'I have already answered that question.'
'I would like you to do so again, if you would be so kind.'
'My opposition to the ill-treatment of slaves, and indeed of the concept of slavery, and my Wesleyan principles, were well known,' Matt said.
'That is equally true of Dr. Coke, surely. But Manton approached you:
'Well, sir, he approached us jointly,' Matt said. 'Dr. Coke felt, equally with Manton, that the matter would best be left to me.'
'Because you are a Hilton? Or because you might have some ulterior motive, some much stronger motive, for wishing to see James Hodge reduced?'
Matt silently cursed the heat he could feel gathering in his cheeks.
'Tell the court, Mr. Hilton, if you have ever heard the name, Gislane Nicholson?' invited Mr. Corder. ‘I have heard the name,' Matt said. 'Have you met the young woman?' 'I have met her.'
'Perhaps you knew her better than we suppose, Mr. Hilton. Did you ever, perhaps, propose marriage to the young lady?'
There was a murmur around the court; here was a decade of rumour being turned into crystal hard fact. 'Yes, I did,' Matt said.
'But she was a lady of colour, and a slave, to boot, absconded from Hodges, and before you could proceed with your plans she was returned to Hodge, to be punished, quite justifiably as a runaway slave. Mr. Manton says that on one occasion it was commanded by Mrs. Hodge that she be flogged, as he puts it, to death. This we may dismiss as an exaggeration, a remark of temper, as the girl was by all accounts quite incorrigible, so incorrigible, indeed, that shortly afterwards she was sold by James Hodge.' Mr. Corder allowed himself another smile. 'No doubt this was after she had been flogged to death, Mr. Hilton.'
The court tittered.
‘I would presume that Mr. Hodge intervened,' Matt said.
'What, this black-hearted murderer who is on trial here today? I find that difficult to believe. But alas, you cannot tell me, Mr. Hilton. You can tell me, however, whether I am right in supposing that it was the fact that this girl, this Gislane Nicholson, had been a slave on Hodges and the other fact that she was the same girl with whom you had planned marriage, that first encouraged Mr. Manton to bring his tale of imagined ills to you.'
'I cannot answer for Mr. Manton's motives,' Matt said.
Corder's smile disappeared, and his face grew red with passion. 'But you can answer for your own, sir,' he shouted. 'Come, sir, be honest with us. Tell this court, sir, whether or not you would have been prepared to indict any planter save James Hodge, whether you are not entirely driven in this matter by a desire to avenge yourself on a man who never did you any harm, sir, who but owned a slave girl to whom you had taken a fancy. Come, sir, you are under oath to speak the truth.'
Matt stared at the lawyer.
'Well, sir?' demanded Corder. 'Well, sir?'
'I am trying to decide,' Matt said, speaking very carefully. 'As you say, I am under oath. Mr. Hodge's reputation for harshness is well known, and I was determined to bring the worst usages of slavery before the public notice. I think I would have proceeded against him in any event. But I would be dishonest were I not to admit there was personal feeling involved.'
Again the rustle round the court, but now Corder was smiling once more.
'My thanks, Mr. Hilton. You may step down.' But he remained standing, facing Payne. 'Your Lordship,' he said, 'I understand that Mr. Hilton is the last prosecution witness, and I feel that at this stage I can do nothing better than repeat the plea I made at the very beginning of this trial. I wish to save the court's time, sir, and the public money. Your Lordship, I submit there is no case here for my client to answer. The prosecudon has submitted a written testimony charging my client with the most horrific crimes, but I fail to see that they have substantiated a single one of them, that they have indeed done anything more than prove that the gentleman who instigated this accusation, Mr. Matthew Hilton, was motivated by a very personal hatred for James Hodge, which I submit must at the least have coloured his attitude towards Manton, and may sir, it is no more than a suggestion, have caused him to influence what Manton had to say. My Lord, James Hodge has committed no crime. I ask that he be dismissed.'
'Hm,' said Sir Reginald. 'Hm.' He looked at Mr Malahine. 'There is much in what Mr. Corder says. It occurs to me that Mr. Hodge is being accused of being a planter, not a murderer. Well, then, Mr. Malahine, where would we all stand then, eh?'
Mr. Malahine did not look particularly troubled. 'My learned friend is in error, Your Lordship, in supposing that I have finished presenting my case. I have another witness, and can only offer my apologies that I did not make this clear. But as he has deprecated the lack of any evidence against his client from planting sources, he will welcome my last testimony. Call Mr. Robert Hilton to the stand.'
There was a moment of utterly shocked silence in the crowded courtroom which ended in a hum of muttered comment as Robert limped up the stairs and into the witness-box, and took the oath. Sir Reginald banged his desk with his gavel, and gradually the noise subsided.
'Your full name, please, sir,' invited Mr. Malahine.
'Robert Anthony Hilton, of Plantation Hilltop, in Jamaica.'
'Your occupation. Mr. Hilton?' 'Planter.'
'Have you ever met the accused, Mr. Hilton?' 'Three times. On the occasion of visits to Hodges Plantation.'
'And will you tell the court if you ever saw any ill-treatment of the slaves, beyond what you as a planter, would consider necessary discipline?'
'On the occasion of my first visit,' Robert said, his voice expressionless, 'I saw a young woman of mixed blood, a house slave, I believe, suspended from a triangle under sentence of death by the whip.'
'For what offence, Mr. Hilton? Had she struck her mistress?'
'She had attended a voodoo ceremony, I believe,' Robert said.
'And for this she was to be flogged to death. What of your second visit?'
'I should prefer to discuss my third. My second visit was extremely brief.' 'Yes?'
'On this third occasion, I saw nothing myself, but I was told of events on Hodges which seemed to me to be unnecessarily harsh.'
Corder, hitherto leaning forward with a frown, gave a short laugh and leaned back in his seat. Clearly he apprehended no danger from evidence which was but a recital of what the court had already been told, of second and third-hand rumours.
'Will you tell the court, Mr. Hilton, who it was told you of these events?'
Robert looked at Hodge for the first time, and almost smiled; his expression was quite terrible. 'It was Janet Hodge.'
Corder sat bolt upright, and once again there was a complete silence in the courtroom. But heads turned, to look at Janet Hodge. She stared at them for a moment, then rose and left the room.
'You are speaking of the defendant's wife,' Mr. Malahine said.
'I am.'
'Will you relate the circumstances to the court?'
'I happened to be in Nevis on business some years after the incident I described before, and visited Hodges. I should say that I was on bad terms with Mr. and Mrs. Hodge, in that I had prevented the ill-treatment of the young woman I have spoken of, and on this occasion Mrs. Hodge took some pleasure in giving me examples, as she put it, "of her way with the blacks". She showed me a girl whose ears had been split, and a man whose member had been beaten with a stick until it was quite unable to perform its proper function.'
'Did she mention a slave named Jeremiah?'
'Indeed she did. Jeremiah was quite a joke with the Hodges. He had been thrown into a vat of molten molasses and there drowned. They supposed, as the molasses were later refiltered and reprocessed, that Jeremiah was now sweetening coffee throughout Great Britain. They found this very amusing.'
'Mr. Hilton, in your judgement, having regard to what you saw and what you were told on Hodges, is the testimony offered by Mr. Charles Manton in this statement substantially true?'
The paper was passed up to Robert, who read it slowly and carefully, aware th
at every eye in the courtroom was upon him. 'I see no reason to suppose that there is any exaggeration in this statement,' he said at last.
'I thank you, Mr. Hilton.' Mr. Malahine sat down.
Corder stood up, moving slowly. He had in fact been whispering over the edge of the dock with his client, but clearly he did not like his situation. 'Mr. Hilton,' he said. 'Surely, sir, you do not expect this court to accept in evidence the memory of a conversation with the defendant's wife?'
'I hold no brief for this court,' Robert said. 'I was asked a question and I answered it.'
'And suppose I told you that I shall put Mrs. Hodge in that box to refute your statement?'
'Do you presume to call me a liar, sir?' Robert said, his voice like a rumble of distant thunder.
Corder bit his lip. But clearly he was no coward. 'I merely seek to establish, sir, that your evidence, like so much of the evidence we have heard in this case, is sorely lacking in identifiable facts. But yet I will offer you a fact, to confirm or deny, Mr. Hilton. This young woman you describe as having been under sentence of death by flogging, would you tell the court her name?'
'Gislane Nicholson,' Robert said.
'All.' Mr. Corder smiled at the court, as it rustled with comment. 'We have heard that name before. Your young cousin told us of that name but a few moments ago. And in so doing destroyed his own credibility.'
'By God,' Robert said. 'By God, Corder, if you call me a liar once more I shall come down there and break your head. Mark my words.'
'Your Lordship,' protested Mr. Corder.
'Now really, Robert,' said Sir Reginald. ‘I mean, Mr. Hilton. This is a court of law and you will conduct yourself properly.'
'Let him conduct himself properly,' Robert bellowed. 'He seeks to twist words and impugn facts, by God. Well, let him have these, sir. I know the girl. I sent her to Hodges, and I sent her from Hodges. Aye, chew on that you rumourmongering rascals. I intervened to save her from being flogged to death, and I had her sent to the mainland, to a Dutchman, may God rest her soul. I did it to stop her marrying my cousin, and there's a fact. But I am not here today to discuss Gislane Nicholson.'
'Really, sir,' Corder protested. 'You are not here to discuss anything. You are here to answer questions.'
'By God,' Robert shouted. 'I'll discuss what I choose, Corder, and be damned to you. That man ...' his hand flung out, its finger pointing, 'is an utter blackguard. His wife is worse, and in my opinion she should be standing beside him. I'd not have the pair of them in charge of my dogs, much less a parcel of human beings. You ask me whether or not Manton's statement is true? I'd say, sir, that Manton has not recounted the half of it. What is more, sir, you know that as well as I, and every damned man in this courtroom knows it too. Including you gentlemen,' he said to the jury. 'Call yourself planters? By God, you, we, are more than that. We made these islands what they are, and God willing, we shall keep them what they are. But we'll not be helped by scoundrels like Hodge. There are eyes upon us, by God, English eyes, the eyes of Parliament, gentlemen. They'd not trouble us if they can help it. We mean too much to their pockets. But if they are forced to it, why by God they will have to. I know you there, I know the extent of your own criminality. I know it was you gentlemen who mounted an attack upon my coach, who nearly killed my own sister. By God, when I find the actual instigator of that deed I'll have him at the end of my pistol, you may be sure of that.'
'Your Lordship,' Corder said. 'I must protest.'
'Oh, hold your miserable tongue,' Robert bellowed. That man is a murderer, and a villain, and a scoundrel. He is a criminal, sir, and we all know that. Turn him off gentlemen. Turn him off, and make sure that the world knows of it, or we shall all be tarred with the same brush.'
'Your Lordship,' spluttered Mr. Corder.
'Your Lordship,' said Mr. Malahine. The prosecution rests its case.'
'The court will rise,' said the clerk.
Matt rubbed the back of his head. The jury had been out for twelve hours, since eight o'clock of the previous evening, and few of the residents of Charleston had had any sleep. All night the crowds had gathered, on street corners and in bars, and woe betide any Negro, slave or free, found on the streets. Matt and Robert, with Mr. Malahine and Hugh Elliott and Mrs. Elliott, and Mr. and Mrs. Loman, had dined together, and then remained sitting, and talking, over their glasses of brandy. There was much to be considered, much to be appreciated. For the first time in his life, that Matt could recall, Robert had known doubts.
'You were quite magnificent,' Mrs. Elliott had insisted.
'Even if decidedly illegal,' her husband had agreed. 'If anything can swing the case in our favour it was your denunciation of Hodge and all who support him.'
'Aye. A planter,' Robert had said. 'There is a sad business. But the wretch had his minions fire on Sue. By God, I'd like to get my hands on him myself.'
'I think you may safely leave him to the hangman,' Loman remarked. 'Corder opted to stake his all on prejudice when he decided not to call Janet.'
'Yet is the jury a planting one,' Matt said. 'Supposing the verdict is adverse?'
'Ah, well,' Elliott had said. 'It will involve my resignation, for a start. But I have a vessel standing by to carry you and your cousin back to Jamaica. I truly think, however, that my problems will only really start should the verdict be in our favour.'
And when they had been summoned back to the court, he had taken his leave of them. Matt glanced at Robert, sitting hard-faced at his side, staring at the jury as they filed into the room. For him, more than anyone in the room, there could now be no turning back.
'Gentlemen of the jury,' said the clerk. 'Are you agreed on a verdict?'
'We are,' said the foreman.
The clerk stretched out his hand, and took the slip of paper. The jurymen gazed at the spectators, defiantly, Matt thought. It was difficult to decide whether or not that meant anything.
The clerk passed the paper up to Sir Reginald Payne, who unfolded it, glanced at it, and then looked again. The rich colour in his face seemed to deepen. Then he raised his head, and looked around the room, as if seeking someone. And not finding him.
'My Lord?' asked the clerk.
'Ask them,' Payne muttered. 'Let them speak.'
'What is that verdict?' asked the clerk. 'We find the prisoner at the bar guilty of murder, as charged.'
There was a moment of utter silence in the courtroom. Then Hodge shouted. 'You're crazy. You, John Townsend? You, Harry Watts? You ...'
Noise swelled up in the room and drowned his voice, and indeed everything else. Several men left their seats and ran for the corridor, but the door was suddenly closed, and in front of it stood a squad of red-coated soldiers. And Elliott had appeared on the bench beside Payne.
'Quiet,' he shouted. 'Quiet. As of this moment, the island of Nevis is placed under martial law. No man will leave this room bearing arms. Swords and pistols may be left in the care of the clerk. Will you proceed, Sir Reginald?'
'Is that the verdict of you all?' asked the clerk, in sepulchral tones.
'It is,' said the foreman.
The noise was slowly subsiding, while Sir Reginald Payne took off his wig, apparently to scratch his head.
'You'll proceed,' Elliott said. 'And quickly man.'
The black square was placed on his bare head, and he stared at Hodge.
'You'll not do it,' Hodge said. 'You cannot. It will mean the end of all planting.'
'James Hodge,' Sir Reginald said. 'You have been found guilty by a jury of your peers of the crime of murdering one of your slaves, and must now suffer the penalty, which is that you shall be taken from this place to a prison, and thence to a place of execution, and there you shall be hanged by the neck until you are dead.' He paused, and sighed. 'The sentence to be carried out at the discretion of His Excellency the Governor.'
'Then it shall be done immediately,' Elliott declared. 'Sergeant.'
More soldiers had filed into the courtroom, and now they s
urrounded the dock, while the sergeant mounted the steps to dismiss the warders and take charge of Hodge himself.
"You'll not do it,' Hodge shouted. 'You have no right, sir. You cannot turn a man off the moment he is sentenced. There is no justice.'
'My care is the preservation of law and order in this colony, Mr. Hodge,' Elliott said. 'Every moment you remain alive threatens that law and order.'
'I wish to appeal,' Hodge cried. 'I have the right to appeal.'
'Your appeal is denied,' Elliott said. 'You'll remove the prisoner, sergeant. Gentlemen, you'll leave your arms in here, if you please.'
'No,' Hodge screamed. The soldiers seized his arms, and he struck at them before being restrained. 'You'll not do it,' he yelled. 'You'll not hang a planter.'
Then he began to scream incoherently, as he was marched to the stairs leading down to the cells, while the room stood and stared, still too stricken with horror to understand what had actually happened.
'It would be best for us to leave now,' Mr. Malahine whispered to Robert. 'There is that ship, waiting for you. Unless you actually wish to see the execution.'
Robert glanced at Matt.
How suddenly flattened Matt felt, how totally lacking in all emotion. It had perhaps taken too long, consumed too much of his life. He knew now he felt only pity. 'No,' he said. 'I have hounded that man to his death, and Corder was more than a little right when he suggested my desire for vengeance was greater than my desire for justice. But I would speak with him, before I leave.'
'With Hodge?' Robert demanded. 'That is madness. What can you say to him?' He led them to the door, while several members of the crowd began to boo and hiss. 'Bastards. They are a despicable crew, to be sure.'
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