University of Virginia Library

21. CHAPTER XXI.
AN OFFICIAL EXAMINATION FROM WHICH SOMETHING
APPEARS.

THE magistrate's house, to the party now approaching
it, looked as a house might look, which,
built in very ungainly style and of no large dimensions,
was dignified by its association with the magistracy,
and now clothed in all the awfulness of an official want
of animated life. Not much impression seemed to settle
upon “Mr. Gulpin,” or his prisoners, who walked, with
little apprehension, up to the front door; unmindful how
the gravel-stones were scattered from their heels; but to
the valiant Jesse and the valiant Isaac an awful figure of
spectral personation of Authority or Infliction seemed to
possess the gate and plant its shadowy terrors directly in
the way. They drew off to each side; accounting for
their movements by the remark: “He don't want none
of we yet, I don't suppose, do 'e?”

On the arrival of a second squad, however, the first,
as if they had received a sudden summons, anticipated
the new-comers by a hasty movement, which brought
them to the door in time to make their way into the
kitchen; while their official leader and his captives went,
under the guidance of Mr. Naughton's maid-of-all-work,
into the presence of the magistrate; if presence it could

be called, where he sate with his back broadly towards
them.

“Please your worshipful,” said the usheress, “it's Mr.
Gulpin, sir; wi' some that 'e've caressed, most like, sir.”

“Directly!” answered the official voice; which then
proceeded to read in a low tone, and hastily, out of some
book before him, “`both houses of parliament, and'—I
must look at that again; seven hundred and twenty-seventh
page.”

Meanwhile, the constable leaving his charge, for a moment,
standing at the stipendiary's back, went out long
enough to give a message, of which the last words were
heard, as he enforced them:—

—“And mind ye, Jesse, bring un along: don't come
without un; and come back as quick as you can.”

The ermine, or other fur of the magistrate, set itself
up at this, and he intimated to his subordinate that `order
and silence were necessary at that investigation.'—With
a large dignity, he invited the Minister, who was entering,
to a seat.

Having, at length, received the constable's return, he
proceeded to business by ordering that officer to swear
the prisoners at the bar. Gilpin looked, with twinkling
eye, at his prisoners, and then at the magistrate:—

“What'll I swear 'em to, Mr. Naughton?” he asked.

“There's a copy of the Holy Evangelists here,” said
the stipendiary.

“I can find Bibles fast enough, sir: but they're not
witnesses.”

“I may ask them some questions and desire their answers
to be under the solemn sanction of an oath,” answered
the magistrate; but when Mr. Urston had the
Sacred Volume held out to him, he decidedly objected;

insisting that if he and the others were there as prisoners,
they were not there as witnesses; and desiring that
the accusation might be read, and the witnesses examined.

The magistrate assured him, with dignity, that that was
not the regular order of judicial proceedings, but that he
would waive the point.

Having, in his own way, made the prisoners acquainted
with the charge, he said, “There must be a record of the
proceedings of this court! Mr. Williamson, you will act
as clerk. Constable, qualify Mr. Williamson, and summon
the witnesses.”

The constable having qualified the clerk, called “Jesse
Hill!” but there was no answer; and he called Jesse
Hill again, and again with no answer.

“I sent him after Mr. Banks,” explained Gilpin.

“Sending one witness after another is quite irregular;
I trust that it will not occur again. It will be my duty
to suspend the proceedings until you can produce Mr.
Hill, or Barbury.”

At this moment, Mr. Naughton noticed Father Debree
near the door, attended by a shuffling of feet and a low
buzzing of the waiting public. The magistrate with
dignity invited him to a seat, but the Priest preferred
standing. Mr. Wellon attempted conversation with his
new neighbor, but found him this day so reserved or
preoccupied as to give little encouragement to the attempt.

Mr. Wellon, during the absence of the constable, was
entertained by the stipendiary with an argument for
having a “lychnoscope” introduced, as a sacred accessory,
into the new chancel of the church; the earnest advocate
for ecclesiological development claiming that the thing

was so old that its very object and purpose were entirely
unknown.

Gilpin, as he returned, with Jesse (and Isaac) behind
him, said, in an under voice, “I told un not to come without
Mr. Banks; an' so he stuck to his orders. I found
un sitting on one rock and Isaac Maffen on another,
neither one of 'em sayin' a word.”

The Stipendiary now crowned his brow with the awful
rigors of justice once more, and sat as the chief figure of
the scene. The witness, having been sworn, was questioned:—

“Mr. Barbury, proceed. Are you a witness?”

“Is, sir, ef it's wantun, I'll tell what I knows.”

The noise of heavy shoes on the feet of those of the
public furthest back in the entry, testified to the unabated
interest with which Jesse's story was expected.

“What's your name? is the first question.”

Jesse was redder than usual; but he saw his way, and
gladly opened his mouth.

“Oh! 'ee wants it that w'y, do 'ee, sir? `N or M'
is what it says.”

“Ha! you're not much acquainted with legal proceedings,”
said the magistrate, throwing a sentence loaded
with about the usual amount of official wit, of about the
usual quality, and glancing at the Minister to see if he
took the joke.

“What is your name? that's all,” said he again, to the
simple-minded testifier.

“Jesse Barbury's my name, sir. I sposed 'ee knowed
that, sir!”

“The Law knows nothing, Mr. Barbury. Our information
is from the evidence. Have you any alias, Mr.
Barbury?”

“No, sir; I drinkt a morsel o' tay,—Izik Maffen an'
me, sir, afore we comed!” answered Jesse, mistaking the
magistrate's technicality.

“Are you ever called any thing else, the Law means.”

“They calls me Hill, sir; I suppose 'ee knows that,
sir.”

“Mr. Barbury, what is your occupation?”

“Fishun, sir, fishun.”

“Have you any other occupation, Mr. Barbury?”

“I follys the Church, sir, ef that's what 'ee manes.”

“That's a respectable occupation,” said the Parson,
parenthetically.

“Ah! abstract questions seem to confuse the witness's
mind; we will therefore come to the point. Mr. Barbury,
do you know any thing of this affair of Mr. George
Barbury's daughter, in connection with any of the prisoners
at the bar?”

“No, sir. Skipper George is my connexion, sir.”

“Yes; well, tell all you know.”

“There, that won't take ye long, Jesse,” said the constable,
by way of encouragement. “Go at it your own
way, Mr. Naughton means.”

“Let us preserve decorum, Mr. Constable,” said the
magistrate. “Let the witness proceed, without fear or
favor. Which side is he on?”

“Are you for or against, Jesse?” asked the constable.

“Oh! agen harm comin to Lucy, surely, Mr. Gulpin.”

If the solemnity and sadness connected with the maiden's
loss did not prevail in this examination, it might have
consoled right-minded spectators to reflect that this whole
scene appeared entirely separated and apart from that
calamity, after it had proceeded a little while.

The witness being now encouraged to go on, (all difficulties

being taken out of the way,) proceeded as follows,
the magistrate ostensibly neglecting to listen, and studiously,
with much flutter of leaves, comparing one place
with another in his great book.

“I was aw'y over, t'other side, a-jiggin squids, I was;
and Izik Maffen was along wi' I; and I says to un, `Izik,'
I says, `'ee knows Willum Tomes,' I says, `surely.' `Is,
sure,' 'e says, `I does,' to me, agen. `Well, Izik,' I says,
`did 'ee hear, now, that 'e 've alossed 'e's cow?' I says.”

The magistrate officially cleared his throat of some
irritation; the Minister wiped his face with his handkerchief,
a circumstance that seemed to have an encouraging
effect upon the witness. He went on:—

“So Izik 'e says to I agen, `No, sure,' 'e says, `did un,
then, Jesse?' `Is, sure,' I says, `'e've alossed she, surely.'
With that 'e up an' says to I, `A loss is a loss, Jesse,' 'e
says. `That's true,' I says.”

This moral reflection brought the Minister's handkerchief
suddenly to his face again. The constable received
the saying with less self-control, though it was as true as
any sentence of the Philosophers. William Frank, who
was further off, commented: “Wull, wisdom is a great
thing; it's no use!”—Jesse continued.

“`Izik,' I says to un, agen, `Izik,' I says, `do 'ee think,
now, would n' the squids do better a little furderer up?'
I says. With that we takes an' rows up tow'rds Riverhead,
a bit. Wull, after bidin' there a spurt, I axes Izik
what e' thowt sech a cow as that might be worth. I
says”—

“You must remember, Mr. Barbury,” interposed the
Stipendiary, “that the time of a magistrate is valuable,
not to speak of the time of the others that are here.”

“Be 'e, now, sir?” said the poor fellow, getting abashed,

“so 'e must be, surely; that's a clear case. That's a'most
all I've agot to s'y, sir.”

“Begin just where you're going to knock off, Jesse,”
suggested the constable.

“Wull, Mr. Gilpin, I were goun to tell about what I
sid myself.”

“That's the very thing,” said Mr. Naughton; “no
matter what you said, or what was said to you, you know.”

With these directions, the witness paused a little, handling
his sou'wester (hat).

“Whereabouts was we, Izik?” he asked of his adjutant.

“'Ee was talkun about the cow, Jesse, 'ee was,” answered
Isaac, anxious that Jesse should do justice to
himself.

“Wull, sir.” Then the straightforward witness for the
Crown began: “I was jest a sayin to Izik, I was”—

“Your observations and those of your companion (or
friend) are of comparatively little consequence, Mr.
Barbury,” said the magistrate, who must have had a
standard for estimating speech.

“He means, he doesn't care what you and Isaac said,”
the constable prompted.

“'Is, sir, surely. Wull, Izik says to I”—

“Never mind the sayins, you know,” persisted the constable.

The witness looked like some animal in an inclosure;
but he did hit upon the opening in it.

“Wall, sir, I sid a some'at all in white clothes a comin'
down Backside-w'y, (an' Izik Maffen, 'e sid the same, so
well;) like a woman or a mayd, like, an' it comed right
along tull it goed right aw'y, like, I dono how. I never
sid no more of it.”

“Did you stop to look?”

“Is, sir, surely; I says to Izik, `Izik,' I says, as soon
as ever I could speak,—for I was dumb-foundered entirely,
first goun off,—`Izik,' I says, `Did 'ee ever see 'e'er a
angel, Izik?' `No, sure, Jesse,' he says, `how should
I?' `Wull then,' I says, `that was a some'at looked
very like one, seemunly, to my thinkin,' I says, `O,
Lordy!' he says—that's his way, you know, sir,—`what
'ave abecomed of 'un? Jesse,' he says. `Mubbe' I says,
`it was a goun somewhere, tull it sid we; an' now it's
adone a doun of it, for a notion its ahad I says; sartainly
we tookt swiles, of a Sunday, last spring,' I says. `Howsever,'
I says, `mubbe we'd best knock off now,' an' so we
done, sir, an' comed right home, sir, round the land-head.
That's all the witness I knows.”

“You may retire, Mr. Barbury; (unless any of the
prisoners at the bar desire to question you.”)

This privilege the prisoners did not claim.

There was a monstrous discharge of pent-up breaths at
the conclusion of this evidence, showing that a good
many of Jesse's friends were in the passage communicating
between the kitchen and the parlor, who felt that
Jesse had more than satisfied the highest expectations
that could have been formed about his testimony, and had
contributed to the fund of information which the magistrate
was gathering, as wonderful an ingredient as any
that was likely to be produced that day. To his friends,
as he modestly withdrew from the blaze of importance,
he gave the information for the hundredth time, perhaps,
that it was Friday evening that this occurred; that he
did not hail the apparition; that it did not come within
hail; that “he shouldn't have a know'd what to say to
it, ef he'd awanted to.”

“No more 'ee would'n; that's a sure case,” said Isaac
Maffen.

“Any evidence as to the credibility of Mr. Barbury
and his friend, will now be admissible,” said the magistrate,
with dignity tempered by condescension.

“Haw! H—” burst from the constable, very untimely;
a laugh cut off in the middle.

Mr. Wellon, at this point withdrew.

“Call the next witness!” said the magistrate, waiving
further interruption.

“I dono how to call un, exactly; I believe his name is
Naathan; but he's got an `L,' stuck before it, I thinks,
from the way he spoke it.”

“— L., Nathan Banks! L., Nathan Banks!” Gilpin
called, making his comment also. “Well, if that isn't a
way of writing a name! I've sid L's and D's stuck at
the end, but sticking 'em at the beginning 's noos to
me.”

Our readers have seen the world some days farther on
than Gilpin had, and are familiar enough with a fashion
of which Mr. Bangs, whose name happened to be Elnathan,
was quite innocent.

Mr. Bangs did not appear. “I thought surely he'd turn
up, as he did t'other night,” said Gilpin. “I didn't tell
un he'd be summonsed; but he's got a sharp nose.”

“I understood that Mr. Wellon could testify,” said the
stipendiary.

“Ay; but without Mr. Banks you can't weld the
evidence together, sir.”

“You'd best summon him; and that point can be determined.”

“'E's just out in Tom Fielden's house,” timidly suggested
Nathan, or Zebedee, or some one of them, not

thinking his voice fit to intrude in so awful a presence.
“'E went there, however, a bit sunce.”

“Present my compliments to him then, please, one of
you; `compliments of his worship, the Stipendiary Magistrate,
to the Reverend Mr. Wellon,' and ask if he'll
please to step here for a few moments.”

The “one” who undertook this errand must have had
an unusual number of feet, or of shoes upon his feet, if
one judged by the multitudinous clatter that followed.

The Minister, on coming in again, gave his short
account of finding the little cap at the Worrell; and that
was all. The stipendiary spoke:—

“The evidence just received may go towards establishing
the nature of the crime by which Mr. Barbury's
daughter has been assailed; but, in my judgment, it would
be insufficient to fix the guilt with unerring certainty upon
any individual.”

“I shall proceed to examine the remaining witnesses?”

The case had assumed an entirely different look, since
the beginning of this investigation, from that which it had
worn when the Parson and the constable put together
their facts and conjectures, like bits of a torn letter. In
the present condition of things, Gilpin's evidence about
the Prayer-book, and Mrs. Calloran, and Father Nicholas,
amounted to little, unless in its effect upon the public
within hearing; an effect testified to by moving of feet,
hard breathing, whispers, and low-toned remarks. Captain
Nolesworth was not called.

Mr. Urston was indignant at the listening which Gilpin
confessed to, and which the latter justified by the grounds
of suspicion existing against Mrs. Calloran, at least.
The Stipendiary Magistrate took a new view of the case
at this point: “That, being the trusted depositary of justice,

he had consulted the convictions of the community
in entering upon this Investigation; but that, as important
witnesses for the crown were absent, and the prisoners
at the bar asserted their own innocence, he judged
it best, employing that discretion which the crown and
nation necessarily bestowed upon the administrators of
the Law, to postpone the farther examination for one
calendar month; in the mean time binding over the prisoners
at the bar to keep the peace with sufficient
sureties.”

Mr. Urston very pertinently suggested that “until
some sort of show of evidence appeared against them,
it was unreasonable to treat them formally as suspected
persons; and why they were to be bound over to keep
the peace, he could not understand.”

The magistrate explained that “`keeping the peace'
was merely a legal expression; the object being to
prevent prisoners from escaping. He would say fifty
pounds each, for Mr. Urston and his son; and would consider
them responsible for the appearance of Mrs. Calloran.
The day to which he had adjourned the court,”
he said, “would be appreciated by the persons chiefly interested;
it was the fifth from that of the Exaltation of
the Holy Cross, and following that of St. Lambert,
Bishop and Martyr. In consideration of the result of
the patient and deliberate investigation which had afforded
him peculiar gratification, he would himself be responsible
for the usual costs.”

The Minister offered himself as surety, and was at
once accepted.

Gilpin, on getting into the open air, as he did very
speedily, surrounded by the open-mouthed and eager
public, did not prevent himself from exclaiming, (while

he looked flushed and chagrined,) “Well, if that isn't
law, with a tail to un!”

An irreverent voice from among the public (strongly
resembling Billy Bow's) asserted that “The King (ef
'twas the king 'isself that doned it) might as well take a
squid or a tom-cod for a magistrate, as some 'e'd amade,”
and then proposed “three cheers for Mr. Charles Gulpin,
Constable of his majesty in this harbor and the neighboring
parts.”

The cheers were begun lustily, though at Gilpin's mention
of Skipper George's loss, they broke off, and just as
they were dying away, the door of the Magistrate's house
opened, and he appeared, looking from side to side, and
with a modesty that sate gracefully upon dignity and
authority, said that “Words would fail him to express his
sense of the generous confidence of the people of Newfoundland;
that he was glad that his humble efforts had
met the applause of his fellow-subjects, which was next
to the award of an approving conscience. He looked
with confidence to the approval of his sovereign. In
conclusion, he begged all present to partake of a little
coffee, which he had given orders to have prepared.”

“Three cheers for 'e's woshup, the Sti-pendery of
Peterport”; cried the voice again, “and may the King
soon be so well plased to put un in a berth better fittun
to his debilities!” Over this there was more subdued
laughter than shouting.

Meantime the sad loss was just the same, and just where
it was. The noble old father whom they had seen bearing it
like a hero a few hours before, had carried home a heavy

load; the gentle mother was heart-stricken; the whole
company of neighbors, the moment they got away from
the examination into the open air,—like those who had
not been at the Magistrate's,—bore a share of the sorrow.

Billy Bow and others staid to share Mr. Naughton's
hospitality; but Jesse Hill and Isaac Maffen went
silently away in one direction, Skipper Charlie moodily
in another, and many more dispersed.

—“I wish they'd appoint Parson Wellon, as they do
at home,” said Gilpin, as he went along by himself.

“And I hope they'll just let parsons be parsons, and
magistrates magistrates,” said a voice behind.

“I didn't know your reverence was so near;” said
the constable; “but I wish they'd do something.”

Captain Nolesworth, having had no opportunity of delivering
his testimony, went back to Bay-Harbor with
the intention of making his affidavit there, before he
sailed. It was to be to the effect that he saw three females
in the punt leaving the Worrell; that one of them was
supported as if sick, and that there seemed to be a fear
or strange unwillingness to be neared, and that a male
voice, (as he judged, of some one having authority,)
called out to “Keep on! Keep on! Don't stop!”

This was to be the substance of the captain's evidence,
as he detailed it, walking up the harbor. He pronounced
at the same time an opinion upon the magistrate, somewhat
enigmatical, as follows:—

“Mr. Naughton 'll live a good while, sir, I think, if he
doesn't meet with an accident; that sort most generally
does.”

The reader may take the captain's speculations as to
the stipendiary's longevity, at what he pleases, and may

estimate the captain's evidence as he thinks fit; but Capt.
Nolesworth himself gave his opinion, as follows:—

“Depend upon it, sir, if that punt is followed up, you'll
follow her up. I wish I could stay to see it out; but I
expect to be off to-morrow. If I'd known enough tother
night, I'd have known more of that punt, one way or another.”

“It won't stop where it is,” said the Minister; “higher
authorities will take it up.”

“It wont be amiss to lend a hand and help along
justice, I think, at any rate,” said the captain.

The Parson turned aside and went in at Mrs. Barrè's
house.