Flash For Freedom!

'Very well.' Clitheroe looked at his papers. 'I shall call and examine the former slaves Drusilla and Messalina.'

At this the yellow girls popped up, with little squeaks of surprise-and I realised that these tarts must be two of the women we had been shipping to Havana. Well, here were the two final nails for Spring's coffin, but he never batted an eyelid as they were brought forward, fluttering nervously, to the table, and sworn in by the clerk. The fellows on the public benches were showing great interest now, nudging and muttering as the little beauties took their stand, like two butterflies, one pink and one yellow, and Clitheroe turned to the adjudicator.

'With permission I shall examine them together, and so save the court's valuable time,' says he. 'As I understand it, both you young ladies speak English?'

The young ladies giggled, and the pink one says: 'Yassuh, we both speak English, Drusilla'n' me.'

'Very good. Now, if you will answer for both, Messalina. I believe you were in a place called Roatan — the Bay Islands, you might call it, a few months ago. What were you doing there?'

Messalina simpered. 'We wuz in a who'-house, suh.'

'A what?'

'A who'-house — -a knockin'-shop, suh.' She put her gloved hand up to her mouth, and tittered, and the public slapped their thighs and guffawed. The adjudicator snapped for silence, and Clitheroe, looking uncomfortable, went on:

'You were both — employed in a … whore-house. I see. Now then, you were taken on a ship, were you not?' They both nodded, suppressing their giggles. 'Do you see here any of the men who were on that ship?'

They looked round, nervously, at the adjudicator, and then further afield. A voice near the back of the public benches called out: 'Not me, honey. I was at home,' and a great hoot of mirth broke out and had to be quieted, the adjudicator threatening to clear the room if there was unseemly behaviour. Then Messalina timidly pointed to Spring, and then they both looked round at me, and giggled, and whispered, and Messalina finally said:

'That one, too — with the nice whiskers. He was awful kind to us.'

'I'll bet he was,' says the voice again, and the adjudicator got so angry he swore, and said that was the last warning. Clitheroe gave me a look, and said:

'I see — these two men. Captain Spring and Mr Comber. They and others took you on a ship — where to, do you know?'

'Oh, to Havana, ev'yone said. An' then we was goin' on to here, by 'nother ship, to Awlins, right here.'

'I see. Did you know where you were going to, in New Orleans?'

They giggled and conferred. 'Miz Rivers' who'-house, so ev'yone reckon.'

'I see, first to Havana, and then to Mrs Rivers' … er, establishment, in New Orleans.' Clitheroe paused. 'There is, I am told, such an establishment.'

There was some haw-hawing from the public, and a cry of 'He ain't foolin'', but the adjudicator let it go.

'Now, girls,' says Clitheroe, 'when you were in Roatan, what were you?'

'Please, suh, we wuz whores,' giggled Drusilla.

'Yes, yes, but what else? Were you free?'

'Oh, no, suh, we wuz slaves. Warn't we, Drusie? Yassuh, we'z slaves a'right.'

'Thank you. And as slaves you were sent aboard the ship, to be taken to Havana, and thence sold to Mrs Rivers'… ah … whorehouse in New Orleans. But by the favour and mercy of God, the ship was captured by the United States Navy and —' Clitheroe leaned forward impressively '— you were brought to New Orleans and there set free. Is this not so?'

'Oh, yassuh. We's set free, sho' nuff.' Messalina smiled winningly at hun.

'Fine. Splendid. You were liberated from that unspeakable servitude, and you are now free women.' Clitheroe was enjoying himself. 'Since when I don't doubt you have been happy in your new-found land of adoption and blessed free estate. You are both safe in New Orleans?'

'Oh, yassuh. We's fine, at Miz' Rivers' who'-house.'

Even the adjudicator didn't try to stop the peal of laughter and applause that this provoked, and Drusilla and Messalina smiled around happily and preened themselves under all this male attention. But Clitheroe just sat down, red in the face, and Anderson got up and waited for the noise to subside.

'A very moving story,' says he, and everyone roared again. 'Tell me, Drusilla and Messalina — I don't doubt for a moment that every word you have told us is true, and I accept it as true — but tell me, you first, Messalina dear: where were you born?'

'Why … Baton Rouge, suh.'

'And you, Drusila?'

'N'Awlins, suh.'

'Indeed. Very interesting. And how did you come to be at Roatan?'

Messalina had been taken by a wealthy planter visiting Cuba; she had been his mistress, but he had tired of her and sold her. ('Silly bastard,' says the unseen voice.) Drusilla had been one of a party taken on a cruise by wealthy degenerates, who had sold their doxies at various places in the Caribbean.

'So you are both American-born? I see — and both born slaves?'

'Yassuh.'

'The other girls on the ship with you — were they also American-born? You don't know-of course not. And they have not been cited as witnesses in this case, and can't be called now, accordingly.' Anderson glanced knowingly across the court at Clitheroe, who was looking like a man who sees a ghost. 'May I refresh the court's memory by referring to the enactment of 1820' — he rattled off a string of numbers while he leafed through a large tome. 'Here we have it. Briefly it defines as piracy and illegal slave-trading —' he paused impressively '— the transportation for enslavement of any coloured person who is not already a slave under American law.'

In the hush that followed Anderson closed the book with a snap like a pistol shot.

'There we have it, sir. Captain Spring, as he has admitted, freely and openly, was carrying slaves — American slaves, born slaves, and in so doing he was in no way contravening any United States law. No more than a man breaks the law when he carries a slave across the Mississippi River. He was not running slaves, or slave-trading in the illicit sense, or —'

Clitheroe was on his feet, raging. 'This is an outrageous twisting of the truth — why, just because these two happen to be American-born — why, they were only chosen to testify because they spoke English well — half of their fellow-captives on the Balliol College, I am certain, were not American-born, and were therefore —'

'Then it's a pity you didn't bring them here today,' says Anderson. 'You should choose your witnesses more carefully.'

'Sir, this is monstrous!' cries Clitheroe. 'In the name of justice, I demand to be allowed to call another —'

'In the name of justice you'll keep us here till kingdom come!' cries Anderson. 'Really, sir, are we to be detained while this distinguished counsel rakes the whole of Louisiana for some witness who will suit his book? He has entered his witnesses before this court — let him abide by what they say. If they let him down, so much the worse for him, and so much the better for justice!'

There was no doubt whose side the spectators were on. They cheered and stamped and drowned out everyone until the little adjudicator had to shout for silence. And after several minutes, when all was quiet, he remarked:

'You had ample time to consider who you should call, sir. I'll hear the witnesses you have named.'

'I protest!' cries Clitheroe, his white hair flung back. 'I protest — but very well, sir — you shall hear my last witness, who will prove my case for me!' And as my heart shot into my mouth he turned and boomed:

'Beauchamp Millward Comber, Royal Navy!'

I suppose I took the oath, but I don't remember it. Then Clitheroe was taking me through my antecedents, my commissioning by the Board of Trade, my shipping aboard the Balliol College — all of which I had to invent, on the spur of the moment, and it wasn't made any easier by the unseen voice growling: 'Goddam' limey spy!' — and so to the business he wanted to get his teeth into.

'You can, I think, testify, that when the Balliol College reached Dahomey, she took aboard not palm oil, as the defendant claims — but a human cargo. Slaves! Is this not so?'