Alistair Bird began his side of the proceedings by questioning the Crown’s only witness.
“Would you please state your full name for the court?”
“Richard Rasquelle.”
“And would you tell us your age?”
“I’m thirty-two years old.”
“What business are you in, Mr. Rasquelle?”
“I’m a shipping merchant.”
“How long have you been in that business, sir?”
“In Beaufort? About two years.”
“Two years. So that means you came here in spring of 1763?”
“Yes, sir,” Rasquelle answered.
Just then a representative from Ellison Smythe’s office passed a note to Mr. Bird. As Mr. Bird read the note, he wrinkled his brow and appeared to whisper something to the man who had handed him the note. “This is a bit unorthodox, don’t you think?” he was overheard saying.
The other man just nodded and encouraged Mr. Bird to proceed with the questions on the paper.
“Mr. Rasquelle, this might seem out of place in this particular trial, but I’d like to ask you for a moment about a few things, if that’s alright.”
Rasquelle crossed one leg over another and rested his hands on his knees as he nodded. “Of course.”
“Very well. You’re thought of as a bit of a hero in this town, is that right?”
William Martin was incensed. “Objection! This line of questioning is irrelevant.”
“Overruled. Please continue,” said Justice Simpkins.
William’s eyes grew wide and he turned back and looked at Emmanuel. He shrugged his shoulders to emphasize the fact that this was highly unusual for these sorts of proceedings.
Mr. Bird continued with his questioning.
“Would you tell us a little bit about how it came to be that you earned that reputation—of being a hero, that is—in this town?”
“Oh, I’m not sure that the defense team wants to hear about that,” said Rasquelle, feigning modesty.
“Please indulge the court, sir,” said Mr. Bird.
Rasquelle took a deep breath and then said, “Well, since you asked . . . Shortly after I first arrived in this town, I assisted with the rescue of a vessel that was sinking just a few miles offshore. Nothing special really. Anyone with an ounce of decency would’ve done the same.”
“My, that certainly is heroic,” said Mr. Bird. “And what was the name of that vessel, sir? Do you recall?”
Rasquelle nodded. “Of course I do. How could I forget something like that? It was called the Sea Sprite.”
“Indeed,” said Mr. Bird. “And it just so happens that you’ve recently had occasion to assist another vessel in distress. Is that right?”
“Yes, sir,” said Rasquelle. “Just a little over a week ago, in fact.”
“That’s wonderful to hear. Were you able to help with the rescue of the passengers on board? I heard there were mostly women and children.”
Rasquelle smiled. “Actually, sir, we assisted with attempting to salvage the cargo so that the customs sloop could facilitate the rescue of the passengers.”
“I see,” said Mr. Bird. “So the passengers were assisted by HMS Hornet, and your men helped with salvaging the cargo that would’ve surely been lost at sea had you not been able to come to the aid of this sinking vessel. Is that right?”
“I’m afraid so,” said Rasquelle.
“And when these rescues happen, sir, where do your men take the salvaged cargo?”
“We take it straightaway to the storage warehouse owned by the local customs office.”
“Very good. And this is standard procedure. There are never any reasons to deviate from this practice, correct?”
Rasquelle furrowed his brow, unsure of where this line of questioning was headed. “I would say that is standard procedure, sir. But if you don’t mind, sir, we’re here today to discuss the case of Emmanuel Rogers. If I won’t be needed in that capacity, I really have a great deal of work to do.”
Mr. Bird nodded. “Certainly, Mr. Rasquelle. I understand. Not to worry. I only have a couple more questions here, and I assure you that will be the last of this particular series of questions. At that point we’ll get right to the Crown’s case against Mr. Emmanuel Rogers.”
Rasquelle nodded and impatiently waited for the last questions.
“Mr. Rasquelle, would you tell the court the name of the vessel you recently assisted?”
“I believe she was called the Mary Belle.”
“And do you recall the mark on the cargo that your men salvaged from the Mary Belle?”
The color quickly left Rasquelle’s face, just as it had on the day Adam asked him about the barrels in his high-security storage room at the warehouse.
“Mr. Rasquelle, let me ask you again. Do you recall the mark on the cargo that your men salvaged from the Mary Belle?”
“Ah, no, sir. I’m afraid I don’t recall the mark on that particular cargo. We work with so much cargo every day—it’s hard to remember what’s what.”
“Certainly, I understand,” said Mr. Bird. “Perhaps we can make this a bit easier.”
Just then several men from the Royal Navy rolled into the courtroom three barrels and set them up in front of the bench.
“Mr. Rasquelle,” said Mr. Bird. “Would you say the mark on the cargo of the Mary Belle looked anything like the marks found on these casks here?”
Richard Rasquelle peered over the box and looked at the barrels lined up in front of him on the floor.
“Yes, sir. Yes, I believe those casks must be from the Mary Belle. That mark does look familiar now that I see it in front of me.”
“Do you know anything about these casks, Mr. Rasquelle?” asked Mr. Bird.
Richard Rasquelle shook his head. “I don’t recall, sir, but they’re clearly from the cargo of the Mary Belle. I’m assuming these are from the storage facility where all the cargo was stored after the rescue.”
“Thank you, Mr. Rasquelle. I have no further questions.”
“Permission to approach the bench, Your Honor,” said William Martin.
“Permission granted,” said Justice Simpkins. “Mr. Bird, I’d also like you to approach the bench.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” said Mr. Bird.
Another anxious moment or two passed while the judge arranged some documents on his desk, then motioned for an assistant to approach the bench, to whom he whispered some brief conversation.
After the assistant left the bench and made his way out of the courtroom, Alistair Bird said, “Your Honor, I apologize, but I was handed a note just before I began my questioning and I had not had the opportunity to review it.”
“I’d like to know the meaning of all of this, Your Honor,” said William Martin. “I don’t have much experience in vice-admiralty court, I’ll admit, but I’ve never seen anything like what just happened.”
“Gentlemen,” said the justice, “just moments before this trial began I received word that earlier this very day a sloop arrived in Beaufort carrying His Majesty’s Customs Inspector Edward Sheffield, and he has uncovered some troubling information. It appears that the Hornet recently discovered a young man who had been marooned on an island not too many miles from here. He was abandoned there on the orders of Mr. Bird’s witness, Richard Rasquelle.”
Alistair Bird and William Martin were stunned.
“Is it Adam Fletcher, Your Honor?” said William.
“The name of the young man was not given,” said the justice, “but we do know that he provided detailed information about Mr. Rasquelle, and it was brought to our attention that his warehouse has been housing a portion of cargo from the recently unfortunate vessel, the Mary Belle, which was said to have been lost at sea. A fact which Inspector Sheffield and his team have recently verified.”
“So why are we continuing this trial, Your Honor?” asked Mr. Bird. “Are we going to arrest Mr. Rasquelle?”
“I believe an arrest is forthcoming,” said Ju
stice Simpkins. “He was allowed to take the stand today to see if he’d acknowledge a particular case of wrongdoing on his part, and unfortunately he failed and has, in turn, perjured himself.”
Both Mr. Bird and Mr. Martin gave the judge a puzzled look.
The justice explained: “Mr. Rasquelle sent crew out with his company’s sloop to help the rescue effort when the Mary Belle was taking water. Apparently, on Rasquelle’s instructions, his men offered to help recover as much of the cargo as possible while the customs ship assisted the passengers on board. When all were brought back to this port, Mr. Rasquelle’s men claimed a substantial quantity of cargo was lost to the tides, but apparently that was untrue. The casks were, in fact, recovered by Rasquelle’s crew and simply stored in a separate compartment of the vessel. Now there is some suspicion he may have used this same tactic with the Sea Sprite—the rescue he performed a couple of years ago.”
“You know what this means, don’t you, Mr. Bird?” said William.
Bird grimaced. He knew, but William was going to tell him, anyway.
“Your chief witness—your only witness—has just been thoroughly discredited. I think the only reasonable action to take at this point is to dismiss the charges against my client and focus on your own client, who we now know is as guilty as sin.”
Bird nodded. “I agree with him, Your Honor. The charges against Emmanuel Rogers were based wholly on the sworn testimony of Richard Rasquelle. If he has now been discredited as a witness, we have no case.”
The two attorneys were instructed to return to their seats.
The judge tapped his gavel against the bench. “In light of evidence that has been brought to the court this morning, the Crown’s charges against Emmanuel Rogers are now dismissed. I’d like Mr. Richard Rasquelle to report to the marshall’s office, where, I believe, Inspector Edward Sheffield is awaiting a meeting.”
Emmanuel’s eyes grew wide and his mouth dropped open. No one could believe what had just happened, but William patted Emmanuel on the back and said, “I think your boy Fletcher may have saved the day.”
Chapter Forty
INSPECTOR SHEFFIELD WAS AWAITING RICHARD Rasquelle in the marshall’s office of the vice-admiralty court, along with Port Beaufort customs agent Ellison Smythe.
As soon as Rasquelle entered the room, Sheffield nodded at Smythe, who then unfolded a document which had been in his pocket and began to read aloud. “Richard Rasquelle, you are hereby under arrest for conspiring to deceive His Majesty’s appointed representatives serving in the British Customs Agency, as well as the captain and crew of the Mary Belle.”
“What’s the meaning of this?” asked the young merchant. He quickly looked back over each shoulder as two guards seized him and placed him in irons.
“I have done nothing wrong,” Rasquelle insisted. “What do you say is my crime? Give me an opportunity to address your accusations. I’m sure there is a reasonable explanation.”
“Of that I have no doubt,” said Smythe. “And you will have your opportunity to provide your explanations—any that you are able to concoct—when you appear before the vice-admiralty-court judge.”
“I still have a right to know the charges I am facing,” Rasquelle demanded.
“Theft of cargo belonging to the Mary Belle, perjury, and then there is your role as conspirator to kidnapping—just for a start. Shall I continue?”
Rasquelle’s face twisted up. “You can’t prove I have done any of those things. Who has accused me of committing such abhorrent acts?”
“I am accusing you,” said Sheffield. “You know a young man who lives in this town called Adam Fletcher, of course.”
Rasquelle’s face fell.
“Some of our men ran into him yesterday,” said Sheffield.
Rasquelle swallowed hard. “Is that so?”
Sheffield nodded. “Indeed it is.”
“Don’t know the boy very well, but it seems I heard he was missing. How’s he doing?” said Rasquelle.
“Funny you should ask such a question,” said Smythe. “Other than resting and attempting to recover from having been dumped on an island and left to defend against the elements for nearly a week without food or water, I’d say he’s doing quite well.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I think we all know that you know exactly what I’m talking about. As our men were bringing him into town, he explained everything that had happened, as well as what we’d find if we came and searched your warehouse.”
“You’re free to search my warehouse now,” said Rasquelle. “Have a look.”
“Ah,” said Smythe, “I thank you for your willingness to expedite the delivery of justice. However, late last night Mr. Sheffield and I, along with several members of the Royal Navy, entered your warehouse by Writ of Assistance and found everything we were looking for. In fact, where do you think we got those casks that were rolled into the courtroom a few minutes ago?”
“You came into my warehouse last night?” Rasquelle was incensed. “You broke in?”
“Call it what you like, Mr. Rasquelle,” said Smythe. “You are finished in this town.”
“You don’t understand,” said Rasquelle. “I can explain everything.”
“Fine,” said Smythe. “And like I said, you’ll get your chance in court. Meanwhile, it’s the gaol for you.”
Smythe nodded at the guards and signaled them to take Rasquelle into custody.
Chapter Forty-One
AS SOON AS COURT WAS DISMISSED, Emmanuel and company made a beeline for the Topsail Tavern. They knew if Adam really was back in town, he’d be there.
Sure enough, as soon as they set foot in the place, Valentine welcomed the men. “Congratulations, fellas. I reckon this means your troubles are behind you.”
Emmanuel nodded. “By God’s grace, yes they seem to be—for now, anyway. But more importantly, tell me something. Is the boy here?”
Valentine nodded. “He is. He was brought in by some men from the Hornet this morning. Poor boy had been marooned on an island a right good ways south of here by orders of Richard Rasquelle.”
“Good Lord!” said Emmanuel. “Is he alright?”
“Apparently he got bit by something—they think it was prob’ly a spider—a few days ago. Made him deathly sick—fever, dizziness, vomiting, all of it.”
“How on earth did they find him?” said Boaz.
“They said they spotted a dark column of smoke coming from the island when they were patrolling the area. There wasn’t any boat or ship docked nearby, so they figured they better check things out. They found him passed out there in a grove of trees near the shore, and so they placed him in care of the ship’s physician until they were able to get him back to town. The doctor says he’ll be checking back in on him before they set sail again, and then he’ll turn him over to our town doc.”
“Can we see him?” Emmanuel asked.
“I think maybe it’s best if just one or two of you go up. He’s real weak.”
Emmanuel and Boaz knocked on the door of Mary’s apartment.
“Come in,” whispered Mary.
Adam was sleeping on his old bed in the corner of the little room. Laney and Mary had moved the chairs that were usually at the dining table over near Adam’s bed and they were sitting there watching over him and visiting with one another.
“How is he?” said Emmanuel.
“Thank God he’s going to be alright, I think,” said Mary.
“Oh, Mary, I’m so sorry to have gotten him into this mess,” said Emmanuel.
She nodded. “It’s alright. My boy is home now. The doctor said it might be a couple of weeks before he’s well—says it’s a miracle he’s not worse off, all things considered. I’m going to take care of him, get him healthy again, and that’s all I care about.”
“I understand completely. He’s a hero, you know,” said the old man. “Your boy saved me. He saved a lot of people with his bravery.”
Mary smile
d.
“And you, Miss Rocksolanah, I reckon you’ve had a bit of an exciting morning with all that’s gone on here, haven’t you?”
Laney smiled and nodded. “I’m just thankful he’s here and he’s going to be fine. I never got a chance to tell him how much I appreciated his warnings—until today.”
“Well, your brother will be here to take you home soon,” said Emmanuel. “He’s back at the courthouse right now taking care of some business.”
Laney nodded. “That’s fine. I’m just enjoying visiting with Miss Fletcher and Adam right now.”
Emmanuel came over and stood near where Mary and Laney sat by Adam’s bed. He put his hand on Mary’s shoulder. “He’s obviously been raised by a fine, virtuous woman. You have much to be proud of.”
“Thank you,” said Mary, “but I’m afraid I can’t take credit for Adam’s courage. If it would have been up to me, I’d have tried to talk him out of getting involved like he did. I reckon Providence had other plans, though.”
Emmanuel nodded. “Well, I’m glad to hear he’s doing alright. We’ll leave him here to rest. Just let him know—”
Just then Adam lifted his head from the pillow on his bed. “Mr. Rogers?”
Emmanuel’s face lit up. He looked at Mary for permission to speak to the boy. She nodded. The old man grabbed a chair that was nearby and brought it over next to the bed to sit down and talk to the patient.
“My dear boy! You’re alright,” he said.
Adam nodded. “I’m alright. My throat’s sore, though,” he said in a gravelly whisper. “It got so dry.”
“No need for you to speak,” said Emmanuel. “I just want to tell you that I think your deeds were heroic, and I am forever indebted to you for your courage in trying to help me in my circumstances.”
“Did everything turn out alright?” asked Adam.
Emmanuel nodded. “Indeed it did. The charges were all dismissed. And it appears that Richard Rasquelle has just been arrested.”
“What about Reading?” Adam asked.
The Smuggler's Gambit (Adam Fletcher Adventure Series Book 1) Page 24