 | CHAPTER XXV.
THE PRINCIPAL WITNESS. Haunted hearts |  |
25. CHAPTER XXV.
THE PRINCIPAL WITNESS.
Meanwhile the court had been called to order, the
jury impanelled, the indictment read, and the prisoners'
plea, “Not guilty,” received and recorded. The counsel
for the prosecution now rose. Angie's attention was at
once concentrated upon the wiry figure and keen nervous
features of the lawyer, who, as he stood with both hands
resting by the finger-tips on the green table round which
his legal brethren were grouped, was, from her immediate
recognition of his person, and from the attitude he
occupied, of one about to address the court, the single
object that arrested her eye. Hannah recognized him
too, and signified the fact by a shove of Angie's elbow,
and the words, “I vum, Angie, that 'ere 's the same little
red-faced man that we jest see so fooled in the jail
yonder.”
At this moment the prosecuting attorney was the centre
of all eyes and ears, so that Hannah's remark escaped
general notice. A few of her neighbors overheard it,
however, and thereupon scanned her and Angie with
had just come from there! Of course, then, they were
related to the prisoners! That settled it.
In accordance with the anticipations of the audience,
the government attorney should now have proceeded to
open his case, but to the disappointment and chagrin of
every body present he addressed himself to the court
instead of the jury, and boldly solicited a postponement
of the trial. He had been disappointed of one of his
principal witnesses; the man was ill, and unable to testify;
the interests of justice required that his testimony
should be heard; and much as the attorney regretted the
inconvenience that might arise from an adjournment, he
trusted that in consideration of the importance of the
case, and the terrible and weighty charges which were
to be proved, the court would grant a reasonable delay.
The judge, taken wholly by surprise, manifested his
astonishment at so unexpected a proposition, and the
counsel for the prisoners seizing his advantage, sprang to
his feet and entered a forcible protest against any delay,
as a gross perversion of law, and an injustice to his
clients. Earnestly did Trump declaim upon the fact that
the law must know no prejudices; that his clients,
although accused of dark crimes, had all the more claim
to an early trial, — an immediate acquittal, he might say,
— so strong was his conviction of the result. Sagaciously
did he point out how thus far every advantage had been
on the side of the government; feelingly did he allude
to the cruel imprisonment the accused had already suffered,
with which they, and he, their advocate, had awaited
the uncertain arrival of the vessel, just in port, which
brought with it the principal witnesses for the prosecution
— witnesses whom his legal brother, the opposite
counsel, had openly boasted were enough to insure conviction
ten times over. The present evasion of justice
— so he unhesitatingly continued — must be a mere
quibble, a pretence; the prosecution doubtless knew the
weak points in their case; he himself was prepared to
see such groundless charges as those brought against his
clients fall to pieces for the want of any foundation; but
he had hardly expected to see them fade out in the very
commencement of the conflict, and disappear “like the
baseless fabric of a vision.”
What with bluster, pathos, and Shakespeare, Trump
had wrought himself up to quite a pitch of excitement
already; he had made some impression, too, on the jury
and the audience; this he always did, — he had a magnetic
power over audiences and juries.
But the counsel for the prosecution understood Trump,
and opposed him, with his customary tactics, sarcasm,
scorn, contempt, real or pretended. He did not even
deign to look at him, simply condescending so far as to
explain to the judge, in a snappish sort of way, that he
was ready to proceed with the case if the court chose in
its leniency to grant this indulgence to the gentlemen,
who, accustomed to the life of freebooters, were naturally
weary of imprisonment, and who, so long in the habit
through their counsel, to make Justice herself walk the
plank. He was quite prepared to meet his adversary —
the counsel for the defendants. A week ago he had neither
dreamed of nor wished for further testimony than that at
his command to-day. A finish and eclat had indeed
recently been promised to this great revelation of crime
by a past accomplice of the prisoners, who had professed
a readiness to turn state's evidence; facts already deposed
by him had an important bearing on the case. As
proof and warning of the extent to which human nature
might be brutalized and depraved, these subsidiary facts
ought not to be withheld from the court and the community;
he left the decision confidently, however, to the
superior wisdom of the presiding judge.
The judge, deaf, as became his office, to mere declamation,
and steeled against dramatic effects, looked
simply to facts, or at most, probabilities in the case.
Was this deficiency in the evidence for the government
one which it was the duty of the prosecuting officer to
have foreseen and provided against? Or, if wholly
accidental, could it be remedied by delay? What was
the nature of the witness' illness, and what his chance
of recovery? The learned counsel was of course aware
that in capital cases depositions of testimony were of no
avail; the evidence must be given in person, and in
presence of the accused. What probability was there that
at a later day this testimony would be forthcoming?
These and similar pertinent inquiries on the part of the
with the interests of the attorney for the prosecution. Not
that he based much hope on a postponement of the trial,
or had any sanguine expectation that it would be granted
by the court; the proposition for delay had been urged
chiefly in compliance with the demands of the eloquent
counsellor appointed to assist him through this important
trial, and conduct the argument. This gentleman had
been greatly staggered by the quashing of the important
links of evidence which Bly had been expected to furnish,
and it was to satisfy his associate, perhaps, too, in order
to make the most of his lost testimony, by publicly deploring
it, that the attorney had put in his plea for a
postponement. Brief as had been his interview with
Bly, it had served to convince him of the hopelessness
of any attempt to extract information from his obstinately
sealed lips — lips which the lawyer believed would
soon be eternally sealed; for so shocked had he been by
the wasted appearance and cataleptic torpor in which he
had found his anticipated witness, that he greatly doubted
whether, if brought into court, and willing to testify, he
would prove capable of furnishing coherent evidence.
Every way now circumstances were telling against the
prosecuting counsel and in favor of the prisoners. The
judge's inquiries served to extract truths which made the
arguments for a postponement seem forced and trivial,
not to say suspicious and unreal. The jailer and his
assistant being called up, and questioned in regard to the
promised witness, unfortunately dwelt more upon his
jailer himself, mindful of the promised reward in the
Baultie Rawle case, had not quite despaired of shaking
Bly's resolution of silence if only sufficient time were
allowed; but the head turnkey, Tracy, who was cherishing
no such secret hopes, blurted out the truth in the face
of every body, by repeating the very words of the terrible
oath with which Bly had sworn “never to blab.”
This ended the discussion. The court somewhat
imperatively decided that the grounds for a postponement
were insufficient. The trial must proceed. The
audience, disgusted at such sham pretences for delaying
what they had all come hither to see and hear, were
gratified at the decision; the jury, warned of a deficiency
in the evidence, and overawed by Trump's self-confidence,
subtracted one point from their mental counts against the
accused. The counsel for the defence, conscious of his
advantage, ran his fingers through his hair in a triumphant,
defiant manner. On the other hand, the prosecuting
attorney seeing himself worsted, and feeling that he had
made a mistake, got more red and flustered than ever;
and, out of humor with the court, his own assistant, as
well as the opposing counsel, and, worst of all, with
himself, was in no state for coolly opening his case, or
conducting the examination of witnesses, which was to
succeed, with his customary acumen and skill.
Angie, who up to this moment had sat aghast, with lips
parted and ears strained, drew a long breath. They
were resolved to wring the truth from Bly, after all; to
chance-droppings therefrom, — this much of the attorney's
purpose she had comprehended in spite of legal
forms, — but the attempt had failed; it was ruled otherwise;
the judge had determined (bless him!) to leave
the poor wretch to his silence, and her to her peace, —
that comparative peace, at least, which she had striven
so hard to secure. And so, having breasted one more
wave of this day's storm, she breathed again. But as
a vessel in the trough of a heavy sea pauses only to
gird herself for the next shock, so Angie, with all her
powers close-reefed and fortified, sat braced up, erect,
expectant.
Every body about her was listening attentively to the
statement of the attorney, who was rehearsing to the
jury the facts he proposed to prove, — every body but
Hannah; and she was sufficiently engrossed in watching
the proceedings through her spectacles. Angie could not
yet weigh and digest the events of the morning; in the
present momentary security and calm, she could only
lock them up in her own breast, and patiently keep
guard upon them. Beyond that, all she had to do, all
she could do, was to preserve a show of calmness, and,
as far as possible, deport herself like any other spectator
on the occasion. It aided her in this endeavor to fix
her eye upon the speaker, and follow his voice. This
concentration of her powers, at first mechanical, after
a while became real. It was impossible that she could
be indifferent to the main features of a trial, with the
otherwise, exciting as they might be to the general
community, she would have been unable, burdened as
she was, to follow with interest the details of crimes
with which she had no concern. But circumstances
had made her an associate in the business now before
the court, and her attention once caught and riveted to
the statement of the attorney, she soon became, not
only in pretence, but in fact, one of his keenest and
most absorbed listeners.
Occasionally, indeed, her attention wandered, drawn,
as it were, by magnetism to other parts of the house.
One of these side glances revealed to her the stout,
labor-bent form of Van Hausen, who had worked his
way to the front ranks of the audience, just outside the
rail that protected the circle of lawyers from intrusion,
and who, leaning on his rustic whip-handle, was drinking
in the attorney's statement of charges about to be
proved, his honest face at once incredulous and horror-struck.
Apparently it would require proof upon proof
to convince him that men could be so wicked. A picture
of sturdy goodness the old man was, — a human protest
against crime. For this very reason, perhaps, his presence
there, just opposite to her, disconcerted Angie. He
was so suspicious of her, so unfriendly always.
And again, she gave a little nervous start, as something
withered, brown, and crumpled, winding its way
insidiously through the crowd, just beneath the gallery,
flashed upon her, like a snake in the grass, and then
that she had no trouble in recognizing. She did not
even question why it should be here. Every familiar
feature of her past life was coming to the surface to-day,
— why not Diedrich Stein? Still, though she almost
immediately lost sight of him, the knowledge of his
presence gave her an uneasy sensation, such as one has
with the consciousness of vermin in the vicinity.
The buccaneers, five in number, who were on trial
for their life, were seated in the dock. The interest of
the trial centred in them, of course. Their faces were
visible to the jury and the various officers of the law,
as well as to that small portion of the assembly who
had obtained advantageous positions opposite the dock,
but a high wooden partition quite concealed their persons
from every body in the rear. Even from the front
of the gallery only the backs of their heads and shoulders
were discernible, so that the attention of the
audience was in no degree abstracted from the attorney
and his opening argument by the otherwise irresistible
temptation to watch the varying expression on the countenances
of the accused.
It was the old story of deception, robbery, and cruelty,
all summed up in the dark word, Piracy, — a story so
old, a deed so dark, as almost to be forgotten and lost
in oblivion, but for the recent revival of the crime which
makes it now a familiar outrage. But lawless freebooters
may yet claim legal sanction for their deeds, and
indifference to others' rights may be fostered by sophistry
may be held sacred while property is sacrificed, and the
eyes of neutrals may be blinded to the outrage by a certain
pretence of justice and discrimination. No such
affectation of mercy, no such partial distinctions softened
the crimes of these men, or qualified their deeds. Enemies
as they were of all nations, vessels under every
flag had been their natural prey. If the statement of the
attorney were credible, murder had been their pastime,
and nameless deeds of horror had been committed by
them in cold blood. I say by them, for all shared the
guilt; but while listening to the lawyer's burning words
(with such a topic they could not be other than words of
fire) the audience almost forgot, in their deadly indignation
against the leader, Bullet, that his associates had
any voluntary partnership in his acts. So tyrannic, so
terrible had been this man's mastery over his men, so
fierce and so cruel had been the despotism of his iron
will, that while he had borne the part of an arch-fiend,
they seemed to have served simply as his tools; while he
had been the ally of iniquity, they had been its slaves.
So intense was this man's personality to the minds of the
audience, so plainly did it appear that every deed of darkness
and infamy had been planned by his cool brain and
executed by his pitiless decree, that at this opening phase
of the trial, and with the uncertainty attending its result,
the assembly would unanimously have voted for the immediate
acquittal of every other man of the gang, on the condition
that Bullet should expiate his crimes on the gallows.
The attorney's heat had proved effectual. It had fired
the audience, and in the right direction too, for Bullet
was not only the deepest dyed villain, but he was the
principal in the indictment; his conviction was essential
to that of his associates; and the main point secured, the
fate of the whole gang was beyond a question.
But heat is not the only quality effectual in an advocate,
neither is it an element always to be controlled.
The attorney, warmed with his subject, unfortunately
went too far; and in boasting of the proof he meant to
bring, forgot himself, and inserted more than one point
of testimony, for which he was wholly dependent on Bly.
His cooler ally, the counsellor, endeavored to warn and
check him, but it was too late; he had betrayed the
missing links in his chain of evidence, and Trump,
armed at all points, had made a note of it. This circumstance,
of which the attorney almost instantly became
conscious, disconcerted him and chilled his ardor. The
peroration of his argument was wanting in the brilliancy
which had until now marked it, and he sat down at last
considerably flustered, and with that consciousness of
failure which had acted as a discouraging influence upon
him since the early disappointment of the morning, and
which promised to be cumulative in its effects upon his
efforts throughout the day.
Witnesses for the government were now summoned in
turn, sworn, and their testimony taken. They were few
in number. A former United States consul at Pernambuco
furnished convincing proof of the depredations of the
of a ship now in port recognized and pointed out
among trophies taken from the persons of the accused or
from their vessel, instruments of navigation, and other
articles of value, belonging to the officers and owners of
a hitherto mysteriously missing bark. Excepting these,
the witnesses for the government consisted wholly of the
captain, boatswain, and one of the crew of the merchantman
that had captured the pirate craft. The remainder
of her officers and men had shipped in some other vessel,
or been left behind in the foreign port which she had
since visited.
They were examined in the inverse order of their
intelligence and the importance of their testimony. The
first, a rough but honest sailor, gave a sufficiently clear
narrative of the detection and pursuit of the notorious
pest of the sea, the desperate defence she had made,
the coolness and gallantry of his own commander, — upon
whose prowess and heroism the loyal tar was so tempted
to descant that the court was continually compelled to
recall him to points more essential to the case in hand, —
and finally the capture of the pirate chief and his men,
and their identity with the prisoners now present at the
bar. The boatswain confirmed the sailor's evidence,
adding to it also a complete description of the vessel's
piratical outfit, and furnishing a graphic account of her
destruction by an explosion of her powder magazine, to
which her villanous and artful crew had laid a train just
before their surrender, doubtless intending the destruction
their purpose; not until the vessel had been stripped of
her ill-gotten valuables, and left to her fate, did the fire
reach the mine, and blast and scatter to the waves a
craft defiled by almost every form of crime.
So far the evidence was clear, thrilling, and perfectly
satisfactory. With all his cross-questioning and browbeating,
Trump, the oily-tongued, Trump, the thunderer,
failed to confuse these men, strong in their simple self-confidence,
or to detect any contradiction in their testimony.
And now the captain of the merchantman, hero of both
of the previous narratives, was summoned to the stand.
The appearance and bearing of this young man created
a marked sensation. And well it might. Drowned
by his own act five years ago, identified beyond a doubt,
and buried in an outcast's grave, he had risen at length,
and come hither to the judgment!
“Your name?” questioned the attorney.
“George Rawle.”
“Formerly of New Jersey, now master of the bark
Antelope?”
“The same, sir.”
Ay! the same. Years of exile, struggle, toil, had
invigorated his manhood, knit his sinewy frame more
firmly, embrowned his cheek, and shaded his smooth
features with a beard of luxuriant growth. Many an
associate of his boyhood and youth might have been
deceived by the disguise that time and change had put
form and expression been metamorphosed, which they
were not, the first notes of his clear, ringing voice would
have sounded in the ears of some there present like
responses to the trump that wakes the dead.
Yes, it was George Rawle! our Geordie! another, and
yet the same! The fact was beyond question. Buried
out of sight for five long years, he had come back at last
to claim as a right his name and place among men.
But the right was almost instantly challenged. Already
Angie's champion, the ubiquitous constable, was
whispering significantly in the ear of Trump, and before
the government attorney could address another
question to his witness the counsel for the defendants
forestalled him.
“I am sorry to interrupt my legal brother,” he exclaimed,
addressing himself to the judge, “or to disappoint
him by throwing discredit upon his principal witness;
but your honor will justify me, I hope, in entering
a protest against this testimony, and warning the gentlemen
of the jury against lending an ear to falsehood.
The man upon the stand is himself a living lie, your
honor. The individual whom he claims to represent
has been dead for several years. I have witnesses here
ready to testify to the fact.”
But Trump was scattering his words to the air.
Other and contrary testimony to that he had at hand,
was nearer, truer, more touchingly real.
“Let me over, I say! Stand back, you upstart feller,
the lawyer's rear. One stalwart leg, cased in home-spun
kersey, was thrust across the rail, and a common
cart-whip was threateningly raised against a deputy
sheriff, who was vainly striving to force back the intruder.
“Geordie, my boy, God bless yer!” was the
eager, tremulous cry that succeeded, as flinging the other
leg over the barrier, and thrusting back the sheriff with
a vehemence that scorned all opposition, old Van Hausen
half bounded, half tumbled among the circle of startled
lawyers. Geordie saw, sprang, met him half way, and
tears started to the eyes of both strong men, while two
hard hands were clasped, each as in a vice.
“It's him!” broke from the trembling lips of the old
carpenter, as touch confirmed the evidence of sight; and
again looking round to the wondering audience as if for
sympathy, — “it's him! it's our Geordie, as I'm alive!
it's my own boy, hearty and four square as ever, after
all! Fur God's sake, where did yer come from, Geordie?”
stammered forth the simple old man, the hand
that was disengaged laid inquiringly, tenderly, on the
young man's shoulder. “Why, man, we'd gin yer up
for dead years ago.”
It was an all engrossing emotion which this meeting
awakened. In the intensity of the moment, both George
and Van Hausen had been indifferent to the gaze of a
thousand strangers, had even looked to them for sympathy.
But already the former's attention was wandering;
Van Hausen's question was a natural and imperative
outburst, but it fell unheard.
Already George's eyes were wandering over the sea of
curious, upturned faces, and all his senses were strained
but mute attendants to his beating heart. For slowly,
steadily approaching, in a species of triumphal progress
that would have been a mockery had the occasion been
one whit less real, was a grotesque object, — a figure so
shrunken, so insignificant, so thin and shadowy, as would
certainly have been swamped in the crowd, but that
borne aloft on the shoulders of two men in sailors' dress,
and moving with sailors' undulating tread, it swayed
gradually but surely to the front. Its very strangeness
proved its passport; the crowd parted before it; even the
court officials drew back, forgetful of their duty, and,
without opposition, heralded indeed by the buzz and
rumor that their approach awakened, the exultant rollicking
mariners came on. Poor, half-drunken sailors
they were, but their elation of spirit was well-timed,
and favored the accomplishment of their purpose. Inspired
partly by grog, partly by the novelty of their
task, and wholly undismayed by numbers or the dignity
of the occasion, these self-appointed trophy bearers
never paused nor flinched, but making straight for the
charmed ring, the legal sanctum within which George
and Van Hausen had just clasped hands, they gained the
railing, and elevated their burden triumphantly above it.
With one bound George had freed himself from Van
Hausen's grasp, and cleared the space betwixt him and
the barrier; and with manly arms, stretched wide to
claim the proffered gift, and his heart aglow with a
human heart can ever know, he received his poor old
mother, and folded her to his breast.
Van Hausen, bewildered, incredulous of the possibility
of what was passing before his eyes, held up his hands
in sheer amazement; the grave judge on the bench
neglected, in the interest of the scene, to have the court
called to order; the lawyers involuntarily paused in the
labor of weighing any other evidence than that of their
senses; the jury, forgetting to be arbiters, were conscious
only that they were men, and the audience, taking advantage
of the distraction on the part of the authorities,
or carried away by an enthusiasm of sympathy which
would not be repressed, sent up a simultaneous cheer.
This last was so manifestly out of place and unallowable,
that the first outburst of it recalled every responsible
man to his post. Before it could be repeated the
crier stood up and enjoined silence, the sheriff and
his constables proceeded to enforce it, and immediately
silence succeeded; a silence more impressive and sympathetic
even than the previous burst of cheer. By this
time, too, the witness on the stand had recovered his
self-possession; the little old woman whose arrival upon
the scene, had created so serious a disturbance, had
been handed over to the care and protection of Van
Hausen, and George, with folded arms, and a calmness
that proved the masterly self-control of the young man,
stood awaiting further examination.
| CHAPTER XXV.
THE PRINCIPAL WITNESS. Haunted hearts | |