Flash For Freedom! fp-3

by George MacDonald Fraser

He looked as though he would burst. "Scrupulous, by all that's holy! I don't ask you to be scrupulous — I ask for the truth! What did you sail aboard this damned slaver for, if not to bring him to justice, eh? Answer me that, sir?"

  When in difficulty, bluster; it was the only weapon I had left, and I seized it, now that his loss of composure had given me the chance.

  "I sailed in the performance of my duty to my chiefs, sir, as you well know. That duty I have done — or will do, as soon as I am permitted. If you look in my statement, sir, you will see that I was reluctant from the first to appear in this case, and that I appeared only because your Navy Department assured me it was necessary. I had assumed, wrongly, I fear —" and I took my whole courage in my hands, and tried to sound furious "— that such a simple case would be easily concluded without my intervention being called for."

  He went white, and then red, and his breath came out in a great shudder. He looked at me with pure hate, and when he spoke, it was with great care.

  "Indeed, sir? Very high-minded, and high-handed, are we not? Very well, Mr Comber, let us examine this, if you please. Your duty, sir, you have told us, is to your chiefs — you are an agent against the slave trade-although one would hardly suspect it from your conduct today. As such, I understand you obtained possession, during this voyage, of papers belonging to the master of the Balliol College —" out of the tail of my eye I saw Spring stiffen in his seat. "Will you tell us, sir, whether or not there was evidence in those papers — as to the ownership of the vessel, for example-to prove that she was engaged illegally in the slave trade, in contravention of American law? You are on oath, sir — remember that!"

  My heart lurched, because I had seen the way out. I held my breath a moment, to make my face red, and let it out slowly. I drew myself up, and glared at him with all the venom I could muster.

  "This, sir," says I, "is intolerable. It is precisely why I did not wish to appear. You are well aware, sir, that there are facts which I am in duty bound not to disclose-facts of the highest import — it is all explained in that statement, sir — which I cannot in honour convey to anyone except to my chiefs at home. I was promised immunity from this —" brazening it for all I was worth, I rounded on Bailey. "Captain Bailey, I appeal to you. This is entirely unworthy — I am badgered, sir, on the very grounds which it was promised to me would be inviolate. I will not endure it, sir! The counsel's questions must lead inevitably to the point which I was assured would not be touched. I … I …" There's nothing like a good stammer for conviction. "I was a fool to be coerced into this! I should have known … incompetence! … harm done!"

  There was tumult in the court; even Bailey was looking bewildered now; the adjudicator was at a loss. Anderson, clever man, had the good sense to look amazed; Spring was looking worried. Clitheroe, stuck between rage and astonishment, looked to Bailey, and then to me.

  "On my word!" This was the adjudicator, darting his nose at me. "What is this, sir? This outburst is quite-"

  "Sir," says I, "I most humbly beg your pardon. I intended no disrepect to you, or to this august court." I hesitated. "I found myself placed in an intolerable position, sir — if an explanation is necessary, I beg that you will ask counsel for the plaintiff."

  There was a moment's silence, in which the adjudicator looked at Clitheroe, and Clitheroe stood with his face white and his mouth set. Then he shook his head.

  "I see no advantage to the court in … examining this witness further," says he, and he sat down.

  Anderson jumped up, and began to address the adjudicator, but I was too bemused by my own eloquence to listen. The next thing I knew there was an adjournment, and I was hustled off to Bailey's office, with Clitheroe and Dunne, and the first two rounded on me like bears. But I snatched the ball from their hands, and laced into them for all I was worth — it was my only chance, I knew, to play the mystery as I had done in the Washington Navy Department, and play it as furiously as I could.

  "If you so mishandle your case, sir, that you can't get a condemnation order that a child could obtain, is that my fault? The wrong slaves called as witnesses — this fellow Anderson permitted to shut me up on the very point where I could have given conclusive testimony! And then — the impudence to break the solemn assurance I was given in Washington, by questioning me in a way which, if I'd been fool enough to answer, must have elicited the names I am duty bound to conceal! And you dare to raise your voice to me, sir? Do you think I'll see my work ruined — two years of it —" Well, why not lay it on hard? "— simply because some fool of a lawyer can't win a case which in itself is nothing — nothing, sir, I tell you — compared with what I and my people are trying to do? Oh, this is too much!"

  How I managed to lose my temper so badly for so long, when my innards were quaking, I am far from sure, They didn't take it lying down, either — especially Bailey, who was half-convinced my indignation was sham. But he couldn't be sure, you see; there was just enough mystery, as a result of all the bloody lies I'd told in Washington, to make him wonder.

  "Your conduct, sir, gives me the gravest suspicions," says he. "I don't know — this is a deplorable affair! But we'll go into this, sir, believe you me; we'll get to the bottom —"

  "Then you'll do it in your own good time, sir!" says I, looking him in the eye. "Not in mine. I'm sick and tired of this whole sorry business. I was promised protection, sir —"

  "Protection?" cries he, looking ugly. "You have forfeited all claim to that. My department's protection is withdrawn, you may take that as read —"

  "Thank God!" I exclaimed. "For all the good it's been to me, I'm better without it. I intend to place myself, at once, under the protection of my ambassador in Washington. At once, do you hear? And whoever tries to hinder me will do so at his peril!"

  For a moment he looked as though he was believing me, and then we were summoned back to the court, and I sat red-faced, squeezing myself to keep it up, while Clitheroe and Anderson bandied away at each other, and finally Anderson challenged him on some point or other, and Clitheroe made a speech, and concluded it by moving for the confiscation and condemnation of the Balliol College. There was much palaver over the matter of Spring's resisting arrest, and Anderson stuck to the point about an innocent merchantman being entitled to protect himself, etc., and finally the adjudicator took off his spectacles and asked did their cases rest? They nodded, and he put his spectacles back on, and everyone stood up.

  The adjudicator talked for about half an hour, while our legs creaked, and I couldn't for the life of me stop my hands trembling, for there was no telling which way he was going. He reviewed the evidence, Spring's and the girls and my own, and then came to his peroration. It was short, and decisive.

  "It rests with the plaintiff, Abraham Fairbrother, to show that the Balliol College was carrying slaves in contravention of United States law. There are grounds for believing that she was, in view of her equipment and other circumstances related in evidence. It may also appear that grounds could exist for charges to be brought in connection with damage done to United States property by Captain Spring. On the other hand, it may be that, after the conclusion of this court, the owners of the Balliol College may hold that an action lies against the United States government for unlawful detention.44 These are matters outside the scope of this adjudication. The activities of the Balliol College, prior to her arrest, may also be matters for a mixed commission court of the British or other governments.

  "It is precisely for the attention of such court, if it be called, that I have mentioned the conclusion of this adjudication that grounds exist for believing that the Balliol College was carrying slaves in contravention of United States law. But I cannot hold that the grounds have been proved conclusively to the satisfaction of this adjudication. The motion for confiscation fails."

  I pulled myself together and shot Clitheroe as baleful a look as I could manage, for Bailey's benefit. The adjudicator turned to Spring.

  "You are free to go. As I understand it, your vess
el is in the river, is it not, under a prize crew? Hear our order that this prize crew be withdrawn forthwith, and that such stores, water and wood as may be required in reason for your departure shall be left aboard, and in accordance with custom, clearance be granted for your departure this very day, or such date thereafter as you find fitting."

  "Thank you, sir," says Spring. "I thank the court. I shall leave anchorage today."

  The adjudicator banged his desk and scuttled out, and at once there was a great rush from the public benches to Spring's table, and he was being clapped on the back, and fellows were shaking Anderson's hand and hurrah-ing. Clitheroe walked out of the court without a word, and Bailey, after a lowering look at me, followed him. The two yellow girls, giggling and ogling, tripped away with their chaperone or bawd or whatever she was.

  And suddenly I was standing alone. But I doubted, somehow, if this happy state would endure for long. My escort had gone with Bailey, but in spite of our violent exchanges, they would be expecting me at his office, or at least back at the Navy place where he had housed me. And then, for all my fine talk, they would keep a tight grip on me — for what? Interrogation, no doubt, and at best a convoy to Washington and my embassy, and God knew what would come of that. My buttock ached at the thought of sliding out again, but I knew I daren't stay. For one thing, the longer I was in this blasted country the greater the chance of my activities on the Mississippi being brought home to roost.

  I looked about me. The spectators were all streaming out now, by the entrances at the back of the room. Half a dozen steps and I was among them — once outside, I could easily find my way to Susie's brothel, and this time, surely, she would be able to see me safe away; at least she could hide me until I grew a beard, or —

  And then it struck me, all in a moment, the dazzling thought. It was fearful, at first, but as I considered it, on the steps leading down to the street, it seemed the only safe way. It was the answer, surely — and I found my legs taking me off to one side, behind a pillar, where I thought some more, and then I stepped out into the busy street, and walked across to the far side, and took refuge beneath a tree, waiting.

  It was ten minutes before I saw what I wanted, and my heart was in my mouth in case Bailey or my escort would come on the scene, but they didn't. And then I was rewarded, and I set off, walking quickly, along the street, and into another, and there I overtook the figure ahead of me.

  "Captain Spring," says I. "Captain Spring — it's me."

  He swung round as if stung, as near startled as I'd ever seen him.

  "The devil!" he exclaimed. "You!"

  "Captain," says I, "in God's name, will you give me a passage out of here? You're leaving, on the College, aren't you? For pity's sake, take me with you — out of this blasted —"

  "What?" cries he, his scar beginning to jump like St Vitus dance. "Take you? Why the devil should I? You —"

  "Listen, please, captain," says I. "Look, I played up today, didn't I? I could have sworn you to kingdom come, couldn't I? But I didn't — I didn't! I got you off —"

  "You got me off!" He tilted back his hat and glared at me. "You saved your own dirty little neck, you Judas, you! And you've the nerve to come crawling to me?"

  "I'll buy my passage!" I pleaded. "Look, I'm not just begging — I can buy it with something you want."

  "And what would that be?" But he stepped aside with me into a doorway, the pale eyes fixed on me.

  "You heard in court — I got Comber's papers — the things he'd filched from you. Well —" I forced myself not to notice the darkening scar on his brow. "— I've still got 'em. Are they price enough?"

  His face was like flint. "Where are they?" he growled.

  "In a safe place — a very safe place. Not on me," I lied, praying he'd believe it. "But I know where they are, and unless I say the word — well, they could get into the wrong hands, couldn't they? You'd be clear and away before that, of course, but your owners wouldn't like it. Morrison, for one."

  "Where are they?" he demanded, and his hands came up, as though to seize me. But I shook my head.

  "I'll tell you," says I, "in Liverpool or Bristol — not before. They'll be safe until then, on my word."

  "Your word!" he sneered. "We know what that's worth! You perjured rascal. Look at you!" He laughed softly. "Post ecjuitem sedet atra cura.*[* Dark care sits behind the horseman (A guilty man cannot escape himself).] Your friends in the American Navy are looking for you, I don't doubt."

  "if they find me, they find those papers," says I. "But if you take me with you, I swear you'll have 'em." And welcome, I thought privately. Even when I'd handed them over, the knowledge of what was in 'em would still be in my head, and I'd use it to squeeze old Morrison dry. "You'll have them, captain," I repeated. "I promise."

  "By God I will," says Spring. "I'll see to that." He stood considering me, "What a worthless creature you are — what shreds of loyalty have you, you object?"

  "Plenty — to myself," says I. "Just as you have, Captain Spring." His scar went pink; then he laughed again. "Well, well. You've picked up some Yankee sauce over here, I believe. Perhaps you're right, though. Horace reminds me, why should I sneer at you? Mutato nomine de te fabula narratur."*[* Change the name, and the story is told of yourself.] He looked up and down the street. "I'll take you. But you tell me those papers are safe, do you? For if they're not — by God, I'll drop you overside with a bag of coal on your feet, if we're within ten feet of the Mersey. Or Brest, which is where I'm going. Well?"

  "You have my word," says I.

  "No," says he. "But I've got your carcase, and I'll settle for that. Now, then — are these damned Yankees close behind you? Then step lively, Mr Flashman!"

  Strange, I thought, how long it was since anyone had called me by my proper name. For the first time in months I felt I was almost home again. With Elspeth, and the youngster, too. Aye, and my dear papa-in-law — I was looking forward to presenting my account to him.

  [EDITOR'S POSTSCRIPT. On this optimistic note the third packet of the Flashman Papers comes to an end. How far the optimism was justified may be judged from the fact that, instead of describing his return in gloating detail, Flashman concluded this portion of his memoirs by attaching to the last page of manuscript a clipping, cracked and faded with age, from a newspaper (probably, from its type face and extreme column width, the Glasgow Herald) dated January z6, 1849. The news it contains was, of course, unknown to him when he left New Orleans homeward bound. It reads, in part: "It is with deep regret that we impart to our readers news of the death of Lord Paisley. This untimely event occurred last week at the home of his daughter, Mrs Harry Flashman, in London, where he had been residing for some time past. Those who knew him, either as John Morrison of Paisley and this city, where he was formerly Deacon of Weavers in the Trades' House of Glasgow, or by the title to which he was raised by a gracious sovreign only in November last, will be united in mourning his sudden melancholy demise…" ]

  NOTES

  1. The great Chartist Demonstration of Monday, April 10, 1848, was, as Flashman says, a frost. Following the numerous continental revolutions, there were those who feared that civil strife would break out in Britain, and in addition to extra troops brought to the capital, the authorities enlisted 170,000 special constables between April 6 and 10 to deal with disturbances. Peel, Gladstone, Prince Louis Napoleon (later Napoleon III), about half the House of Lords and an immense number of middle-class volunteers were among the "specials". In the event, only about twenty to thirty thousand Chartists demonstrated, instead of the half million expected, and there was little violence apart from the fight between the butcher's boy and the French agitator, which happened as Flashman describes it. (Foreign agitators and hooligan elements were a frequent embarrassment to the Chartists, since they discredited the movement). Of the two (not five) million signatures to the great petition, about one-fifth are said to have been bogus — "Punch" noted caustically that if they had all been genuine, the Chartist process
ion should have been headed by the Queen and seventeen Dukes of Wellington. (See Halevy's History of the English People in the Nineteenth Century, vol. 4, pp. 242-6.)

  2. From this and other allusions it is obvious that Flashman spent at least part of the 1843 — 47 period (the "missing years" so far untouched by his memoirs) in Madagascar and Borneo. He is known to have been both military adviser to Queen Ranavalona and chief of staff to Rajah Brooke of Sarawak; it now seems probable that he held these appointments between 1843 and 1847. Other evidence suggests that he may also have taken part in the First Sikh War of 1845-6.

  3. Lord John Russell was then Prime Minister; Lansdowne was Lord President of the Council.

  4. Berlins: articles, particularly gloves, knitted of Berlin wool.

  5. Attendance money. A charge introduced on the railway about this time, which amounted to a kind of cover or service charge. It appears to have been levied for as small a service as asking a railway servant the time of day. Flashman's memory may be playing him false when he speaks of a railway book-stall; it was more probably a railway library.

  6. Frances Isabella Locke (1829-1903) was to become famous in later years as Mrs Fanny Duberly, Victorian heroine, campaigner, and "army wife" extraordinary. She left celebrated journals of her service in the Crimea and the Indian Mutiny. (See E.E.P. Tisdall's Mrs Duberly's Campaigns.)

  7. Lord George Bentinck (1802-48), one of the foremost sporting figures of his day, and leader of the Protectionist Tory opposition in the Commons. Handsome, arrogant, and viciously aggressive in political argument, Bentinck was widely respected as a guardian of the purity of the turf, although after his death his former friend Greville alleged that he was guilty of "fraud, falsehood, and selfishness" and "a mass of roguery" in his racing conduct. Bentinck resigned his leadership of the opposition early in 1848, but was still the power in his party at the time of his meeting with Flashman at Cleeve. He died suddenly only a few months later, on September 21, 1848.