Amistad

by David Pesci

  “Well, certainly we can pray for the best,” Tappan said. “And besides which, I can attest that most of the journalists in attendance were very impressed with Mr. Baldwin’s opening statement. Let us hope that in the next few days we can further impress and inspire them. At the very least, this trial should create a national polemic on the evils of slavery.”

  “Even if we do not get the writ, I am confident we can cast enough doubt upon their case to unsettle their sureness of its outcome,” Baldwin said. “Certainly their reading of Pickney’s Treaty is open to debate.”

  “Well, if anything will turn events in our favor, it will be Seth’s motion tomorrow,” Jocelyn mused. “Let us hope for providence in that area.”

  The men talked further about the next day’s strategy until nearly 1.00 A.M. When he got to his hotel room, Baldwin was exhausted. He undressed and was nearly in bed before he realized he had forgotten to take off his spectacles. As he rose to put them on the bureau he noticed a letter by the washbasin. The envelope had been posted from Washington, D.C.

  Mr. Baldwin,

  I admire you wholeheartedly for taking this case of the Amistads and shall be watching these proceedings with great excitement and anticipation. I wish you the best of luck and the blessings of providence in your defense. May justice prevail.

  A Friend

  P.S. Note well that the Treaty of 1819, which the government will certainly cite throughout its case, contains barbs that can be used against their position as well. Specifically, in the fifth paragraph of the second section, and the third paragraph of the eighth.

  Baldwin turned over the envelope but there was no return address. He stared for a moment at the spot near the washbasin where he had found the letter and then glanced around the room. Shaking his head he took the oil lamp and quickly walked down the hallway to see Sedgwick. They had been able to secure a truncated copy of Pickney’s Treaty, but the federal government had yet to provide the defense with any part of the Treaty of 1819. Baldwin’s team had been forced to work from notes and cribbed transcripts. It was frustrating but yet another example of how much control the government had in this case. The defense had divined what they could from the notes but had given more time and weight instead to Pickney’s Treaty, the Antelope case, and their proposal of the writ. Baldwin woke up Sedgwick and had him pull the notes on the Treaty of 1819 from his valise. They looked for the portions of the treaty cited in the letter, staying up until nearly sunrise to incorporate it into their defense.

  Court was set to resume at 8:00 A.M. on Friday morning. At 7:00 A.M. Pepe Ruiz decided to pay a visit to the tribesmen. They had been placed in six different cells in the Hartford jail, all within sight of each other. As the jailer watched, Ruiz walked down the line, stopping at each cell to look inside. He saw that his blacks were being fed and treated well. They looked good in the outfits that had been supplied by the Amistad Committee, and he was sure that when they returned to Havana, he would be able to get top dollar for each of them. He got to the cell holding Singbe, Grabeau, and seven of the others. He stepped up to the bars and began speaking in Spanish.

  “So, Joseph Cinqué. Soon this will be over and you will be entrusted into my care again. We will go back to Havana where you will all be put on trial for proper justice. But you know what I think? I think I will tell the Spanish Consul that only you are to be tried. I will sell your friends to recoup my losses. After all, burning them would be a waste of some really fine niggers. I think it will be enough to see your black skin sizzle.”

  Singbe lunged at the bars. He did not reach out or make any other threatening moves. But it was enough to startle Ruiz into jumping back. He raised his hand as if to slap Singbe, but then he lowered it and began laughing.

  “You have spirit, Cinqué, I’ll give you that. But I think it will be the death of you.”

  He drew his finger across his throat slowly and laughed even harder. The three girls were in the cell next to Singbe and had been watching intently. When Ruiz made the slashing movement, the oldest one, Margru, began screaming. The others quickly became hysterical.

  “What are you doing in here!?”

  Ruiz turned to see Tappan and Jocelyn standing at the far end of the hallway.

  “Mr. Tappan. Good day, sir. I am simply inspecting my property, making sure they are well taken care of until this little affair is done with.”

  Tappan rushed down to the cell holding the girls. They were cowering against the back wall, screaming and shaking. The tribesmen were yelling to them, trying to calm them down. Singbe’s grip on the bars of his cell tightened as he stared at Ruiz.

  “What did you do here?” Tappan asked. “Why are these girls so frightened?”

  “It was not me. It was Cinqué. He scared them. The children delight in my presence, I assure you.”

  “You are monstrous, sir,” Jocelyn hissed. “Without scruples or any kind of human heart. These are just children, for God’s sake.”

  “They are property. They are all property. Mostly mine. And soon I will be taking them back to Cuba. Although, I must say your countrymen have not treated them all that well. I heard two of the bucks died on Sunday last. I am deciding on whether to sue for losses or not.”

  “Get out of here!” Tappan screamed. “Jailer! jailer! This man is unsettling your prisoners! I implore you to expel him immediately from the premises unless you want to have a riot on your hands.”

  “Here, now, Mr. Ruiz. I think the gentleman is right,” the jailer said. “These is your slaves, sir, it’s true. But it don’t benefit no one to have ’em screaming and chattering on like wild monkeys.”

  “They are not monkeys!” Tappan yelled. “They are men, damn it!”

  Three reporters burst into the hallway. They had come to watch the prisoner transfer to the courthouse but had rushed down the stairs when they heard the yelling. The area was in chaos. Ruiz decided it was time to leave. He walked up to the reporters and pointed to Tappan.

  “Wherever this man goes, he causes trouble. Look how he has scared the slaves. It is a disgrace that his kind are let to run free and stir up such problems. It should be criminal.”

  Tappan heard Ruiz but ignored him. The jailer had let him in the girls’ cell. He tried to calm them down, but they were too far gone with terror to respond to any white face, no matter how kind it had been in the past.

  Nearly an hour later, the tribesmen were led out of the jail and into the courthouse by the guards. The jailer, who was adamant that “the slaves was belonging to Mr. Ruiz and the courts prove it,” nonetheless did admit to a reporter that it was Mr. Ruiz who appeared to cause the row down in the cells. The three girls came out last, clinging to Tappan, and still sobbing.

  Court reconvened soon after. Holabird began, opening with an examination of Pickney’s Treaty. His reasoning followed the logic and strategy set out in Attorney General Grundy’s opinion. Accordingly, Articles 8 through 10 were cited by Holabird as the passages most pertinent to the case.

  “Of these, Your Honor, it is Articles 8 and 9 which contain most of the salient points relevant to this case. I quote for the record and those in attendance, Article 8: ‘In case subjects or inhabitants of either party with their shipping be forced through stress of weather, pursuit of pirates or enemies, or any other urgent necessity for seeking shelter and harbor belonging to the other party, they shall be received and treated with all humanity, and enjoy all favor, protection and help. They shall in no way be hindered from returning out of said port, but may remove and depart when they please without any let or hinderance.’

  “And Article 9: ‘All ships and merchandise whatsoever, which shall be rescued out of the hands of any pirates or robbers on the high seas, shall be brought into a port of either state and shall be delivered to the custody of the officers of that port. There they shall be taken care of and restored entire to the true proprietor as soon as due and sufficient proof shall be made concerning the property thereof.’

  “Hence, Your Hon
or,” Holabird continued, “it seems quite clear that the situation of the Amistad fits these conditions and thus should be treated accordingly.”

  “Your Honor,” Baldwin spoke while rising slowly, “I wonder if the Prosecutor can provide some clarification regarding the government’s disposition toward my clients?”

  “Which would be, Mr. Baldwin?” Thompson asked.

  “If it please the court, Your Honor, I think we would all like to know whether the prosecutor is saying that the United States of America is charging these men, and these little girls, with piracy?”

  The gallery instantly filled with a wave of whispers and rumblings. Many in attendance knew that if piracy was charged, Thompson would have no course but to refer the case to a trial by jury, a move that would certainly provide months of proceedings as well as a source of entertainment for the entire state, if not the whole country.

  Thompson brought his gavel down to quiet the courtroom. Holabird had been trying to speak from the moment Baldwin had finished his question.

  “No, Your Honor, not at all,” Holabird spurted. “For the record, the Federal Government has no wish to pursue charges of piracy. We are only entertaining the issues of mutiny, murder, and property. As to the first two, we freely admit that the girls were nothing more than witnesses.”

  “Satisfied, Mr. Baldwin?”

  “Completely, Your Honor.”

  Holabird collected himself and continued. He cited the decision of the Antelope case and pointed to passages of the Treaty of 1819. In particular he cited the Treaty’s provision permitting America’s armed vessels to cruise in search of suspected slavers. By intercepting the Amistad, the government not only rectified a mutinous situation, but also verified that the slaves were in fact rebellious property. He also submitted as proof of the Cubans’ claim of rightful ownership the original bills of purchase, customs documentation, and the manifest from the Amistad.

  “They are Spanish subjects and, in the eyes of Spanish law, they are most assuredly slaves.”

  Hungerford’s presentation was almost identical. He also followed Grundy’s opinion, deviating only in his much stronger emphasis on Article 10 of Pickney’s Treaty which dealt with reimbursement. He stressed that his clients were willing to pay salvage on a refigured value based on the condition of ship and cargo when boarded, but certainly not the exorbitant sum of $40,000.

  “So we mean to cheat our benefactors, is that it?” Isham said, standing. “Lieutenant Gedney and Lieutenant Meade risked their lives to save these men from almost certain death and weeks of torture.”

  “Objection!” Sedgwick stood. “General Isham is postulating about supposed ‘certainties’ and other events which either did not occur or have yet to he proved in this court.”

  “Sustained. General Isham, you will kindly keep your mind and your words to the established facts.”

  “It is a fact that my clients risked life and limb to extricate these men from harrowing circumstances, Your Honor,” Isham said. “Now, these men, Spaniards of Cuba, though reputed to be gentlemen, are trying to deprecate the value of their holdings. It seems an odd and crass way to treat your saviors, Your Honor.”

  “Quite frankly, Your Honor, my clients wish nothing but the best for the brave officers and crew who saved them,” Hungerford said. “However, to award such exorbitant sums as claimed by the Naval officers would be the equivalent of robbery of my clients, as this voyage is already a total loss for them.”

  Hungerford finished his presentation and sat down.

  “We will now hear from the defense,” Thompson announced.

  All eyes in the courtroom turned to Baldwin. But it was Seth Staples who stood and began speaking.

  “Your Honor, we have a strong case to present in defense of these men. But before we begin, I would like to enter a second petition for habeas corpus.”

  “For whom, Mr. Staples?”

  “For the three girls, Your Honor. This would be separate and alone from the other petition.”

  “On what basis?”

  “Your Honor, Mr. Montes claims that these girls are Spanish subjects and have been raised in Cuba. And yet, though their ages are listed as being between seven and nine years, not a one of them speaks so much as a single word of Spanish. The record shows that they could not even answer to their given names when put to them by Lieutenant Meade.”

  “Your Honor,” Holabird objected, “it is also in the same record that Mr. Ruiz and Montes clearly stated that the slaves speak an obscure field dialect.”

  “I wonder if either of the slave traders would care to swear to that fact in open court, Mr. Prosecutor?” Staples countered. “Mr. Hungerford, what say you? Will your clients swear to the existence of this obscure field dialect today? Your Honor, I respectfully request that the court asks them to do so. And as this request is made, perhaps we should apprise them of the penalties in this country for perjury. Also, I think we should let them know that, according to Section 8 of the Treaty of 1819, any persons found to be in the possession of contraband Africans shall be prosecuted as pirates. As you well know, Your Honor, under American law, piracy carries a penalty of death.”

  “Your Honor,” Hungerford blurted, “I request that we break for a short recess so that I may confer with my clients and the prosecutor.”

  “I second the request, Your Honor,” Holabird said.

  “I will grant a fifteen-minute recess.”

  Holabird and Hungerford retreated with Ruiz and Montes in an anteroom and scoured their copies of the treaty. Ruiz translated for Montes who, when he heard all the factors and possibilities, shook his head over and over again.

  When court was back in session, Hungerford declared that his clients would not testify at this point in time, nor were they compelled to do so by law.

  “Your Honor, my clients have already made depositions under oath regarding all of their activities, which were well within Spanish law. The documentation regarding the disposition of the slaves is clear, Your Honor, and sanctioned by Spanish authorities. All transactions took place in Cuba, a Spanish possession. The U.S. government has no right to intercede in this area. We are only concerned with issues of salvage and the return of my clients’ property. The rest we leave to Spanish law.”

  “Your Honor,” Holabird said, standing, “The United States urges that a writ is not granted for the children on the grounds that they are witnesses to the events on board the Amistad.”

  “So for that they are to be held in jail, Your Honor?” Staples said. “Since when are innocent witnesses interned in jailhouses in these United States?”

  “Your Honor,” Holabird continued, “the girls are being held for their own safety. As the court is aware, abolitionists have made themselves cozy with the Amistad negroes. It is well known that abolitionists are responsible for spiriting runaway slaves out of the country through the so-called underground railway. The government is concerned that if the children or any of the other negroes are provided with a writ of habeas corpus, they will very quickly disappear, perhaps even against their will. Therefore we ask that if a writ is granted for the children it be accompanied by bail of one hundred dollars per child.”

  “$100! Your Honor, that is an outrageous sum! For the love of God, these children have not even committed a crime!”

  “Mr. Staples!” Thompson said slamming his gavel down. “You will control yourself before the court. I said I will rule on motions for a writ, but I am not ready to do so now. Submit your second petition and I will review it. Mr. Prosecutor, prepare your points in a brief and submit them as well. They will also be considered. It is past noon. Court shall recess sixty minutes for lunch.”

  As soon as Thompson left, the room exploded into chatter. “Bail for innocent children? And one hundred dollars at that!” “Yes, but Holabird’s right, those abolitionists can’t be trusted.” “The Spaniards won’t take the stand. They must be lying.” “Perhaps not. Would you set yourself at the mercy of foreign laws?”


  As the crowd filed out, Tappan sat, watched, and listened. His face remained inscrutable but inside he glowed with pleasure. At the very least, their strategy was winning over most of the spectators and some of the press.

  An hour later, court resumed. Baldwin rose and asked if Lieutenant Gedney had any problems testifying under oath.

  “Or are you of the same disposition as the Spanish slave dealers?”

  “Certainly not!” Gedney said confidently. “I stand by what I saw and reported in my log.”

  Gedney was sworn in and Baldwin began leading him through a recounting of the events concerning the Amistad’s seizure and boarding. Gedney had been through this several times already with depositions and interviews to the newspapers, but still he was on his guard. He knew lawyers were tricksters, aimed on bending the truth to suit their needs. Still, as the questioning went on, he became more relaxed. This lawyer, Baldwin, seemed harmless, perhaps even a bit distracted, for he made Gedney repeat himself more than a few times:

  “Your orders again were what, Lieutenant?”

  “To survey the coast, although we had also been warned to keep an eye out for a black ship reported to possibly be a pirate ship.”

  “But you were never formally ordered to track down pirates or apprehend a renegade slaver?”

  “No, sir.”

  Then later:

  “Were any of the blacks in chains when you boarded the ship?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Was anyone in chains?”

  “No. Mr. Ruiz and Mr. Montes and the slave boy Antonio were being held down below, but they were not bound in any way.”

  After Gedney finished his testimony, Baldwin thanked him and then walked over to the defense counsel’s table and picked up two small stacks of paper.

  “Your Honor, I would like to submit these documents. The first is an annotated account of the Antelope case. While the prosecutor has said that the case of the Amistad is nearly identical, I believe we have heard Lieutenant Gedney’s testimony to reveal a major discrepancy The negroes on the Antelope were bound and chained as slaves when the ship was taken. Yet, as Lieutenant Gedney has just stated, twice, the men on the Amistad were not. They were free when found. As such they were ‘prima facie’ free in the eyes of the law and hence should have been, and should be, treated as persons, not slaves. Mr. Ruiz and Mr. Montes were found by the naval officers to be just as free, just as unbound by shackles or chains. They were accorded every right and afforded every comfort by Lieutenant Gedney. However, simply because of the color of their skin, my clients were immediately locked up. For all Lieutenant Gedney might have known, they were the rightful crew of the vessel. But he let his prejudices make the decision regarding rights. It was he who chose to consider my clients slaves, even when there was no immediate evidence pointing to this fact.