It came as a crushing blow not to find Samuel at his home in Nottingham. He and his wife had gone to visit their son and his family in Newcastle and were not expected back for another two weeks. Samuel was due back in London to take command of his ship in a month’s time.
Stuart was devastated. Nothing had prepared him for this. There was absolutely nothing he could do. If he were to go after him, there was no way they could reach London before the trial. He must return and try to persuade the Admiralty to defer it until Samuel’s return or until other seamen who had been on board the Spirit of Enterprise at the same time as Cassandra could be traced. But time was of the essence.
Cassandra was locked in a state of perpetual suspense as she waited for Stuart to visit her again before the trial, but he failed to do so, which gave rise to all manner of terrible thoughts in her already tortured mind. Why did he not come? Never had she felt so abandoned and alone. It would seem, she thought bitterly, that fate was taking a malicious pleasure in making her suffer to the very limits of her endurance.
On the day of the trial, Cassandra was shackled and taken the short distance from Newgate prison to the Old Bailey Sessions Court. Although her legs trembled and there was a weakness inside her enough to bring down the stoutest tree, there came to her a strength that made her walk steadily into the courtroom.
The crowds had gathered. Trials and executions had a grotesque fascination for the public, and the spectators who had come to stare, filling the Old Bailey to capacity, expected to see lively action. There was an air of festivity to the whole proceedings. Because she was the daughter of the infamous pirate Nathaniel Wylde, whose own trial was well remembered and still talked of from the meanest tavern to St James’s Palace, the case was to prove sensational. It was a day that would decide the entire course of Cassandra’s life.
She was nervous as she scanned the faces of those present in the courtroom for the one she loved, the one she hoped to see most of all, but it would seem that he had truly banished her from his life in her hour of need. But why? her tortured mind asked over and over again. Why had he abandoned her so cruelly? But, sunk in her misery and degradation, she realised that perhaps it was too much to ask for him to burden himself with a wife who was a common criminal, someone who had inherited nothing but evil.
As Stuart had told her, she was to be tried by a Court of Admiralty presided over by an Admiralty judge—a man in middle years with a severe expression and cold eyes, and three grim-faced common law judges. After all present in the packed courtroom had been made aware of the evils of piracy and the wickedness of all who practised it, the trial began—a trial full of traps for someone as unwary and innocent as Cassandra.
‘You are Cassandra Everson, are you not, daughter of Nathaniel Wylde, the pirate hanged for his crimes?’ she was asked.
‘Yes. I am Cassandra Everson,’ she replied calmly, looking directly ahead of her, trying her best to ignore all the ugly faces around her.
Her identity confirmed, the Register of the Court proceeded to read out three charges against her. She was accused of stealing the Dolphin from where it had been impounded by the Admiralty in the Thames, and the removal of Nathaniel Wylde’s body from the gallows at Execution Dock in November 1671. The third, the more serious charge, was that of piracy—which, like murder, carried the death penalty.
‘How do you plead?’
Filled with physical terror, Cassandra trembled, the cold eyes of the judges doing nothing to allay her fears. Exhaustion was beginning to take its toll, but despite this and her shackles she stood straight and proud, no one but herself aware of her inner torment. ‘Not guilty,’ she replied.
Despite the grime of incarceration covering her, her deportment filled most of those present with admiration. She was without the jewels and pretty patches, or the powdered hair and sumptuous clothes of a lady of distinction and refinement, but even without these artefacts, like a magnet, she held the eyes and attention of everyone in the courtroom.
It was as if she had weaved a mysterious and mesmeric spell around them, like some kind of sorcery, for how was it possible for a woman to look so beautiful when she was clothed in the filth of Newgate? Her blue eyes were wide, seeming to lighten the room like the sun coming out after darkness, and her proud bearing revived for many the memory and excitement that had so gripped the trial of Nathaniel Wylde eighteen months earlier.
But the atmosphere inside the courtroom was beginning to weigh heavy on Cassandra as she listened to the witnesses for the prosecution, hearing nothing serious enough to condemn her to the gallows—until the dreaded moment arrived when the seaman who was to testify against her, Jeremiah Price, was brought forward.
Cassandra vaguely remembered him. He was a man of medium height, thickset and with a massive barrel chest and long arms, which gave him a grotesque appearance and compelled all eyes to stare at him in fear and fascination. His lank hair fell about his face, which was huge and deeply pitted with pockmarks, his eyes deep set and malevolent.
He gave a formidable and graphic description of the attack on the merchant vessel, the Triumph, three leagues off the north coast of the island of Trinidad on the first day of April in 1672, stressing that Cassandra Everson had been a willing member of Drum O’Leary’s crew, and actively involved in the working of the Dolphin and the assault on the Triumph—at which time she was seen to be armed with a pistol.
Cassandra listened in stunned disbelief as the man calmly and deliberately perjured himself, condemning her with every word in the ever-watchful presence of the court. It was a tale he must have been told and remembered from members of the Dolphin’s crew—and he was incriminating her in the hope of obtaining a lesser sentence for himself.
Tension was mounting inside the courtroom with spectators commenting noisily on the proceedings. Every ounce of humiliation was wrung out of Cassandra as she was subjected to cross-examination, when questions—endless, probing, intimate questions—were fired at her mercilessly, about her relationship with her father, and the night when she had taken it upon herself to steal the Dolphin from the place in the Thames where it had been impounded by the Admiralty.
Expertly they tried to trap her into betraying something that would assure them of her guilt, and when she was asked if she had anything to say in her defence her eyes again swept over the mass of quiet, mesmerised onlookers in the courtroom. She was hoping to see Stuart, but there was still no sign of him. Bravely she raised her head, looking directly at the judge and speaking composedly.
‘I am absolutely innocent of the crime of piracy with which I have been charged here. I adamantly deny any involvement in the raid on the Triumph.’
She argued her case cleverly and with a simple courage that drew increased admiration from all present, but it was not enough to convince the judges of her innocence, who listened with closed ears.
When she told them she had left the Dolphin at Trinidad in March to take passage on the merchantman captained by Captain Samuel Tillotson bound for Barbados, and that she could not possibly have been involved in the raid on the Triumph, and begged them to defer the trial until Captain Tillotson could come forward to testify to this, her interrogator thrust his face close, looking her straight in the eye.
‘Do not forget,’ he expostulated, his red lips parting viciously between a forked black beard, ‘that you are under oath. Do not add wilful perjury to your other crimes. If, as you say, you took passage on board this other vessel before the assault on the Triumph, then why has Captain Tillotson not come forward himself to testify before now?’
Swamped with hopelessness, Cassandra lowered her head, remembering how Stuart had told her that the courts were unwilling to hold up proceedings to enable witnesses to come forward. The Admiralty welcomed the propaganda value of trials and executions of pirates as a reminder of the fate that awaited others who had a mind to make piracy their profession.
After five hours the jury retired to consider the evidence, and they had little diffic
ulty in reaching a verdict quickly—Jeremiah Price had seen to that. When they returned, Cassandra knew, with the instinct of an animal in an abattoir about to come under the butcher’s knife, that all was lost.
She stared at the men whose eyes were cold and expressionless, all the blood draining out of her face and leaving it deathly white. Everything seemed to dance before her eyes and she was possessed of a desperate fear as she waited, hardly daring to breath, for the presiding judge to speak.
‘It has been unanimously agreed that beyond all doubt, you, Cassandra Everson, are guilty of robbery and piracy in the first and third charges. Can you offer any reason why sentence of death should not be passed upon you?’
Her mind a total blank, Cassandra listened in a kind of haze as the damning words passed over her. It was all so unreal. It couldn’t be her this was happening to. It must be someone else. A muffled roaring began in her ears and a violent thudding in her heart. Her exhaustion was complete, and before any words could pass her lips her sorely tried nerves gave out and she fainted away.
When she regained consciousness, it was to find herself sitting at the bar and leaning against the hard wooden bench. Through a haze she became aware of a commotion and she opened her eyes, thrust once more back into brutal reality. But she soon realised that the sudden weakness that had overcome her was not the only thing that had created a disturbance inside the courtroom.
Rising unsteadily to her feet, she clutched at the bar for support. Across the courtroom a man had entered—a man accustomed to instant attention, with implacable authority in his manner and bearing, and he was tall, taller than most present. He pushed his way through the crowd with an irresistible force, as easily as a ship cutting through the waves, anger and frustration burning so savagely inside him that he was heedless of the watching eyes as he strode towards the judges.
His clothes and boots were travel stained, as though he had been riding long and hard. His dark eyes glowed hot and fierce out of features bronzed by sun and wind, his lips drawn over brilliant white teeth and his thick black hair falling about his face in a tangle of waves. He looked wild and furious and incredibly handsome—giving everyone present the romantic impression that he was a gypsy or a pirate who had come to rescue his ladylove in her hour of need.
‘Stuart,’ Cassandra breathed, happiness giving her renewed strength. She gazed at him with joy and disbelief, filled with self-reproach for having doubted him. Clearly he had good reason for not coming to her before, and no doubt she was about to discover why, but in that instant of seeing him her terror was replaced by happiness, and everything but the wonderful glow of her love was swept away.
He was prevented from approaching her, but their eyes met and locked, and for a brief moment time stood still and nothing else existed. There was concern in the dark depths of his eyes, but they also burned with a love and passion Cassandra had despaired of ever seeing again, giving her back some of her courage.
No one watching him could be unaware of his anger and frustration at having come too late, or how silently enraged he was to see Cassandra so humiliated, shackled and surrounded by guards. When he had entered the courtroom, what he had seen in her face had drawn him up sharply. She was ashen, her hands clasped together trembling, and she had been looking at the judge with huge, unnaturally dark eyes in which he could clearly read her terror.
In an agony of despair he had seen her collapse, and now he was unable to tear his gaze away from her tragic form as she struggled to regain her composure. Fighting to contain his anger, brusquely he recollected himself and drew himself up sharply, looking towards the judge who had just pronounced her guilty of piracy and was about to pass sentence. The judge looked at him irritably, displeased by the interruption, although he was not unaware of Stuart’s identity or the part he had played in the downfall of the prisoner’s father.
‘What is the meaning of this interruption?’ he demanded, trying to make himself heard above the loud ripple of applause from the spectators packed inside the courtroom, who sensed the drama was far from over and were enjoying it to the full. Their mouths agape, they stared at the newcomer, whose powerful presence commanded their attention and admiration.
‘I would like to be allowed to speak on the prisoner’s behalf,’ Stuart said, in an awful voice and piercing deep. ‘As I was made aware on my entrance to the Old Bailey, precious few have come forward to speak for her.’
‘Perhaps that is because there is no one,’ the judge replied coldly. ‘Let me remind you that the accused is no pathetic innocent, as she would have us believe, but the daughter of Nathaniel Wylde—a vicious pirate justly tried, sentenced and hanged for his crimes, from whom she no doubt learned her trade. And, I will also point out, that when we have rid ourselves of such corrupting influences as this woman, the world will be a far safer place for the rest of us in which to live. I am aware of who you are, but for the benefit of the court will you give your name, if you please, sir.’
Stuart seemed to be able to hold himself aloof from the world and yet, with his mere presence, dominate the scene around him. ‘I am Sir Stuart Marston—until recently owner and captain of the ship, the Sea Hawk, which is now the property of the Wheatley and Roe Company.’
‘And what is your connection with the accused?’
‘She is my wife,’ Stuart announced quietly and firmly, to the absolute surprise of all present, rendering them silent, but then a gasp seemed to erupt from every throat as Stuart’s eyes met those of Cassandra’s and she smiled softly. Never had she loved him as much as she did at that moment.
The presiding judge’s eyes narrowed after registering some astonishment, this latest information having taken him completely by surprise, for he was not aware that the accused had a husband—especially not a man who was held in high esteem by both the Admiralty and the Wheatley and Roe Mercantile Company. Nevertheless, he could not let this interfere with the course of action.
‘Your wife? Correct me if I am wrong, sir, but were you not the man responsible for bringing about the capture of Nathaniel Wylde, the accused’s father?’
‘I was. But this trial is not about Nathaniel Wylde,’ Stuart pointed out forcefully. ‘As you said yourself, sir, he was tried and justly sentenced for his crimes.’
‘As Cassandra Everson has been—or will be, shortly,’ the judge replied imperturbably, his thin lips twisting in an expression of disdain.
‘Her name is Cassandra Marston,’ Stuart corrected him coldly. ‘Lady Cassandra Marston.’
‘Of course it is, and I realise it is only natural for a husband to defend his wife—what man would not? However, I sense you are influenced by personal emotions and nothing more. So—if you wouldn’t mind, sir, I would appreciate it if you would stand aside and allow myself and these other gentlemen present to proceed with sentencing the prisoner.’
‘And I ask to be allowed to speak for her,’ Stuart persisted, speaking authoritatively but with all due respect.
‘You should have done so earlier.’
‘Because of my efforts to trace a vital witness who would be able to vouch for both her character and the fact that she was not on board the Dolphin when she attacked the Triumph, I was unable to be here—and Cassandra Marston had absolutely nothing to do with it. I defend her because she is innocent of any crime and must be acquitted. I tell you, sir, and all present, that she stands unjustly accused. She is only guilty of being Wylde’s daughter—and if that is a crime in itself, then over half the population of England would hang for the sins of their fathers.’
The spectators loved it and roared out their approval, drowning out the orders for silence. The courtroom was loud with applause and cheering, becoming all confusion, noise and madness, and the presiding Admiralty judge was far from pleased. As he half rose out of his seat, his voice thundered out to still the uproar. He gave Stuart an angry look.
‘The trial is over. The accused has been tried and found guilty of piracy.’
‘And I say that sh
e has been found guilty on the evidence given by a villain who has perjured himself under oath to suit his own ends,’ shouted Stuart, determined to fight for Cassandra to the bitter end. ‘Jeremiah Price did not join the Dolphin’s crew until just days before she was attacked and sunk. If you condemn my wife to death, then I ask you, sir, are you prepared to burden your conscience with murder—for it will be nothing less?’
‘Enough,’ the judge expostulated, rising fully to his feet, his features becoming scarlet with sudden fury.
In fierce desperation Stuart was driven on, refusing to be deterred by the judge’s anger.
‘She spoke the truth when she told you she boarded the Spirit of Enterprise captained by Captain Samuel Tillotson at the island of Trinidad in March of last year. I have been trying to trace him for several days now to come here and testify, but he has left his home in Nottinghamshire for the north to spend time with relatives before he has to return to London and his ship. He is expected back in London a month from now and so I beg the court to adjourn the trial until then—or until others who were on board the Spirit of Enterprise at that time can be traced.’
The Admiralty judge was implacable. Captain Marston’s violent interruption to the proceedings had caught him on the raw, angering him greatly, and he was determined not to swayed by it. ‘It is only natural that you should speak up for your wife, but the trial is over,’ he said with icy precision. ‘I order you to be silent, otherwise I will have no choice but to have you bound over for contempt of court.’
He fixed his cold eyes once more on Cassandra, who felt her heart quake. She drew herself up instinctively, knowing there would be no deferment. She stood calm and erect, as if carved from stone, as she listened to him pronounce judgement, saying the doom laden, time-honoured words.
The Pirate's Daughter Page 24