Percy F. Westerman – The Complete Collection

Chapter 7

I was the first witness called, and on concluding my evidence, which dealt solely with the first prisoner, Swyre leant across the front of the dock, raised his fettered hands, and with a terrible oath poured out the most frightful imprecations against me, vowing that sooner or later his mates would doubly avenge themselves on my miserable carcass, till at length, by dint of blows liberally bestowed by his custodians, he was restrained, though his low cursing and threats were distinctly audible during the rest of the trial.

Several of the soldiers of Colonel Middleton's party, including Sergeant Sedgewyke, having given evidence, it was thought that the case for the prosecution was concluded, but a shiver of excitement ran through the court when an order was given: "Call Joseph Hawkes".

The cry was taken up by the usher and repeated thrice ere there hobbled into the well of the court an object that could scarce lay claim to being called a man. Yet there was no mistaking the fact that Hawkes was or had been a sailor, for a strong odour of tar, which was a pleasant relief to the fetid atmosphere of the crowded court, hovered around him like a cloud. He was about fifty years of age, wizened and bent. His face, burnt by exposure to all weathers, was of a deep mahogany hue. One eye was covered with a patch, the other appeared to be fixed in its socket, inasmuch as whenever he looked he had to turn his head straight in that direction. A mass of lank hair, terminating in a greasy pigtail, covered his head.

His left arm was missing, the empty sleeve being fastened to his coat; and, as if these deficiencies were not enough, his left leg had been cut off at the knee joint, and was replaced by a wooden stump. The fingers of his right hand were dried like a mummy's, the nails being blackened with hard work at sea and the continual use of tobacco, and I noticed that one of his fingers was also missing.

Having been administered the oath, his examination commenced.

"You are Joseph Hawkes?"

"Yes, your Honour."

"Do you know either of the prisoners?"

"Yes, saving your presence, that red-haired villain yonder!"

"Now, sirrah," exclaimed the prosecuting lawyer, addressing Caleb Keeping, "methinks you know this witness!"

But the prisoner replied not, except to shake his head sheepishly.

"Proceed with your evidence, Master Hawkes."

The man hitched at his nether garments, pulled his forelock, and without further delay plunged into his story, which, stripped of its peculiarities of dialect, was as follows:--

"Two years ago last May I shipped as mate of the bark Speedie , of Poole, outward bound for the Tagus. The same night as we cleared Poole harbour we were overtaken by a gale from the south'ard, and soon got into difficulties close to the Purbeck coast. Seven times did we 'bout ship to try and claw off the shore, but at daybreak we struck close to Anvil Point."

Here the younger prisoner began to show signs of terrified interest--a fact that most of those present were not slow to note.

"The masts went by the board, our boats were carried away, and the old Speedie began to break up. One by one the crew were swept overboard, and at last a heavy sea took me, and I remember fighting for life in the waves till I lost consciousness.

"When I came to I was lying on a flat ledge or platform of rock with the hot sun streaming down on me. The gale had now abated, but there were plenty of signs of its results. Numbers of bales and barrels, that had formed our cargo, were being collected on the platform by a number of villainous-looking, half-naked men. A slight tingling pain in my hand made me look down, and I saw that one of my fingers had been cut off, so that one of the wretches could steal a paltry silver ring I was wearing.

"Just then I heard a shout, and, keeping perfectly still, I looked under my half-closed eyelids and saw two of the wreckers dragging a body up the rocks. It was the master of the Speedie , poor old John Cartridge of Hamworthy. The wretches began to hack his fingers off, as they had done mine, and even tore a pair of ear-rings forcibly from his ears. Old John wasn't dead, for this treatment revived him. Seeing this, one of the men, who is none other than that red-haired devil yonder, plunged a knife into his back and toppled his body into the sea."

At this the younger prisoner yelled in a terror-stricken voice: "No, no! You are mistaken. 'Twill be my brother as done it. 'Twas not I."

"Liar!" retorted the old seaman. "I'll prove it. Let your men bare his back, good sir, and if he hath not the sign of the Jolly Roger tattooed there, I'll take back my word."

The justice nodded his assent, and the tip-staves proceeded to remove the clothing from the prisoner's back. Sure enough, there was a death's-head and cross-bones indelibly impressed there.

"Continue your evidence, Master Hawkes."

"Well, your Honour, as I was a-saying, after they had rid themselves of the master's body, the wretches began to carry their plunder into a cave that opened from the back of the flat rock. Presently one of them stops by me. 'What shall us do with 'e?' he shouts. I kept very still, feigning death, yet expecting every moment to have a knife betwixt my ribs. 'Is 'e done with?' asked another. 'Then overboard with 'im.' Next minute I felt myself being dragged across the platform and pushed off the edge. I fell about a score of feet, striking the water with a heavy splash. When I came to the top I struck out, and found myself close to a shelf of rock which the overhanging ledge hid from the villains above. Here I remained till the coast was clear, then I scrambled up, in spite of my wounds, and made my way across some downs till I met with a kindly farmer, who took me to Wareham.

"When I reported the matter to the authorities a body of men were sent from Wareham and Poole; but though they discovered the caves, not a trace of the wreckers, their spoils, or the remains of the Speedie was to be found."

The rest of the evidence was soon concluded, proving without doubt that both men were members of a notorious band of Dorset smugglers, whose misdeeds had caused the utmost consternation for years past; and the case was settled by sending both prisoners to the assizes at Winchester.

It is unnecessary to dwell upon the account of my journey to Winton to repeat my evidence; but on the return journey (having heard both men sentenced to death), as we were passing through a wood between Twyford and Waltham, a pistol was fired at our coach, the ball shattering the glass and passing close to my uncle's head.

This outrage was put down to the highwaymen of Waltham Chase; but in my own mind I attributed it to the vengeance of the smugglers' gang, which surmise I afterwards found was correct.

The two men suffered the extreme penalty of the law. I was taken to see them gibbeted on Southsea beach. Such occasions are invariably regarded as a kind of holiday, and thousands of townsfolk and people from the surrounding country came to see the sentence carried out.

Caleb Keeping died like an arrant coward, whining like a whipped cur as the executioner bound him. Already half-dead with fear, he submitted to being compelled to mount the ladder, whence he was thrown violently, and in a few moments all was over. But with d**k Swyre it was different. Heedless of death, and accustomed to scenes of violence, he strove to the last, cursing the crowd and endeavouring to burst his bonds.

While most of the onlookers jeered, it was evident that some of his friends were present, and at one time it looked as if a rescue was about to be attempted; but the soldiers kept back the press, and in spite of his violent struggles the prisoner was brought underneath the gallows, where a rope was deftly passed round his neck. Still cursing and struggling, the wretch was hoisted, and five minutes elapsed ere his last convulsive motions ceased.

Though the crowd looked upon this incident as a diversion, to me it seemed otherwise. True, two deep-dyed criminals had got their deserts; but I felt that my share in the affair had gained me many unknown enemies. This impression grew after an attempt had been made to burn my uncle's house, and I had been deliberately pushed from the quayside into the Camber by a seaman; and these incidents so preyed upon my mind that I was unfeignedly glad when I was asked if I should like to go to sea.

CHAPTER V

--Of my First Ship, the Gannet

Once it had been settled that I should go to sea, my uncle lost no time in getting me a ship. Through his influence, his intimacy with Sir Thomas Middleton, and also through the interest which Sir Thomas showed towards me, the matter was an easy one, and before August was out I found myself being escorted down to the dockyard to join the Gannet .

This stout craft I must describe. She was of six hundred tons burthen and pierced for fifty guns. She had three masts, besides a small one at her bowsprit-head. When first I saw her she was having a new mizzen fitted, her old mast having been lost in a gale outside the Wight.

Her figurehead represented a man on horseback trampling on a Dutchman, a Frenchman, a Spaniard, and an Algerine. I was told that the horseman was supposed to be the arch-traitor, Old Noll, but a clever hewer of wood had caused all likeness of the great rebel to disappear, and had graven instead the features of honest George, now created Duke of Albemarle.

Her stern gallery was upheld by a row of gilt figures representing that hero of mythology, Master Atlas, of whom my father used to speak; while over the gallery towered three enormous lanterns, and above everything was a maze of spars and rigging that confused me not a little, though before long I was well acquainted with the names of all of them.

This much did I see from the dockyard wall, for the Gannet was lying at anchor in the harbour. One of the seamen on the quay hailed her through a speaking-trumpet, and presently a longboat came off for us, manned by ten lusty rowers, while a boy of about my own age sat in the stern-sheets steering the boat and giving orders to the men as if the commanding of the boat had been his life-long business.

Directly we embarked--that is, my uncle, my cousin Maurice, and myself--the boat pushed off, and urged by long strokes soon covered the distance betwixt the shore and the ship. As she neared the latter the youngster shouted: "Oars!" in such a loud voice that I thought something had happened. The rowers immediately tossed their oars, while the boat ran alongside the Gannet .

We climbed by a steep ladder up the rounding side of the ship, my uncle performing the feat with surprising agility, though he was puffing heartily when he gained the deck and took off his hat to the royal arms that graced the quarterdeck at the break of the poop.

We were received by the captain, one Adrian Poynings, said to be a descendant of the fiery governor of Portsmouth who bore the same name, and whose will was the terror of the inhabitants of Portsmouth in the days of Queen Bess.

The captain did not appear to bear the same reputation as did his ancestor. He seemed, for a king's officer, a very mild-mannered gentleman, for when speaking to his subordinates he would say: "Desire Master So-and-so to do this", or "Desire the bos'n to be sent to me"; and so on.