by Toni L. P. Kelner
Here with another installment in her series for us featuring lawyering on the high seas (on a pirate vessel, no less!) is the versatile Toni Kelner. As this issue goes to press, we are await-ing the results of the voting for this year’s Agatha Award, for which her story “Skull and Cross-Examinations” (EQMM 2/’08) is nominated. (See our Web site to read the story.) Ms. Kelner’s novel Without Mercy, published last year by Five Star Press, was recently released as a mass-market paperback from Berkley Prime Crime.
19 October 1680
Port Royal, Jamaica
Dearest Mother,
I trust this letter finds you well, and assure you that, as I write this, I am in excellent health and spirits, despite a recent unexpected sea voyage. By unexpected, I don’t mean Father’s methods of coming to Oxford to collect me and then escorting me and my hastily packed belongings on board a ship bound for Port Royal so that I could establish the law practice he intended for me. That approach, though quite assertive, was relatively benign. At least, since you and my beloved sister have taken pains to assure me that my father’s actions were for my best interest, I could scarcely believe otherwise.
For this excursion, however, I had no such assurance. So when I was grabbed outside my very door, and a malodorous sack pulled over my head, I only briefly considered the possibility that Father was once again changing my life’s course. Truly, I had little time for thought before a bludgeon was brought down on my head, and my senses fled.
I trust I do not have to explain that this story has a happy outcome, Mother, or I would not be writing this letter. I doubt that such missives are allowed to emerge from the pearly gates of heaven, and certainly not from the warmer climes where Father expects me to spend eternity. So be re-assured on my behalf, and read on.
When I came back to myself, the pain in my skull was such that the ground itself seemed to roil. Upon further reflection, I determined that the ground actually was moving, or rather the bed on which I lay was in motion. From that fact, I proceeded to the realization that I wasn’t on a bed at all, but in a bunk, as the men of the sea term their sleeping facilities. In short, I was on board a ship.
Since I have had some experience in waking up with a pounding in the head, though usually for more congenial reasons, I knew to be cautious as I sat up. I noted that I was not alone. A man was seated at a surprisingly ornate desk with his back to me. He was dressed in a handsome gold coat with emerald green trim, and wore a long black braid down his back.
I hasten to add that cloth-of-gold coats and long black braids are not the usual fashion for the men of Jamaica, any more than they are at home in London, but such ostentation is favored by those men known as the Brethren of the Coast. In short, pirates.
Courage, Mother! It was, after all, not the first time I had encountered pirates and, as you will remember, that previous encounter was not without profit. Though I could not be certain that this meeting would have the same result, at least that memory gave me some small comfort, and more was quick in coming.
I cleared my throat, to let it be known that I was once more among the living—a condition I had every hope would be of long duration—and the man turned around to face me. To my astonishment, I recognized him. It was Captain Nathaniel Parker, the commander of the pirate vessel Brazen Mermaid, and the man who had at one time held me captive.
I fancy that I am able to comport myself with courtesy in most situations, but in this case, I was momentarily at a loss for the proper conversational gambit. As it turned out, the point was moot. Though I attempted an innocuous “Good day,” my abduction had left my throat quite dry, and only a croak emerged.
Captain Parker grasped the situation with admirable dispatch, and immediately poured a drink from a waiting decanter. I swallowed it gratefully, even more so when realizing that it was a quite nice vintage of wine. There are times when mild spirits achieve things that mere water cannot. This was most assuredly one of those times.
Once I was reasonably sure my throat was again working as the Lord intended, I said, “Good day, Captain Parker.”
“And a fine morning to you, Mr. Ward,” he said, making a most elegant leg.
I managed to rise, but the effort it took convinced me that returning his gesture would be unwise, so I settled for a gracious nod. “Seeing you again is a most unexpected pleasure.”
He laughed heartily. “I venture that it is unexpected, and not completely pleasurable. I beg your pardon for that. When I ordered my men to go fetch you, I should have taken more care in detailing how the job was to be done.”
I waved it aside as a trifle. Which it was, compared to the injuries often given at Parker’s command. “May I infer that you wish to engage my services as a lawyer?” I was in fact praying that that was the case. As you may recall, Mother, when Parker and his men captured the ship on which I sailed from England, Parker asked me if I was married. Having deduced that he was forcibly recruiting only single men, while sparing the married ones, I took a small liberty with the truth. In short, I lied.
However, as I’ve settled into the society of Port Royal, it has become obvious that I am quite unencumbered, and given that local pirates are known to have informants in town, it would not have been difficult for Parker to have discovered that fact. Since the men he’d previously asked to sign on had either agreed, or been tossed overboard, I was fearful that he’d decided to add me to his crew after all.
Fortunately, Parker made no reference to my marital state. Instead, he said, “I find myself faced with a bit of a problem, and I was hoping that you could help me resolve it.”
“Then I fervently hope that I can do so. Pray, explain your dilemma.”
He waved me to a chair before beginning.
“We recently took possession of a ketch, and then had to decide what to do with the men aboard.”
In other words, Mother, the Brazen Mermaid had captured a ship, and then had to determine whether the captive sailors were to be killed, forced to become pirates, or set free.
Parker continued. “We asked a few to join our crew, but since the captain had acted sensibly, I had intended to leave him and the rest of his crew on a nearby island where they’d have a fair chance of signaling a passing ship and making their way back to Port Royal.”
I translated this to mean that the beleaguered captain had not killed too many pirates in his defense, or destroyed any of the cargo, or in any way made a nuisance of himself. This may sound cowardly, but I assure you that in most cases it is the only sensible way to react when confronted by a pirate ship which has you outmanned and outgunned.
Since Parker paused, I said, “That was most civil of you.”
“I’ve no fondness for killing for its own sake. Unfortunately, my plan went awry. It seems that one of my crew had once sailed with the defeated captain, and told tales of the man’s mistreatment of him.”
This was no particular surprise. As you may know, Mother, the authority of a ship’s captain over his crew is absolute, and abuse is all too common. I’m sure Father, with his classical view of himself as the paterfamilias, is familiar with such temptations.
“I take it that there is an established precedent when such a reunion occurs,” I said.
“Have you ever heard tell of keelhauling?”
I could not hold back a shudder. Few men survive that particular punishment, and those who do often wish they had not.
“Does the man wish to write a will?” I asked, because creating such documents is the bulk of my practice.
“What he wants is to prove his innocence.”
“Indeed?” I said. “I suppose any man would, in such a situation, whether or not he was actually guilty. Perhaps even more so, if he were at fault.”
“There’s no denying that he has every reason to lie, and I’ve no reason to doubt my crew, but...” Parker paused, most uncharacteristically for a man I’d known to be one of strong views. “The truth of the matter is, I knew the captain’s father. He was a ship’s captain, too, and I sailed under him before I joined the Brethren. He did me a service, of sorts, so I owe his son a debt of gratitude. Knowing how much sport the men had at the trial a few months back, I convinced them that another trial would be just as diverting.”
“And you wish me to provide a defense for the accused?”
“Exactly.”
Now it was I who hesitated. “Might I meet with the man before I decide?”
“Of course. I’ll send for him straightaway.” He started for the cabin, then turned back, as if for a casual remark. “Cursed if I haven’t forgotten my manners. I clean forgot to ask after the health of your good wife.”
From the glint in his eye, I knew that my deception had been discovered, and his previous decision to let me leave the ship unscathed could easily be reversed. He also knew that I knew, so there was no need to speak of the matter further.
“Upon reflection,” I said, “your belief in the man is more than enough of a recommendation. I would be most happy to defend him against these unwarranted charges.”
“Your trust in me warms my heart,” Parker said with another bow. He went to the door, where he exchanged words with a waiting pirate. A few moments later, a bedraggled gentleman, his wrists chained, was let into the cabin.
I could only gawk at the man in surprise. For one, he was known to me. For another, he was wearing my coat.
In retrospect, I realize that I’ve approached my tale poorly, for truly it began some time before my abduction. Please bear with me, Mother, as I recount those earlier events.
A fortnight before, I was at a ball Squire Turow was hosting in honor of his wife’s birthday. You may remember Turow as my comrade in adversity during my previous stay aboard the Brazen Mermaid. He is still grateful to me for my part in his release, and has provided a welcome entree into Port Royal society.
The ball was well attended, and I was looking forward to begging the pleasure of a dance from as many ladies as my constitution would allow. But as I surveyed the supply of prospective dance partners, I was disappointed to see a particular lady’s attention already claimed by a man with whom I was unacquainted. Miss Gowan is a lovely thing, with glossy hair and flashing eyes, and she is quite the best dancer I have encountered since leaving London. I had been intending to invite her to share the floor with me at least twice before the night was out, but she was gazing at her companion with such deep admiration that I feared my intentions were a lost hope.
Naturally, I wanted to know how this man had captured her attention, so I took some note of him. At least, I took notice of his attire. He was wearing the same coat I was to encounter later on board the Brazen Mermaid.
Perhaps you remember it, Mother, the coat Father had made for me before I went to Oxford. It was an unflinchingly sturdy garment of dull, dark brown, guaranteed never to go out of style, because it possessed no style to begin with. Father declared it the perfect garment for a lawyer, and made sure it was in the baggage I brought to Port Royal. Sadly, it was among the items claimed by the pirates who attacked the ship on which Turow and I had traveled, and I’d been forced to abandon it. It was a great loss to me, since the coat had never been worn.
This was the very coat that the man in front of me had on. I could not help but notice that he filled it out quite admirably. Moreover, the man’s jet-black hair and sun-darkened skin gave the color a bit more appeal than it would have had on a man of my fair complexion, and his other garments were similarly austere, other than an obviously costly stickpin and a heavy signet ring. So it seemed to me that Fate had delivered the coat to the right man after all.
Still, I was curious enough about the route the coat had taken to reach its destination that I determined to find out more about the man. I was also moved to establish whether or not Miss Gowan was still available for dancing.
Of course, even in the relatively unrefined society of Port Royal, I could not simply ask the first person I encountered, but after paying my respects to various people, I found myself in the company of one Andrew Matlock, who also seemed to be studying the young couple. While not close friends, Andrew and I sometimes move in the same circles. He is considerably more given to expensive clothing, drink, and games of chance than Father would appreciate, but can be an agreeable companion if another man is footing the bill.
We exchanged pleasantries about the weather, then moved on to the ball and the beauty of the ladies present. I commented particularly on Miss Gowan’s charms, and it was with a touch of malice that Andrew remarked, “She is a comely lass, but I fear you have missed your opportunity to secure her hand.”
“Have I?” I said, affecting unconcern. “Then that is not a kinsman of hers?”
“Not of hers, but of mine,” Andrew said. “He is my elder brother, Benjamin.”
“Indeed?” They did not greatly resemble one another. Though they were of similar heights, Andrew has a slight figure and his hair and eyes are a medium shade of brown.
“They make a pretty picture, do they not?” Andrew said. “I expect the banns to be posted before the year is out.”
“I would like to make his acquaintance, if you would be willing to do the honors.”
Andrew cast me a sideways glance. “Certainly, but be warned that if he has already set his sights upon Miss Gowan, the battle is lost.”
“No such battle can be declared over until I’ve weighed in,” I said. “Will you or will you not introduce me?”
He shrugged, implying it was a waste of his time, but we made our way over to where Benjamin Matlock was regaling Miss Gowan with a fascinating story, if the shine in her eyes was any measure.
“Benjamin,” Andrew said cheerfully, “forgive the intrusion, but my friend here wishes to meet you.”
I bowed. “William Cunningham Ward, at your service, Mr. Matlock.”
“Captain Benjamin Matlock, at yours.”
“Captain? I had not realized.” No wonder Miss Gowan was captivated—there is something unduly attractive about a man who commands a ship. Moreover, I saw that Captain Matlock was even more impressive upon closer examination. He was well built, with extraordinarily clear blue eyes and an honest face.
Still, I consoled myself, his attire left much to be desired, and that thought reminded me of why I’d wished to meet him. We made polite conversation, again touching on the weather, the pleasures of the evening, and the lovely ladies present, particularly Miss Gowan. Miss Gowan colored quite prettily at the compliments, which only added to her appeal.
It was then that, as if in an attempt to change the subject in order to ease her embarrassment, I said, “That is a striking coat you wear, Captain. Might I ask where you had it made?”
“It was a birthday gift from my brother,” he said, “so I cannot speak as to its maker.”
“And a handsome gift it was,” Miss Gowan said admiringly.
The musicians began a new song at that point, and I turned to the lady to ask her to honor me. Unfortunately, she had already promised the next several dances to the good captain, and the two of them left with every indication of growing attachment.
Once they were beyond earshot, Andrew said, “William, you cannot possibly admire that coat.”
“Indeed? When a man of your infinite taste purchased it?”
“But not for myself.” He shuddered. “Sadly, that coat is the most fashionable one my brother owns. Surely you’d never buy such a thing.”
“Perhaps not, but I was hoping to find out his tailor. What better way to ensure that I never go to that shop for so much as a pair of stockings?”
Andrew laughed and clapped me on the back. I admit it was not a particularly kind remark, but I offer in my defense the fact that I feared Andrew was right about his brother’s intentions toward Miss Gowan.
“Where did you purchase it?” I asked.
“I bought it in the marketplace from a ruffian who’d almost certainly stolen it, and finding it was a fortunate happenstance for me. Benjamin’s birthday comes near the end of the quarter, and due to a run of accursed bad luck at the tables, I’d already exhausted the greatest part of my stipend. This left me in the unenviable position of needing a notable gift to prove my devotion and perhaps convince Benjamin to raise my allowance, at the very time when my funds were most limited.”
“Then your brother controls the family fortune? Might he be willing to set you up in a position where funds would be more attainable?” Yes, Mother, I realize the irony of my dispensing such advice. Please refrain from mentioning this exchange to Father.
At any rate, my words fell on deaf ears, as Andrew made a face of extreme displeasure. “You sound like my late father,” he said, “and Benjamin is no better. He never leaves off trying to convince me to go to sea with him to learn the family business. Ridiculous!”
“Then you have no head for business?”
“I have no stomach for the sea. Even boarding a ship at anchor causes me the greatest distress.”
I nodded sympathetically. Mal de mer is a serious malady, all the more so in a port town.
Returning to the subject of the coat, I said, “Did your gift have the desired effect?”
Andrew shrugged. “He allowed a slight increase, but hardly enough to be worth my efforts. Had I paid full price for the coat, I’d have been sorely vexed. As it was, I got it for a pittance, and Benjamin thought it a fine gift. It is made of good cloth, but the style...” He shook his head in dismay. “Can you imagine owning such a garment, let alone wearing it in public?”
“Never,” I said, and we went in search of refreshment.
As for the coat, once Andrew mentioned Port Royal’s market, I could be reasonably sure that I knew what had happened. One of the pirates from the Brazen Mermaid must have sold it to the younger Matlock brother.
You may well be shocked at this sort of commerce, Mother, but it is not uncommon in Port Royal. Many of our most respectable citizens have their fingers in somewhat unseemly business affairs. It’s part of what makes life for a lawyer like myself so interesting.
Though I must admit that I would have appreciated a life somewhat less interesting when, two weeks later, poor Benjamin Matlock was brought before me, looking quite unlike the upstanding merchant captain who’d been paying court to Miss Gowan.
He looked at me dully, the air of defeat heavy upon him. “Mr. Ward.”
“You already know each other?” Captain Parker said cheerfully. “Then I’ll leave you two to discuss the case while we arrange the proceedings. I think an hour should be sufficient, don’t you?” He left without waiting for a reply.
“Proceedings?” Matlock said. “Is that what they call it when they murder a man?”
Instead of answering him, I refilled my tankard with more of Captain Parker’s wine and handed it to him. He gulped it thirstily.
“Captain Matlock, please be seated,” I said, taking Parker’s chair and waving Matlock to the other in the cabin.
“Not captain any longer,” he said dismally. “These villains have taken my finest ship.”
“A tragedy, to be sure, but not our most urgent concern. According to Captain Parker, one of his crew states that he served under you and was mistreated at that time. Therefore, by their laws, they are within their rights to similarly mistreat you.”
“Laws? Captain Parker? Don’t you understand, Mr. Ward? These men are pirates! Murdering, thieving pirates. What do they know of the law?”
I sighed inwardly, already counting the minutes that remained until Matlock’s trial was to begin. “It is difficult for respectable men such as ourselves to comprehend, but a pirate ship is governed by a set of articles, rules set down in writing and agreed to by each member of the crew.”
“Meaning that they were forced to sign!”
“Some are less willing than others,” I admitted, “but nonetheless, once they join the crew, they have the same rights and responsibilities as all other men on board. In this case, a crewman has identified you as an abusive captain, and Captain Parker is bound by the articles to punish you.”
“To kill me, you mean.”
There was no gentle way around that, so I avoided the issue. “However, you are in luck. Apparently your father did Captain Parker a service in the past, and he feels it incumbent to repay that debt by sparing you, if he can.”
“He wants to set me free, but can’t? What manner of captain is he?”
“Again, this may be difficult for you to understand, but a pirate captain is not the absolute ruler that a naval or merchant captain would be. He is voted in, and should his actions displease the crew, can as easily be voted out. Captain Parker is working around the crew’s wishes by allowing me to defend you before a judge, in hopes of saving your life.”
He held out the tankard, which I filled with wine once more. He drank this draught more slowly, then said, “How do you know so much of them, Mr. Ward?”
I’d been expecting the veiled accusation. “I, too, have been a captive aboard this ship and in order to escape their clutches was forced to become conversant with their ways.” I added modestly, “I was able to rescue Squire Turow at the same time.”
“I had heard an account of that,” he admitted. He sat up straighter. “What then, Lawyer Ward, can we do to effect my rescue?”
“Tell me your story.”
“My ship Prosperity was but two days out of Port Royal when we were attacked, and we were quickly overcome. At the time, I felt relief that it was the Brazen Mermaid that had taken us, since Parker is known for his mercy toward captives. Once the battle was over, we were sorted and several members of my crew were made to join the pirate crew. Parker promised to let the rest of us go, but one of the pirates, a man called Winslow, made the most vile accusations against me.”
“Did you—”
“I swear that I did not! The things he claimed ... I would never have done such to any man. But though I denied his accusations, the pirates shouted down my words. The rest of the men were allowed to board the longboat in order to be set free, but they clapped me in irons.”
“Do you know their intent?”
He swallowed visibly. “Deciding my fate took some time, with each suggestion worse than the last. Finally it was decided that I was to be keelhauled.” He looked at me. “Do you know what that means, Mr. Ward?”
“I’m afraid I do.” Mother, I do not consider this fit for your eyes, but feel I must explain in order for you to understand the peril Captain Matlock was facing. It also occurs to me that the description can be no more shocking than Father’s dinnertime descriptions of punishments carried out as a result of his judgments.
When a man is keelhauled, he is thrown overboard on one side of the ship and, by means of a rope tied round him, dragged along the bottom of the boat until pulled out on the other side. If this were not already dreadful enough, pirates have devised variations on the awful theme. If they pull quickly, the victim’s skin is lacerated by the barnacles that encrust most hulls. If they go slowly, the cuts will be less severe, but drowning is more likely. Should the man survive, a determined crew will send him back around for a second treatment.
Captain Matlock stared away for a moment before continuing, a tremor wracking his body, for which I blamed him not at all. “Having made up their minds, the pirates were ready to carry out their plan, and I thought my life was over. Then Parker stepped in and reminded them of a trial in which you participated. Is it true that you defended a pirate of a charge of murder?”
“That is a story for another day—our time is too short for such reminiscences.”
“Of course. At any rate, Parker seemed to think that a similar trial for me would provide amusement, and dispatched men to bring you here. In the meantime, I’ve been confined below decks in the most dreadful conditions imaginable.”
I knew all too well the conditions to which he referred, having been confined there myself.
Matlock said, “Though I am glad at even a chance to avoid keelhauling, I don’t understand why Parker bothered. You say he knew my father?”
“So he said.”
“I cannot imagine what congress Father would have had with a pirate.”
“This was before Parker became a pirate. He sailed with your father, and must have fond memories of him.”
Matlock laughed. “I find that even less likely. My father was not known for humanity to his crew. In fact, I wondered if Winslow was recalling a voyage under my father, rather than under me, but he insisted I was the one.”
“Again, had we more time,” I said, “I would like nothing better than to discuss the ramifications of Parker’s actions, but at this juncture, I think it behooves us merely to be grateful for his intervention and see what kind of defense I can concoct.” I leaned forward. “Captain Matlock, I require your utmost frankness in answering this question.”
“You shall have it.”
“Might you have in some way disciplined Mr. Winslow in a way that he might construe as abuse?” As you must realize, Mother, the perspective of the man meting out punishment may be different from that of the man on the receiving end. “Perhaps he was accused of a crime he denied, or took a harsher punishment than he thought warranted.”
“In all honesty, I know of no circumstance that could explain the matter. I do not even remember seeing Winslow before, and I cannot believe that I could have forgotten him entirely, if he’d been under my command.”
I’m sure I need not explain how cheered I was by this, Mother. If Winslow hadn’t sailed with Matlock, then most assuredly Matlock could not have abused him, and therefore would be acquitted posthaste. All I would need to do was to question Winslow about his service, and his lies would be revealed. And as Father often says, once a man lies about one thing, it is simple to convince a jury that he lies about all things.
We spent the rest of our time establishing details about those of Matlock’s voyages on which Winslow claimed to have sailed. By the time we were summoned for the trial, I was quite certain of a swift and successful resolution. Unfortunately, as is often the case, I was incorrect.
When I walked out on deck, I breathed deeply of the sea air, which was freshened by a breeze that did much to dispel the noxious miasma wafting forth from the crew. It was a glorious day, with a sky of the most vivid blue, and a gently rolling sea to match. I would recommend to Father that all courts be held outdoors, were it not for the reality of English weather.
The crew had laid out a courtroom of sorts, with a judge’s bench, a dock for the prisoner, and an eager array of jurors. Many may be surprised by the familiarity of a pirate crew with courtroom matters, but given that almost every pirate finds himself in court someday, it is not so unexpected. True, their habit of conducting mock sessions of Admiralty Court, complete with condemning the guilty, might be considered morbid, but it is more wholesome than many of their amusements.
I took my place before the bench as Matlock was firmly escorted to the dock by the acting bailiff, then turned to nod politely at Mr. Talman, the ship’s quartermaster, who was acting as prosecutor. Mr. Talman, a man who gives new meaning to the word dour, did not nod in return. Though he is a hefty man, his face has the pinched expression of someone constantly sucking on limes.
The bailiff announced, “Be upstanding,” and the judge came on deck, looking most pleased with himself as he took up the belaying pin that was to be used as a gavel.
Frankly, Mother, he was no more pleased than I. The judge overseeing the case was none other than Perry Gardner, the burly, black-haired pirate I had successfully defended during my first sojourn aboard the Brazen Mermaid, and I felt sure he would be more than willing to give me, and my current client, the benefit of the doubt.
I took a moment to wonder how this had come to pass. Certainly, the judge’s role could have been a reward to Gardner for some particularly dastardly bit of piracy, but I suspected it was Parker’s way of making sure I had every chance possible to save Matlock. Not only was Gardner likely to be biased in my favor, for defending him before, but he was just as likely to be biased against Mr. Talman, who had prosecuted him. Whatever debt Parker owed the late Captain Matlock, it must have been a mighty one.
The trial began, and Talman, as prosecutor, announced, “Matlock abused his position as captain when Winslow served under him. Matlock’s punishment was voted on, and he’s to be keelhauled. Why we’re wasting time on this foolishness is beyond me.”
Judge Gardner tapped his gavel admonishingly on the board in front of him. “Now, now, Mr. Talman,” he said genially, “we wouldn’t want to be making another mistake about a man’s life, would we?”
Talman glared at him. “I rest my case.”
“Fair enough.” Gardner turned to me. “Mr. Ward, you can present your case.”
“Thank you, my lord,” I said. “I would like to call Mr. Winslow to the stand.”
Winslow, a ratty-looking man with a surprisingly rounded stomach, strode to the stand, stopping just long enough to look triumphantly at Matlock. My client, I am happy to say, met his eyes without flinching. That’s just the kind of behavior to influence a jury favorably, I’ve found.
Winslow was sworn in by the bailiff, and I smiled gently at him. “Mr. Winslow, I understand that you assert that you were treated unfairly by Captain Matlock on a past voyage.”
“Damned right I do! That bastard tried to—”
Mother, forgive me for interrupting the flow of my narrative, but I fear there is no delicate way to give the particulars of Winslow’s charge against Captain Matlock. Suffice it to say that no decent man would commit the act.
Winslow went on to say, “When I wouldn’t bend over for him, he took a cat-o’-nine-tails to me.” Before I could stop him, he pulled his shirt off and twisted around to show a sickening mass of scars on his back.
The jurors muttered threateningly, and then looked daggers at my client. I could scarcely blame them. It was a most effective bit of theater.
“You have my sympathies for your injuries,” I said courteously, “but I am sure you are mistaken as to the perpetrator of these horrors.”
“You think I don’t remember who beat me bloody?”
There was no way I could respond to that without immediately turning the jury against me, so I dodged the question. “Mr. Winslow, can you tell me the name of the ship on which you served with Captain Matlock.”
“The Wellfleet,” he said, without hesitation.
“And where was that ship bound?”
“From Boston to Port Royal, with stops along the way.”
“The cargo?”
“Rum, cloth, and tools from England.”
“Was it an eventful voyage?”
“Not to speak of,” he said, but just as I was about to pounce, “unless you call sailing through a hurricane eventful.”
I nodded, and glanced at Matlock, who was staring wide-eyed at Winslow. Each detail matched what Matlock himself had told me. I asked more questions about crew members and ports of call, but Winslow knew every bit of it. By the end, the jury was getting restless, Talman was openly bored, and even my tame judge looked unhappy.
So I ended it with, “Thank you, Mr. Winslow. That will be all.”
“You have anything to ask him?” Judge Gardner asked Talman.
“I could ask what they ate for breakfast, but I don’t think anybody gives a damn.”
Talman got a laugh with that, and I cringed inwardly as the judge said, “You can step down, Winslow.”
Matlock’s accuser did so, still bare to the waist, and seeing that ruined expanse of skin as he walked away started the jurors muttering again.
“My lord, I would like to confer briefly with my client,” I said.
“I’ll allow it,” he said grandly.
Before I could speak, Matlock said, “How could he know all that?”
“He must have questioned one of your former crew members. Quite clever of him. Still, all we need to do is call them to the stand and ascertain which one gave him the information.”
But Matlock shook his head. “None of the men retained by the pirates was with me on the Wellfleet.”
“Not one?” I said, nonplussed that my hastily conceived strategy had already floundered.
He buried his head in his hands briefly, then raised up to say, “After this is over, Mr. Ward, I beg you to tell Miss Gowan that I faced death like a man. I know that she admires you, and if I cannot have her, I can think of no other more worthy.”
“Your generosity overwhelms me,” I said, “but I wish to win no woman’s hand by default. Now tell me. Of the newly-made pirates, do any of them bear you ill will?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“Would they be willing to testify on your behalf?”
“I believe so.”
“Excellent.” He gave me their names, and I turned to Judge Gardner. “I am ready to proceed.”
“About time, too,” Talman said.
I ignored him, and asked that Mr. Coyne be called to the stand. Looking confused, and more than a little nervous, Matlock’s former bosun came forward to be sworn in.
“Mr. Coyne,” I said, “how long did you sail under the command of Captain Matlock?”
“Near five years, it were.”
“And in that time, did Captain Matlock ever mistreat you?”
“No, sir, not once.”
“Did you ever see him mistreat any other crew member?”
“No, can’t say as I did. He’s a most fair man, Cap’n Matlock.”
“Thank you. I have no further questions.”
“Any questions, Mr. Talman?” Judge Gardner asked.
“No.”
He sent Coyne away, and we repeated the process with seven other men. They all spoke of Matlock in the most admiring tones, and the one man who had been punished severely eventually admitted that he’d deserved worse.
As each witness testified, and as Talman refused to cross-examine every one, my confidence grew. Finally, when the last man had proclaimed Matlock’s decency, I turned to Judge Gardner. “My lord, I think my client’s quality has become crystalline through the testimony of these men. I put it to the court that it is impossible to conceive of him committing the atrocities of which he has been accused.”
I turned to Talman, sure he would be ready to concede defeat. Instead, he spoke with devastating brevity once again.
“It don’t matter if Matlock was a saint every day of his life but one—after what he did to Winslow, keelhauling is too good for him. So it comes down to Winslow’s word against Matlock’s, and Winslow’s got no reason to lie.”
I could almost have admired Talman’s logic. Captain Matlock’s face went white, while Judge Gardner shrugged his shoulders helplessly and the jury looked resolute. I admit, Mother, that at that moment I was guilty of the sin of despair. Not only was Matlock going to die a most painful death, but it seemed likely that I would have to marry Miss Gowan as penance.
Even if I were to produce a score of men, all of whom would swear to the gentle-ness of Captain Matlock, just one man’s account of ill treatment would be enough to condemn him. I was reminded of Father’s oft-repeated warnings regarding actions he fretted would besmirch my reputation. No doubt he still says, “A man’s reputation is like a snow-white robe. One stain, no matter how small or how light, forever mars the fabric.”
The last time Father regaled me with those words, I innocently inquired if that was why he was so devoted to dark brown in his own attire, in order to conceal any failings of his character. My head still tingles at the recollection of his reaction.
I eyed Captain Matlock, already resigned to his fate, though any stains upon his soul should have been quite thoroughly hidden by his mud-brown coat. Or rather, my coat, which had taken such a strange path to reach him. My coat...
A rush of thoughts came to me, and I silently blessed Father for his words of wisdom. If any sudden bolts of lightning crashed over Father’s head some weeks past, it was almost certainly from that rare occurrence of my prayer on his behalf.
“Your Honor,” I said, “Might I again confer with my client?”
“You may,” he said.
I leaned toward Captain Matlock and whispered, “Am I correct in my recollection that your brother Andrew gave you the coat you wear?”
He looked most confused at the question, but nodded.
“He told me he bought it in the market in Port Royal. Do you know from whom he purchased it?”
“No. Why—?”
“All will become clear.” I stood. “Your Honor, may I recall Mr. Winslow to the stand?”
He nodded.
Winslow again walked up with the air of a man vindicated, though at least he’d put his shirt back on, and planted himself in the witness stand.
“Mr. Winslow,” I said, “you were a member of the crew of the Brazen Mermaid when the Fortune’s Daughter was captured, were you not?”
“Aye, I were.”
“Therefore you were eligible to claim a full portion of the proceeds of that capture.”
“I did my part of the business that day, and I’ll thrash any man who says I didn’t.”
“Can you tell me what form your share of the spoils took?”
“What form?”
“In what currency were you given your share? Gold, gems, precious spices?”
He snorted. “Weren’t nothing like that on the Fortune’s Daughter. I got paid in rice, corn, and a few odds and ends.”
“Would those odds and ends include clothing?”
“They might have.”
“If you cannot recall, I’m sure Mr. Talman could be prevailed upon to check his records.”
Mr. Talman looked anything but eager, but nodded.
“Now that you be mentioning it, I recall there were some breeches and linens and such.”
“And a coat? A dark brown coat?”
He stiffened, not sure of how I meant to attack, but cognizant of his peril. “I think there was a coat.”
“What did you do with that coat?”
“I sold it up to Port Royal. At the market.”
“To whom?”
He licked his lips nervously. “I couldn’t tell you.”
“Couldn’t, or won’t?”
He shrugged, but said no more.
I turned to the jury. “As most of you know, I was aboard the Fortune’s Daughter when she was captured, and my effects were included in what you men call booty. Among my belongings was a well-made brown coat purchased by my father in England. That coat, as you have heard, became part of Mr. Winslow’s share, which he sold in Port Royal. The coat was purchased as a gift, and given to Captain Matlock.” I pointed dramatically. “That, gentlemen, is my coat!”
There was a most effective pause, but unfortunately, it was broken by Mr. Talman, who said, “Why should we give a tinker’s damn about your coat?”
I held up both hands in a calming gesture, and repeated what I had said to Captain Matlock. “All will be made clear. Mr. Winslow, if you are quite sure you don’t remember who bought the coat...?”
“I told you I don’t know, and it ain’t in Talman’s ledger, neither.”
“Then I have no further questions.”
The prosecutor muttered that he had no questions either, and Winslow stepped down.
“Are you done yet,” Talman asked, “or are we going to find out where your nightshirt ended up next?” The crew sniggered in appreciation.
“Not at this time,” I said politely. “I would like to call Captain Parker to the stand.”
The crew went silent as Parker stood and fixed his cold blue-eyed gaze upon me. I maintained an air of imperturbability, or as close to one as I could manage, and Parker strode to the witness stand.
Even the bailiff seemed cowed, but stuttered through his request for Parker to swear to tell the truth, plainly relieved to move away after it was finished.
“Captain Parker,” I said, “pardon my ignorance in such matters, but can you tell me how you determine which ships to attack?”
“We attack any ship that comes across our path.”
There was a murmur of manly pride from the crew.
“But you must have some techniques for ensuring that rich prizes come across your path.”
“We know the sea lanes better than most. It’s no trick to find them.”
“Naturally. But is there not another method? It has been rumored in Port Royal that occasionally you hear of planned voyages, and take pains to rendezvous with particular ships.”
“Some sailors are not as tight-lipped as they might be, particularly when in their cups,” he allowed. “Now and again, one lets a hint about a ship’s schedule and cargo slip.”
I nodded sagely. “Did any such hints enable you to take Captain Matlock’s ship?”
He paused for a second, and I knew he’d caught my thread. “Now that you’re asking, a sailor did say that he’d heard talk of a vessel carrying a shipment of gold, and he had a good idea of the course it would be taking.”
“So he told you the Prosperity—”
“He didn’t name the ship.”
“But the Prosperity arrived, ripe for the picking.”
“It came, though there was no gold aboard.”
“No? I suppose your man must have misheard that detail. And who was this informant?”
“Winslow,” Parker said.
“Really? And the ship he gave over to you just happened to be helmed by a man against whom he held a particular grudge.”
I was about to call Winslow back to the stand, but before I could, he stepped forward and said, “So I fixed it so that Matlock’s ship would be taken! After what he done to me, he deserved it. Right?” He looked to the rest of the pirates for confirmation, but they were muttering in confusion.
“Mr. Winslow, how did you find out about the Prosperity’s route?”
“I heard it in a tavern.”
“Which one?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Can you remember which of Captain Matlock’s crew told you about their route?”
Before Winslow could answer, Matlock said, “None of them. All captains know that sailors are apt to speak out of turn, so I never tell the crew my intentions until the morning we set sail. Only the pilot knew our course, and he spent the evening at my home.”
“Some cove was talking about it at a tavern,” Winslow said stubbornly.
I turned to the jury, and raised my eyebrows in a show of scepticism. Fortunately for my well-being, they seemed sceptical as well.
I said, “Captain Matlock, would your pilot have any reason to betray you?”
“None at all. He has been with me for many years, and has shown himself to be a loyal friend many times over.”
“We released him with the others,” Parker put in.
“Was anyone else at your house the night in question?” I asked.
“No, just the pilot and myself. And my brother, of course.”
“Your brother Andrew, who gave you that coat?” I turned back to Winslow. “Does the name Andrew Matlock refresh your memory? Did he buy the coat from you?”
“People at the market don’t give no names.”
“What are you getting at?” Judge Gardner asked.
“It is not a pleasant tale, my lord, though it is one of mankind’s oldest: the story of Cain and Abel. Picture these events: Winslow went to the market at Port Royal to sell his booty, and met Andrew Matlock. A transaction took place. Perhaps a friendship of sorts bloomed as well, or perhaps it was merely business. In either case, a link between the two men was forged. Now I must point out that Andrew Matlock is known as a gambler, and not a successful one. Moreover, as the younger brother, he has no particular expectations, and has been living off his brother’s generosity.
“Had events been allowed to remain this way, Andrew would have been well satisfied, but recently Captain Matlock developed an affectionate attachment for a lady and marriage became a definite prospect. Though Captain Matlock would likely have allowed his brother to remain in his house after the wedding, Andrew would no longer have been his heir, particularly if a child were to be born. Andrew’s prospects were grave.
“Then Andrew remembered his business associate, Winslow. He knew Winslow was a member of the Brethren, of course, and so they made an arrangement. Andrew supplied details about Captain Matlock’s next voyage in order that the ship would be taken. In the event that Captain Matlock survived the attack, Andrew and Winslow devised a scheme to ensure that the crew was given sufficient cause to dispose of him afterward. Andrew even provided accounts of his brother’s previous voyages to add credibility to Winslow’s account of ill treatment.”
I spread my fingers wide, a gesture which always gives the erroneous impression that the speaker has nothing to hide. “Knowing this, I am sure the jury will conclude that Winslow was never mistreated by Captain Matlock—I doubt that he ever sailed with him at all.”
“Is that true?” Judge Gardner growled at Winslow.
Winslow looked frantically around him, resembling nothing so much as a rat surrounded by famished felines, but seeing no escape, he whined, “It were just business—and we got a good prize out of it, didn’t we? No harm done.”
Mother, I thought that I had gained a certain understanding of pirates, but the next few moments disproved that, and perhaps it is just as well. It was my expectation that the crew, having been fooled in such a manner, would turn on Winslow and perhaps even keelhaul him! Instead, they laughed.
No, “laughed” is too flimsy a word. They roared—it rolled over the sea like a typhoon of hilarity. The only solemn moment was when Talman asked how much Andrew had paid Winslow, but when the crew learned that he’d been given nothing in advance, the pirates laughed until tears ran down their faces. Even the true story of how Winslow came to get his scars—from another pirate, no less—was greeted with peals of merriment.
Of course, it would be incorrect to say that everyone laughed. Talman did not, but I’ve never met a man less likely to find amusement in life than he, unless it were Father. And poor Captain Matlock did not, for which I could not blame him, given that he’d just learned that his brother had plotted his death. And while Captain Parker smiled widely, the humor never reached his eyes.
As for me, it would have been impolitic not to join in, at least in a small way, and I hope that my chuckles did not greatly offend Captain Matlock.
The rest of that day and evening was a blur, as much food and a great deal of rum was consumed. Even Captain Matlock joined in, once freed from his manacles, seeming to hold no permanent grudge against his captors. If this seems odd to you, Mother, remember that both sailors and merchants tend to be pragmatic men, and Matlock is both. Moreover, there was the comforting knowledge that he was not to be keelhauled. And, of course, the generous quantities of Jamaica’s finest rum.
The next day, Parker himself accompanied Matlock and myself on the longboat that was to take us to shore. Along the way, I asked Matlock, “What do you intend to do about your brother?”
“I’m not sure,” he said. “I could settle a sum of money on him, but knowing him the way I do, I doubt it would last long. And once it was gone, he would likely make another attempt on my life.”
Captain Parker cleared his throat. “Something could be arranged, were you to wish him gone.”
“I do not think I could kill my own brother,” Matlock said, but a most malicious grin crossed his face. “Though I must admit that it’s tempting.”
Oddly, almost the same grin crossed Captain Parker’s face.
Perhaps seeing that grin was why I said, “Captain Parker, you told me that you once sailed with Captain Matlock’s father.”
Matlock said, “I hope you found him a fair man.”
“Not to speak of, no,” Parker said. “I never knew a harder captain, not even among the Brethren.”
Matlock looked embarrassed. “My mother often said Father had a good heart, but it was hard to see it. I fear she suffered from his temper even more than the rest of us.” There must have been some reaction from Parker, because Matlock said, “Did you meet my mother, as well?”
“I was first mate when your father brought her to Port Royal,” Parker said. “A most gracious woman, she was, and if you don’t mind my saying so, the most beautiful woman it has ever been my pleasure to encounter.”
Far from being offended, Matlock looked pleased by the praise.
We soon arrived on shore, and Parker shook both our hands. Even more welcome than that gesture was the heavy money pouch he gave me before taking his leave.
And that, my dearest Mother, was my latest adventure. Upon returning to town, Captain Matlock thanked me with great sincerity, and a few days later, a more tangible expression of his gratitude arrived. He sent the coat, as well, freshly cleaned and pressed, but I returned it to him. I told him he might wish to wear it for good luck, upon his upcoming nuptials to Miss Gowan.
Yes, the two became engaged shortly after our return. While Miss Gowan thanked me most prettily for my efforts on Matlock’s behalf, she followed it up with a speech about how she saw me as a beloved brother. Perhaps it’s just as well. There are women in Port Royal with whom I have not yet danced, and it would be a shame to find a superior dancer once I had already pledged myself to a lifelong waltz with another.
And most assuredly I will dance with Miss Gowan at her wedding, though it may be delayed due to a tragedy in the family. Captain Matlock’s brother Andrew has disappeared. Some say he fell off one of the city’s docks while the worse for drink. Others say he lost one bet too many. And others swear he’s been seen about a pirate ship, though a man so afflicted by seasickness would surely not choose such a life. In any case, I doubt he will threaten his brother again.
At some point during the trip back to Port Royal, a notion occurred to me. I thought about a beautiful woman married to a tyrant, and the handsome first mate Parker must have been. And I thought of two dark-haired men, with full shoulders and startling blue eyes. Perhaps I know what debt Captain Parker felt he owed to Benjamin Matlock.
I think that debt is now paid.
I remain your most loving and devoted son.