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Authors: Craig Parshall

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Longfellow was now grinning.

“And thank you again.”

“And you have other titles. In addition to being a Renaissance man,” MacPherson paused dramatically “you are a criminal. You are, sir, a criminal, are you not? A convicted criminal?”

MacPherson's question had stilled the courtroom. All six of the jurors sat with stunned expressions.

Longfellow couldn't answer. He tried to talk but nothing came out. He lowered his head and thought intensely on how to answer.

“No response?” MacPherson said with ridicule. “Then let's make this easy. Is it correct, Dr. Longfellow, that you have been convicted of a criminal offense under the laws of the state of North Carolina?”

Now Will was on his feet, objecting and asking for a sidebar conference.

MacPherson and Will scurried to the judge's bench.

“Your Honor, Mr. MacPherson has to make an offer of proof to show the admissibility of this kind of evidence. And I don't know what he's talking about. I want to see some proof…”

MacPherson jumped in.

“Oh, I have the proof. Conviction, less than a year ago, of driving a motor vehicle after having a driver's license suspended. Under North Carolina law, that carries a potential sentence in excess of sixty days in jail. Under North Carolina Rule 609, that evidence comes in to attack the credibility of this witness.”

MacPherson shoved a certified copy of the judgment of conviction in front of Will's face.

Will scanned it quickly, then turned to the judge.

“I withdraw my objection, Your Honor. I'm afraid this evidence is going to come in.”

Now MacPherson asked the question again. Longfellow gazed sheepishly at Will, then looked back at MacPherson and answered.

“I'm afraid, Mr. MacPherson, you're right. I was convicted of a criminal offense.”

“Now then,” MacPherson said with obvious satisfaction, “let me finish my questions by turning to the Old Bailey criminal court transcript and the self-interested testimony of Isaac Joppa…”

The Crown's prosecutor, Mr. Alexander Saxton, Esquire, strode to the witness dock where Isaac Joppa stood waiting for cross-examination.

Saxton placed his arms behind his back and clasped his hands together, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Mr. Joppa, we have all noticed your obvious expression of sorrow. Your tears have, undoubtedly, moved all of us. I put to you, sir, that your tears are tears of grief, are they not?”

Joppa nodded, wiping his eyes with his hands. “They are, sir. True enough.”

“And they are tears of grief because, I would put to you, you have come to realize that your life of crime—your piratical offenses—your conspiracy with the likes of Mr. Edward Teach and his murderous band has caught up with you. You are now regretting that you ever assisted Mr. Teach in his devilish designs to rob and plunder the sloop
Marguerite
and assault her crew. Is that correct, sir?”

“No. Never. That is not true—”

“You deny it? You deny that your tears of grief are because you collaborated with the criminal acts of Pirate Edward Teach?”

“I deny that my tears are for anyone, or anything, except one person…the woman I love…whom, I regret, I have caused great pain and anguish because of my absence for these long months. Better that my hand be severed from my arm than I cause any more anguish, because of separation, to Miss Abigail Merriwether.”

“Then we shall inquire as to this Miss Abigail Merriwether,” Saxton said with bravado. “You became engaged to her even against the wishes of her father, Mr. Peter Merriwether, an outstanding and most industrious merchant of Bristol. Is that correct?”

“Yes, it is,” Isaac said softly.

“And you joined the Royal Navy in an effort to gain the monetary circumstances necessary to fully, and satisfactorily, impress Mr. Merriwether with your worthiness as a suitor for his daughter?”

“I do not deny it. That is true.”

“But you deserted, willfully, the ship
Intrepid,
despite the wages that you undoubtedly could have earned as a sailor in His Majesty's Royal Navy?”

“As I have said, I deserted because I had a formidable choice between two equally dismal possibilities. I could have stayed aboard the
Intrepid
and been forced to join in the mutiny, or I could have stayed on the
Intrepid
and supported a captain whose brutality and inhumanity was apparent for all to see.”

“And so, after deserting, you found your way aboard the ship
Good Intent,
leaving Ireland and bound for the Americas?”

“That is correct. But, I overheard that the ship was to sail to England before going on to America. That did not prove to be correct.”

“So—having boarded the
Good Intent,
you then found an answer to your need. You found a solution to the necessity that you become, as quickly as possible, a man of financial means. You discovered, in essence, that you could make more money with less effort, and with greater expedience of time, by becoming a pirate, than by working as a lawful member of His Majesty's Navy. Is that not correct, sir?”

Saxton's voice boomed to the four corners of the great Justice Hall.

“I would do nothing to imperil my chances of marriage to my beloved Abigail Merriwether,” Joppa said firmly.

“Nothing?” Saxton bellowed.

“Nothing.”

“And what proof do you have, sir, that you had any intention of marrying this unfortunate woman who became betrothed to a person of your character?”

“Upon our engagement, she had fashioned for me a small plate. It had a beautiful likeness of her on the front. And on the back, it had the dates of both our engagement and our intended marriage. It was a gift before I set sail with the Royal Navy.”

“Oh, I see,” Saxton said with a sneer. “And I presume that such a token of her love and affection, and such a memorial of your intended marriage, must have been of great value to you?”

“Of great value, yes, sir.”

“And do you have the plate with you, sir? Can you show it to me? Or can you show it to His Honor, the good Justice Dormer? Or can you show it, perhaps, to the twelve good men of the jury who try this cause? We await your answer, Mr. Joppa. Where is the plate?”

Joppa lowered his head.

“I do not have it…”

“He does not have it!” Saxton said with his arms outstretched, his rich baritone voice taking on dramatic force.

And then, after a moment of pregnant silence—“And where, pray tell, is this valued and coveted token of your intended marriage?”

“It was taken by Indians.”

“Indians?” Saxton bellowed. “Why not taken by flood, or hurricane? Or perhaps lifted up to the heavens by a fantastical and magical moonbeam?”

By now, laughter had broken out among the spectators. Saxton was smelling blood, and now he was circling his prey like a shark.

“You have admitted guilt in your act of desertion. You have admitted so before the Court of Admiralty of the Crown of England. And is it not correct that the admiralty court has suspended sentencing you pending the outcome of this trial for piracy?”

“That is correct—yes, sir.”

“Undoubtedly,” Saxton said with confidence, “the admiralty court did not wish to bother itself with any sentence—because when, upon the finding of your guilt in this case, you are hanged on the gallows at Newgate, there will be no further need for that court to worry itself—“

Oliver Newhouse was now on his feet, pacing quickly up to Saxton, who was standing before Justice Dormer.

“Your Honor, I do beg your indulgence…but I do believe Mr. Saxton exceeds himself. It is for this jury to find, and solely for this jury to
determine, the guilt or innocence of Mr. Joppa. Such talk of hanging, particularly before all of the evidence is heard, and before Your Honor's eloquent and well-reasoned instructions to the jury are given, is precipitous at the very least.”

Justice Dormer sighed impatiently, and then addressed the king's prosecutor.

“Mr. Saxton, do restrain yourself to the facts of the case.”

Saxton nodded politely and continued his examination.

“Let us conclude the matter by focusing, sir, on the battle between His Majesty's Royal Navy and the dastardly pirate, Edward Teach, and his crew. Such a battle took place off the coast of the Carolina colonies, is that correct?”

“Yes, sir. We call it the area of the Ocracoke Inlet.”

“And when you saw the Royal Navy approach…when you saw—as a confessed captor and kidnapped prisoner—that your rescuers were at hand, did you rush to the sailors of the English navy and beg for them to accept you onto their ship?”

Isaac Joppa paused, and looked down at the marble floor. He stretched both hands out on the wooden railing in front of him, and then he answered.

“No, sir, I did not. I found it most necessary—in the melee and fury of that moment—to try to escape injury or death.”

“Most strange, indeed! A mystery beyond any understanding…for a kidnapped man to
flee
his rescuers…unless it be true, sir, that, in point of fact, you had not been kidnapped. And I put to you that you attempted escape from the Royal Navy because you were, in all manner of speaking, as guilty of piracy as Captain Teach, who was killed and beheaded in that very battle.”

“Untrue! Untrue!”

“But it is true, sir, is it not, that you did not run into the arms of the Royal Navy when they approached the ship?”

“It is true.”

“And it is true, is it not, sir, that you attempted escape by jumping from the ship and swimming
away
from the very Royal Navy that had come to apprehend the pirates?”

Isaac Joppa was weary. Not only in body, but in very soul. He made one last attempt to stand straight and lift his head as he answered the final question of the prosecutor.

“I did escape. And if I had it in my power, sir, I would change much of my life…I would have stopped running away from things. My conduct has shamed my God and the woman I love. But regret, sir, cannot change the months of misery and despair. I shall not compound the misery of my wasted life by putting forth that I was a criminal and a pirate. For that, sir, I was not. I shall not sink my dismal lot further with the dark ballast of a lie. I am no pirate, sir. I am no criminal. And that, my soul knows full well.”

With that, Joppa glanced at the jurymen in the two jury boxes. He hoped to see some hint of sympathy.

But all he saw there was their solemn, unmoved expressions.

53

W
ILL KNEW THE FORMIDABLE TASK
he had ahead of him—he needed to rehabilitate August Longfellow's testimony and do it quickly. If he failed, judging by the faces of the jury, his case was already shipwrecked.

“Dr. Longfellow, I want to address a series of questions that opposing counsel raised. Do you recall the question about your having a criminal conviction on your record?”

“Yes, that one I certainly do remember,” he answered sheepishly.

“Now, Dr. Longfellow, that conviction wasn't for the crime of murder, was it?”

Longfellow smiled and shook his head.

“No, certainly not, I'm happy to say.”

Will eyed the jury and noticed that juror number three, the unemployed janitor, was chuckling a bit.

“It wasn't for perjury—for testifying falsely under oath, right?”

“No, it was not for that either.”

“And let me just venture a final guess,” said Will somewhat sardonically. “Your criminal conviction had nothing to do with piracy, did it?”

Now the plumber's assistant was smiling also.

“Fortunately not, Counselor.”

“As a matter of fact, your criminal conviction was for a driving offense—because you were driving your motor vehicle at a point in time after your privileges had been suspended?”

BOOK: Missing Witness
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