Troubled Waters

by Dewey Lambdin

  A clompin' breedin' bull, tarted up for auction Lewrie thought; tryin 'for languid an'graceful, too. And, a wig like that? Powdered? Haven't seen such a "Macaroni" in twenty years! Height o' fashion, my arse! Who found his tailor, Clotworthy Chute?

  Hugh Beauman's face was set in a porcine, full-chinned, high-nosed look of royal boredom, surely an affected sham taught him far in the past by out-dated tutors . . . though he did let it slip a bit when he finally deigned to let his slow gaze turn far enough to espy Lewrie at the accused's table, Sprised I'm still alive, are ye? Lewrie sarcastically thought. Or, perhaps Beauman's arrogant demeanour had been shaken more by the rustle of titters and snide whispers that those who attended the court made when they saw his garish suitings.

  The snickers among the ladies present certainly nettled the arch woman on Beauman's arm! Whoever she was, or had been before, Beauman's new wife had not been exposed to London fashion, or the harsh judgement of the "fashionable." For she was tricked out like a bookend to her husband, too-elegantly gowned in the same embroidered and figured pale gold material as Hugh Beauman's waist-coat, her wide straw bonnet ribboned with cloth that matched his coat, and bound under her chin with a pale blue ribbon. Over her shoulders she wore a gauzy and diaphanous blue shawl figured in silver lace, and Lewrie just knew that her shoes held real gold buckles with diamond chips, too.

  She was tall for a woman, about five inches shy of six feet in her heeled shoes, slim and willowy, coolly ash blond, and with eyes of the most disconcerting and icy pale green. She was strikingly lovely, Lewrie thought her, but with the air of an unimpressed empress forced to appear among the lowly; imperious, cold, but very aware of the power of her looks. Deserve each other, I swear they do! Lewrie thought, and speculated who had selected their attire, Hugh Beauman, or her; and, at the end of the day, who would get scathed for it in the privacy of their lodgings! That 'd put a chill on Beauman's new "domestic bliss"!

  Then, to the further embarrassment of the Beaumans, there came in their wake a brace of Blacks in livery grander and more gilt-laced than any admiral or general, both very dark-skinned and young teenagers in pure white wigs, just far enough behind the Beaumans to appear as if they could bear the hems of long royal trains, if required. Another brace of female slave servants, quite comely young girls in a matching livery, also entered, ready to see to Mrs. Beauman's every whim, and the titters and snickers from the onlookers turned to hisses and cat-calls. "Fie! For shame! Boo!" rippled through the audience, abashing the wife, whose cheeks turned crimson, but only serving to anger Hugh Beauman further.

  "Make ye pay, Lewrie!" he growled across the room, shaking one fist in Lewrie's direction. "Hang, damn yer eyes!" Which utterance set off a wave of outright revulsion, and winces from Sir George Norman and the Jamaican attorney, who had been gawping about in bumpkinish fashion to enter a real English court of law.

  For a fleeting moment, Lewrie could almost feel sorry for the prosecuting barrister, Sir George Norman, K.C., as he tried to silence his troublesome client, for that worthy looked about "fed up to here" with Beauman and his crudities. Just for a wee bit, though; after all, does one lie down with dogs, one rises with fleas!

  The grim thud of a mace and a cry of "Oyez, oyez, oyez!" drew everyone to their feet to honour the majestic entry of Lord Justice Oglethorpe, the chief bailiff intoning the ancient opening ritual to awe them with the power and solemnity of justice: ". . . all who have business before this honourable court, draw forward, and be heard!"

  "Should I keep my sword on, or . . . ?" Lewrie muttered, unsure of a sudden. At naval courts-martial, it would lay on the judges' table.

  "God Aim . . . wear it. Now, hist!" MacDougall whispered back.

  "The accused will enter the dock," the bailiff announced, and Lewrie stepped into it, standing right by the rail with his arms at his side at attention, bare headed. "State your name and occupation, sir," he bade, as if there was any doubt of Lewrie's "line."

  "Captain Alan Lewrie . . . Royal Navy," he stated.

  "Captain Lewrie, I charge you now," began Lord Justice Oglethorpe, up behind the bane and seated upon a high-backed chair resembling the throne of a minor kingdom. "You stand accused of a heinous crime, the theft of twelve Black slaves from a plantation on the Crown colony of Jamaica . . . three years past, and, the offer of armed violence in the perpetration of that act. How do you respond to these charges, sir?"

  "Not. . . guilty, my lord," Lewrie firmly answered in a voice close to a quarterdeck call.

  "Counsellor MacDougall, you are ready to proceed, sir?"

  "I am in all respects, my lord," MacDougall responded. "Sir George for the prosecution, are you ready to proceed, sir?"

  "I am, milud" came the nasal Oxonian drawl.

  "You may sit, Captain Lewrie," Oglethorpe instructed. "Begin, if you will, Sir George."

  "Milud, gentlemen, and ladies, we are come today to present to this honourable court the results of a capital trial already concluded . . . one held in a court of law in Kingston, Jamaica, which resulted in a guilty verdict against Captain Lewrie, and, a sentence oi death by hanging . . . a proceeding conducted in absentia due to the fact that Captain Lewrie had, upon learning of his impending trial, fled the jurisdiction. . . surely, the act oi a man who acknowledges his guilt, and fears the consequences of his crimes . . . "

  Lewrie sat stiff-backed, head up, but fuming as the worst sort of calumny was poured out against him. When the vilest sort of lies were trotted out in Norman's opening statements, lies "guinea-stamped" by the presence of the trial transcript, which the prosecutor took for granted as Gospel Truth, Lewrie just had to frown and scowl, to gawp in astonishment and look to MacDougall for help, wondering why he was sitting slouched and silent, merely rolling his head at the worst of the accusations, even pretending to study his fingernails and speculate did they need a cleaning with his pen-knife!

  ". . . ask you, milud, to uphold the verdict found against Captain Lewrie, as well as the sentence, and remand him to prison so that the sentence may be carried out. I thank you for your attendance upon my presentation, milud, and feel certain that you will find for the prosecution, so that Mister Hugh Beauman, Esquire, may find justice at last, and the return of his property, before this honourable court."

  His presentation completed, Sir George Norman turned about with his robe flaring and solemnly paced back to the prosecutor's table, to sweep his robe forward so he could sit in his chair with an exhausted, but smugly satisfied, sigh, fold his hands together atop the table, and sit stiff-backed and chin high; slightly smiling as if he had passed orals at Oxford, and was just waiting to be awarded a well-earned Blue.

  "Counsellor MacDougall?" Justice Oglethorpe solemnly prompted. Andrew MacDougall leaped to his feet, quick as a striking cobra, took several impatient steps to a post before the bench, and stamped to a stop (doubtless waking every nodder in the courtroom after hearing Sir George's sonorous declamations) and cried, "All that has gone before, milord, is a perversity . . . a total sham!" Which declaration aroused several in the audience to shout "Hear, hear!" like back-benchers in the Commons.

  "Aye, milord, there is the transcript of Captain Lewrie's trial on Jamaica," MacDougall went on in the same heated tone, "to which we do not object, for its introduction before this honourable court cuts both ways, like a dual-bladed knife. On its face, it seems legitimate, but upon a closer reading . . . and with more information anent the background which led to its conduct. . . one may surely discover that such a trial, conducted in absentia, was held at such short notice that no one in Crown government, no officer senior to Captain Lewrie in the Royal Navy, and certainly no friends or allies of his, were even aware that it was on the docket before these sham proceedings were done! Note as well, milord, as you closely peruse the transcript, the complete, utter absence of any defence witnesses called, not even one to attest as to Captain Lewrie's character.

  "For the very good reason, milord, that the barrister for Captain Lewrie's defence wa
s found cooling his heels and scraping for cases at a tavern close by to the courthouse in Kingston, was given but half an hour to familiarise himself with the particulars by the local justice, then was ordered to proceed before said defence attorney could at any odds say who exactly it was he was defending, much less discover a witness for the defendant!" MacDougall quickly accused.

  That created a mighty stir of displeasure among Lewrie's allies, and the idle curious who had wandered in to witness a "raree show," as well, which Lord Justice Oglethorpe had to gavel down.

  "I would now wish to humbly submit as evidence to such, a change, milord, a deposition, properly witnessed by several gentlemen from the offices of Lord Balcarres, the Crown Governor of Jamaica . . . upon that worthy's stationery, milord may note . . . obtained from the defending attorney, one Mister Herbert Pruett, Esquire, who . . . and here I quote him from memory . . . 'thought the matter extremely odd, but was night the easiest twenty pounds and eight pence ever I have earned.' Mister Pruett's deposition will shew that he himself was not aware that a trial would be held that day, milord, and was in search of future proceedings when he was found, in his cups, he freely admits, and given the brief."

  "Do you then plead incompetent counsel, sir?" Oglethorpe asked, looking a tad queasy with that revelation.

  "Indeed not, milord!" MacDougall said as he handed over the affidavit to a clerk. "Given the circumstances, I doubt the ablest barrister in Great Britain could have done any better. You will also note, milord, that Mister Pruett attempted to plead a delay so that he might discover witnesses, but was denied, and told to proceed at once by the presiding Justice. Why, milord," MacDougall said with an impish grin as he turned to face the back of the courtroom, "under such pressure, even I might have failed!" Which made everyone (the Beaumans and their entourage excepted, of course) enjoy a good laugh.

  "Secondly, milord, I would also to submit for your information a roster of the seated jurymen, along with their occupations, and their kinship to the Beauman family, their financial or business dependence upon, or their direct employment by, the plaintiff, or their employment in the despicable slave-trading industry, as evidence that the jurymen were most carefully selected beforehand to render a conviction and the sentence most desired by the plaintiffs . . . namely, the hanging of the man who participated in a duel as second to Leftenent-Colonel Christopher Cashman, formerly commanding officer of the local regiment raised by the Beaumans, which duel resulted in the death of former-Colonel of the regiment Ledyard Beauman and his cousin Charles Sellers, both of whom cheated in the most egregious manner requiring Captain Lewrie and the judges to shoot him down, as well!

  "Milord will note that there is a man named Sellers listed as a gentleman of the jury," MacDougall further accused, "and if this whole affair is not an act of personal revenge with the very majesty and dignity of the Law perverted as revenge's implement, then I do not know what else to call it!"

  "Silence!" Lord Justice Oglethorpe had to thunder above the baying and cat-calls of the audience. "I will have silence in the court!"

  "If milord pleases," MacDougall went on once the crowd had done with their booing. "I have also obtained, and would lay before you as further evidence of previous grudges, affidavits from the gentlemen at the duel, and their official findings . . . one of whom is a very well-respected retired magistrate, detailing how it all fell out, resulting in the wound in the back suffered by Leftenant-Colonel Cashman, and the most necessary deaths of both Ledyard Beauman and Charles Sellers, and their dishonourable conduct upon the field."

  "Murderer!" Hugh Beauman bellowed, leaping to his feet and just about beside himself with rage, his face mottled nigh-purple. "They were murdered! That bastard, Lewrie . . . !"

  "Silence, I said!" Oglethorpe roared right back, banging away with his gavel, and turning a choleric shade himself. "Sir George, I conjure you to control your party's outbursts."

  "Bloody lies!" Beauman went on despite Sir George Norman's urgings and tuggings. Beauman shrugged him off like a street beggar's hand. "Slave stealer, he is! Convicted! Want him hanged! Hear me?"

  Like all the Beaumans, even when in calm takings, Hugh Beauman pared his words to the bare minimum necessary; and, like all the clan, anything that went against his instant wishes had to be crushed. They had made themselves, after all, but, despite the wealth and finery, at bottom were tenant-tramplin', shootin', huntin', dog-kissin', slave-whippin' "John Bull" squires of the most brutish sort; "Chaw-Bacons," for all their money. There had been times, even when head-over-heels in lust for Lucy Beauman, that Lewrie hadn't been too sure of her!

  "Can you not manage yourself, sir, I will have you removed from my courtroom!" Oglethorpe threatened. If Beauman thought the boos he got before were insufferable, they were nothing to the new chorus that rose up, and continued despite the Justice's hammering.

  When at last the din subsided, and Beauman had at last listened to reason from his hired barrister and his icy young wife, MacDougall presented his last affidavits to the clerks, and held up a newspaper.

  "Murder, is it, milord?" MacDougall said with an indignant tone. "Do we look for murder, or its attempt, we need look no further for it than the south bank of the Thames, just outside Kingston . . . no further in the past than yesterday, for in the early afternoon, six well-armed men, ostensibly highwaymen, lay in ambuscade within sight of the spires of our great city, and opened fire upon Captain Lewrie's coach! Fortunately for Captain Lewrie, he was travelling with his father, Major-General Sir Hugo Saint George Willoughby, and his brother-in-law and former Major Burgess Chiswick, late of the East India Company Army, and a comrade with Captain Lewrie at the siege of Yorktown, from which they escaped . . . due principally to then-Midshipman Alan Lewrie's abilities both with firearms and boats, I might add . . . who gave better than they got, Whilst none of these alleged highwaymen survived to testify as to their motives . . . or, who hired theml . . . a rather large amount of money was found upon their persons, leading one to believe that, were they in the highwayman trade, had, at that moment, no need to perpetrate a bold, daylight robbery, or . . . ," he slyly paused, "someone deeply engaged with the slave trade, slave shipping interests, or. . . someone unsure that a conviction and sentence of death could be obtained in an English court of law, thought to eliminate the cause of their grief, frustration, and vengeance by hiring on a pack of toughs to do it for them . . . or him!"

  It was a good thing that orange-selling wenches, fruiterers, or greengrocers were not allowed to do business in a law court, as some of them did at the theatres, else Hugh Beauman, his elegant wife, his witnesses, and his barrister might have been buried under an avalanche of rotting goods. Even the most bored and cursory attendees found such a deed most heinous and foul, and let loose a cacophony of abuse once more. It just wasn't. . . English!

  Hugh Beauman leaped to his feet once more, beet-red, and shaking fists at one and all, baying something that was lost in the din, and no amount of urging by Sir George Norman could sit him back down this time. It took a full three minutes before the court was quieted.

  "Milord," MacDougall said in the most reasonable of voices, as loud as before upon the ear, but that was due to the utter silence of the audience, as if no one wished to miss his closing arguments. "In light of this event, I would also wish to submit to you the depositions of Captain Lewrie and his travelling companions, as well as the affidavit from the magistrate at Kingston anent this sordid affair.

  "Captain Lewrie has been subjected to a Star Chamber proceeding, as arbitrary, as capricious, as corrupt and premeditated as any suffered by gentlemen falsely accused and executed in less than an hour by that past body, in late and un-lamented times, that blight upon our history, our traditional sense of fairness, justice, and honour," Mr. MacDougall solemnly intoned. "Grant Law, which obtains on Jamaica, is not English Common Law! There, injustice may be sanctified by wigs and robes, and false solemnity. This so-called trial in absentia which condemned Captain Lewrie, a man of exempl
ary courage, bravery, sagacity, and honour, to death by hanging would never be countenanced in England, milord. I appeal to your common sense and your own sagacity, your long experience upon the bench, after reading all the pertinent evidence placed before you, to set aside the verdict and sentence as a sham, a fraud, and the travesty of the very word Justice that it is."

  "Hear, hear! Huzzah! Hear him! Boo!" from Lewrie's supporters, who, by then, included just about everyone in the courtroom.

  "Should you find that the initial charges have merit, milord," MacDougall further pled, "a trial conducted in an English court of law must ensue . . . a trial to which Captain Lewrie looks forward with all eagerness, so that he may clear his escutcheon of such sordid charges, and, certain of his innocence, also eagerly expects his aquittal. But. . . this hook-or-by-crook Jamaican proceeding, I humbly ask you to set aside.

  "Further, milord," MacDougall said with a hand upon his breast. "In the interim, Captain Lewrie is just completing the rigging, arming, and commissioning of a new ship, soon to be despatched by Admiralty 'gainst England's foes. Must Britain be deprived of Captain Lewrie's extraordinary skills and talent for battle by ordering him to remain ashore awaiting milord's decision? Or, may he post a money bond with the court, and agree, upon his sacred honour, to give up his command and return to England should you deem an honest trial necessary?"

  "No! By God, no!" Hugh Beauman shouted. "Mine, I tell ye, he's mine!" His barrister, Sir George Norman, didn't even try to contain the man this time, but lowered his head and bit at his lip, sagging in defeat even before a decision was forthcoming. "Can't slip away!"

  "Silence, sir!" Oglethorpe roared, the objectivity and dignity of the Law be-damned, at last. "Bailiffs, remove that man! Shame on you, Sir George. Fie upon your clienti" Which might have been a worse slur, for barristers—gentlemen who didn't engage in trade or handle money—didn't have clients, only "briefs."

  "Given the circumstances, and the wealth of contrary evidence presented," Lord Justice Oglethorpe solemnly said once Beauman and his party had been herded out in dire huffs, "I find myself forced to take some considerable time to weigh the various aspects of the aforesaid proceedings conducted on Jamaica . . . proceedings which, upon their face, begin to sound . . . colourable."