Troubled Waters

Balcarres's… the island's Governor-General's… personal attorney, one Mister Johnathon Porter, Esquire, a most respected member of the bar, and formerly King's Counsel from Temple Bar, before accepting Lord Balcarres's offer of employment overseas. Trust me, gentlemen,' Sadler said, spreading his hands, and letting a wee smile cross his solemn, at-work features. 'Every Lord Justice in the land has dealt with Mister Porter, and hold him in the highest esteem.

'It does not harm our cause, either,' Sadler continued, turning just a big smug, 'that both Mister Peel and Mister Porter had the deposition transcribed to papers bearing the Governor-General's seal and letterhead, copies of which Mister MacDougall already has in hand, and stands ready to lay them before any Lord Justice who may adjudge the matter. Such imprint, sirs, while not bearing Lord Balcarres's signature, will go a long way towards lending a taint of official, though tacit, displeasure with the conduct of the Jamaica trial.'

'And what did this local barrister have t'say for himself 'bout the matter?' Burgess pressed.

'Why, that he was hired on by the Court, dredged up from taking a pint or two of mild in a tavern close by, Mister Chiswick,' Sadler said with what almost approached a sly snicker, 'given less than ten minutes to familiarise himself with the charges and the identity of his absent client, and was unable to present much beyond apro forma defence. Poor Mister Pruett, a new-come to the Jamaica bar, about as unschooled as they come, sirs! Poor in abilities, I should suspect, as well as pelf, and only paid his honorarium months later, after persistent dunning of the local court system for his meagre thirty pounds.

'And, that miserly honorarium, gentlemen,' Sadler said with an air of gleeful triumph, 'was finally paid by Mister Hugh Beauman 's local attorney, in part, at least, since the local Justices didn't deem Pruett's services worth even such a low amount!'

'Why, that's… that's…!' Lewrie spluttered, jerking erect from his dismal slump in a hard chair so quick that he spilled a bit of brandy on his waist-coat.

'Evidence of a criminal collusion 'twixt prosecuting barrister and defence barrister so vile that poor Mister Pruett could be brought up on charges, and slung into prison himself,' Sadler crowed. 'Loss of membership in the bar, at the very least. Both of them, really… Pruett, and Beauman's barrister, Mister George Cotton.'

'And he said that in his deposition, Mister Sadler?' Sir Hugo chortled, rocking back and forth with excitement on his chair.

'Indeed he did, Sir Hugo, sir,' Sadler exulted. 'My employer believes that Pruett's presence at any trial, or delaying evidentiary hearing, is so important to Captain Lewrie's defence that he wrote to Mister Peel, along with a sum of money, to see to it that Pruett must take passage to England, and be lodged in London until such time that he testify in person, exposing how one-sidedly was the trial conducted, how scanty were his chances to present a credible defence, and what a travesty was the whole affair, sirs!'

'Right, then!' Burgess erupted. 'Huzzah! A glass with you, Mister Sadler… and a glass with you, next, Alan old son!'

'Toast… toast!' Sir Hugo insisted. 'Top up your glasses, so we may make a double toast! To the poor Mister Pruett of Jamacia, and the sagacious Mister Andrew MacDougall, Esquire!'

He's t'have room, board and spirits on my purse? Lewrie thought, utterly appalled at how eager other people were to spend his money, even on his own behalf. Recalling how lavishly MacDougall and Sadler had already regaled themselves at his expense, he didn't know whether to laugh with relief, or weep in fear of future poverty.

After that gala toast, though, Mr. Sadler shyly called for their attention for a bit longer, for he had more to relate.

'Mister MacDougall, sirs, has already ascertained who it will be who prosecutes the Beaumans' case, as well,' Sadler said in sober takings. 'Evidently, their Mister Cotton on Jamaica had written their London solicitor and agent before taking ship, whom they authorised to engage a barrister upon his own judgement and recommendation, to speed things along whilst they made their sailing arrangements.'

'Who is the bastard?' Sir Hugo snarled.

'Sir George Norman, K.C., sirs,' Sadler informed them. 'He is also a member of Grey's Inn, as is Mister MacDougall. Very well known at the bar. And, to Mister MacDougall, too, so…'

'Ain't that… illegal, or something?' Sir Hugo asked, snorting in disbelief. 'Mean t'say…!'

'Not at all, Sir Hugo… gentlemen!' Sadler quickly responded with a prim dislike for the honourable conduct of members of the bar to be questioned. 'One might as well question the validity of two former students of Cambridge opposing each other, of two congregants of the same church parish, or-'

'It happens all the time, Sir Hugo,' Twigg, sitting and listening silently for the most part, assured the nettled old fellow, giving him a calming pat on the arm. 'One must remember that both MacDougall and this Norman fellow gain their livelihood from their successes for their clients, and their best interests. Ain't that so, Sadler?'

'Indeed, Mister Twigg.'

'Their livelihoods, and their reputes, rather,' Twigg went on, leaning back in the padded armchair he had appropriated as if musing. 'Lose a prominent case, and one's repute is diminished. As is their ability to attract clients, or stick in the mind of solicitors, who engage them.'

'Oh,' Burgess Chiswick commented, seeing the light. 'I should think their pride suffers, too. How important and brilliant others in their line o' work think 'em… how shameful a loss would be to their souls?'

'Exactly so, Mister Chiswick,' Sadler said, taking charge of the conversation once more. 'A man recognised as King's Counsel, or barrister, might be engaged to prosecute one time, defend another… so, for all those reasons which you and Mister Twigg have laid out, it would be impossible, and a grave offence 'gainst the dignity of law, and their personal sacred honour, to collude. Sir George Norman 'ate his terms' the requisite three years at Grey's Inn, and was called to the bar three years before my employer applied, and Mister MacDougall was still a special pleader and writer when Sir George was made King's Counsel. They are not colleagues, in the familiar sense, gentlemen.'

'Don't sup t'gether?' a dubious Sir Hugo asked. 'Shoot, fish, go on country retreats with each other?'

'Sir George and Mister MacDougall do not socialise at all, Sir Hugo,' Sadler could say with confidence, and a certain sly humour. 'I do not think that such would be possible, in point of fact, for, ah… well, Sir George holds rather low opinion of Scots, or anyone who has risen from beneath his own class, in general. Sir George's father is Viscount Selby, his elder brother a Baron, and Sir George, I should have said, is Sir George Norman, Baronet… long before he attained the honourific of King's Counsel, and became a Bencher in Grey's Inn.'

'Aha!' Twigg said, with a derisive bark. 'What our man here, Captain Lewrie, might nautically term a 'top- lofty,' is he?'

'The 'top-loftiest,' Mister Twigg,' Sadler said, snickering a trifle.

'Reckoned a capable man?' Lewrie had to ask, so he could know his odds, and his opponent.

'At some things, Captain Lewrie,' Sadler replied, tapping his nose. 'Sir George did a few terms at Oxford, to no special honours earned… no Blues won, d'ye see. Mister MacDougall heard a lot of him during his early years at Grey's Inn… for Sir George dined in diligently, and was reputed to toady diligently with the Benchers of the time, but… without much in the way of proper legal study. Sir George's family is close friends and cater-cousins to a great many at the law, though, and… one might charitably say that he was called to the bar more on the strength of his connexions than his abilities.

'Do not mistake my meaning, gentlemen… Captain Lewrie,' Mr. Sadler gravely cautioned. 'Sir George Norman is not a fool, nor easy to outwit in court. He is not an opponent to dismiss, or underestimate… though…,' he said, looking as if he wished he could chew on a thumbnail in such company.

'Though what}' Burgess prompted, impatient and intrigued.

'Well, Sir George has done rather a lot of cases in the Court of Common Pleas, for rather well-connected clients from his own social set, and the peerage. One case in Chancery Court, a most convoluted and intricate affair of inheritances, multiple wills, the upkeep for distraught and penniless heirs during its slow procession through the courts, has been so lucrative, and protracted, that no one doubts it will outlast Sir George's lifetime, and keep him independently wealthy apart from what his own family