Part 33 (1/2)

Yes, he was bound to say he sympathized with the prisoner (he did not say that he wished to Heaven the prisoner had availed himself of many opportunities he had given him of escaping); he thought he had been hardly treated--especially by the woman who was, in truth, a viper.

Did he mean to say, the judge asked almost apologetically, that he had allowed the prisoner to ride unbound by his side? Yes, he did mean to say so; the prisoner had made no attempt, either, to take advantage of the license. Did Monsieur de Mortemart think that was wise on his part as an officer? Yes, on his part as an officer he did think so. He _was_ an officer; not”--and here he cast his eye on the turnkeys and jailers in the court”--”the _canaille_.” And, in effect, the prisoner was before the court; that justified him.

After this the judges ceased to ask the Duc de Mortemart's son any further questions, but went on with other matters. One of the _canaille_, a jailer, was put on the witness stand and questioned briefly. ”Speak, fellow,” said the president in a totally different tone from that which he had hitherto used to the duke's son, ”have you examined the prisoner--is he branded?”

”He is, my lord, on his shoulder; an undoubted _galerien_.”

”Enough! Stand down.”

”Prisoner,” addressing St. Georges, ”what have you to say?”

”Nothing. Do your worst.”

”No justification of your quitting the galleys?”

”Nothing that you would accept as such. Yet this I will say: I did not escape of my own attempt; the galley I was in was sunk by an English admiral off their coast; almost all were lost. I was saved and taken back to England.”

”So! That may make a difference. What was the galley's name?”

”L'Idole.”

Here the judge on the president's right hand leaned over to him and said: ”This may be the truth. I had a nephew, an officer, on board L'Idole--she was sunk.”

”Allowing such to be the case, prisoner, how comes it you are back in France?”

”I desired to return, and took the first opportunity.”

”Ay, he did,” suddenly roared out a voice in the court. ”And ask him how he returned, my lord; ask him that!”

In an instant all eyes were turned to the place whence the sound came, and the presiding judge became scarlet in the face at any one having the presumption to so bawl at him in the court. ”Exempts,” he cried, ”find out the ruffian who dares to outrage the king's justice by bellowing before us thus. Find him out, I say, and bring him before us!”

It required, however, very little ”finding out,” since he who had so cried was the man whom the _procureur_ du Roi had spoken of as having abandoned his s.h.i.+p at La Hogue and fled to Paris, and was now present as a prisoner in the court to be tried for his offence. Nor was there much need to hustle and drag him forward, since he came willingly enough--he thought he saw here an immunity from punishment--if punishment be deserved--a chance of escape by the evidence he could give.

”Who is the fellow?” asked De Rennie, when, partly by the man's own willing efforts and partly by pus.h.i.+ngs and jostlings, he had been got on to the witness stand with two jailers on either side of him. ”Who is he?”

”He is, my lord,” the _procureur du roi_ said, ”the man who is charged with deserting his s.h.i.+p at La Hogue and fleeing to Paris. He says, however, he can give evidence against the _galerien_ here which will also go far to absolve him of his desertion--if your lords.h.i.+ps will hear him.”

”Ay,” said De Rennie, ”we will hear him very willingly. But,” he said, addressing the sailor, ”tell no lies, fellow, in hope of escaping your own punishment. Understand that! And understand, also, that you must justify your own desertion.”

”I need tell no lies,” the man replied, a rough, bull faced and throated man, with every mark of a seaman about him, ”to justify myself. And there was no desertion. _Mon Dieu!_ was Tourville a deserter when he went ash.o.r.e from L'Ambitieux? If so, then I am one, for I went with him.”

”Tell your tale,” De Rennie exclaimed angrily, the man's utter want of respect irritating him, ”and speak no slander against the king's officers.”

”Slander!” the sailor repeated--”slander! How slander? I am Tourville's own c.o.xswain; acted under his orders----”

”Go on!” roared the judge. ”Your evidence against the prisoner. Your evidence!”

Briefly the man's evidence was this--and as he told it all in the court knew that the fate of the prisoner was sealed. After that nothing could save him.

The man _was_ Tourville's c.o.xswain--he produced a filthy, water-soaked paper from his breast to prove it--had been with him in Le Soleil Royal, had gone with the admiral when he transferred his flag to L'Ambitieux, had taken that flag from the lieutenant's hands and, with his own, hauled it up on the latter vessel.