‘It is my understanding that Captain Morehouse already has a captaincy, that of the Dei Gratia.’
He was losing ground, decided Flood.
‘Is it beyond possibility that Captain Morehouse might be offered a position within your company?’ he persisted.
‘Captain Morehouse and I have the briefest of acquaintanceships,’ said the witness. ‘As I have already attempted to make clear to this enquiry, no question of any appointment has been discussed between us.’
‘Not for anything Captain Morehouse has done for you?’ chanced Flood, heavily.
Pisani moved, as if to stand, but Winchester spoke ahead of any intervention.
‘Captain Morehouse returned intact a ship of mine which might otherwise have been lost,’ he said. ‘For that I am grateful. That is the only service that Captain Morehouse has performed from which I might be regarded as having benefited.’
‘Was any suggestion made otherwise?’ said Flood.
‘Sir,’ said Winchester, ‘throughout the course of this enquiry suggestions have constantly been made in exaggeration of any evidence to support them.’
‘As I have had occasion to remark earlier in the proceedings,’ said the Attorney-General, ‘the assessment of the evidence and the conclusion to be drawn from it is entirely that of the learned judge.’
‘And as I have had occasion to remark,’ came back Winchester, ‘civil findings in a civil court.’
Flood wondered if he could upset this complacement man’s composure by the revelation that the case was now being studied by the police department. Reluctantly he decided against it. The disclosure would be premature and he did not want to provide any opportunity for guilty people to escape.
And Winchester had escaped him again, he accepted. But only temporarily. Despite every setback, Frederick Flood’s determination to bring guilty men to justice had not wavered for a moment.
For the first time during their after-court gatherings, Captain Winchester did not dominate the discussion. Instead, he sat quietly listening to Consul Sprague recount the success they had had in contacting Deveau in Genoa and speeding him back. There was every hope that he would be in Gibraltar in time to give evidence the following day.
‘Then perhaps this charade can end,’ said Pisani. ‘There must be a limit to what Cochrane will permit the Attorney-General.’
‘I’d like to believe so,’ said the other lawyer, Cornwell.
‘For some days now I’ve been regretting that I ever saw the confounded ship and decided to salvage her,’ said Morehouse. ‘I wish I’d just let her drift on, after assuring myself there was no one on board.’
Aware of how bad that would sound to its owner, the Dei Gratia captain looked apologetically towards Captain Winchester.
‘I didn’t really mean that,’ he said hurriedly.
‘After the treatment we’ve received here, it’s a natural enough reaction,’ said Winchester, unoffended. ‘I almost wish you’d let her go myself.’
‘Flood seems to be aware of the great interest the finding of this vessel has created in America and England,’ said Sprague. ‘I think he likes the notoriety he’s getting.’
Unaware of the Attorney-General’s thoughts in the chamber that day, Winchester said, ‘Damned man seems to regard his function to be that of bear-baiting.’
He paused, then looked directly at the consul:
‘When I get back to New York I intend filing an official complaint to Washington on the conduct of this enquiry,’ he said. ‘It’s monstrous that these people can behave as they are doing without any apparent check.’
Sprague gestured, indicating the helplessness of his position.
‘This is a small colony, a thousand miles from England,’ he said. ‘Strange though it may seem, I know that Flood and Sir James Cochrane are highly regarded in London.’
‘It’ll be a short-lived reputation, if I have my way,’ vowed the owner.
‘The very real problem,’ said Pisani seriously, ‘is that under the current conditions, there’s very little likelihood of your doing so.’
‘Given any thought to raising the bail-bond?’ Cornwell asked the New York owner suddenly.
‘A lot,’ admitted Winchester. ‘I’m in correspondence with a ship’s captain in Cadiz with whom I’m acquainted.’
‘Let’s hope it will work,’ said the lawyer.
‘I think it will,’ said Winchester.
There had been little improvement in the weather, even though they were moving closer to the islands from which they hoped to get shelter. The sea had lessened slightly but the wind stayed near gale force and the first watch took down the royal and topgallant sails at Briggs’s orders; the memory of an over-canvassed ship in a storm was perhaps more vivid in his mind than anyone else’s.
Because of the squall, they slept fitfully, always conscious of the pitching of the vessel and the need to adjust their bodies to it, without fully waking.
Only occasionally did Sophia stir, whimpering, and once Sarah got up to her, smiling when she realised the child was only dreaming. For several minutes the woman stood ga2ing down at her younger child, braced against the ship’s movement with her hand against the edge of the tiny cot.
She heard a rumble, seemingly very close, and frowned at the prospect of yet another thunderstorm. Sophia had been remarkably good, decided Sarah, only complaining when she had been sick, which any child would have done. Once her stomach had settled, she had recognised almost without protest that she had to remain within the confines of the cabin, with the few toys they had brought. It was fortunate that his schooling had kept Arthur in Massachusetts. It would have been far more difficult occupying an active seven-year-old than it had been entertaining the baby.
She would be glad to get some sun upon Sophia’s face. And feed her up, not just on the fresh meat and fish which would be available in Gibraltar and along the Mediterranean ports, but upon the fruit that she remembered from her previous trips heaped in profusion in every market place.
There was another rumble, more muffled than before, but Sarah was only half aware of the sound, an idea forming in her mind. After such a crossing, the child would benefit from a brief vacation ashore. It would be very easy for them to be set down in one of the French ports on the way to Genoa and then be picked up as the Mary Celeste returned. If there were any delays with the return cargo, it would be easy enough for them to make their way overland to rejoin the vessel in port. Monte Carlo or Menton would be pleasant. Or maybe San Remo. If the Mary Celeste were detained, it would be quite simple to get to Genoa from any of them.
A spell ashore, no matter how brief, would mean Sophia could get the exercise that hadn’t been possible on the cramped, storm-battered ship. They would be able to explore inland villages. And paddle and splash in the sea that had been so cruel to them.
Sarah went slowly back to her bunk, pausing to stare down at her sleeping husband, feeling the warmth of affection. She regarded herself as a fortunate woman; Benjamin Briggs was a good man. And a fine, practising Christian, too. She remembered fondly his discomfort at her recognition of his pride in the Mary Celeste that day in New York, the expression on her face similar to that minutes before as she had gazed down at the baby. There was every reason for the feeling, yet her husband would always remain modest, she knew.
She was careful climbing back into her sleeping area, not wanting to disturb him. She was sure he would accept her idea of a holiday as a good one. And, as the pursekeeper, she knew they could afford it easily enough. She would mention it at breakfast.
Briggs had been aware of his wife standing over him, just as he had been aware of her getting up from her bunk and going to the child, but had purposely feigned sleep, not wanting the whispered conversation he knew would ensue if she realised he was awake.
His thoughts were entirely upon the ship. Sarah couldn’t help him with that and, adept as she was in recognising his feelings, she would discern his anxiety if they talked. And he did not want to frighten her.
Like her, he had heard the thunder apparently very near and his worry that he might have changed course too late had increased at the prospect of continuing bad weather. Regardless of the conditions at daybreak, he would open the holds, he decided. The barrels were securely enough stowed, even if they shipped heavy seas. And the pumps would be adequate, providing they kept a careful check.
Despite the decision, the fear that he had waited too long kept intruding itself into his mind. He attempted to
