“If she’s going to learn the business of potions and healing, she can’t be missish.”
“She’s still trying to learn English. Perhaps we should take her medical education one small step at a time.” She gave her old mentor a teasing smile. “We’re out of most of our healing salves. Let’s start with those. She pointed to a shelf of small tins labeled “Calendula.”
“You’re in luck. I just compounded a new batch of salve from a shipment of herbs from South Africa.”
Chris leaned forward,bracing himself with his left hand against the hard wooden bench. They’d been listening to the Mixed Prize Court judges for over an hour and sitting at attention. The hard surface was taking its toll.
He’d been working the coast for several years and had learned early on, their efforts against the slave ships were never straight forward when the cases were heard finally in the Freetown Prize Court. And now, with the mixed courts, judges representing the very countries from which the slavers came were weighing in on decisions.
Add to that the fact that the ships they seized had to have slaves on board when they were taken. Which led to endless horrific moves on the part of slavers, including throwing slaves overboard when Royal Navy ships approached. They would stop mid-loading of ships along the estuaries to send canoes laded with slaves back to the barracoons whenever the sails of the squadron were sighted.
When the presiding judge called for a recess before the afternoon session, he breathed a sigh of relief and rose with Captain Bellingham and Lieutenant Bourne while the judges filed out of the courtroom.
“Shall we decamp to Mrs Sori’s stall down by the harbor?” Captain Bellingham picked up his wide-brimmed straw hat from the bench and settled it firmly on his head. “She probably has some of those hot fish pap-cakes with peppers by now.” He clapped Lieutenant Bourne on the back and urged him on out into the sunlight.
“What do you think of my chances, Arnaud?” Chris hated to think of the months he and his crew had spent enduring long days at sea and then in the miasma- and mosquito-ridden estuaries only to have their prize hopes dashed by the Portuguese judge.
His fellow captain doffed his hat and swiped with his sleeve at the sweat streaming down his forehead. “I think the outcome might depend more on the Spanish judge.”
Chris was surprised by that observation. “Why?”
“The Portuguese judge is forever grumbling over how many slaves found aboard should constitute something more than ‘trifling.’ However, my sense is the Spanish judge is getting tired of the Portuguese getting preferential treatment. He’s going to point out that his country’s ships have been condemned no matter how few slaves were aboard when they were taken.”
Lieutenant Bourne side-stepped a mud pit in the middle of the street leading down to the harbor. When he rejoined them, he added, “The first time he insisted just two slaves still aboard were ‘trifling,’ there were another twenty in a canoe headed toward the ship to be offloaded, not to mention another one-hundred back at the barracoon queuing up to be transported.”
“Exactly.” Chris agreed. “In my case today, there were twenty shackled men still on the ship when we boarded.”
“We’ll see.” Arnaud stepped up to Mrs Sori’s stall and ordered a dozen of the still-steaming pap-cakes.
Richard Bourne procured a jug of lemonade from another vendor and pulled a flask of rum from his hip pocket to surreptitiously add a few pours to the drink. Instead of returning to their shore boats at the quay, they settled onto a shaded stone embankment and passed around the cakes and drink.
For a few moments, no one spoke. Richard Bourne poured the last of the rum lemonade into the tin cups they all carried. “You both know of course that no matter what they decide today, the commission in London could reverse the decisions a few months from now.”
Chris and Arnaud stared at him for a few minutes before shaking their heads slowly in acknowledgment.
“You’ll notice how Bourne doesn’t worry overly much about prizes anymore.” Arnaud chuckled. “He married himself a wealthy wife in Falmouth.”
“How did that happen? You couldn’t have been there that long?” Chris had not caught up with the news of theBlack Condor’screw in some time.
Bourne’s face turned a deep shade of red.
Arnaud filled in the details. “His only job was to recruit more crew from amongst the seafarers in Falmouth. Instead, he rescued a marchioness’s bats-in-the attic grandmother, the lady’s mastiff gave him a concussion, and his legendary charm overwhelmed the poor woman. Bourne did what he’s always done with the ladies but this time ended up leg-shackled when her cousin, the duke, insisted on, ah, a special license marriage. And now he has a baby daughter and stepson back in Falmouth.
“All of that took only a matter of weeks?” Chris turned a look of incredulity at Arnaud’s Marine. Bourne’s face glowed even brighter, and he hung his head.
“Oh, and the lady is a magnificent, red-haired beauty. In all fairness, Bourne did not have a chance.” He sobered then and added, “Thank God he didn’t leave the service. I don’t know what we’d have done without him when we lost Captain Neville during that incident on Sherbro Island.”
That piece of news hit Chris like a stab to the gut. Arnaud’s Marine Captain Neville had always been a leading force when they’d been on joint expeditions. “How did that happen?”
“We were in a pitched battle with slavers at a barracoon on the island when he disappeared. We were outnumbered and had to withdraw, but we never found his body. Richard took some ungodly risks searching for him with no luck.
“We even cruised offshore for a few days and had a shore boat return close to shore at night to make sure he hadn’t escaped and hidden out near the beach. We never saw another sign of him and had to return to Freetown.”
5
Ultimately, the judges decided to condemn the ship Chris had taken in an action up the Rio Pongas, and to release the Portuguese brig as a “prize.” Dusk was falling when they finally trod down the steep steps of the court building, back toward their ships.
Chris paused at the bottom before taking his leave and gave his two comrades a sheepish look.
