Cochrane looked up enquiringly.
‘Why not?’ he demanded
‘You will recall, sir, that I made application to you last night in chambers for the formal release from custody of the Dei Gratia ’ reminded the lawyer.
‘Yes,’ agreed Cochrane doubtfully.
Bird-like, Flood sat with his head to one side, the attitude of a sparrow which has had the worm snatched from it by a crow. Outrage engulfed him, fleeting anger at his misconception of the purpose of Pisani’s private interview and then at the judge’s stupidity in releasing the salvage vessel. With difficulty, he controlled any outward sign of emotion, remembering from Cochrane’s clashes with the other lawyers how quick the man was to respond to criticism.
‘It was thought best that Captain Morehouse, as the senior officer, should remain here to give continuing assistance to the court, and that Deveau should take the Dei Gratia on to Genoa to unload,’ said Pisani, uncomfortably aware of the judge’s impending reaction.
‘What!’ demanded Cochrane. ‘Thought better by whom?’
‘Myself, Captain Morehouse… and we sought the advice of Captain Winchester,’ stumbled the lawyer.
‘Did I not make it clear that the release was subject to its creating no inconvenience whatsoever to this enquiry?’
‘Yes, My Lord, you did,’ conceded Pisani.
What a cabal, thought Flood. They had reached the same conclusion as he, that Deveau might be the first to collapse. And tried to shift him away to where he could cause least harm.
‘But Captain Morehouse never boarded the Mary Celeste,’ protested the judge, his indignation matching that which Flood had felt minutes before. ‘What possible purpose could there be in his staying in preference to a witness as vital as the man who commanded the vessel throughout its days of salvage?’
Cochrane was stressing his annoyance, anxious to recover from what he must now recognise to be a mistake, decided the Attorney-General. First the analyst. Now the judge. Thank God he was sending his reports to London where they could be assessed without interference from fools.
‘It would seem that a miscalculation has been made,’ admitted Pisani.
‘Indeed there has, sir,’ said Cochrane. ‘I am adjourning this hearing today, to enable you and Captain Morehouse to communicate with the ship-owners and with the consul in Genoa, ordering Deveau back to the precincts and jurisdiction of this court by the fastest means at his disposal. And let me make it quite clear to you and everyone else in this chamber, Mr Pisani: I will not have the authority of this court impugned or endangered again, sir! Is that understood?’
‘It was never the intention of anyone to impugn your authority,’ attempted Pisani humbly.
‘Of that, sir, I remain to be convinced,’ said Cochrane, jerking to his feet to end the confrontation.
This time the request to visit the chambers came almost as soon as the Attorney-General had disrobed. There was no invitation to sherry as Flood settled himself.
Closer than he had been to the man in court, Flood saw that Cochrane was flushed with anger, a nerve in his eyelid tugging in annoyance and creating the ludicrous impression that the man was winking conspiratorially.
‘What do you make of it?’ demanded Cochrane immediately. He put his hand up, to cover his flickering eye.
‘There can be only one conclusion,’ said the Attorney-General. He would be failing in his duty as Admiralty Proctor if he did not include in that night’s report to London an account of the mistake that Sir James had made.
‘Do you think he’ll return?’ said the judge.
‘It’s impossible to say,’ suggested Flood. ‘You could always pass on the request through London for the British Consul in Genoa to urge some action from the American representatives there.’
Cochrane frowned, aware that the request would confirm his error to the Admiralty.
‘I’ve the assurance from Pisani that everything will be done,’ he said awkwardly.
He paused, as if debating whether to continue. Then he said, ‘I have decided to call in the police authorities and make available to them a transcript of everything that has been said at this enquiry.’
‘I had hoped you would,’ said Flood honestly.
‘I’m not hopeful, though.’
‘Hopeful?’
‘Unless there’s an admission of conspiracy from someone… of any criminality, in fact, then I don’t think there’s sufficient evidence for a criminal arrest.’
Winchester’s anger was greater because of his realisation that he had made an error and that it would add to the suspicion already created.
‘I didn’t think of bail-bond money,’ he protested.
‘Unless a surety is lodged with the court against any subsequent claim, you’ll not get the return of the Mary Celeste,’ predicted Cornwell.
‘I should have been advised,’ said the owner.
‘I didn’t think a reminder would be necessary,’ said Cornwell defensively. ‘Isn’t there anyone who will honour a note from you?’
Winchester considered the question. There was a broker whom he had known in Cadiz. But the man had died the previous year.
‘Not that I can…’ he began, then stopped. The day he had left New York for Gibraltar, the Daisy Boynton had lifted anchor with a cargo also for Cadiz. Captain Henry Appleby had been a schoolfriend of his daughter; they had even discussed a possible social meeting during their chance encounter at the shipping commission office.
‘Maybe,’ he corrected.
‘I think you should consider arranging it,’ said Cornwell. ‘I think we should take every care to avoid antagonising the court further.’
‘The judge is not convinced that sending Deveau to Genoa was a genuine misunderstanding,’ warned the American Consul. He had not anticipated that the affair would become as difficult as it had. Or as protracted. Washington’s interest surprised him.
‘The damned man is convinced of only one thing, like the Attorney-General,’ said Winchester. ‘I tell you, Mr Sprague, I’m worried. Very worried indeed.’
As always in their after-court discussions, the New York shipowner roamed the room, too indignant to sit.
‘Did you know that Flood and Cochrane have nightly conferences, after the hearing!’ said Cornwell.
‘At which the discussions are a good deal less innocent than the conversations we have here, I’ll be bound,’ said Morehouse.
Winchester stopped parading, looking intently at Sprague.
‘Why don’t you complain officially through Washington that American citizens are being harassed here?’ he suggested. ‘Get them to take it up with London.’
‘Captain Winchester,’ said Pisani warningly, ‘can you imagine how that would appear, while a court was still in session considering a claim for salvage? There’s enough suspicion being cast about as it is, without our contributing to it by raising with your government something that could be construed as our having something to hide.’
‘I’m damned if I’ll sit here and do nothing,’ said Winchester. ‘This is more like an inquisition of the Middle Ages.’
Pisani appeared embarrassed, looking up at the bespectacled ship-owner:
‘As I left the court tonight the Attorney-General’s clerk advised me that, in Deveau’s absence, Flood intended to recall you tomorrow morning.’
‘They’re out to get me, any way they can,’ accepted Winchester softly.
The importance of recognising crew behaviour had been one of the earliest lessons he had received from his father and Briggs accepted realistically that with any other crew, upon a voyage such as they had endured since leaving New York, trouble would have erupted far sooner. And probably far more violently. But when it came, it still surprised him and initially his annoyance was not so much by what Boz Lorensen and Gottlieb Goodschall had done but at his unpreparedness for it. No matter how good a crew they had proved to be, he should still have been aware
