The judge hesitated for several moments, then said, ‘A fulsome explanation, Mr Cornwell. And one which this court accepts.’
He turned to the Consul.
‘Mr Sprague?’
‘I would also like to assure this court that I had not the slightest knowledge that Captain Winchester might not return,’ said the Consul. ‘Before he left, he told me he was going to Cadiz. He knew people there from whom he felt he could raise the bail-bond. I inferred from the way that he spoke that his sole reason for making this journey was to expedite the hearing before this court …’
Sprague paused, the defence appearing prepared.
‘Like Mr Cornwell, had I even suspected that it was not Captain Winchester’s intention to return, then I would have done everything to persuade him against such a thing.’
‘Yet it was you to whom he wrote?’ said the judge, making the doubt obvious.
‘The letter was the first intimation I had that he would not be coming back. It accompanied money sufficient for the bond.’
‘What reason did Captain Winchester give for fleeing?’ demanded the judge.
The question surprised the Consul. He frowned, unsure what response the man wanted.
‘I have already communicated the letter to you, My Lord …’ he said doubtfully.
‘And I believe that others in this court as inconvenienced as I have been should have the benefit of that information,’ said Cochrane.
‘Captain Winchester said he feared arrest,’ said Sprague quietly.
‘Arrest?’ prompted the judge.
‘From the letter it appears that Captain Winchester believed he was suspected by this court of certain involvement in the disappearance from the Mary Celeste of some if not all of the crew. He describes the suppositions as preposterous, but says that, so strong did he detect the suspicion to be, he felt it would be impossible for the matter to be fairly considered –’
‘So he ran away?’
‘He insists that he is a completely innocent man whose continued presence here was achieving nothing. He did not leave without ensuring that he had complied with every request made to him by the court.’
Cochrane’s demand that the contents of the letter be made public had initially surprised the Attorney-General as greatly as it had startled the American Consul, but now Flood appreciated the move. Such a protracted discussion would guarantee lengthy coverage from the journalists outside, at least three of whom were employed by New York publications. The judge was apparently determined that Winchester should not escape the suspicion and condemnation of the court, even if he had slipped away from its control.
‘Has it been your awareness in the past, Mr Sprague, that innocent men fear courts of law?’ demanded the judge.
The Consul shifted uncomfortably:
‘No, My Lord.’
‘Is it not normally the reaction of guilty men?’
‘Yes, My Lord.’
‘Was Captain Winchester not aware that this was a properly convened court under the jurisdiction of Her Majesty, the Queen of England?’
‘He was aware of that,’ said Sprague, his discomfort increasing.
‘And that British jurisprudence has formed the basis for every judicial system in the world?’
‘That is accepted, My Lord.’
‘So Captain Winchester, a completely innocent man, saw fit to flee a system recognised throughout the world as the fairest that exists?’
‘I do not think Captain Winchester considered the matter as deeply as that,’ said Sprague helplessly.
‘What do you think Captain Winchester did consider?’ pressed the judge.
‘He felt …’ started Sprague, then stopped, realising the risk of impertinence if not contempt in what Winchester had asked him to say. ‘I feel that Captain Winchester acted hastily, without properly considering the fullest implications of his actions,’ he resumed. Admittedly at a low level, his function was nevertheless supposed to be that of a diplomat: and nothing could be achieved by enraging the judge further. ‘He hastily came to the conclusion that he would be inveigled into a situation from which it would be difficult to extricate himself without considerable loss of time. He is adamant that his only function in coming here was to assist the court in its findings and to reclaim the Mary Celeste as its rightful, principal owner. I know he would be deeply distressed at the thought that his actions could be construed as indicating any involvement or culpability in the strange matters that have been occupying this court for the past weeks …’
‘What other interpretation do you imagine that there is, Mr Sprague?’ persisted Cochrane relentlessly.
‘As I have attempted to indicate,’ said the Consul, ‘it was the hasty action of a man not properly considering the outcome …’
Sprague decided that he was doing badly.
‘I have often had occasion to define a crime as the hasty action of a man not properly considering the outcome,’ said the judge.
‘I can only repeat Captain Winchester’s letter to me, in which he resisted such a verdict in the strongest possible terms.’
‘I want the fullest account of the court’s annoyance over what has happened transmitted to your government in Washington,’ said Cochrane. ‘I further intend through the diplomatic means open to me in my own country to inform the American authorities of my severe disapproval of Captain Winchester’s conduct. I do not consider that the behaviour we have witnessed from Captain Winchester can be the behaviour of an innocent man and were this a criminal rather than a civil court, greater powers than this court possesses would be invoked to obtain from Captain Winchester a fuller explanation.’
‘I assure this court that I will communicate its views to the appropriate department in Washington,’ undertook Sprague.
Cochrane nodded, dismissing both consul and lawyer, then straightened at the bench. Briefly his gaze met that of the Attorney-General, but Flood kept his face free of any expression of approval at the man’s outspokenness. The congratulations could come later. Swingeing though the comments had been, the fact remained that the matter was beginning and ending as a civil matter, while they well knew a crime was involved.
‘It is now my function,’ began the judge, ‘to turn to the purpose for which this court was convened, to adjudicate upon the claim for salvage entered by the captain and crew of the British brigantine Dei Gratia.’ As was the normal custom, Cochrane had written out his formal judgment and every few moments his eyes dropped to his prepared statement.
‘Within the last few minutes, you have heard me express the court’s strongest disapprobation of the behaviour of Captain Winchester.’
He stopped, looking to see if Sprague were taking a note of what he was saying. A notebook lay open upon the table in front of the American Consul.
‘It is my intention to continue to express displeasure, this time with people who at least showed sufficient responsibility to remain in court for the adjudication. This enquiry takes the gravest view of the action of the Dei Gratia master, Captain David Reed Morehouse, in despatching from the jurisdiction of this court his first mate, whose continued presence was considered vital to a satisfactory conclusion of this case, being as he was the person most concerned with the salvage of the Mary Celeste …’ Briefly his eyes dropped to his judgment: ‘… it is the feeling of this court that despite every attempt and effort on the part of counsel present, there remain a large number of unanswered questions regarding this matter. Whether those questions will ever be satisfactorily explained can only be a matter of conjecture. I consider I would be failing in my duties as adjudicator of these events if, however, I ignored those unanswered questions and the suspicions to which they give rise in any enquiring, investigative mind.’
Coming to the vital section of his pronouncement, Cochrane was staring directly at the Dei Gratia captain and mate. The men looked strangely similar, beards spread before them, hands held against their knees, both frowning slightly in their anxiety fully to comprehend what t
he man was saying.
‘Early in this hearing,’ Cochrane continued, ‘it was established that the aggregate value of the cargo and hull of the Mary Celeste was in the region of $51,000. It was further established, I believe in a reply to a question from the Attorney-General, that although every case has to be judged upon its individual merits, as this case is certainly being judged, there is in maritime circles an anticipation of salvage awards. Sometimes, bearing in mind the hazards to which salvors go to bring an empty vessel safely to port, that award can be as high as 40 per cent …’
Flood was regarding Oliver Deveau as the judge spoke. Fleetingly, a smile flickered over the first mate’s face.
‘Counsel acting for the claimants in this case have argued eloquently of the difficulty of the Dei Gratia, with a cargo of petroleum, reducing its crew from eight to five to bring a derelict six hundred miles from where it was found to port here, in Gibraltar.’
He stopped, preparing them for something of importance:
‘That there were hazards out there, off the Azores, has been argued equally eloquently by the Attorney-General.’
Deveau’s smile had gone now, replaced by an even deeper frown than before.
‘It is my intention to award to the captain and crew of the Dei Gratia the sum of £1,700, which, translated into American currency for the sake of comparison against aggregate value, is $8,300.’
Cochrane stopped again, this time for the smallness of the amount to be assimilated by those in court. Pisani had twisted to his client, abruptly shaking his head to some point that Captain Morehouse had leaned forward to make. The Dei Gratia’s master’s face was flushed and his always staring eyes seemed even more prominent in his head.
‘I further order that the costs of this case should be paid out of the property salved …’
Cochrane paused, looking over to the American Consul: ‘A fact which I entrust you to bring not only to Captain Winchester’s attention, but also to that of the American authorities to whom you are going to express my displeasure –’
Sprague half rose, nodding.
‘It is also my intention,’ resumed the judge, ‘to make an order that the cost of expert witnesses’ examination and analysis of the decking, hull and other articles aboard the Mary Celeste shall be charged against the $8,300 I have awarded to the salvors.’
Cochrane concluded his judgment and the court was suddenly hushed, no one immediately realising that he had finished. The awareness came as he rose to leave the chamber. Before he had got out of the room, Captain Morehouse was at the lawyers’ bench angrily pulling Pisani around.
The Attorney-General knew there were some formalities to be completed in his chambers with the court registrar and was not surprised that the summons to join the judge took longer than usual.
This time Cochrane poured sherry, handing Flood a glass as he entered: ‘Pisani has told Baumgartner he intends to appeal,’ he said.
‘He can’t,’ said Flood.
‘I know. That’s what Baumgartner told him.’
‘What did he say to that?’
‘Called it a travesty of justice.’
‘If there’s been a travesty of justice, it’s not from this quarter,’ said Flood positively.
‘It was the best I could do, in the circumstances,’ said Cochrane.
‘It was far more than I expected you to do,’ said Flood. ‘No one can be left in any doubt, after a judgment like that.’
‘I didn’t intend them to be.’
‘It will be virtually impossible to arrest them, if a member of the Mary Celeste crew ever does reappear,’ said Flood bitterly.
‘I know.’
‘So this will be the end of it?’
‘I would expect so.’
‘So we’ll never know.’
‘Know?’
‘What really happened on the Mary Celeste.’
For more than an hour they had remained in the boat, their hopes rising and falling almost as frequently as the tiny vessel lifted and fell upon the gentle swell. Once, about thirty minutes after they had abandoned her, the sounds had died almost completely from inside the Mary Celeste and Captain Briggs had been upon the point of ordering a return to the ship when there was that sudden train-into-the-station sound and then more dunnage was spewed from the for’ard hold as a fresh build-up of gas and fumes was expelled.
There was virtually no wind now, so that what movement there was came from the current. Briggs had deputed Gilling to watch their drift and twice the second mate had had to put the Lorensen brothers to the oars, to maintain the distance between the lighter, more easily carried boat and the heavier ship.
As unashamedly as he prayed before and after each meal in whatever company he might find himself, Briggs had led a prayer meeting in the becalmed craft. There was eagerness in the way the men had joined in, sitting with heads bowed, following him loudly in common prayer and then remaining in the attitude of devotion, their lips moving slightly as each begged silently for the danger to pass.
The baby recovered from her fright towards the end of the prayers, curious as to why everyone was behaving so oddly. The period of enjoyment of a new experience in such a small craft soon passed and then she became fractious at the restrictions upon her movement. Arien Martens had very early tried to shift position, ironically to give the boat a better balance, and water had shipped in even though the movement had been very slight. Briggs briefly thought of putting some men aboard one of the rafts, deciding almost immediately against it. Instead he ordered that everyone remain where they sat.
By nine-thirty it had become almost oppressively hot, reminiscent of the thunderstorms of which they had first thought they were victims, before realising it was the cargo sounding. The cook had ladled from his ample supply of water, handing the cup first to the woman and child, next to the captain and then down through order of seniority. Sophia had complained of hunger and grimaced at the ship’s biscuit that was handed to her. She started to whimper, but Sarah quietened her and eventually she sat gnawing upon it, the activity taking her mind off having to be cramped constantly upon her mother’s lap.
‘The drift is away from land,’ Gilling reported. Towlines to the rafts were submerged beneath the water.
‘I know,’ said Briggs.
The sound from the vessel was taking a long time to clear, but increasingly Briggs was beginning to feel Richardson’s optimism. Had he kept them aboard for only a few minutes longer, to release the main hatch, the ship would have been safe by now, he realised. But there was no way he could have known that. So the decision to abandon had been the correct one.
‘Don’t reckon we’ll be needing a landfall,’ said Richardson.
‘I hope we don’t have to attempt that one,’ said Briggs, jerking over his shoulder. He stayed twisted around, looking at his wife. She smiled at him, a hopeful expression. She was still very frightened, he recognised. But not so much as when they had first had to leave the ship. He smiled back.
‘It’s going to be all right,’ he mouthed.
‘I know,’ she said back, silently.
‘Make a story to tell,’ said Richardson.
‘One I’d have gladly avoided,’ said Briggs, with feeling, turning back to stare at his empty ship.
The boat lifted suddenly, higher than it had been, and Briggs looked outboard curiously, wondering at the change of current.
‘Binnacle won’t take a moment to repair,’ said Richardson, who had seen the gaff knock it off its mountings. ‘The cleats have gone adrift, that’s all.’
‘Galley chimney might take a little longer,’ said Gilling.
Briggs knew that beneath the matter-of-factness of the conversation there was the need for them to convince themselves that they would soon be returning to the ship.
‘Work of an hour or more, that’s all,’ he said briskly. Hadn’t one of his father’s early teachings been the importance of instilling confidence?
‘Known this happen before, with a ca
rgo of alcohol,’ said Martens. ‘Coaster I piloted in Hamburg. There’d been some rumbling, but they hadn’t realised what it was. When the explosion came, it blew the hatch right off, breaking the mate’s arm. There was so much dust and debris that they thought they were on fire and almost abandoned ship before they realised what had happened.’
‘They stayed aboard?’ demanded Volkert Lorensen.
‘It was a small cargo. And a shorter journey than ours. One blow and it was over.’
‘I wish to God this one would soon end,’ said Gilling. It was a sincere expression, not a blasphemy.
The Mary Celeste was growing quiet again. Only occasionally did anything reach them, a sound like the snoring of a grumpy old man.
‘It must be clear now,’ said Richardson.
‘We’ll give it a little longer,’ said Briggs cautiously. Having come so near to disaster, it would be ridiculous to take any further chances.
‘Anyone hungry?’ asked Head, from behind.
No one accepted.
‘We’ll repair your smoke-stack in time for dinner,’ promised Richardson. It was an attempt at lightness, but there was no laughter.
Water splashed over the side, no more than a few droplets, and Volkert Lorensen played the boat around with his oar, bringing it into the current.
‘Over two hours now,’ said Richardson, looking up professionally towards the sun. The sky wasn’t as clear as it had been. Flat, formless clouds were spreading lightly across, like a skein of muslin.
‘Seems much longer,’ said Gilling.
The Lorensen brothers looked towards Briggs, anticipating the order.
The eruption from the ship was the worst there had been. The whole vessel seemed to shiver under its force and small waves began rippling out from the hull, where it actually moved in the water. Sophia cried out, frightened. There was a second, slightly less violent than the first and the sails that were still set flickered under the outrush of gas. The Mary Celeste moved slightly, putting the boat a little to port of the stern. That time there hadn’t been any dunnage or debris thrown out, Briggs realised. Another like that and there would surely be an explosion in the hold; he wondered if the timbers had been stretched already, so that the ship would be taking water. Unless it were a bad breach, the pumps would be adequate, once they got back on board.
The Mary Celeste Page 19
