‘The Gross of Savoy, I believe,’ prompted Flood.
‘I was unaware of what it was, sir. I thought of it only as a design.’
‘So we have established that you did examine the sword. Tell this enquiry what you discovered.’
‘Nothing,’ said Deveau immediately.
‘Nothing! We’ll have a little more attention to detail than that, Mr Deveau. I’ll repeat the question. What did you find upon the blade of the weapon?’
‘Nothing that occurs to my memory now.’
Flood shifted irritably. The man was more obtuse than clever, he decided.
‘Were there not stains upon the blade?’
‘I believe there were some marks. Rust, I took them to be.’
‘Was it not really stains, Mr Deveau? Stains of blood, which had been hastily wiped?’
‘I have said that almost everything in the cabin was very wet. I took the marks to be rust, caused by the sword becoming damp.’
‘Were the marks positive spotting, as happens when metal commences to rust?’
‘Not exactly, sir.’
Flood felt the stir of excitement. It was coming, he thought. Very slowly. But he was extracting the evidence he wanted. He would have to be careful his accent didn’t begin overwhelming him, making the words difficult to comprehend:
‘Explain exactly what they were?’
Deveau hesitated, seeking the words.
‘Smeared,’ he conceded finally.
‘Does rust smear?’
‘I considered it was rust recently forming … that I caused the effect by withdrawing the blade from its scabbard.’
‘Isn’t the real explanation that it was not rust at all?’ demanded Flood suddenly. ‘Isn’t the real explanation that it was unquestionably blood that had been hastily wiped after some horrific attack upon the captain and his family aboard the Mary Celeste?’
Flood had expected Deveau to react in confusion, but instead the man stood regarding him curiously.
‘I know nothing of that, sir,’ he said.
‘Don’t you, Mr Deveau?’ Flood extended his hand, as if offering the sword he still held towards the man. ‘Don’t you know how these suspicious stains came to be upon this weapon?’
Deveau frowned again, this time with the growing awareness of what Flood was suggesting.
‘No, sir,’ he said anxiously. ‘As God is my witness, I do not.’
‘Alas,’ said Flood, ‘God appears to have absented himself that day from the side of Captain Briggs and his unfortunate family. Let’s proceed with what else you found.’
‘After the captain’s cabin, we went to the galley,’ took up the witness. ‘The door was open. There was about a foot of water there, where the sea had come in. The stove was knocked out of place and the cooking utensils scattered everywhere –’
‘As might have happened had there been an altercation … a fight perhaps?’ intruded Flood.
‘I thought it the effect of the ship being tossed about by the weather. That and perhaps the sea flooding in.’
‘There was no evidence of victuals, indicating a meal?’
‘None.’
‘Was the stove hot?’
‘No. Quite cold and shifted, as I say.’
‘What about the fo’c’sle?’
‘There was great confusion in the seamen’s quarters,’ remembered Deveau. ‘I found the men’s oilskins, boots and even their pipes scattered about the place.’
‘You have a great experience of sailing?’
‘Since a boy of fifteen.’
‘Tell me, what do you imagine would cause men to abandon a ship, as is being suggested by some witnesses that this vessel was abandoned, in such haste that qualified, trained seamen would not think to snatch up their boots, oilskins or even their pipes?’
‘I do not know, sir.’
‘Would you have expected people to leave the vessel in such unpreparedness?’
‘No, I would not.’
‘Yet, according to what you found in their quarters, this is exactly what happened?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘I would now invite you to recall the conditions that existed on deck,’ said Flood. He might have lost the initiative with the bloodstains through the incompetence of the analyst, but his other prime exhibit was going to be more difficult to explain away.
‘The main hatch was securely fastened and there were fenders upon which a boat had obviously been kept. The forehatch was off, though. So was the lazarette hatch, where the provisions and spare gear is stowed in the rear of the vessel. The water casks on deck had been moved, as if by heavy seas. The binnacle was stove-in and on its side, the compass destroyed. The stove pipe to the galley had been knocked over, I thought by the collapsed main staysail that was partially upon the galley roof. And as we had observed through the glass before boarding, the wheel was not lashed.’
‘What about the rail?’ began Flood.
‘The rail?’ queried Deveau cautiously.
‘The rail, Mr Deveau …’
Theatrically, Flood took away the cloth, to disclose a section of the rail that he had had Vecchio remove from the impounded vessel.
‘This rail,’ he said, holding it up and then gesturing for Vecchio to take it from him and carry it to the witness.
‘Examine it,’ he demanded.
Deveau took the exhibit and stared down at it.
‘What is that half-way along that rail section?’ demanded Flood.
‘A cut, sir.’
‘A cut, sir,’ parroted Flood confidently. ‘Is it not a very sharp cut? And deep? The sort of mark that it would have needed a particularly sharp weapon … an axe, for instance … to inflict?’
‘Yes.’
‘During your examination of the deck area, what cause did you conclude for this mark?’
‘I did not see it.’
‘Not see it, Mr Deveau! Is it not obvious enough and deep enough for anyone seeking an explanation for the mystery of the Mary Celeste, the very function for which you had crossed to the vessel, to seize upon immediately?’
‘It is deep, certainly.’
‘Would you have expected to have seen it, from your examination?’
‘Yes.’
‘But you didn’t?’
‘No.’
‘Why would that be?’
‘I do not know.’
‘Is it not yet another indication, along with everything else you have told us during your evidence, pointing to there having been aboard this vessel a most violent fracas?’
‘I would not like to guess how the mark came to be upon the rail.’
‘Why not?’ said Flood.
‘Because there is no way of my knowing.’
‘Isn’t there, Mr Deveau? Isn’t there a way you could help this court about this injury, were you so minded?’
To his right, Pisani rose, his chair grating noisily and on purpose across the floor.
‘Sir,’ he said, to the judge. ‘Surely this questioning amounts to nothing more than irrational, unnecessary harassment? Mr Deveau is making every effort to assist, to be met on all quarters by innuendo.’
Slowly Sir James Cochrane came up from the ledger into which he had been writing his own notes of the evidence.
He indicated the book, then said, ‘I am assembling the most careful notation of the evidence. And so far it occurs to me that the Attorney-General is engaged not so much in innuendo as in a genuine effort to ascertain whatever truth might lie at the bottom of this incident.’
There was more noise, again caused purposely, as Pisani slumped back reluctantly into his chair.
‘Proceed, Mr Flood,’ Cochrane invited him.
‘Could the damage to the rail have been caused by you or your men?’ said Flood.
Deveau shook his head, more a gesture of helplessness than denial. When he spoke, it was obvious that he had realised in advance the danger of losing control and was making a conscious effort to remain composed under Flood’
s interrogation:
‘I do not think it was caused by the men I eventually took with me to form a salvage crew.’
‘Or prior to your forming a salvage crew?’
‘I saw no one with an axe in hand. There was no cause.’
‘Really, Mr Deveau?’ said Flood suspiciously. He had succeeded well in casting doubt upon the man’s evidence, the Attorney-General decided.
‘No one in my presence ever carried an axe, nor inflicted the damage upon this rail.’
‘What about the blood?’ said Flood. He was hurrying the questioning now, in an effort further to shake the other man’s composure.
‘I do not know what you mean,’ said Deveau.
‘Wasn’t there blood upon the deck?’
‘I saw none.’
‘There will be subsequent witnesses to yourself who will attest that there were clearly signs of blood, even after the Mary Celeste berthed here.’
‘I saw none,’ repeated Deveau stubbornly.
‘After you and your salvage crew took control, did you wash the decks?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Or scrape them?’
‘No, sir. We did not have enough men for that. We had to concentrate upon the sailing.’
‘What, then, would be your reaction to knowing that a trained surveyor who is later to give us the benefit of his expert knowledge will declare that in his opinion the decks had been washed?’
Deveau was perspiring freely, his hands moving nervously in front of him.
‘I can only repeat that there was no active washing or scraping when I was in command. Of course, during the time it took us to reach Gibraltar, the decks would have been awash from the sea.’
‘Awash from the sea,’ said Flood, isolating the evidence for fresh disbelief.
‘What about boats?’ he asked suddenly, urging the man on.
‘There were no boats. Through the stern davits there was a spar, from which I inferred she had not carried a boat there; when there is no boat on the stern davits, it is the custom to keep them steady by lashing through a spar.’
‘Where would she have carried her boat then?’
‘It was possible to see where the boat had been lashed across the main hatch. There were no lashings remaining. Nor was there any block or tackle, to show that she had been launched that way.’
‘How, then, would a boat be got into the water?’
‘The crew could have manhandled her over the rail. I do not think it would have been a difficult thing to do.’
‘Why would a boat have been launched in this way?’
‘The need to quit the vessel in a hurry.’
‘Apart from the disarray in which you say you found things, was the Mary Celeste seaworthy?’
‘Completely so.’
‘More so than a lifeboat?’
‘Of course,’ said Deveau, as if the question were ridiculous.
‘What, then, would have caused an experienced captain and crew to hurl their boat over the rail, without bothering with block and tackle, abandoning a seaworthy craft for something less safe?’
‘There must have been a sudden panic’
‘A panic sufficient for the seamen to flee without boots, oilskins or pipes?’
‘That must be the conclusion,’ said Deveau, his discomfort growing.
‘Captain Briggs, so fond of his family that he even took them upon voyage with him, must have been severely panicked to risk the life of a small child in an open boat, mustn’t he?’
‘That must be the presumption.’
‘Mustn’t it also be the presumption that the only thing which would have caused such panic would be terror … the sort of terror, for instance, that would have been inculcated by a boarding party carrying axes and wielding swords …?’
‘I must protest!’ erupted Pisani, rising from his bench. ‘This is not questioning … it’s hypothesis of the most outrageous kind. How can this witness possibly assist with such speculation?’
Cochrane nodded, looking almost regretfully towards the Attorney-General.
‘I am as determined as you, Mr Flood, to discover the circumstances of this apparent tragedy,’ he said. ‘But I think there could be a little more moderation in the examination.’
Flood twitched his head in bird-like acknowledgment of the rebuke, keeping the annoyance from his face.
‘Tell us of the rigging,’ he said shortly.
‘It was in very bad order,’ said the witness. ‘The standing rigging was all right. The fore-topsail and upper fore-topsail were gone, I think blown from the yards. The lower fore-topsail was hanging by its four corners. The main staysail was hauled down and lying loose on the galley and forward hatch, as if it had been collapsed. The jib and fore-topsail were set. All the other sails were furled. The rigging on the port side was broken. The starboard lower topsail brace was broken, the main peak halyard was broken and the gear of the foresail all broken.’
‘How do you imagine this damage came about?’
‘The only explanation must be that she had been cast about for a considerable time without anyone to man her or properly trim her sails.’
‘Cast about, without anyone to trim her sails,’ repeated Flood. ‘Yet when you discovered her, the Mary Celeste although sailing back upon herself, was pursuing the course to be expected for her destination. Isn’t that strange?’
‘Yes, sir, it is.’
‘Inexplicable, in fact?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘What explanation do you advance, for such a thing?’
‘I can’t, sir.’
‘Any more than you can account for the axe slash to the deck rail or the bloodstaining to the sword blade or the evidence which must surely indicate a most violent fracas?’
‘No, sir.’
‘I have a question to put to you … perhaps the most important of this whole examination and I want you to consider it fully before attempting to answer …’
He paused. He could sense the apprehension in the other man.
‘I must ask you whether the evidence you have given this enquiry is as complete as it could be. Is there nothing you feel able to volunteer that could help this enquiry to arrive at the solution of this mystery?’
Flood glanced towards the advocates’ bench, half-expecting another protest from Pisani, but the lawyer representing the salvors remained seated. Even so, Deveau responded quicker than Flood had expected.
‘I have told this enquiry everything that I honestly felt would help,’ he said.
‘Honestly?’ picked up Flood, seizing the word.
‘Yes, sir,’ said Deveau defiantly. ‘Absolutely honestly.’
‘Were there not men aboard the Mary Celeste when you came upon her, men whom you expected to encounter?’
Deveau frowned, in apparent confusion.
‘I’ve told you the ship was abandoned … deserted –’
‘And I am asking you if that is true.’
‘Yes, sir!’
‘You are the first mate of the Dei Gratia?’
‘Yes.’
‘But Captain Morehouse permitted you the captaincy of the salvage crew?’
‘Although sailing as a first mate, I have obtained my master’s certificate.’
Flood smiled, as if the answer were illuminating.
‘So you will shortly seek a captaincy?’
‘That is, of course, my ambition.’
‘Would money assist that ambition?’
‘Money?’
‘Yes, sir. Money,’ repeated Flood. ‘Money which would be useful in some share purchase, for instance in a ship-owning firm?’
‘I have not considered such a course,’ said Deveau.
‘It is your hope, is it not, to receive a substantial award for the salvage of the Mary Celeste?’
‘I seek what the enquiry considers I have earned in bringing this vessel, laden with a cargo still dischargeable, to a port of safety,’ said Deveau formally.
Flood stood qui
te unmoving and did not speak for several moments.
Finally he said, ‘I wonder, Mr Deveau, what the view of this enquiry will be about the just reward for what you did regarding the Mary Celeste?’
Deveau made as if to speak, but Flood went on, preventing him:
‘Having concluded my cross-examination of this witness for the time being, I seek permission to recall Captain Winchester …’
Captain Winchester would have long ago realised that the earlier impression of unpreparedness was a courtroom trick, so Flood abandoned that demeanour. He began instead with an immediate forcefulness that he calculated would jar the ship-owner:
‘You knew Captain Morehouse?’
‘Through the letter of introduction sent me by Captain Briggs I have made his acquaintance.’
‘How did the character of Captain Morehouse impress itself upon you?’
‘Captain Briggs described him in his letter to me as an excellent mariner, a first-class sailor. My initial impression was that it was a good assessment.’
‘You liked him?’
‘Yes.’
‘And determined to find a position for him?’
‘Our discussion did not reach such a stage.’
‘What stage did it reach, Captain Winchester?’
The ship-owner shrugged. ‘Like most first interviews, little more than the establishing of contact.’
‘Just the establishing of contact,’ repeated Flood. ‘No discussion of how finance might be raised, to enable the admittedly ambitious Captain Morehouse to attain his own vessel?’
‘No.’
‘No discussion of any money at all?’
‘Only of the most general character … the stating of the obvious, that were he to enter into any situation of partnership, then he would need capital for a share issue.’
There was none of the condescension of his first period of evidence about the American this time, the Attorney-General decided. Winchester was tensed and alert, aware that his account was disbelieved and anxious to avoid any mistakes.
‘Did you like him better than Captain Briggs?’
‘Such a comparison never occurred to me.’
‘How did your discussion end, on this first occasion?’
The Mary Celeste Page 9
