, but Anderson went ahead, quite unruffled.

The plaintiff's case, he said, such as it was, rested on the hope that he might show the Balliol College to be, de facto, Americanowned, or part American-owned. Secondly, that it was carrying slaves for America in contravention of American law. Thirdly, that in such illicit carriage, it resisted arrest by an American ship of war, such resistance amounting to piracy.

"Unless I mistake the plaintiff's case," says he, easily, "everything rests on the second point. If the Balliol College was not carrying slaves for the United States, and so breaching American law, it is immaterial whether she is American-owned or no: further, if she was not carrying slaves, her arrest was illegal, and such resistance as she showed cannot be held against her master or crew. The plaintiff must show that she was a slave-trading ship, carrying slaves illegally." He beamed across the court. "May I hear counsel on the point?"

Clitheroe rose, frowning slightly, very austere. "That is the essence of the plaintiff's case, sir," says he. "We shall so demonstrate." He picked up a paper. "I have here the sworn deposition of Captain Abraham Fairbrother, U.S. Navy, commander of the brig Cormorant, who effected the capture."

"Deposition?" cries Anderson. "Where is the gentleman himself?"

"He is at sea, sir, as you well know. I have already had a word to say —" and he looked hard at Anderson "— on the point of delays engineered, in my opinion, by the defendant's counsel, in the knowledge that the witness would be compelled to resume his duties afloat, and would therefore be unable to appear in person."

Anderson was up like a shot, protesting innocence to heaven, with Clitheroe sneering across at him, until the adjudicator banged his desk and told them sharply to mind their manners. When the hubbub and laughter on the public benches had subsided, Clitheroe went ahead with Fairbrother's statement.

It was a fair, truthful tale, so far as I could see. He had challenged the Balliol College, which had been flying no flag, she had sheered off, he had fired a warning shot, which had been replied to, an action had been fought, and he had boarded. A dozen or so slaves had been found aboard, recently released from their shackles — as he understood it this had been done by Lieutenant Comber, R.N., who was aboard the ship ostensibly as one of the crew, although in fact he was a British naval officer. Lieutenant Comber would testify that it had been the intention of the master of the Balliol College to drown these slaves, and so remove all evidence.

There was a great humming in the court at this, and many glances in my direction, including a genial smile from Anderson and a glare from Spring. The adjudicator banged his desk for quiet, and Clitheroe went on to describe how the Balliol College crew had been arrested, and the ship brought into New Orleans for adjudication. He sat down, and Anderson got up.

"An interesting statement," says he. "A pity that we cannot cross-examine the deponent, since he isn't here. However, may I point out that the statement takes us no further so far as the status of the coloured people on board the Balliol College is concerned. Negroes were found —"

"And slave shackles, sir," says Clitheroe.

"Granted, sir, but the precise relation of one to the other is not determined by the statement. No doubt my friend, having delivered the statement which is the basis of his case, will call witnesses in due course. May I now enter my client's answer to the statement?"

Clitheroe nodded, the adjudicator snapped: "Proceed," and at Anderson's request one of the clerks swore Spring in to testify. Then Anderson said:

"Tell us, Captain Spring, of your voyage in the Balliol College prior to and including the events in question."

Spring glanced at the adjudicator, came to his feet, and leaned his hands on the table. The harsh grating voice took me back at once — I could smell the Balliol College again, and feel the hot sun beating down on my head.

"I sailed from Brest, in France, with a cargo of trade goods for the Dahomey coast," says he. "There we exchanged them for a general cargo of native produce, largely palm oil, which I conveyed to Roatan, in the Bay Islands. Thence I was proceeding in ballast for Havana, when I was intercepted by an American brig and sloop, who without justification that I could see, ordered me to heave to and fired upon me. I resisted, and my ship was presently boarded by these Navy pirates, who seized my ship, my person, and my crew!" His voice was rising, and the red scar burning. "We were carried in chains to New Orleans — I myself had been grievously wounded in defence of my ship, and I have since been held here, my ship confined, and myself and my owners deprived of its use, with subsequent loss to ourselves. I have protested in the strongest terms at this illegal detention, for which an accounting will be demanded not only of the person involved, but of his government." And in true Spring fashion he growled: "Qui facit per alium facit per se*[* What a man does through another, he does himself.] holds as good in American law as in any other, I dare say. That I was carrying slaves in contravention of this country's enactments I emphatically deny —"

"My dear sir, my dear captain." This was Anderson. "May I anticipate my friend's question: if this is so, why did you not heave to when required, and permit a search of your vessel? Then all might have been easily resolved."

Spring made noises in his throat. "Do I have to tell an American court, of all places? I responded to a signal to heave to, from an American vessel, in precisely the manner in which an American captain would have replied to a similar demand from a British naval ship. In short, sir, I defied it."

There was a great shout of laughter from the public benches, and feet drummed on the floor in applause. The little adjudicator hammered his desk, and when all was fairly quiet Anderson asked:

"As the British captain of a Mexican vessel you saw no reason to heave to — quite so. You know, Captain Spring, it has been suggested that your vessel is not Mexican owned. I believe my friend may wish to pursue the matter?" And he invited Clitheroe with a cocked eyebrow.

So Clitheroe set about Spring — he threw names at him, American, British and French; he pointed out that the Balliol College was Baltimore-built and originally Yankee-owned; he put it to Spring that the papers now set before the adjudicator, showing Mexican ownership, were forgeries and makeshift. Why, he demanded, if Spring were an honest merchantman, had his wife thrown the ship's papers overboard?

"When I am attacked by pirates, sir," says Spring, "I do not permit my papers to fall into their hands. How do I know that they might not be falsified and tampered with to be used against me? Here is a whole trumped-up business anyway — to suggest that I am a slaver, without a rag of proof, and to badger me with nonsense about my papers!" He pointed to the adjudicator's desk. "My papers are there, sir — certified, vouched copies! Look at them, sir, litera scripta manet,*[* The written letter remains (as evidence).] and get on to the point of your inquisition, if it has one!"

It seemed to me he was playing the bulldog British skipper a thought too hard for safety, but the public were with him, crying, "hear, hear" until the adjudicator had to call them to order. Clitheroe shrugged and smiled.

"By all means, captain, since you desire it. I pass from the matter of ownership, which is secondary, to the heart of the matter. Since you are fond of tags, let's see if you remain quite so rectus in curia*[* Upright in the court.] when I ask —"

The adjudicator hammered his desk again. "I'll be obliged if you'll both speak English," cries he. "Most of us are familiar with the classics, but not on that account will I permit this adjudication to be conducted in Latin. Proceed."

Clitheroe bowed. "Captain Spring, you say you brought palm oil from Dahomey to Roatan — an unusual cargo. Why then was your ship rigged with slave shelves?"

"Slave shelves, as you call them, are a convenient way of stowing palm oil panniers," says Spring. "Ask any merchant skipper."

"And they're also convenient for stowing slaves?"

"Are they?" says Spring. "May I point out that the shelves were not rigged when my ship was seized — when you say I was running slaves."

"I shall come to those same slaves, if you please," says Clitheroe. "There were, according to the affidavit we have heard, negroes aboard your ship — about a dozen women. They were found on deck, with slave shackles beside them. Evidence will be given that they had been chained, and that you had been preparing to cast them overboard, to destroy the evidence of your crime." He paused, and there wasn't a sound in court. "You are on oath, Captain Spring. Who were those women?"

Spring stuck out his jaw, considering. Then he answered, and the words hit the court like a thunderclap.

"Those women," says he deliberately, "were slaves."

Clitheroe gaped at him. There was a gasp from the public benches and then a great tumult, hushed at last by the adjudicator, who now turned to Spring.

"You admit you were carrying slaves?"

"I've never denied it." Spring was quite composed.

"Well —" The adjudicator looked about him. "Permit me, sir, but I have been in error. I thought that was what your counsel had been vigorously denying on your behalf."

Anderson got to his feet. "Not precisely, sir. May I suggest that my client be allowed to stand down for the moment, while the court digests his statement and reflects upon it? In the meantime, perhaps my friend will continue with his case."

"Frankly, sir," says Clitheroe, "it seems my case is made, I move for an order of confiscation and condemnation against the Balliol College, proved to be a slave-trader on her own master's word."

"Not quite proved," says Anderson. "If I may invite my friend to provide the corroboration which he doubtless has at command?"

Clitheroe looked at the adjudicator, and the adjudicator shrugged, and Clitheroe shuffled his papers and muttered to Dunne. For the life of me I couldn't fathom it; Spring appeared to have thrown away, with those words, his case, his ship, his liberty — perhaps even his neck. It made no sense — not to the public or the adjudicator or to me. The one thing I prayed for now was that my evidence wouldn't be needed.

Clitheroe didn't like it; you could see, by the way he shot looks across at Anderson, that he smelled a rat. But Anderson sat smug and smiling, and presently Clitheroe shrugged ill-humouredly and picked up his papers.

"If the adjudicator wishes, I shall continue," says he. "But I confess I don't see the point of it."

The adjudicator peered at Anderson, thoughtfully. "Perhaps it would be as well, Mr Clitheroe."

"Very well." Clitheroe looked at his papers. "I shall call and examine the former slaves Drusilla and Messalina."

At this the yellow girls popped up, with little squeaks of surprise-and I realised that these tarts must be two of the women we had been shipping to Havana. Well, here were the two final nails for Spring's coffin, but he never batted an eyelid as they were brought forward, fluttering nervously, to the table, and sworn in by the clerk. The fellows on the public benches were showing great interest now, nudging and muttering as the little beauties took their stand, like two butterflies, one pink and one yellow, and Clitheroe turned to the adjudicator.

"With permission I shall examine them together, and so save the court's valuable time," says he. "As I understand it, both you young ladies speak English?"

The young ladies giggled, and the pink one says: "Yassuh, we both speak English, Drusilla'n' me."

"Very good. Now, if you will answer for both, Messalina. I believe you were in a place called Roatan — the Bay Islands, you might call it, a few months ago. What were you doing there?"

Messalina simpered. "We wuz in a who'-house, suh."

"A what?"

"A who'-house — -a knockin'-shop, suh." She put her gloved hand up to her mouth, and tittered, and the public slapped their thighs and guffawed. The adjudicator snapped for silence, and Clitheroe, looking uncomfortable, went on:

"You were both — employed in a … whore-house. I see. Now then, you were taken on a ship, were you not?" They both nodded, suppressing their giggles. "Do you see here any of the men who were on that ship?"

They looked round, nervously, at the adjudicator, and then further afield. A voice near the back of the public benches called out: "Not me, honey. I was at home," and a great hoot of mirth broke out and had to be quieted, the adjudicator threatening to clear the room if there was unseemly behaviour. Then Messalina timidly pointed to Spring, and then they both looked round at me, and giggled, and whispered, and Messalina finally said:

"That one, too — with the nice whiskers. He was awful kind to us."

"I'll bet he was," says the voice again, and the adjudicator got so angry he swore, and said that was the last warning. Clitheroe gave me a look, and said:

"I see — these two men. Captain Spring and Mr Comber. They and others took you on a ship — where to, do you know?"

"Oh, to Havana, ev'yone said. An' then we was goin' on to here, by 'nother ship, to Awlins, right here."

"I see. Did you know where you were going to, in New Orleans?"

They giggled and conferred. "Miz Rivers' who'-house, so ev'yone reckon."

"I see, first to Havana, and then to Mrs Rivers' … er, establishment, in New Orleans." Clitheroe paused. "There is, I am told, such an establishment."

There was some haw-hawing from the public, and a cry of "He ain't foolin'", but the adjudicator let it go.

"Now, girls," says Clitheroe, "when you were in Roatan, what were you?"

"Please, suh, we wuz whores," giggled Drusilla.

"Yes, yes, but what else? Were you free?"

"Oh, no, suh, we wuz slaves. Warn't we, Drusie? Yassuh, we'z slaves a'right."

"Thank you. And as slaves you were sent aboard the ship, to be taken to Havana, and thence sold to Mrs Rivers'… ah … whorehouse in New Orleans. But by the favour and mercy of God, the ship was captured by the United States Navy and —" Clitheroe leaned forward impressively "— you were brought to New Orleans and there set free. Is this not so?"

"Oh, yassuh. We's set free, sho' nuff." Messalina smiled winningly at hun.

"Fine. Splendid. You were liberated from that unspeakable servitude, and you are now free women." Clitheroe was enjoying himself. "Since when I don't doubt you have been happy in your new-found land of adoption and blessed free estate. You are both safe in New Orleans?"

"Oh, yassuh. We's fine, at Miz' Rivers' who'-house."

Even the adjudicator didn't try to stop the peal of laughter and applause that this provoked, and Drusilla and Messalina smiled around happily and preened themselves under all this male attention. But Clitheroe just sat down, red in the face, and Anderson got up and waited for the noise to subside.

"A very moving story," says he, and everyone roared again. "Tell me, Drusilla and Messalina — I don't doubt for a moment that every word you have told us is true, and I accept it as true — but tell me, you first, Messalina dear: where were you born?"

"Why … Baton Rouge, suh."

"And you, Drusila?"

"N'Awlins, suh."

"Indeed. Very interesting. And how did you come to be at Roatan?"

Messalina had been taken by a wealthy planter visiting Cuba; she had been his mistress, but he had tired of her and sold her. ("Silly bastard," says the unseen voice.) Drusilla had been one of a party taken on a cruise by wealthy degenerates, who had sold their doxies at various places in the Caribbean.

"So you are both American-born? I see — and both born slaves?"

"Yassuh."

"The other girls on the ship with you — were they also American-born? You don't know-of course not. And they have not been cited as witnesses in this case, and can't be called now, accordingly." Anderson glanced knowingly across the court at Clitheroe, who was looking like a man who sees a ghost. "May I refresh the court's memory by referring to the enactment of 1820" — he rattled off a string of numbers while he leafed through a large tome. "Here we have it. Briefly it defines as piracy and illegal slave-trading —" he paused impressively "— the transportation for enslavement of any coloured person who is not already a slave under American law."

In the hush that followed Anderson closed the book with a snap like a pistol shot.

"There we have it, sir. Captain Spring, as he has admitted, freely and openly, was carrying slaves — American slaves, born slaves, and in so doing he was in no way contravening any United States law. No more than a man breaks the law when he carries a slave across the Mississippi River. He was not running slaves, or slave-trading in the illicit sense, or —"

Clitheroe was on his feet, raging. "This is an outrageous twisting of the truth — why, just because these two happen to be American-born — why, they were only chosen to testify because they spoke English well — half of their fellow-captives on the Balliol College, I am certain, were not American-born, and were therefore —"

"Then it's a pity you didn't bring them here today," says Anderson. "You should choose your witnesses more carefully."

"Sir, this is monstrous!" cries Clitheroe. "In the name of justice, I demand to be allowed to call another —"

"In the name of justice you'll keep us here till kingdom come!" cries Anderson. "Really, sir, are we to be detained while this distinguished counsel rakes the whole of Louisiana for some witness who will suit his book? He has entered his witnesses before this court — let him abide by what they say. If they let him down, so much the worse for him, and so much the better for justice!"

There was no doubt whose side the spectators were on. They cheered and stamped and drowned out everyone until the little adjudicator had to shout for silence. And after several minutes, when all was quiet, he remarked:

"You had ample time to consider who you should call, sir. I'll hear the witnesses you have named."

"I protest!" cries Clitheroe, his white hair flung back. "I protest — but very well, sir — you shall hear my last witness, who will prove my case for me!" And as my heart shot into my mouth he turned and boomed:

"Beauchamp Millward Comber, Royal Navy!"

I suppose I took the oath, but I don't remember it. Then Clitheroe was taking me through my antecedents, my commissioning by the Board of Trade, my shipping aboard the Balliol College — all of which I had to invent, on the spur of the moment, and it wasn't made any easier by the unseen voice growling: "Goddam' limey spy!" — and so to the business he wanted to get his teeth into.

"You can, I think, testify, that when the Balliol College reached Dahomey, she took aboard not palm oil, as the defendant claims — but a human cargo. Slaves! Is this not so?"

But Anderson, bless his honest fat face, was on his feet. "This is quite improper, sir! I demand that the witness be instructed to ignore the question. We are not here concerned with what the British master of a Mexican ship was doing many thousands of miles from our shore. Such a case, if any there were, would be for a British or Mexican court, or a mixed commission of the type to which the United States does not subscribe. I demand — nay, insist — that no irrelevant observations, such as might prejudice my client's position, be permitted. We are here to determine the status of the Balliol College at the time of her seizure —" and he went bounding on to cite a great string of precedents — Bright Des patch, Rosalinda, Ladies' Delight, heaven knows what.

It sounded a near thing to me; I stood there with my palms sweating, and if that adjudicator had been an honest man I'd have been sunk. But someone had been to work, I've no doubt, for he shook his head, and snapped:

"I take the point of defendant's counsel. We are not concerned with the Captain's past history —"

"Or his ship's?" bawls Clitheroe. "What about Mendon, Uncas, any number I could name, sir — why, slavers have been condemned before ever they had taken a black on board, simply on a question of intent! This —"

"May I make a point, sir?" says Anderson. "I respectfully suggest that it would ill become an American court to deny to a British master the very rights which we insist upon for our own captains where British justice is concerned. We demand that our captains be not interfered with unless they expressly break British law; it cannot be argued that what Captain Spring was doing thousands of miles away, in a Mexican ship, is any concern of ours."

"Humbug —" Clitheroe was beginning, but Anderson added quickly:

"The court would hardly wish to set a precedent of which foreign governments, particularly the British, might take note."

That clinched it. The adjudicator glanced at me: "You will ignore that question, sir. Mr Clitheroe, I must ask you to confine yourself to the matter in hand. Proceed, sir."

"I protest again, most emphatically," says Clitheroe. "Very well, then — Mr Comber, were these negroes who were carried from Roatan for Havana — were they chained, sir?"

"Most of the time, not," says I, which was true.

"But chains were placed upon them when the American brig challenged the Balliol College?"

"Yes." I tried not to catch Spring's eye.

"Why were they chained, sir?"

"To prevent their possible escape, I imagine. I was below decks at the time."

He gave me an odd look. "Was there not another reason? Was it not so that a length of anchor chain could be rove through their shackles, so that they could be brutally hurled into the deep and drowned?" He looked at his papers. "I quote from your own statement to the Navy Department."

Up came Anderson. "May I point out that this … statement, supposedly made by the witness, is not in itself evidence. We are concerned with what he says now, not what he said then."

I could feel the sweat starting out on my brow. How to balance the tightrope? Talk for your life, Flash, thinks I, so I looked perplexed, and said, addressing the adjudicator:

"Sir, I have reflected much on this matter in the past few months. That the slaves were shackled, and the anchor chain passed between those shackles, is true — I myself released them later. But in strict justice I must add that the shackling was performed by the late Mr Sullivan, mate of the Balliol College, and it was followed by a most violent altercation between Sullivan and Captain Spring."

Clitheroe's eyes narrowed, and I saw Bailey, who was behind him, sit up suddenly.

"Are you saying," says Clitheroe, "that Spring was objecting to this shackling?"

"I can't say, sir." God, I was treading warily. "What was the cause of their altercation, I do not know." I took a deep breath. "But I do know that Mr Sullivan had served aboard slave ships in the past — and I don't believe he was quite right in the head, sir."

Clitheroe was staring at me in frank disbelief. "But this is totally out of accord with your earlier statement, sir. What? —" he scrabbled over a page "— here we have you referring to Spring as 'an unhuman beast', a 'callous murderer', a —"

"This is infamous!" roars Anderson. "I have protested already — sir!" He swung on Clitheroe. "Is that statement, that rubbish you hold in your hand, and read out to vilify my client — is it signed, sir!"

"It is not signed, sir, but —"

"Then take it away, sir! Remove it! It is a scandal, a disgrace! I appeal to the adjudicator!"

"We will hear the witness," says the adjudicator. "Not what you say he once said, Mr Clitheroe. You must not lead the witness, sir — as you should know." Someone had greased his palm, right enough.

Clitheroe was in a quandary; Bailey, I could tell from his face, was in a fury. Clitheroe turned back to me, and his face was ugly.

"Very well," says he. "I now put the matter to you in different terms. Can you say, from your own knowledge, that there were slaves being carried on board the Balliol College in contravention of American law — that is to say, non-American slaves, and that an attempt was made to dispose of them by casting them overside — whoever gave the order."

I was ready enough for that. "Two hours ago, sir, I would have been able positively to answer your question as to the slaves. However, you must see, in the light of what we have heard from the last two witnesses, that I cannot in conscience answer positively now. The distinction about American-born slaves is new to me, sir; I cannot say whether the others were also American or not."

He gave a snort of impatience. "Was there not, on the Balliol College, an African woman — brought from Africa, sir, and carried to Baltimore with the others by Captain Fairbrother. A woman named —" he looked at his paper "— Lady Caroline Lamb, who spoke no English, and had been carried from Dahomey as a slave? Who could not possibly have been American, whatever the others were."

"I remember the woman perfectly," says I. "As to her status, I confess I am reluctant — now — to be too definite, since she was certainly not among those shackled by Mr Sullivan." (That was true, too; how had he overlooked her? She must have been in my cabin. Ah well, it's an ill wind.)

"Reluctant?" Clitheroe threw down his papers in disgust. Behind him I could see Bailey muttering with rage. "Reluctant? On my word, Mr Comber — I find this most extraordinary. Are you here, sir, to testify against that man —" and he flung out a hand at Spring "— or are you not? Damme, sir — I beg the adjudicator's pardon — what does this mean? Your whole tone, your attitude, the burden of your evidence, is so far from what you led us to believe it would be, that I could almost wonder —" His glance flickered to Anderson, but he thought better of it. Before he could go on, I plucked up my courage and got in first.

"I have answered your questions to the best of my ability, sir," says I. "If I am scrupulous, I must say I find it hard that I should be blamed for that."

He looked as though he would burst. "Scrupulous, by all that's holy! I don't ask you to be scrupulous — I ask for the truth! What did you sail aboard this damned slaver for, if not to bring him to justice, eh? Answer me that, sir?"

When in difficulty, bluster; it was the only weapon I had left, and I seized it, now that his loss of composure had given me the chance.

"I sailed in the performance of my duty to my chiefs, sir, as you well know. That duty I have done — or will do, as soon as I am permitted. If you look in my statement, sir, you will see that I was reluctant from the first to appear in this case, and that I appeared only because your Navy Department assured me it was necessary. I had assumed, wrongly, I fear —" and I took my whole courage in my hands, and tried to sound furious "— that such a simple case would be easily concluded without my intervention being called for."

He went white, and then red, and his breath came out in a great shudder. He looked at me with pure hate, and when he spoke, it was with great care.

"Indeed, sir? Very high-minded, and high-handed, are we not? Very well, Mr Comber, let us examine this, if you please. Your duty, sir, you have told us, is to your chiefs — you are an agent against the slave trade-although one would hardly suspect it from your conduct today. As such, I understand you obtained possession, during this voyage, of papers belonging to the master of the Balliol College —" out of the tail of my eye I saw Spring stiffen in his seat. "Will you tell us, sir, whether or not there was evidence in those papers — as to the ownership of the vessel, for example-to prove that she was engaged illegally in the slave trade, in contravention of American law? You are on oath, sir — remember that!"

My heart lurched, because I had seen the way out. I held my breath a moment, to make my face red, and let it out slowly. I drew myself up, and glared at him with all the venom I could muster.

"This, sir," says I, "is intolerable. It is precisely why I did not wish to appear. You are well aware, sir, that there are facts which I am in duty bound not to disclose-facts of the highest import — it is all explained in that statement, sir — which I cannot in honour convey to anyone except to my chiefs at home. I was promised immunity from this —" brazening it for all I was worth, I rounded on Bailey. "Captain Bailey, I appeal to you. This is entirely unworthy — I am badgered, sir, on the very grounds which it was promised to me would be inviolate. I will not endure it, sir! The counsel's questions must lead inevitably to the point which I was assured would not be touched. I … I …" There's nothing like a good stammer for conviction. "I was a fool to be coerced into this! I should have known … incompetence! … harm done!"

There was tumult in the court; even Bailey was looking bewildered now; the adjudicator was at a loss. Anderson, clever man, had the good sense to look amazed; Spring was looking worried. Clitheroe, stuck between rage and astonishment, looked to Bailey, and then to me.

"On my word!" This was the adjudicator, darting his nose at me. "What is this, sir? This outburst is quite-"

"Sir," says I, "I most humbly beg your pardon. I intended no disrepect to you, or to this august court." I hesitated. "I found myself placed in an intolerable position, sir — if an explanation is necessary, I beg that you will ask counsel for the plaintiff."

There was a moment's silence, in which the adjudicator looked at Clitheroe, and Clitheroe stood with his face white and his mouth set. Then he shook his head.

"I see no advantage to the court in … examining this witness further," says he, and he sat down.

Anderson jumped up, and began to address the adjudicator, but I was too bemused by my own eloquence to listen. The next thing I knew there was an adjournment, and I was hustled off to Bailey's office, with Clitheroe and Dunne, and the first two rounded on me like bears. But I snatched the ball from their hands, and laced into them for all I was worth — it was my only chance, I knew, to play the mystery as I had done in the Washington Navy Department, and play it as furiously as I could.

"If you so mishandle your case, sir, that you can't get a condemnation order that a child could obtain, is that my fault? The wrong slaves called as witnesses — this fellow Anderson permitted to shut me up on the very point where I could have given conclusive testimony! And then — the impudence to break the solemn assurance I was given in Washington, by questioning me in a way which, if I'd been fool enough to answer, must have elicited the names I am duty bound to conceal! And you dare to raise your voice to me, sir? Do you think I'll see my work ruined — two years of it —" Well, why not lay it on hard? "— simply because some fool of a lawyer can't win a case which in itself is nothing — nothing, sir, I tell you — compared with what I and my people are trying to do? Oh, this is too much!"

How I managed to lose my temper so badly for so long, when my innards were quaking, I am far from sure, They didn't take it lying down, either — especially Bailey, who was half-convinced my indignation was sham. But he couldn't be sure, you see; there was just enough mystery, as a result of all the bloody lies I'd told in Washington, to make him wonder.

"Your conduct, sir, gives me the gravest suspicions," says he. "I don't know — this is a deplorable affair! But we'll go into this, sir, believe you me; we'll get to the bottom —"

"Then you'll do it in your own good time, sir!" says I, looking him in the eye. "Not in mine. I'm sick and tired of this whole sorry business. I was promised protection, sir —"

"Protection?" cries he, looking ugly. "You have forfeited all claim to that. My department's protection is withdrawn, you may take that as read —"

"Thank God!" I exclaimed. "For all the good it's been to me, I'm better without it. I intend to place myself, at once, under the protection of my ambassador in Washington. At once, do you hear? And whoever tries to hinder me will do so at his peril!"

For a moment he looked as though he was believing me, and then we were summoned back to the court, and I sat red-faced, squeezing myself to keep it up, while Clitheroe and Anderson bandied away at each other, and finally Anderson challenged him on some point or other, and Clitheroe made a speech, and concluded it by moving for the confiscation and condemnation of the Balliol College. There was much palaver over the matter of Spring's resisting arrest, and Anderson stuck to the point about an innocent merchantman being entitled to protect himself, etc., and finally the adjudicator took off his spectacles and asked did their cases rest? They nodded, and he put his spectacles back on, and everyone stood up.

The adjudicator talked for about half an hour, while our legs creaked, and I couldn't for the life of me stop my hands trembling, for there was no telling which way he was going. He reviewed the evidence, Spring's and the girls and my own, and then came to his peroration. It was short, and decisive.

"It rests with the plaintiff, Abraham Fairbrother, to show that the Balliol College was carrying slaves in contravention of United States law. There are grounds for believing that she was, in view of her equipment and other circumstances related in evidence. It may also appear that grounds could exist for charges to be brought in connection with damage done to United States property by Captain Spring. On the other hand, it may be that, after the conclusion of this court, the owners of the Balliol College may hold that an action lies against the United States government for unlawful detention.⁴⁴ These are matters outside the scope of this adjudication. The activities of the Balliol College, prior to her arrest, may also be matters for a mixed commission court of the British or other governments.

"It is precisely for the attention of such court, if it be called, that I have mentioned the conclusion of this adjudication that grounds exist for believing that the Balliol College was carrying slaves in contravention of United States law. But I cannot hold that the grounds have been proved conclusively to the satisfaction of this adjudication. The motion for confiscation fails."

I pulled myself together and shot Clitheroe as baleful a look as I could manage, for Bailey's benefit. The adjudicator turned to Spring.

"You are free to go. As I understand it, your vessel is in the river, is it not, under a prize crew? Hear our order that this prize crew be withdrawn forthwith, and that such stores, water and wood as may be required in reason for your departure shall be left aboard, and in accordance with custom, clearance be granted for your departure this very day, or such date thereafter as you find fitting."

"Thank you, sir," says Spring. "I thank the court. I shall leave anchorage today."

The adjudicator banged his desk and scuttled out, and at once there was a great rush from the public benches to Spring's table, and he was being clapped on the back, and fellows were shaking Anderson's hand and hurrah-ing. Clitheroe walked out of the court without a word, and Bailey, after a lowering look at me, followed him. The two yellow girls, giggling and ogling, tripped away with their chaperone or bawd or whatever she was.

And suddenly I was standing alone. But I doubted, somehow, if this happy state would endure for long. My escort had gone with Bailey, but in spite of our violent exchanges, they would be expecting me at his office, or at least back at the Navy place where he had housed me. And then, for all my fine talk, they would keep a tight grip on me — for what? Interrogation, no doubt, and at best a convoy to Washington and my embassy, and God knew what would come of that. My buttock ached at the thought of sliding out again, but I knew I daren't stay. For one thing, the longer I was in this blasted country the greater the chance of my activities on the Mississippi being brought home to roost.

I looked about me. The spectators were all streaming out now, by the entrances at the back of the room. Half a dozen steps and I was among them — once outside, I could easily find my way to Susie's brothel, and this time, surely, she would be able to see me safe away; at least she could hide me until I grew a beard, or —

And then it struck me, all in a moment, the dazzling thought. It was fearful, at first, but as I considered it, on the steps leading down to the street, it seemed the only safe way. It was the answer, surely — and I found my legs taking me off to one side, behind a pillar, where I thought some more, and then I stepped out into the busy street, and walked across to the far side, and took refuge beneath a tree, waiting.

It was ten minutes before I saw what I wanted, and my heart was in my mouth in case Bailey or my escort would come on the scene, but they didn't. And then I was rewarded, and I set off, walking quickly, along the street, and into another, and there I overtook the figure ahead of me.

"Captain Spring," says I. "Captain Spring — it's me."

He swung round as if stung, as near startled as I'd ever seen him.

"The devil!" he exclaimed. "You!"

"Captain," says I, "in God's name, will you give me a passage out of here? You're leaving, on the College, aren't you? For pity's sake, take me with you — out of this blasted —"

"What?" cries he, his scar beginning to jump like St Vitus dance. "Take you? Why the devil should I? You —"

"Listen, please, captain," says I. "Look, I played up today, didn't I? I could have sworn you to kingdom come, couldn't I? But I didn't — I didn't! I got you off —"

"You got me off!" He tilted back his hat and glared at me. "You saved your own dirty little neck, you Judas, you! And you've the nerve to come crawling to me?"

"I'll buy my passage!" I pleaded. "Look, I'm not just begging — I can buy it with something you want."

"And what would that be?" But he stepped aside with me into a doorway, the pale eyes fixed on me.

"You heard in court — I got Comber's papers — the things he'd filched from you. Well —" I forced myself not to notice the darkening scar on his brow. "— I've still got 'em. Are they price enough?"

His face was like flint. "Where are they?" he growled.

"In a safe place — a very safe place. Not on me," I lied, praying he'd believe it. "But I know where they are, and unless I say the word — well, they could get into the wrong hands, couldn't they? You'd be clear and away before that, of course, but your owners wouldn't like it. Morrison, for one."

"Where are they?" he demanded, and his hands came up, as though to seize me. But I shook my head.

"I'll tell you," says I, "in Liverpool or Bristol — not before. They'll be safe until then, on my word."

"Your word!" he sneered. "We know what that's worth! You perjured rascal. Look at you!" He laughed softly. "Post ecjuitem sedet atra cura.*[* Dark care sits behind the horseman (A guilty man cannot escape himself).] Your friends in the American Navy are looking for you, I don't doubt."

"if they find me, they find those papers," says I. "But if you take me with you, I swear you'll have 'em." And welcome, I thought privately. Even when I'd handed them over, the knowledge of what was in 'em would still be in my head, and I'd use it to squeeze old Morrison dry. "You'll have them, captain," I repeated. "I promise."

"By God I will," says Spring. "I'll see to that." He stood considering me, "What a worthless creature you are — what shreds of loyalty have you, you object?"

"Plenty — to myself," says I. "Just as you have, Captain Spring." His scar went pink; then he laughed again. "Well, well. You've picked up some Yankee sauce over here, I believe. Perhaps you're right, though. Horace reminds me, why should I sneer at you? Mutato nomine de te fabula narratur."*[* Change the name, and the story is told of yourself.] He looked up and down the street. "I'll take you. But you tell me those papers are safe, do you? For if they're not — by God, I'll drop you overside with a bag of coal on your feet, if we're within ten feet of the Mersey. Or Brest, which is where I'm going. Well?"

"You have my word," says I.

"No," says he. "But I've got your carcase, and I'll settle for that. Now, then — are these damned Yankees close behind you? Then step lively, Mr Flashman!"

Strange, I thought, how long it was since anyone had called me by my proper name. For the first time in months I felt I was almost home again. With Elspeth, and the youngster, too. Aye, and my dear papa-in-law — I was looking forward to presenting my account to him.

[EDITOR'S POSTSCRIPT. On this optimistic note the third packet of the Flashman Papers comes to an end. How far the optimism was justified may be judged from the fact that, instead of describing his return in gloating detail, Flashman concluded this portion of his memoirs by attaching to the last page of manuscript a clipping, cracked and faded with age, from a newspaper (probably, from its type face and extreme column width, the Glasgow Herald) dated January z6, 1849. The news it contains was, of course, unknown to him when he left New Orleans homeward bound. It reads, in part: "It is with deep regret that we impart to our readers news of the death of Lord Paisley. This untimely event occurred last week at the home of his daughter, Mrs Harry Flashman, in London, where he had been residing for some time past. Those who knew him, either as John Morrison of Paisley and this city, where he was formerly Deacon of Weavers in the Trades' House of Glasgow, or by the title to which he was raised by a gracious sovreign only in November last, will be united in mourning his sudden melancholy demise…" ]