SHE ATTENDS HER SWEETHEART’S TRIAL
Down to the date of the trial, suspense and expectation lay in so
crushing a burden upon me that life was hardly supportable. In this
time I ceased to wonder that people had the courage to perish by their
own hands. Twice after that first visit I saw Tom in Newgate, but those
interviews were restricted by the rules of the place to a quarter of
an hour, and always the bell sounded and the rude voice of the warder
broke in at the moment when I had most to say and most to hearken to.
The trial of my sweetheart took place at the Central Criminal Court on
April 17th. The judge was the stony-hearted Maule--memory may deceive
me, but I am almost sure it was Mr. Justice Maule. For Tom’s defence
my uncle had secured the services of the celebrated Mr. Sergeant
Shee, with whom were Mr. Doane and Mr. C. Jones. I drove down to
the Old Bailey with my aunt early in the morning. The court was not
inconveniently crowded. It was one of those cases which do not excite
much attention. A Cash-man or a Bishop would have blocked the court
with eager spectators of both sexes, but the perils and crimes of the
ocean do not appeal to the land-going public.
The judge took his seat at ten o’clock, and Tom was brought in and
placed at the bar, charged by indictment that ‘he endeavoured,
feloniously and maliciously, to cast away and destroy a certain vessel
called the _Arab Chief_ on the high sea, within the jurisdiction of
the Admiralty of England, and also of the Central Criminal Court, with
intent to prejudice divers persons as part owners of or underwriters
to the same vessel.’ He pleaded ‘Not guilty.’ He spoke very low, but
his tones were steady. He looked ill, haggard, and wasted. A great
number of persons who were to appear as witnesses were in court, and I
searched the many faces with burning eyes for the two wretches who had
brought my sweetheart and me to this horrible pass. But my aunt did not
know them, and there was no one at hand to tell me which among those
men were Rotch and Nodder.
The case against Tom, as stated at the opening of the prosecution, was
merely an elaborate version of the narrative of the facts which he
had himself briefly related to me in Newgate. Though nobody had been
defrauded, since the ship had not been sunk and no money claimed or
paid, yet as much emphasis was laid by the prosecution upon the number
of offices in which Tom had insured as though my sweetheart’s guilt
were beyond question, as though the prosecution indeed had seen him
make holes in the ship and sink her, as though he had then arrived in
England and received three or four thousand pounds in excess of the
worth of the property.
The person who addressed the Court for the prosecution had a very
clear, musical voice; he had handsome eyes, and would pause at every
pointed passage of his opening with an eloquent, appealing, concerned
look at the jury. His sweet, persuasive tones and looks doubled to
my fear the horrible significance of his statements, and I abhorred
him whilst I watched him and listened, and could have killed him in
my concealed fright and rage for his cool and coaxing and polished
utterance of what I knew to be hellish lies. Often would I watch the
jury with a devouring gaze. They were in two rows, six in a row, in a
box, and one or another who was above would sometimes lean over and
whisper, and one would take a note, and one would sit for ten minutes
at a time motionless, with his eyes upon the person speaking. The
counsel and gentlemen in wigs and gowns sat around a big table loaded
with books and papers. A crowd of people hung about outside this sort
of well, formed by the table and its circular benches and backs, and
whispered and stared and grinned and took snuff. The judge sat, stern
and heavily wigged, not far from the jury. Sometimes he took notes;
sometimes his chin sank upon his breast. He seemed to see nothing, and
if ever he spoke he appeared to address a vision in midair.
I’ll not trouble you with the particulars of this trial. I am passing
rapidly now into another scene of life. One witness after another
stepped into the box to prove the several insurances which had been
effected by Tom; others to testify to the value of the _Arab Chief_ and
her lading. The name of Samuel Rotch was then pronounced, and the man
came out of a group of people and briskly ascended to give evidence.
The hot blood stung in my cheeks when I saw him. My heart beat as
though I was stricken with fever. Tom looked at him and kept his eyes
upon him all the while that the wretch was answering questions and
giving his evidence, but I never once observed that he even so much as
glanced at my sweetheart.
I had expected--nay, indeed, I had prayed--to behold an ill-looking
villain, and I believe it told heavily against us that he was an
exceedingly good-looking man. His features were regular; his eyes of
dark blue, bright and steadfast in their gaze. His white and regular
teeth shone like light when he parted his lips. He was coloured by
the sun to the manly complexion of the seaman, and he was about
Tom’s height, well built, but without my sweetheart’s fine, upright,
commanding carriage. His voice had a frank note. His replies were
quickly delivered, and there was not the least stammer or hesitation in
his statements. Added to all this, he spoke with an educated accent.
He told his story plainly, and was not to be shaken. He gave a reason
for going into the lazarette which my sweetheart’s counsel seemed
unable to challenge. It was shown through his evidence that the size of
the holes (an inch and a quarter) which were found plugged in the inner
skin exactly corresponded with the diameter of the tree-nail auger
which had been discovered in Tom’s cabin. His evidence was that whilst
in the lazarette he had heard the sound of water running into the ship
betwixt the lining and the side; he took his lantern to the place of
the noise and saw the plugged holes. He went on deck and called to
Benjamin Nodder, who acted as second mate and carpenter; he likewise
summoned others of the crew and they all went into the lazarette and
saw the plugged holes and heard the water coming in. Then to preserve
their lives and save the ship from sinking they ripped up the plank
and plugged the outer holes, thus stopping the leaks, and afterwards
repaired in a body to the captain’s cabin. Captain Butler threatened
to shoot the witness. He was secured, and the cabin searched and the
auger found. They proceeded to Rio, and on their arrival Rotch called
upon the British Consul, who on the evidence sworn before him thought
proper to give the charge of the ship to a new captain and send home
the prisoner, together with Rotch, Nodder, and two of the seamen who
had descended into the lazarette.
The witness was asked why he suspected the captain of attempting to
scuttle the ship instead of any other of the crew.
He answered:
‘Because I had seen the captain go into the lazarette.’
‘Was it unusual for a captain to enter the lazarette of his own vessel?’
‘No captain,’ the fellow answered, ‘would think of entering a
lazarette.’
‘What other grounds for suspicion had he?’
The man replied, the captain had told him that his share in the ship,
together with his venture in the cargo and freight, were heavily
insured; also, on one occasion, the captain had talked to him about
a ship whose master had been sentenced and executed for casting her
away; and he had added significantly that it was a good job the law had
been changed, and that a man might now venture for a fortune without
jeopardising his life.
Tom steadfastly regarded Rotch whilst he gave his evidence; and I knew
by the look in my sweetheart’s face that the villain in the witness-box
fiendishly lied in every syllable he uttered.
Many questions in cross-examination were asked, and all of them
Rotch answered steadily, bowing respectfully whenever the judge put
a question; and he always looked very straight, with a fine air of
candour and honesty, at the person who interrogated him. He was asked
if he had not quarrelled with Captain Butler at Valparaiso. He answered
yes. The particulars of that quarrel were dramatically related by
Sergeant Shee. Rotch said that every word was true, but that he and
Captain Butler had long ago shaken hands over that affair and dismissed
it from their memory. He was asked if the prisoner had not reported him
on one occasion for insubordination and neglect of duty, and if he had
not been dismissed in consequence, though subsequently another berth
had been procured for him by the prisoner? He answered yes, it was
quite true. He was asked if it was the fact that one of the owners of
the _Arab Chief_ had promised him the berth of captain of that ship in
any case, since, whether guilty or innocent, Captain Butler would not,
after this accusation, be again employed? He replied it was true; but
then the other side qualified what was to me a damning admission by
saying that the fellow was distantly connected with the owner aforesaid.
The next witness was Benjamin Nodder. This fellow was a rough seaman of
a commonplace type, hunched about the shoulders and bandy-legged, with
red hair falling about his ears in coarse raw streaks, like slices of
carrot; he was wall-eyed, that is, one eye looked away when the other
gazed straight. His voice was harsh as the noise of an axe sharpened
on a grindstone, and when he stood up in the box he leered unsteadily
around him with an effort to stand with dignity, as though he was
tipsy. His examination was little more than a repetition of what had
been gone through with Rotch.
He was followed by two seamen who had no further evidence to give than
that they had helped to stop the leaks and had seen the captain draw a
pistol upon Rotch in his cabin; they also testified to the discovery of
the auger, one of them saving that he recollected Mr. Nodder telling
the men that Captain Butler had come forward and borrowed an auger.
‘Mr. Nodder,’ said this witness, ‘told us men that he couldn’t imagine
what the capt’n wanted an auger for; two days after the hole was found
bored in the lazarette.’
Thus ran the questions and the answers. Tom looked steadily at the
witnesses as they spoke; but he made no sign; his arms lay motionless,
folded upon his breast. Twice or thrice I saw his eyebrows faintly
lift, and his lips part as though to a deep breath of irrepressible
horror and amazement.
The Court adjourned for lunch after the two seamen had given their
evidence; I remained in the court with my aunt. Mr. Johnstone came to
us, and I asked him what he thought the verdict would be.
‘Wait for it! Wait for it!’ he exclaimed, petulant with worry and
doubts. ‘Did not I tell Butler that he had heavily blundered in
over-insuring? And how well Rotch gave his evidence! How frank were the
devil’s admissions! Never a wink or a stutter with him from beginning
to end! But the twelve have yet to hear the sergeant. Keep up your
spirits, Marian!’ And he abruptly left us, but not without exchanging
a look with his wife. I caught that look, and my heart sank and turned
cold, as though the hand of death had grasped it.
When the Court reassembled, five witnesses were called to speak to
Tom’s character. It was shortly before four when the judge had finished
summing up. I had followed Sergeant Shee’s address with impassioned
attention, eagerly watching the faces of the jurymen as he spoke,
and detesting the judge for the sleepy air with which he listened
and the barristers at the table and the people round about for their
inattention and frequent whispers and passing of papers one to another
on business of their own, as though the drama of life or death to me
which had nearly filled the day had grown tiresome, and they were
waiting for the curtain. Then I had followed with a maddening conflict
of emotion, but with an ever-gaining feeling of sickness and faintness,
like to the sense of a poisoned and killing conviction slowly creeping
to the heart against its maddest current of hopes and protests--thus
had I listened to the address of the counsel for the prosecution who
replied upon the whole case; and now I listened to Mr. Justice Maule’s
summing-up, a tedious and inconclusive address. He made little of the
points which I believed he would have insisted upon. He talked like a
tired man, he retold the testimony, and I seemed to find a prejudice
against Tom throughout his delivery.
Then it was left to the jury, and the jury, after an absence of twenty
minutes, returned with the verdict of ‘Guilty’ against the prisoner.
My aunt clutched my hand. I felt a shock as though the blood in my
veins had been arrested in ice in its course. Mr. Justice Maule
proceeded to pass sentence. He spoke in a sing-song voice, as though
at every instant he must interrupt himself with a yawn. He said that
the prisoner had been found guilty, after a fair and impartial trial,
of the offence of having feloniously and wilfully attempted to destroy
the ship _Arab Chief_ for the purpose of defrauding the underwriters.
That was the conclusion the jury had arrived at, and he was perfectly
satisfied with this verdict. And then he pointed out the gravity of the
offence, and how such acts tended to check the spirit of mercantile
adventure, and how impossible it would be for insurance companies to
exist if they were not protected by the law. He rejoiced that the
penalty applied to this crime was no longer capital. At the same time
it was his duty to inflict a severe punishment. The sentence of the
Court was that the prisoner should be transported beyond the seas for
the term of fourteen years.
My aunt sprang to her feet and shrieked aloud when this awful sentence
was delivered. I sat dumb and motionless. Never once throughout the day
had Tom looked in our direction. Now, on my aunt shrieking, he turned
his head, saw me, and pointed upward, as though surrendering our love
to God. The next moment he had stepped out of sight.
My uncle came to us. He was white and terribly agitated and shocked.
‘Come!’ he exclaimed. ‘Come along out of this now. We have had enough
of it.’
He took me by the hand, and I arose, but I could not speak; I seemed
to have been deprived of sensation in the limbs; indeed, I do not
know what had come to me. I looked towards the bar where Tom had been
standing and sighed, and then walked with my uncle, my aunt following.
We passed out of the court and got into the Old Bailey; and when in
Ludgate Hill, my uncle called a coach, and we were driven to his home.
Nothing was said saving that my uncle once asked, ‘Who cried out?’ My
aunt answered:
‘I did.’
I sat rigid, looking with blind eyes at the passing show of the
streets. But how am I to describe my feelings! Ask a mother whose child
has suddenly died upon her lap; ask a wife whose husband has fallen
dead at her feet; ask an adoring lover whose sweetheart, taking refuge
with him from a summer thunder-cloud, is slain by a bolt; ask such
people so smitten to tell you what they feel! Nor can my tongue utter
what was in me as we drove to my uncle’s home after the trial.
When we were arrived my manner frightened my aunt; she feared I’d do
myself a mischief and would not lose sight of me. I sat in a chair
and never spoke, though I answered when I was addressed, and obeyed
mechanically; as, for example, if my aunt entreated me to come to the
table and eat I quitted my chair and took up the knife and fork, but
without eating. My gaze was fixed! I saw nothing but Tom standing at
the bar of the Old Bailey, hearkening to his sentence, lifting up his
hand to me and looking upward. If I turned my eyes toward my aunt, Tom
was behind her. If my uncle sat before me and addressed me, the vision
of Tom painted in bright colours receiving sentence and lifting his
hand was behind him.
Once during the evening of the day of the trial, when my uncle came
into the parlour, my aunt turned to him and said:
‘If she would only cry!’
She took me to her bed that night, and I lay without speech, seeing Tom
as in a vision, and hearing the sentence over and over again repeated.
I may have slept; I cannot tell. My aunt wished me to remain in bed
next morning, but when she was dressed I got up and followed her to the
parlour.
My uncle sat by a glowing fire; he was deeply interested in a newspaper
and was probably reading a report of the trial.
‘Aunt,’ I said, speaking for the first time, and in a voice so harsh
and unmusical that my uncle, not knowing that I had entered, looked up
with gesture of surprise and dropped the newspaper, ‘I wish to go home.’
‘No, dear, not yet.’
I was about to speak, to say that I believed my going to the house
where my father and mother had lived--to the house that was full of
old associations, where I had thought to dwell with Tom when we were
married--would soothe and do me good. I was about to tell her this, but
could not for giving way; and, hiding my face in my hands, I bowed my
head upon the table, neither of them speaking nor attempting in any way
to arrest the passion of tears.
I felt better after this dreadful outbreak; it seemed to have cleansed
my brain and to give room for my heart to beat and for my spirits to
stir in. I looked at the good things upon the table, the eggs and
bacon, the ham and the rest, and said:
‘How do they feed prisoners in jail?’
‘Now, don’t trouble about that, Marian,’ said my uncle. ‘Captain Butler
has been a sailor, and he has been bred up on food compared to which
the worst fare in the worst jail in England is delicious.’
‘What will they do with him?’
‘Until they despatch him across the seas they’ll keep him in prison at
Newgate, perhaps, or they’ll send him to Millbank or to the Hulks. No
man can tell.’
‘Don’t fret yourself now with these inquiries, Marian,’ said my aunt.
‘How do they treat convicts in jail, uncle?’
‘Very well, indeed. Better than the majority of them deserve. They
feed them, clothe them, and teach them trades to enable them to live
honestly by-and-by.’
‘In what sort of ships do the convicts sail?’
‘Oh, in average merchantmen. Owners tender, and a ship is hired. There
were twenty-one of them chartered last year at about four p’un’ ten a
ton.’
‘Twenty-one!’ cried my aunt. ‘I wonder there are any rascals left in
England. Twenty-one! Only think! And perhaps two hundred rogues in each
ship.’
‘At least,’ exclaimed my uncle.
‘Are they passenger ships?’ I asked.
‘Many of them.’
‘Could one take one’s passage in a convict ship?’
‘Love you, no! No more than one could take one’s passage in a
man-of-war.’
‘Marian, you are making no breakfast,’ said my aunt.
‘What do they do with the convicts when they arrive at their
destination?’ I inquired.
‘Why,’ said my uncle, passing his cup for more tea, ‘I can only tell
you what I have read. The convicts are lent out as servants to persons
in want of labour on their farms, houses, shops, and so on; some of
them are sent up country to make roads. I don’t know whether they are
paid for their work. They are well fed. It commonly ends in their
setting up in business for themselves; and ninety-nine out of every
hundred felons, after they have been out in the colonies for a few
years, wouldn’t come home--to stay at home, I mean--on any account
whatever. If I were a poor man, I should not at all object to being
transported.’
‘Don’t say such things!’ exclaimed my aunt.
‘I shall follow Tom wherever he is sent,’ said I, pushing my chair from
the table.
‘What! To Norfolk Island, for instance? What would you do there?’ said
my uncle. ‘Far better wait in this country, my dear, until Captain
Butler returns. They’ll be giving him a ticket-of-leave before long.
He’s bound to behave himself well.’
I stepped to the window and looked out. There had been a note of
coldness in my uncle’s pronunciation of the words, ‘Captain Butler.’ I
had also caught a startled look, which was nearly horror, in my aunt
when I said that I would follow my sweetheart wherever he was sent. I
turned presently and said:
‘When shall I be able to see Tom?’
‘Once only every three months, I am afraid,’ answered my uncle. ‘The
rules vary with the prisons, but I think you will find that letters and
visits are allowed once every three months only. I’ll inquire.’
‘Shall we hear if he is sent to another place?’
‘We shall always be able to learn where he is.’
He was growing tired of my questions and left the table, having
finished his breakfast.
‘I shall want to know what his defence has cost,’ said I; ‘I wish to
pay.’
He nodded, and, pulling out his watch, said that he must go to business
downstairs. I ran after him as he was leaving the room, and, grasping
him by the arm, cried impetuously: ‘Uncle, do you believe Tom guilty?’
‘I’d not say so if I thought so,’ he answered looking at me, and I
guessed by my feelings that my eyes sparkled and my cheeks were red.
‘Let me go, my girl. Everything passes, and to all of us comes a day
when we discover that there is nothing under the sun which is worth a
tear.’
I dropped my hand, and we walked out of the room. My aunt eyed me
strenuously as I paced the floor. I could not sit, my heart was full of
rage, and all the while a resolution was forming and hardening in me;
indeed I caught myself thinking aloud, and often I’d halt with my hand
clenched like one distraught. My aunt presently said:
‘Why not sit down, dear, and nurse your strength a little? You have
been sorely tried. Cannot we arrange for another trip to the seaside?’
‘And leave----’ I cried, and broke short off and forced myself to say
softly: ‘No, aunt.’
‘But what do you mean to do? I wish to act as a mother to you, Marian.
I thank God you are not his wife.’
‘Don’t say that!’
‘But I must say it!’ she exclaimed, bridling. ‘It’s through me that
you are not his wife, and I rejoice heartily that I advised you as
I did. What! Would you, with your means and your beauty and your
opportunities, be the wife of a convict?’
I felt the temper in me swelling into madness. I durst not stay, for I
dreaded myself then, and flung out of the room, leaving her talking.
I ran upstairs to put on my outdoor clothes, and when I returned my
aunt was on the landing. She exclaimed that she had not meant what she
said. I looked her earnestly in the face, for I did not believe her;
but already my temper was gone. Ill-temper lives but a short time when
there is great misery. I kissed her and thanked her for her kindness
and love, and, telling her I must go home to look after things, I left
the house.