Flash For Freedom!

'Here, in New Orleans, a court of adjudication will pronounce on the Balliol College, and according to that, her master and crew may be charged with slave-trading, and possibly — since Spring fought against ships of the U.S. Navy — with piracy. But none of these charges can even be brought, sir, unless the court of adjudication finds that the Balliol College was indeed a slaver. So far, then, we follow the same course as the mixed courts at Havana and elsewhere. But here, sir, there are much more powerful interests involved — this is New Orleans, remember, a long way from Washington, and New Orleans holds no grudge against slave-traders like Spring. To secure the confiscation and condemnation of the Balliol College as a slave ship, the case must be proved to the hilt and beyond. Now do you see why your evidence is vital?' He tapped his desk. 'This is not just a criminal — a legal case, Mr Comber. It's a political one, sir. See here,' he grew confidential again. 'This man Spring. No ordinary blackbirder, that. Why, when he was brought in by Fairbrother's people-what happened? The fellow was wounded — I tell you, sir, there was a bail bond posted faster than you could sneeze, a surgeon in attendance, more lawyers running about than you'd think existed. Why, sir? Because there's money, and power, and political influence behind this damned trade-that's why! There's his ship — how many hundreds of thousands of dollars investment d'you think she represents — and not just dollars, either, but pounds sterling and pesos and francs? They couldn't find any papers on her, because that damned wife of Spring's heaved them all overside — so what happens now, but Spring's counsel enter papers to show she's registered in Vera Cruz, Mexico, of all places, and her owner is some bloody Dago with a name as long as your leg — Mendoza y Cascara, or something. Mexico, Lord save us! If there's one place we don't need complications with, it's Mexico — and they know it. But they can prove she's Mexican-owned — for all she's Baltimore built, with an English skipper.'

I could make little of this, but one thing seemed clear.

'But if she was carrying slaves when they took her — and had slave gear aboard —'

'Slave gear doesn't matter — the equipment treaty doesn't hold up in New Orleans, sir. Mixed commission trials, yes, but not here. The slaves, sir — they're the thing!'

'Well, then —'

'Precisely. That's where we've got them. There were slaves aboard, and for all the treasure and effort that will be poured in on their side, I don't see how they can get round it. Mind you, sir, the shifting and lying and trickery that goes on at a slave ship adjudication is something you must see to believe. It wouldn't surprise me if Spring claimed they were all his sons and daughters, wearing chains because they're perverted creatures. I've seen excuses just as wild. And in New Orleans — well, you can't tell. I would to God,' he added, 'that Fairbrother had had the sense to take the Balliol College to Havana — she'd have been nailed there, fast enough, and we'd have been spared all this. But with your evidence, Mr Comber, I don't see how we can go wrong. Oh, they'll fight; they've got Anderson, who's as sharp a mind as ever took a brief — or bribed a witness. He'll try every trick and dodge going, and the adjudicator will be leaning his way, remember. But when you take the stand — well, sir, where will they be then?'

Where they would be was of small interest to me; where was Flashy going to be? I gulped and asked:

'Do they … er … do they know about … that I'll be giving evidence?'

'Not yet,' says he, smiling happily. 'You see, an adjudication isn't a trial — we don't have to come and go with the other side much beforehand, officially, although I can tell you that the politicking that's been done in this case — offers of settlement, God knows what — has been amazing. Whoever is behind Spring, they're people who matter. They want him and his ship clear — probably frightened of what he'll divulge if he's ever brought to trial. Oh, it's a fine, dirty business, Mr Comber — the slime and corruption doesn't end on the slave deck, I can tell you. No, they don't know about you, yet — but I'll be surprised if a little bird doesn't tell 'em pretty soon. Lucky, in a way, that you didn't turn up until now — court sits the day after tomorrow, and if you hadn't been here we'd have had to go in without our best witness.'

Lucky, I thought — just another few days lost up north and they might have started and got it over, and I'd have been spared my appearance and inevitable unmasking. I couldn't see anything for it, now — unless I got the chance to run again, but Bailey, for all his amiability, was no less watchful than the marshal had been. Even at the Navy office there was a damned little American snotty keeping me company wherever I went, and on the following day, when I was taken down to the building where the adjudication court sat, and was introduced to the counsel representing the U.S. Navy, the snotty and a petty officer were trailing at my heels.

The counsel was a lordly man from Washington with a fine aristocratic beak and silver hair falling to his shoulders. His name was Clitheroe, and he talked to the air a yard above my head; to hear him, the business would be over in a couple of hours at most, and then he would be able to get back to Washington and direct his talents to something worth while. He talked briskly for a moment or two about my part in the proceedings — 'decisive corroboration' was the expression he used — and then consigned me to the care of his junior, a quiet, dark little fellow called Dunne, who had said very little, and now took me apart into a side room, instructing my escort to wait while he had a private word with me.

Now what followed is gospel true, and you will just have to believe me. If it runs counter to your notions of how justice is done in the civilised world, I can't help it; nothing in my experience leads me to believe that things are any different in England or France, even today. This is what happened.

Dunne talked to me for about five minutes, around and about the case, but all very vague, and then begged to be excused for a moment. He went out, leaving me alone, and then the door opened and in comes a prodigious fat man, with a round face and spectacles, for all the world like some Friar Tuck in a high collar. He closed the door carefully, beamed at me, and says:

'Mr Comber? Delighted to meet you, sir. My name is Anderson — Marcellus Anderson, sir, very much at your service. You may have heard of me — I represent the defendants in the case in which you are to be a distinguished witness.'

My jaw dropped, and I must have glanced at the door through which I had come from Clitheroe's office, for he gave a fat man's chuckle and slid into a chair, observing:

'Have no fears, sir; I shall not detain you above a moment. The admirable Clitheroe, and your, ha-ha, watchdog, Captain Bailey, would grudge me even that long, no doubt, but Mr Dunne is a safe man, sir — he and I understand each other.' He regarded me happily over his spectacles; Mr Pickwick as ever was.

'Now, very briefly, Mr — er — Comber, when we heard that you were to testify, my client, Captain Spring, was mystified. Indeed, sir — do you know, he even seemed to doubt your existence? However, you will know why, I dare say. I made rapid inquiry, obtained a description of you, and when this was conveyed to my client — why, sir, a great light dawned upon him. Oh, he was thunderstruck, and I needn't go into distressing detail about what he said — but he understood your, ha-ha, position, and the steps you had taken to safeguard yourself when the Balliol College was arrested some months ago.'

He took off his glasses and polished them, regarding me benignly.

'Rash, sir, very rash — if you'll forgive me for saying so. However, it's done. Now Captain Spring was incensed at what he considered — justifiably, I think — to be a disloyalty on your part. Yes, indeed, and it was his first instinct to denounce you the moment you took the stand. However, sir, it occurred to me — it's what I'm paid for — that there might even be advantage to my client in having Lieutenant —' he paused — 'Beauchamp Millward Comber as a witness for the plaintiff. If his evidence was — oh, shall we say, inconclusive, it might do the defendant more good than harm. Do you take me, sir?'

I took him all right, but without giving me a chance to reply he went on.

'It amounts to this, sir. If my client is cleared, as I feel bound to tell you I believe he will be — for we have more shots in our locker than friend Clitheroe dreams of — then we have no interest in directing attention to the antecedents of Lieutenant Comber. If Captain Spring is not cleared —' he shook his head solemnly '— then when the crew of the Balliol College are arrainged for slave-trading and so forth, their number will be greater by one than it is at present.'

He stood up quickly. 'Now, sir, Mr Dunne will be impatient to speak to you again. When we meet again, at the hearing, it will be as strangers. Until then, I have the honour to bid you a very good day.'

'Wait … wait, for God's sake!' I was on my feet, my mind in a turmoil. 'Sir … what am I to do?'

'Do, sir?' says he, pausing at the door. 'Why, it is not for me to tell a witness how he shall give evidence. I leave that to your own judgment, Mr … er … Comber.' He beamed at me again. 'Your servant, sir.'

And then he was away, and two shakes later Dunne was back, aloof and business-like, describing to me the form and procedure of an adjudication court, all of which went straight by me. Well, I've been in some fearful