THE TRIAL OF Charles Hunter took place on October 21, 1665, a Saturday. Ordinarily, the Justice House did not meet on a Saturday, but nevertheless Hunter was tried on that day. The earthquake-damaged structure was largely empty as Hunter was ushered in, alone, without the rest of his crew, to face a high tribunal of seven men sitting at a wooden table. The tribunal was presided over by Robert Hacklett himself, as Acting Governor of the Jamaica Colony.
He was made to stand before the tribunal while the charge was read to him.
“Raise your right hand.”
He did.
“You, Charles Hunter, you and every one of your company, by the authority of our Sovereign Lord, Charles, King of Great Britain, are indicted as follows.”
There was a pause. Hunter scanned the faces: Hacklett, glowering down at him, with the faintest trace of a smug smile; Lewisham, Judge of the Admiralty, evidently ill at ease; Commander Scott, picking his teeth with a gold toothpick; the merchants Foster and Poorman, averting their eyes from Hunter’s glance; Lieutenant Dodson, a rich officer in the militia, tugging at his uniform; James Phips, a merchant captain. Hunter knew them all, and he recognized how uneasy they were.
“Forasmuch as in open contempt of the laws of your country and the sovereign alliances of your king, you have wickedly united and articled together for the annoyance and disturbance of the subjects and properties of His Most Christian Majesty Philip of Spain upon the land and seas. And have, in conformity to the most evil and mischievous intentions, been to the Spanish settlement upon the island of Matanceros for the purpose of plundering and burning and robbing such ships and vessels as then happened in your way.
“And further ye stand charged with the unlawful opposition upon a Spanish vessel in the straits south of Matanceros, and the sinking of same, with the loss of all lives and properties aboard the ship.
“And lastly, that in the acting and compassing of all this, you were all and every one of you in wicked combination to exert, and actually did, in your several stations, use your utmost endeavors to distress and assault the said Spanish ships and dominions and murder the subjects of Spain. How plead you, Charles Hunter?”
There was a brief pause. “Not guilty,” Hunter said.
For Hunter, the trial was already a travesty. The Act of Parliament 1612 specified that the court must be composed of men who had no interest, directly or indirectly, in the particulars of the case being tried. And yet every man on the tribunal stood to gain from Hunter’s conviction and the subsequent confiscation of his ship and her treasure.
What confused him was the detailed nature of the indictment. No one could know what had occurred during the Matanceros raid except himself and his men. And yet the indictment had included his successful defense against the Spanish warship. Where had the court gotten its information? He could only assume that one of the crew had talked, probably under torture, the night before.
The court accepted his plea without the slightest reaction. Hacklett leaned forward. “Mr. Hunter,” he said, in a calm voice, “this tribunal recognizes the high standing you hold within the Jamaica Colony. We do not wish in this proceeding to stand upon hollow ceremony, which may not see justice served. Will you speak now in defense of your indictment?”
This was a surprise. Hunter paused a moment before answering. Hacklett was breaking the rules of judicial procedure. It must be to his advantage to do so. Nevertheless, the opportunity seemed too good to ignore.
“If it may please the distinguished members of this fair court,” Hunter said, with no trace of irony, “I shall endeavor to do so.”
The heads of the men on the tribunal nodded thoughtfully, carefully, reasonably.
Hunter looked from one to the next, before he began to speak.
“Gentlemen, no one among you is more thoroughly informed than I, of the sacred treaty lately signed between His Majesty King Charles and the Spanish Court. Never should I break the newly forged ties between our nations without provocation. Yet such provocation occurred, and in abundance. My vessel, the Cassandra, was set upon by a Spanish ship of the line, and all my men captured without warrant. Further, two were murdered by the captain of that vessel, one Cazalla. Finally, the same Cazalla intercepted an English merchantman bearing, among other cargoes unknown to me, the Lady Sarah Almont, niece of the Governor of this Colony.
“This Spaniard, Cazalla, an officer of King Philip, destroyed the English merchantman Entrepid, killing all those aboard in a bloodthirsty violent act. Among those dispatched was a favorite of His Majesty Charles, one Captain Warner. I am certain His Majesty mourns the loss of this gentleman very much.”
Hunter paused. The tribunal did not know this information and it was plain they were not pleased to hear of it.
King Charles took a very personal view of life; his normal good temper might be destroyed if one of his friends was injured or even insulted - let alone killed.
“For these several provocations,” Hunter said, “we attacked in reprisal the Spanish fortress at Matanceros, restoring Her Ladyship to safety, and taking as plunder what trifling reparations we deemed reasonable and proper. This is not piracy in the first instance, gentlemen. This is honorable revenge for heinous misdeeds upon the high seas, and such is the substance and nature of my conduct.”
He paused and looked at the faces of the tribunal. They stared back at him impassively; they all knew the truth, he realized.
“Lady Sarah Almont can bear witness to this testimony, as can every man aboard my ship, if such be called. There is no truth in the indictment as charged, for there can be no piracy except in the absence of due provocation, and there was indeed most strenuous provocation.”
He finished, and looked at the faces. They were bland now, blank and unreadable. He felt chilled.
Hacklett leaned over the table toward him. “Have you any further to speak in your reply to the indictment, Mr. Charles Hunter?”
“Nothing further,” Hunter said. “I have spoken all I have to say.”
“And most creditably, too, if I may take the liberty to say,” Hacklett commented. There were nods and murmurs of assent from the other six men. “But the truth of your speech is another question, which we must all now consider. Be so good as to inform this court under what business your vessel sailed in the first instance.”
“The cutting of logwood,” Hunter said.
“You had letters of marque?”
“I did, from Sir James Almont himself.”
“And where are these documents?”
“They were lost with the Cassandra,” Hunter said, “but I have no doubt Sir James will confirm that he drew them up.”
“Sir James,” Hacklett said, “is in great distress of illness, and cannot confirm nor deny any matter at hand before this court. Nonetheless, I feel we can take you at your word that these papers were issued.”
Hunter bowed slightly.
“Now then,” Hacklett said. “Where were you captured by the Spanish warship? In what waters?”
Hunter instantly sensed the dilemma he faced and hesitated before answering, knowing that the hesitation would damage his credibility. He decided to tell the truth - almost.
“In the Windward Passage north of Puerto Rico.”
“North of Puerto Rico?” Hacklett said with an air of elaborate surprise. “Is there logwood in those parts?”
“No,” Hunter said, “but we were buffeted by a mighty storm for two days, and sent far off our intended course.”
“Indeed, it must have been, for Puerto Rico is to the north and east, while all the logwood is to the south and west of Jamaica.”
Hunter said, “I cannot be held accountable for storms.”
“What was the date of this storm?”
“The twelfth and thirteenth of September.”
“Odd,” Hacklett said. “The weather was fair in Jamaica on those days.”
“The weather at sea is not always similar to that of the land,” Hunter said, “as is well known.”
“The court thanks you, Mr. Hunter, for your lesson in seamanship,” Hacklett said. “Although I think you have little to teach the gentlemen here assembled, eh?” He chuckled briefly. “Now then, Mr. Hunter - forgive me if I do
