ILL WORDS COME TRUE
To the Isle of Wight, and thence to Spithead and Deptford, came in
time the Sybil of forty-four guns, Captain Charles Winterton, and
accompanying her, in the hands of a prize crew, the Rose of Devon
frigate. There, bundling certain unhappy gentlemen of fortune out of
the ship, they sent them expeditiously up to London and deposited them
for safe keeping in the Marshalsea prison, a notable hostelry which has
harboured great rogues before and since.
In the fullness of time, the Lord High Admiral of England, "who holds
his court of justice for trials of all sea causes for life and goods,"
being assisted by the Judge of Admiralty and sundry others, officers
and advocates and proctors and civilians, was moved to proceed against
the aforesaid gentlemen of fortune. So they heard their names cried in
the High Court of Admiralty and were arraigned for piracy and robbery
on the high seas and charged with seizing the frigate Rose of Devon,
the property of Thomas Ball and others, and murdering her master,
Francis Candle, and stealing supplies and equipment to the value of
eight hundred pounds. Nor was that the whole tale of charges, for it
seemed that the Lords of Admiralty laid to the discredit of those
particular gentlemen of fortune numerous earlier misdeeds of great
daring and wickedness and an attempt to take His Majesty's ship Sybil,
which had cost the lives of certain of His Majesty's seamen and had
occasioned His Majesty much grief and concern.
He who read the indictment spoke in a loud and solemn voice, such as
might of itself make a man think of his sins and fear judgment; but
they were already cowed and fearful, save only the Old One, who still
held his head high and very scornfully smiled. The cook bent his head
and shivered and dared not look the jury in the face. The carpenter
wept and Martin Barwick was like a man struck dumb and Paul Craig kept
working his mouth and biting at his lips.
There was a great concourse of people, for who would not seize upon
the chance to see a band of pirates? But a very poor show the pirates
made, save the Old One; for though they had talked much and often of
their valour and had represented themselves as tall fellows who feared
nothing in life or death, they were now and for all time revealed as
cowards to the marrow of their bones.
Quietly and expeditiously the officers of the Court swore their first
witness, who smelled of pitch and tar and bore himself in such wise
that he was to be known for a sailor wherever he might turn.
To their questions he replied with easy assurance, for he was not one
of those fellows who cope with great gales and storms at sea only to be
cowed by a great person on land. "Yea, sir," quoth he, "there is among
mariners common talk of a band of sea sharks that hath long resorted
to His Majesty's port of Bideford. Yea, my lord.--And have I met with
them? That I have, and to my sorrow. This month two years I was master
in a likely snow, the Prosperous of three hundred tons, which fell
afoul of that very company, as their boasting and talk discovered
to us, who took our ship and set me adrift in a boat with seven of
mine own men, whereby, God being merciful unto us, we succeeded after
many hardships in winning to the shore of Ireland, whence the Grace
of Bristol bore us home to England.--The fate of the others in our
company? In faith, some, I am told, joined themselves with that same
band of sea sharks. The rest were slaughtered out of hand.--Nay, my
lord, the night was black and my sight of the scoundrels was brief. I
much misdoubt if I should know them again."
"Come, come," quoth His Lordship, tapping the papers spread on his
great table, "look at these prisoners gathered here at the bar and tell
me if there be one among them of whom you can say, 'This man was there;
this man did thus and so.'"
So the witness came, with the air of a man who is pleased to be seen
of many people, and looked them over, one and all; but at the end of
his looking he sadly shook his head. "Nay, my lord, the night was dark
and sight was uncertain; and though I should rejoice--none more than
I!--to see a pirate hanged, I am most loath to swear away the life of
an innocent man. There is no man here of whom I can truly say I have
seen him before."
His Lordship frowned and the proctors shook their heads; the prisoners
sighed and breathed more freely. The tale was at an end, and bearing
away with him his smell of pitch and tar the fellow returned to his
place.
Four witnesses were then summoned, one after another, and told tales
like the first. One had been in a ship that was seized and sunk in
Bristol Channel; the second had received a gaping wound in the shoulder
off St. David's Head, and had known no more until he found himself
alone on the deck of a plundered flyboat; the third had fallen into
evil company in Plymouth, which beat him and robbed him and left him
for dead, and from the talk of his murderous companions he had learned,
before they set upon him that they were certain gentry of Bideford;
and the last of the four told of the murderous attack of a boarding
party, which had taken a brig and tumbled him over the side into a
boat. "Yea, my lord," he cried, "and I fear to think upon what befell
our captain's little son, for of all our crew only three men were left
alive and as they sailed away from us three we heard the boy shrieking
pitifully." One by one the witnesses wove with their tales a black
net of wickedness, but they could not or would not say they knew this
prisoner or that.
The Judge frowned darkly from his bench and the people in the seats
opened their mouths in wonder and excitement at the stories of robbery
and murder. But the net was woven loosely and without knots, for thus
far there had been no one to pick out this man or that and say, "It
was he who did it." So the cook and the carpenter took heart; and the
colour returned to Martin Barwick's face; and the Old One, leaning
back, still smiled scornfully. Yet the Judge and the advocates seemed
in no way discouraged, from which the men of the Rose of Devon might
have drawn certain conclusions; for as all the world knows, judges and
advocates with a band of pirates under the thumb are, for the honour of
the law, set upon making an example of them.
There was long counselling in whispers, then a bustle and stir, and an
officer cried loudly, "Come, make haste and lead her in."
A murmur passed over the court and the people turned their heads to
look for the meaning of the cry. Then a door opened and an officer
appeared, leading by the arm a very old woman.
Phil Marsham felt his heart leap up; he saw Martin raise his hand to
his throat with a look of horror. But when he stole a glance at the
Old One, he saw, to his wonder, that the Old One was smiling as calmly
as before: truly the man was a marvel of unconcern and a very cool and
desperate rascal.
"Is this the woman?" quoth my Lord the Judge, who raised his head and
lifted his brows to see her the better.
"Yea, my lord."
"Hm! Let us look into this matter!" There was silence in the room
except for the sound of shuffling papers. "This woman, commonly known
as Mother Taylor, is to be hanged this day sennight, I believe."
"Yea, my lord."
"And it hath been suggested that if she can lay before us such evidence
as is needful, she will be commended to the King's mercy and doubtless
reprieved from the gallows. Hath all this been made plain and clear to
her?"
"Yea, my lord."
"Hm! It appears by these papers, woman, that keeping a house to which
rogues of all descriptions have resorted is the least of your crimes."
A strange, cracked old voice burst shrilly upon the still court. "'Tis
a lie, my lord! Alas, my lord, that wicked lies should take away my
good name, and I tottering on the edge of the grave!"
There were cries of "Silence!" And the officer at the old woman's side
shook her by the arm.
"And to continue from the least to the greatest, you have disposed of
all manner of stolen goods, and have prepared slow poisons to be sold
at a great price and have stained your hands with murder."
"Alas, my lord, it is a wicked lie--!"
They shook her into silence, but her lips continued to move, and as she
stood between the officers her sharp little eyes ranged about the court.
There was further counselling among the proctors, then one cried
sharply, "Come, old woman, remember that the hangman is ready to don
his gown, and answer me truly before it is too late: on such and such a
day you were at your house in Bideford, were you not?"
"Nay, sir, I am old and my wits are not all they were once and I cannot
remember as I ought."
"Come, now, on such a day, did not a certain man come to your house in
Bideford and abide there the night?"
"It may be--it may be--for one who keepeth a tavern hath many guests."
"Look about you, old woman, and tell us if you see the man."
"Nay, good sir, my wits wander and I do not remember as I used."
As Philip Marsham watched her hard face, so very old and crafty, he
paid little heed to the low voices of the proctors and the Judge. But
the sharp command, "Look this man in the face and tell us if you have
ever seen him before," came to the erstwhile boatswain of the Rose of
Devon like the shock of cold water to a man lying asleep.
They led her before Tom Jordan--before the Old One himself--and the two
looked each other full in the face, yet neither fluttered an eye. In
all truth they were a cool pair; it had taken a Solomon to say which of
them was now the subtler.
"Nay, my lord, how should I know this man? He hath the look of an
honest fellow, my lord, but I never saw him ere this."
Thereupon the officers exchanged glances and the proctors whispered
together.
They led her before Martin Barwick and again she shook her old white
head. "Nay, my lord, I know him not." But Martin was swallowing hard,
as if some kind of pip had beset him, and this did not escape the
notice of the Court.
Down the line of accused men she came and, though she walked in the
shadow of the gallows, she said of each, in her shrill, quavering old
voice, "Nay, my lord, I know him not."
Of some she spoke thus in all truth; of others, though she knew it
would cost her life, she craftily and stoutly lied. And at last she
came to Philip Marsham, whose heart chilled when he met the sharp eyes
that had looked so hard into his own in Bideford long before. "Nay,
my lord, he is a handsome blade, but I never saw him ere this." Some
smiled and sniggered; but the old woman shrugged, and lifted her brows,
and stood before the Court, wrinkled and bent by years of wickedness.
Say what you will of her sins, her courage and loyalty were worthy of a
better cause.
In despair of pinning her down, they led her away at last to a bench
and there she sat with officers to guard her. Now she watched one man
and now she watched another. Often Philip Marsham felt a tremor, almost
of fear, at seeing her eyes looking hard into his own. But though of
the old woman the Court had made nothing, the exultation that showed
in the faces of some of the prisoners was premature, for the Lords of
Admiralty had other shafts to their bow, as any gentleman of fortune
might have known they would.
Again there was a stir among the ushers, and in the door appeared one
at whose coming Tom Jordan ceased to smile.
The fellow's chin sagged and his eyes were wild and he ducked to His
Lordship as if some one had pulled a string; and when they called on
him to give the Court his name he cried very tremulously, "Yea, yea!
Joseph Kirk, an it please you, my lord!"
"Come now, look about you at these men who are arraigned for piracy.
Are there any there whom you have seen elsewhere?"
"Yea, yea, that there be! There! And there! And there!"
"Ah! Hm! Men you have seen elsewhere! Tell us who they are." And His
Lordship smiled dryly.
"It is not to count against me, my lord? I have repented--yea, I have
repented! 'Twill not undo the King's pardon?"
The very Judge on the bench gave a grunt as in disgust of the abject
terror the fellow showed, and a murmur of impatience went through the
room; but though he afforded a spectacle for contempt, they reassured
him and urged him on.
"Yea, yea! That one there--he at the end--was our captain, and Tom
Jordan his name. It was he who led us against a vast number of prizes,
which yielded rich profit. It was he and Harry Malcolm--why, Harry
Malcolm is not here. Huh! 'Tis passing strange! He hath so often stole
beside them, I had thought he would hang beside them too. Yea, and as
I was saying--Let us consider! Yea, yea, it was he and Harry Malcolm
who contrived the plan for killing Captain Candle and taking the Rose
of Devon. Yea, they called me apart on the forecastle and tempted me to
sin and forced me with many threats. He it was--"
Tom Jordan was on his feet. "You lie in your throat, you drunken dog!
It was you who struck him down with your own hand!"
"Nay, nay! I did him no harm! It was another--I swear it was another!"
"It seems," said His Lordship, when they had thrust Tom Jordan back in
his seat and had somewhat abated their witness's terror of his one-time
chief, "it seems this fellow's words have touched a sore. Go on."
"And there is Martin Barwick--nay, hold him! Nay, if I am to go on, I
must have protection!--and there Paul Craig and there our boatswain,
Philip Marsham--" And so he continued to name the men and told a tale
of shameful acts and crimes for the least of which a man is hanged.
Indeed, Philip Marsham himself knew enough of their history to send
them one and all to the gallows, but he had not heard a tenth part
of the story of piracy and robbery and murder and black crimes unfit
for the printed page that this renegade pirate told to the full Court
of Admiralty. The fellow made a great story of it, yet kept within a
bowshot of the truth; but he was a villain of mean spirit and, though
he did for the Court the work it desired, he bought his life at cost of
whatever honour he may have had left.
And then came Captain Charles Winterton, who rose, bowing in stately
wise to His Lordship, and with a composed air and an assured voice
very quietly drew tight the purse-strings of the net that Joe Kirk had
knotted. In his grand and dignified manner he bowed now and then to His
Lordship and to the proctors, who asked him questions with a deference
in their bearing very different from their way with the other witnesses.
"Yea, these pirate rogues boarded His Majesty's ship Sybil and killed
three of His Majesty's men before they perceived the blunder they had
made and gave themselves up.--How many lives did the boarders lose?
Probably twelve or fourteen. Several bodies fell into the water and
were not recovered. It was useless to hunt for them, my lord. Great
sharks abound in those waters.--Yea, this Thomas Jordan led them in
person. In truth, there is little distinction between them in the
matter of guilt. The man Marsham, whom the previous witness named a
boatswain, was the first to board the Sybil. He entered the great cabin
by way of the stem, apparently to spy out the situation on board. He
declared himself a forced man who had run away from the pirates. Who
could say? The situation in which he was taken was such, certainly,
as to incriminate him; though 'twere cause for sorrow, since he was a
brave lad and had given no trouble during the voyage home."
There was a great whispering among the people, who thought it was a
shame for so likely a lad to hang with a pack of pirates. But it was
plain by now to the greatest dullard among those unhappy gentlemen of
fortune that hang they must; and for Philip Marsham, who sat as white
as death from the shame of it, there was no slightest spark of hope.
The net was woven and knotted and drawn, and the end of it all was at
hand.
When, according to the custom of the time, they called on Tom Jordan
for his defense, he rose and said, "Alas, my lord, the ropes are laid
that shall hang me. Already my neck aches. This, though, I will say:
whatever these poor men have done, it is I that compelled them into it,
and I, my lord, will stand to answer for it."
Some gave one defense and some another; and meanwhile there was much
legal talk, dry and long and hard to understand. And so at last they
called on Philip Marsham to rise and speak for himself if he had
anything to say in his own defense.
He rose and stood before them, very white of face, and though his voice
trembled, which was a thing to be expected since he saw before him a
shameful death, he told them his true story, beginning with the day he
sailed from Bideford, very much as I have told it here. But when they
asked him about affairs on board the Rose of Devon that concerned the
others and not him, he replied that each man must tell his own tale and
that though he swung for it he must leave the others to answer those
questions for themselves.
"Come," quoth His Lordship, leaning forward and sharply tapping his
table, "you have heard the question asked. Remember, young man, that
you stand in a place exceeding slippery. It shall profit you nothing to
hold your peace."
"My lord," said he, "the tale hath been told in full. There is no need
that I add to it, and were I to speak further I should but carry with
me to the grave the thought that I had done a treacherous thing. Though
I owe these men for nought save hard usage, yet have I eaten their
bread and drunk their wine, and I will not, despite their sins, help to
hang them."
It was doubtless very wrong for him to reply thus, as any moralist
will point out, since it is a man's duty to help enforce the laws by
bringing criminals to justice. But he answered according to his own
conscience; and after the craven talk of Joseph Kirk, the lad's frank
and honest statement pleased perhaps even my Lord the Judge, sitting
high above the court, who frowned because his position demanded frowns.
Surely loyalty ranks high among the virtues and great credit is due to
a keen sense of personal honour. But there then came from his talk a
result that neither he nor any other had foreseen.
Up sprang Tom Jordan. "My lord," he cried, "I pray thee for leave to
speak!"
To the frowns and chidings of the officers who forced him down again,
he paid no heed. A tumult rose in the room, for they had hurled the Old
One back and clapped hands over his mouth; but out of the struggle came
again the cry, "My lord! My lord!" and His Lordship, calling in a loud
voice for order and silence, scowled and gave him the leave he asked.
As Martin had said long before, Tom Jordan was an ugly customer when
his temper was up and hot, but no man to nurse a grudge.
"I thank you, my lord," said he, the while smoothing his coat, which
had wrinkled sadly in the scuffle. "Though I must hang I desire to see
justice done. It lay in the power of this Philip Marsham to have added
to the tale of our sins and the sum of our woes; wherefore, since he
hath had the spirit to refrain from doing thus, why, my lord, I needs
must say that he hath spoken only the truth. He was a forced man, and
having a liking for him, since he is a lad of spirit, I would have
had him join us heart and soul. 'Tis true likewise that he ran away
from our ship and turned his hand against us, and for that I would have
let him hang with these other tall fellows but for the brave spirit he
hath shown. But as for yonder swine--yea, thou, Joe Kirk! Quake and
stare!--he hath done more mean, filthy tricks to earn a hanging than
any other gentleman of fortune, I believe, that ever sailed the seas."
"Not so, my lord!" Joe Kirk yelled. "He fears me for my knowledge of
his deeds! Help! Hold him--hold him!"
Tom Jordan swore a great oath and Joe Kirk leaped up in his seat, white
and shaking, and cried over and over that it was all a lie, and there
was a merry time of it before the attendants restored peace.
And then, to the further amazement of all in the court, Captain Charles
Winterton again rose.
"If I may add a word, my lord? Thank you, my lord. I observed that when
the prisoners went below their manner toward this man Marsham was such
as to lend a certain plausibility to his story. They took, in short, so
vindictive a delight in his misfortunes that even then it seemed not
beyond reason that his tale was true and that he had indeed left them
without leave. That, of course, proves nothing with regard to his being
a forced man; but it is a matter of common justice to say that, in
consideration of all that I have seen before and of that which I have
this day heard, I believe he hath told the truth both then and now.
Thank you, my lord."
Such a hullabaloo of talk as then burst forth among the spectators, and
such learned argument as passed between the proctors and the Lieutenant
of Admiralty and His Lordship the Judge, surpass imagination. Some
quoted the Latin and the Greek, while others of less learning voiced
their opinions in the vulgar tongue, so that all in all there was
enough disputation to fuddle the wits of a mere layman by the time they
gave the case to the jury.
Then the jury, weighing all that had been said, put together its twelve
heads, while such stillness prevailed in the court that a man could
hear his neighbor's breathing. It seemed to those whose lives were at
stake that the deliberations took as many hours as in reality they took
minutes. There are times when every grain of sand in the glass seems
to loiter in falling and to drift through the air like thistledown, as
if unwilling to come to rest with its fellows below. Yet the sand is
falling as fast as ever, though a man whose life is weighing in the
balance can scarcely believe it; so at last the jury made an end of its
work, which after all had taken little enough time in consideration of
the matter they must decide.
"You have reached with due and faithful care a verdict in this matter?"
quoth His Lordship.
"We have, my lord."
"You will then declare your verdict to the Court."
"Of these fourteen prisoners at the bar of justice, my lord, we find
one and all guilty of the felonies and piracies that are charged
against them, save only one man." In the deathly silence that fell upon
the room the name sounded forth like the stroke of a bell. "We acquit,
my lord, Philip Marsham."
* * * * *
There and then Philip Marsham parted company with the men of the Rose
of Devon. His hands shook when he rose a free man, and when many spoke
to him in all friendliness he could find no voice to reply.
Never again did he see their faces, but he heard long afterward of how,
a week from the day of their trial, they went down the river to Wapping
in wherries, with the bright sun shining on the ships and on the shore
where a great throng had assembled to see them march together up the
stairs to Execution Dock.
Though they had always made themselves out to appear great and fierce
men, yet on that last day they again showed themselves cravens at
heart--except Tom Jordan. The Old One, stern, cold, shrewd, smiled at
his fellows and said, "It is to be. May God have mercy on me!" And
though he stood with the black cap over his eyes and the noose round
his neck, he never flinched.
As for Martin Barwick, his face grey with fear, he strove to break
away, and cried out in English and in Spanish, and called on the
Virgin. Sadly, though, had he fallen from the teachings of the Church,
and little did his cries avail him! He came at the last to the end
he had feared from the first; and his much talk of hanging was thus
revealed to have been in a manner prophecy, although it sprang from no
higher oracle than his own cowardly heart.
One told Philip Marsham that Mother Taylor was hanged; another said
they let her go, to die a natural death in the shadow of the gallows
that stood by the crossroads in her native town of Barnstable. Either
tale is likely enough, and Phil never learned which was true.
For aught I know to the contrary, she may have found an elixir of life
as good as the one discovered by the famous Count de Saint-Germain,
and so be living still.
Whatever the end she came to, Phil Marsham was far away when they
determined her fate. For the day he stepped out in the streets of
London, a free man once more and a loyal subject of the King, he took
the road to the distant inn where he was of a mind to claim fulfillment
of Nell Entick's promise.