The Second G.A. Henty

by G. A. Henty

  “No, sir, he was just standing there looking on.”

  “And did he resist the capture?”

  “Not to say resist, sir. When we first clapped hands on him he gave a start, for we had come upon him sudden, without noise. He just tried to shake us off, not knowing, I reckon, who we were; but as soon as I said, ‘In the King’s name, you are my prisoner,’ he was just as quiet as a lamb.”

  The solicitor sat down. Then the chairman asked the witness if any arms were found on the prisoner.

  “No, sir.”

  “Not even a stick?”

  “I won’t say as he may not have had a bit of a stick, your honour, though I did not notice it, his hands being in his pockets; anyhow, he did not try to use it.”

  Wilkens was the next witness, and his evidence, as far as Julian was concerned, was precisely similar to that of the coxswain. Against the seven men of the lugger the evidence was conclusive. All had resisted desperately, and this had enabled several of their party to make their escape in the darkness. The Weymouth fisherman had been caught coming up from the beach with a keg on his shoulder, and had thrown it down and attempted to run away, but had made no resistance when he had been taken; the two farm men had been captured at their horses’ heads, and had at once surrendered. When the evidence had been gone through, Mr. Probert addressed the court on behalf of Julian. He urged that there was no evidence whatever to show that he was concerned either in the smuggling operations or in the resistance to the revenue officers.

  “I do not pretend,” he said, “that he was there by accident; but I maintain that he was there simply in the capacity of a looker-on. He stands, in fact, precisely in the same position that any member of the general public might do, who had been present as a spectator at any sort of riot. It is unquestionably a very unwise action on the part of any individual to attend a meeting of any sort at which it is possible that riotous proceedings may take place, but I maintain that, however imprudent and foolish, there is nothing criminal in his doing so, and I am sure that there is no case on record in which a man has been punished for his presence at a riot in which he did not participate. My client acted foolishly, but I ask the court to say that his foolishness was not criminal. He had accidentally learned that there was to be a landing of contraband goods, and, with the thoughtlessness of youth, he went to see what he considered the fun. Even if there had been a shadow of criminality in his being present, I should ask you to say that the unpleasant experience that he has undergone—his detention for twelve hours in a police cell, and his appearance here—is ample punishment for his boyish escapade, which might have been committed by any high-spirited young fellow of nineteen.”

  After the other solicitor had addressed the court on behalf of the two farmers’ men, the magistrates consulted together. The spectators, watching them attentively, saw that for a time they seemed unanimous, then it was equally evident that there was a difference of opinion on some point or other, and they presently rose and left the court.

  “It is Faulkner against the other two,” Mr. Probert whispered to Frank. “Of course they were unanimous about the smugglers, but I expect they differed as to the others. It is lucky that the Colonel is in the chair. Harrington is a mild little fellow, and Faulkner would be able to twist him round his finger if there were only the two of them, but there is no fear of that with the Colonel there to keep him straight.”

  In ten minutes they returned, and by the flushed, angry face of Mr. Faulkner, Frank judged at once that he had been overruled. The chairman briefly announced the decision of the court, and committed the seven smugglers for trial on the whole of the charges. The Weymouth fisherman was also committed, but only on the charge of being engaged in the unlawful act of defrauding His Majesty’s revenue, and was allowed out on bail. The two farm labourers were fined fifty pounds apiece, which their solicitor at once paid.

  “The majority of the bench are in favour of your immediate discharge, Mr. Wyatt, being of opinion that the evidence has failed altogether to prove any of the charges against you, and, being of opinion that you have already paid dearly enough for your reckless folly in attending an unlawful operation of this kind, they trust that it will be a lesson to you for life. The other and more serious charge against you will now be taken.”

  Frank, who was in the act of rising from his seat in delight at Julian’s acquittal, sank down again in dismay at the concluding words. He had no idea of any further charge.

  “What is it?” he whispered to Mr. Probert.

  “Faulkner has charged him with an attempt to murder him. Have you not heard of it? Don’t be frightened. I have seen the witnesses, and have no doubt that this case will break down like the other.”

  After all the prisoners but Julian had been removed from the dock, Mr. Faulkner left the bench and took his seat in the body of the court. The charge was then read over by the clerk, and Mr. Faulkner’s name was called; as he stepped into the witness-box, a low hiss ran through the fishermen who formed a large proportion of the spectators.

  “Silence!” the chairman said angrily. “If I hear any repetition of this indecent demonstration, I will have the court cleared at once.”

  Mr. Faulkner then proceeded to give his evidence. “He had,” he said, “spoken severely to the prisoner in his quality as a magistrate, upon his taking part in smuggling transactions. At this the prisoner became violently abusive and uttered such murderous threats that he thought he would have struck him, and in self-defence he (the witness) gave him a blow, whereupon the prisoner had sprung upon him like a tiger, had lifted him in his arms, and had carried him bodily towards the fire, and would assuredly have thrown him into it had he not been prevented from doing so by some of the coast-guardsmen.”

  Mr. Probert rose quietly. “You are a magistrate, Mr. Faulkner, I believe?” Mr. Faulkner gave no reply to the question, and after a little pause the solicitor went on: “Do you consider that, as a magistrate, Mr. Faulkner, it comes within your province to abuse a prisoner unconvicted of any crime?”

  “I deny that I abused him,” Mr. Faulkner said hotly.

  “There is no occasion for heat, sir,” Mr. Probert said quietly. “You are in the position of a witness at present and not of a magistrate, and must reply like any other witness. Well, you deny having abused him. Do you consider that calling a gentleman of good standing in this town, the son of a distinguished officer, a loafing young scoundrel, not abuse; or by telling him that six months in one of His Majesty’s jails would do him a world of good?”

  “I deny that I used those words.”

  “Well, sir, that is a question of pure credibility. It is possible that I may be in a position to prove to the satisfaction of the bench that you did use them, and many others of an equally offensive character. Mr. Wyatt naturally resented such language, which you had no more right to address to him than you would have to address to me. If a magistrate forgets his position, and abuses a prisoner in the language of a fish-fag, he must expect to be answered in the same way by anyone of spirit. You say that, thereupon, he became abusive and used murderous threats? Now we should like to hear a little more about this. First of all, let us hear the abuse, will you? Tell the court, if you please, Mr. Faulkner, what were the abusive expressions,” he added.

  “He said, sir, that I was a disgrace to the bench.”

  There was a general laugh in the court, which was instantly repressed. Mr. Faulkner’s eyes ran furiously over the crowded benches.

  “I must ask you to look at me, Mr. Faulkner,” the solicitor said mildly. “Well, he said that you were a disgrace to the bench. That is scarcely, perhaps, as much a matter of abuse as one of private opinion. What did he say next?”

  “He said I was a curse to the whole neighbourhood.”

  “Again a mere matter of opinion.”

  “And after that that I was a sneaking, meddlesome, interfering old fox.”

  There was again a buzz of laughter, mingled with exclamations of “So you are,” “He wa
sn’t far wrong;” upon which Colonel Chalmers directed the constable to turn all the offending parties out of court. Some fishermen nearest to the door were hustled out.

  “Well, I am afraid that I must admit,” Mr. Probert said, “that to call you a meddlesome old fox was abusive, although nothing like so abusive as to call a man a loafing young scoundrel. Now as to the threats.”

  “He said that I would be brought home one of these days with a bullet in my body.”

  “That is purely a matter of prophecy, Mr. Faulkner, and not a threat, unless he intended you to understand that it was he who would fire the bullet. Do you mean to tell the court that you had any reason to suppose that this young gentleman, whose reputation is untarnished, and who has never had a charge brought against him except the ridiculous one that has just been dismissed, intended to imply by those words that he himself had any idea of taking your life?”

  “It might bear that construction.”

  “It might bear any construction in the mind of a man determined to see everything in the worst possible light. It is a matter of public notoriety, Mr. Faulkner, that you have received several threatening letters, and that the active part you have taken against poachers and smugglers has caused some feeling against you. Do you not think it likely that when Mr. Wyatt used the words you have repeated he referred to this circumstance?”

  “A magistrate who does his duty must necessarily be unpopular with the criminal classes.”

  “Possibly, Mr. Faulkner, though I have known many magistrates who did their duty and who were by no means unpopular; but you have not answered my question. Do you not think that in saying what he did Mr. Wyatt simply alluded to the fact of your well-known unpopularity, and to the threatening letters that you have received?”

  “Possibly he did,” Mr. Faulkner admitted reluctantly, “although that was not my impression at the time.”

  “Well, then, unless there were further threats, as you call them, I think we have disposed of the alleged abuse and the alleged murderous threats. Now we come to the other charge. You thought that he was about to strike you, and in self-defence gave him a blow. What made you think that he was going to strike you?”

  “He made a step towards me with a threatening gesture.”

  “Oh, I dare say that he was angry, but a gentleman who has been called a loafing young scoundrel is somewhat apt to lose his temper. You might even do so yourself, Mr. Faulkner, if so addressed. Well, then, he made a step towards you; thereupon you struck him in the face, and judging from his appearance you struck him pretty hard, and then you say he caught you up and carried you along. It says a good deal for his strength that he was able to do so. Now you say he carried you towards the fire, and would have thrown you upon it had not some of the coast-guardsmen interfered in time. Now, how do you know that that was his intention?”

  “I firmly believe that it was so.”

  “It is not a question of belief. You might believe that he was going to throw you up to the moon. You struggled, I suppose—you would scarcely submit to be carried like a baby—I imagine that is about the long and short of it. But even if he had intended to throw you on the fire, which certainly seems to be merely a matter of your imagination, you can hardly pretend that had he carried out this intention that it would have been murder. Surely with a score of your friends standing by, you would have been hauled out immediately, none the worse except for a few singes and a burn or two. This was not a burning fiery furnace, Mr. Faulkner, but merely a bit of a bonfire from a few sticks that had been set on fire in order to throw a little light on the proceedings.”

  “I might have been very seriously burnt.”

  “Well, even supposing that you had been, that is not a question of murder. I presume that you framed this indictment you have charged the prisoner, not with an intention of committing grievous damage upon you, but with murder, and if you now admit that, under the circumstances, death could hardly have resulted by any possibility from this imaginary intention of throwing you on the fire being carried out, it is clear that the charge of murder must drop through. I have no further questions to ask you, though I may have some remarks to make after having heard your witnesses.”

  CHAPTER III

  IN A FRESH SCRAPE

  The first witness called by Mr. Faulkner was Captain Downes.

  “Will you tell us what you know about this affair?” the chairman said.

  “After having captured the smuggler, I took six men and went up to see if I could be of any assistance to Mr. Moorsby, and also to hear whether he had been as successful with his capture as I had. I found that everything was over, and that a fire had been lighted. I was talking to Mr. Moorsby when my attention was excited by loud words between Mr. Faulkner and Mr. Wyatt, with whom I am acquainted. Mr. Faulkner struck him in the face, and there was a scuffle, the prisoner lifting the magistrate, although a much heavier man, completely off his feet. In the course of the scuffle they approached the fire, and being afraid that they might fall into it, I ran up with Mr. Moorsby and some of the men, and pulled them away.”

  “Did it seem to you, Captain Downes, that the prisoner was carrying Mr. Faulkner straight to the fire?”

  “He was certainly going straight in that direction, but whether intentionally or not I am unable to say.”

  “Do you think that if you and your men had not interfered they would have fallen into the fire?”

  “I think they would certainly have done so.”

  “Do you think that the prisoner intended to throw Mr. Faulkner into the fire?”

  “That I cannot say.”

  “Have you any questions to ask the witness, Mr. Faulkner?” the chairman asked.

  “You do not think it likely, I suppose, that the prisoner could have intended himself to tumble into the fire?”

  “I should think it very unlikely.”

  Mr. Faulkner sat down, and Mr. Probert rose.

  “You think it very unlikely, Captain Downes, that Mr. Wyatt would deliberately have walked into the fire, and I quite share your opinion; but it has not yet been proved that he was deliberately going towards the fire at all. You say he lifted Mr. Faulkner in his arms. Now it seems to me that, having done so, he would not be able to see at all which way he was going, as Mr. Wyatt’s eyes would both be on a level with Mr. Faulkner’s chest; moreover, it must be evident that, judging from his present appearance, he could scarcely have seen anything at all, after receiving such a blow. Does it not strike you as being still more likely that, partially blinded as he was, and being unwilling to strike the magistrate in return, however much the latter had forfeited all claim to respect, he closed with him, and in the heat of passion lifted him up and carried him along at random?”

  “I think that very likely,” the lieutenant replied.

  “Had you yourself been struck as the prisoner was struck, Captain Downes, what course do you think it would have been proper for you to pursue?”

  “I don’t know what would have been proper, but I know what I should have done. Magistrate or no magistrate, I should have knocked my assailant down, or at any rate I should have tried to.”

  “As a naval man, Captain Downes, you have had some experience of the conduct gentlemen generally observe to their prisoners. I presume that it is not their custom to strike them, even if they did make a somewhat free use of their tongues?”

  “Certainly not,” Captain Downes said emphatically.

  “Would you go so far as to say that you would consider it to be a disgraceful and cowardly act?”

  “I should so consider it.”

  There was again a murmur of applause in court, which was instantly arrested when Mr. Probert held up his hand deprecatingly. “Thank you, Captain Downes,” he went on. “Now we come to the question of the quarrel that gave rise to this affair. Mr. Faulkner has not thought fit to ask you any questions about it. Were you standing close enough to hear what passed?”

  “I was standing close by, and both Mr. Faulkner and the pr
isoner spoke loudly enough to be heard at such a distance.”

  “The magistrate first began the conversation?”

  “He did.”

  “He used very strong language, did he not?”

  “Very strong.”

  “Did you think that he was justified in using such strong language?”

  “Certainly not; I thought that it was most improper.”

  “And do you think that a gentleman accosted so improperly is to be greatly blamed if he uses strong language in return?”

  “It would no doubt have been better if he had held his tongue at the time, and have called him to account afterwards.”

  “Still the provocation was very strong, Captain Downes, and you could not altogether blame him.”

  “I did not blame him at all,” the witness said curtly.

  “And what did you think when Mr. Faulkner suddenly struck his prisoner in the face?”

  “Am I to answer that question?” the witness asked the bench.

  “I do not think that it is an improper question,” the chairman replied.

  “Very well, sir. Then, if I must say it, I thought it was one of the most blackguardly and cowardly things I ever saw done.”

  “Thank you, Captain Downes. I do not think it necessary to ask you any further questions.”

  “Have you any more witnesses to call, Mr. Faulkner?” the chairman asked coldly.

  Mr. Faulkner’s face was white with rage. “I have a dozen other witnesses,” he said hoarsely, “but I have no doubt they will all follow the lead their officer has set them. I shall therefore call no more.”

  “I do not think, your worships,” Mr. Probert said, rising, “that it is necessary for me to address you. I would only submit to you that there is not a shadow of evidence to support the charge of an attempt to murder. As to the abusive language, I cannot say that my client’s words were a retort courteous, but they were only a retort natural, and were simply the consequence of the extraordinary conduct of Mr. Faulkner, acting at the time in his capacity of magistrate. As to the charge of threatening language, it is altogether absurd. My client simply asserted what is true by common report—that Mr. Faulkner had been threatened, and that it was possible that those threats might some day or other be carried into effect. I have only, therefore, to leave the case in the hands of your worships.”