Jessuron, Esquire, held court in the verandah of his dingy
dwelling-house, where we have already seen him assisting at a different
spectacle.
He was now seated, with a small table before him, covered with a piece
of green baize, and carrying a gold snuff-box, an inkstand, pens, and
some sheets of paper.
A book or two lay upon the table, one of which, by the lettering upon
its cover, proclaimed its title and character--_The Jamaica Justice_.
It was bound in black leather--a colour sufficiently emblematic of the
chief subject on which it treated: for more than four-fifths of the laws
and regulations it contained, related to creatures with black skins.
The Justice was in full costume, as the occasion required--that is, he
wore his best blue body-coat with gilt buttons, his drab small-clothes
and top-boots. The brownish beaver had been laid aside: as the sanctity
of justice requires even the judge's head to be uncovered; but the white
cotton skull-cap still remained upon his cranium; justice in Jamaica not
being so rigorous as to exact its removal.
With the spectacles well set upon his nose, and his thin face screwed
into an expression of pompous importance, Squire Jessuron sate behind
his bench, waiting till the parties to the suit should get well into
their places.
He was sole justice present; but, of course, it was merely a
"preliminary inquiry before a magistrate." To have tried a white
criminal on the serious charge brought against Herbert Vaughan, would
have required a fuller bench--at least three magistrates, and one of
them a custos.
Jessuron's power could go no farther than to _commit_ the presumed
criminal to prison, until a more formal process should be organised
against him.
Herbert had been brought up in front of the table--his captor, the
constable, and one or two of the _posse_ standing behind him. On the
right side appeared Ravener, backed by the two Spanish _cacadores_; the
last-mentioned worthies no longer--as had formerly been their constant
custom--attended by their canine companions.
Quaco had been left in the yard below--unguarded--since there was, in
reality, no charge against _him_.
There was one other witness to this magisterial trial--the daughter of
the Justice himself. Yes, the fair Judith was present--as on all
important occasions; but this time not conspicuously so. On the
contrary, she was seated in a window that opened on the verandah, her
beautiful face half-concealed behind the netted fringe-work of the
curtains. The position enabled her to observe what was passing, without
formally exposing her own person to view.
Her face was not altogether hidden; and her white shining forehead and
dark lustrous eyes, gleaming through the gauzy muslin that veiled them,
only appeared more piquantly attractive.
It was evident, from her actions, that the gentle Judith had no
intention of remaining unseen. There were several rather good-looking
men in the party that accompanied the constable--young planters he had
picked up by the way--and who desired nothing better than a lark of this
kind. From the moment that these had entered the courtyard, the fair
mistress of the mansion had remained almost constantly by the window.
It was only, however, after the people had got grouped in the gallery,
that she took her seat behind the curtain, and entered upon a more
minute inspection of their faces and persons.
She was not long engaged in this game, when a change might have been
observed passing over her countenance.
At first her eyes had wandered from face to face with rather a sneering,
cynical expression--such as the Jewess well knew how to put on. All at
once, however, her gaze became fixed; and the contemptuous smile
gradually gave place to a look of more serious regard.
By following the direction of her eyes, the object of this regard could
easily be discovered. It was the "prisoner at the bar!"
What was the meaning of that gaze? Sympathy for the accused?
She knew why the young man was there. Ravener had already informed her
father of all that had transpired, and the daughter had heard the tale.
Was it a generous pity for the position in which this unknown youth was
placed, that was now stirring within the breast of the fair Judith, and
had produced that sudden change in the expression of her countenance?
Hers was hardly the soul for such a sentiment.
Certainly, however, she was actuated by some motive different from the
common: for as the trial progressed she no longer looked stealthily from
behind the curtain; but having drawn it to one side, she directed her
full glance on the stranger, and kept her eyes fixed upon him,
apparently regardless of any observation which her conduct might call
forth!
Her father, whose back was towards her, saw nothing of this; though it
was not unnoticed by the others.
The young Englishman--though little disposed at that moment to the
contemplation of aught beyond his own unpleasant position--could not
help observing the beautiful face directly opposite to where he stood;
nor did he fail to notice the peculiar glances with which he was being
regarded.
Was the old man, before whom he stood on trial, the father of that fair
creature at the window? Such was his interrogative reflection, as he
glanced inquiringly from one to the other.
Some time had been occupied by the overseer in telling his story--to
substantiate the charge he had made. That done, the prisoner was put
upon his defence.
"Young man!" said the Justice, "you have heard what thish witness
alleges against you. What hash you to say in your defence? And first
tell ush what's your name?"
"Herbert Vaughan."
Jessuron re-adjusted his spectacles, and looked at the prisoner with
some show of surprise. The bystanders--stolid constable and all--seemed
a little startled. Quaco, whose colossal form rose above the railings
in the background, uttered a grunt of satisfaction on hearing the young
man's name--which he had not known before--a name all-powerful in the
district, being that of the mighty Custos himself!
There was one upon whom the words appeared to produce an impression
different from that of mere surprise. A glance of anger shot from the
dark eyes of the Jewess as she heard it pronounced, and the look of
sympathy for the moment disappeared. Evidently, to her the name was
distasteful.
"Herbert Vochan?" repeated the Justice. "Might you be any kinshman of
Mishter Vochan of Mount Welcome?"
"His nephew," was the laconic reply.
"Ah! hish nephew! Bless me! ish that true?"
This announcement, as testified by his speech, produced a sudden
commotion in the mind of the Jew-justice. From some little that was
known of his secret hostility towards his neighbour of Mount Welcome--
Ravener knew more than a little--it might have been expected that the
discovery of the relationship of the prisoner would have put him in high
glee. To be sitting in judgment upon the near kinsman of the Custos--
accused of a serious crime, too--was a proud position for Jacob
Jessuron, who could remember many a slight he had received from the
haughty lord of Mount Welcome. What a splendid _revanche_!
Certainly the manner of the Justice, on learning who was before him,
seemed to indicate that such were his reflections. He rubbed his skinny
hands together; helped himself from his gold snuff-box; gleefully smiled
from behind his glasses, which were once more shifted upon the sharp
ridge of his nose; and then, bending his face forward over the table, he
remained for some moments smiling, but silent and thoughtful, as if
considering how he should proceed.
After a time he raised his eyes, and freshly scrutinised the prisoner--
who had already returned an affirmative answer to his last query.
"Blesh my soul!--I never knew that Mishter Vochan had a nephew! You are
from England, young man? Hash your uncle any more English nephews?"
"Not that I am aware of," replied Herbert, frankly. "I believe I am his
only relative of that kind--in England, at least."
The proviso in this reply betrayed a significant fact: that the young
man was not very well acquainted with the family affairs of his colonial
kinsman.
The astute Justice did not fail to notice this deficiency in the
nephew's knowledge.
"How long hash you been in Shamaica?" asked he, as if endeavouring to
arrive at an explanation of some point that was puzzling him.
"A night, and part of two days--in all, about twenty-four hours,"
replied Herbert, with scrupulous exactness.
"Blesh my soul!" again exclaimed the Justice; "only twenty-four hours!
It'sh a wonder you're not at your uncle's house? You hash been there?"
"Oh, yes," answered Herbert, carelessly.
"You come to shtay at Mount Welcome, I supposhe?"
Herbert made no reply to this interrogatory. "You shleep there lash
night? Excushe me young man, for ashking the question, but ash a
magistrate--"
"You are perfectly welcome to the answer, _your worship_," said Herbert,
laying a satirical emphasis on the titular phrase; "I did _not_ sleep
there last night."
"Where did you shleep then?"
"In the woods," answered Herbert.
"Moshesh!" exclaimed the Jew-justice, raising his spectacles in
surprise. "In the woods, you shay?"
"In the woods," re-affirmed the young man; "under a tree; and a very
good bed I found it," he added, jocosely.
"And did your uncle know of thish?"
"I suppose my uncle knew nothing about it, and as little did he care,"
replied Herbert, with a reckless indifference as to what answer he gave.
The bitter emphasis on the last words, with the tone in which they were
delivered, did not escape the observation of Jessuron. A suspicion had
arisen in his mind, that there was something amiss in the relationship
between the young man and his uncle; to the comprehension of which the
answer of the former, aided by a knowledge of the character and affairs
of the latter, was gradually giving him a clue. A secret joy sparkled
in his sunken eyes, as he listened to the last answer given.
All at once he discontinued the direct examination of the prisoner; and,
signing to Ravener and the constable to come near, he became engaged
with these two worthies in a whispering conversation.
What passed between the trio, the young Englishman could not tell--nor
indeed any one else who chanced to be present. The result, however, was
to Herbert as pleasant as unexpected.
When Jessuron again returned to address him, a complete change appeared
to have taken place in his manner; and, instead of the frowning Justice,
Herbert now saw before him a man who appeared more in the character of a
friendly protector--bland, smiling, almost obsequious!
"Mashter Vochan," said he--rising from his magisterial seat, and
extending his hand to the prisoner--"you will excushe the rough
treatment you hash had from theshe people. It ish a great crime in
thish country--helping a runaway shlave to eshcape; but as you hash
joosh landed, and cannot be ekshpected to know our shtatutes, the law
deals mershifully with a firsht offence. Besides, in thish instance,
the runaway--who ish one of my own shlaves--did not eshcape. He ish in
the hands of the Maroons, and will soon be brought in. The punishment I
inflict upon you--and I shall inshist upon its being carried out--ish,
that you eats your dinner with me, and--I think that ish punishment
enough. Mishter Ravener," added he, calling to his overseer, and at the
same time, pointing to Quaco, "take that good fellow and see that he ish
cared for. Now, Mashter Vochan! pleashe to step inside, and allow me to
introshuce you to my daughter Shoodith."
It would have been contrary to all human nature had Herbert Vaughan not
felt gratified at the pleasant turn which this disagreeable affair had
taken; and perhaps this gratification was enhanced at the prospect of
the proposed introduction. Indeed, no man, however cold his nature,
could have looked upon those lovely eyes--so long wistfully watching him
from the window--without wishing a nearer acquaintance with their owner.
The angry glance had been evanescent. It was gone long before the
conclusion of the trial scene; and as the young Englishman--in obedience
to the invitation of his _ci-devant_ judge--stepped across the verandah,
the fair face, retreating from the window, was suffused with the
sweetest and most sympathetic of smiles.
Volume One, Chapter XXXI.