Flash For Freedom!

dilemmas, but this beat everything. The Navy expected my evidence to follow the lines of the statements I'd made in Washington, months back. If it did, Spring would cut me down in open court and I'd be for the dock myself. If it didn't — if I lied myself hoarse-Spring would keep his mouth shut, but the Navy … my God, what would they do to me? What could they do? They couldn't arrest me, surely … no, but they could investigate and question, and God alone knew what might come of that. The tangle was so terrible that I couldn't think straight at all — there was nothing for it but to be carried along on the tide, and do what seemed safest at the time. I wondered if I should confess to Bailey, telling him who I really was and admitting my imposture, but I daren't; I'd have been putting a rope round my own neck for certain.

There aren't many blank periods in my memory, but the rest of that terrible day is one; I cannot remember the night that followed, but I recall that on the next morning, the day of the adjudication, a strange recklessness had come over me. I was beyond caring, I suppose, but I remember I stood muttering to myself before a mirror as I brushed my hair: 'Come on, Flashy, my boy, they haven't got you yet. Remember Gui Shah's dungeon; remember Rudi's point at your throat in the Jotunberg cellar; remember the Ghazis coming at you on the road above Jugdulluk; remember the slave cart in Mississippi; remember de Gautet drawing a bead on you. Well, you're still here, ain't you? Your backside is better enough for you to run again, if need be — bristle up the courage of the cornered rat, put on a bold front, and to hell with them. Bluff, my boy — bluff, shift and lie for the sake of your neck and the honour of Old England.'

And with these thoughts in my head and a freezing void in my bowels I was escorted to the adjudication court.

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,