State Trials, Political and Social. Volume 2 (of 2)

by Unknown

FOOTNOTES:

[43] Spencer Cowper (1669-1727) was the younger brother of Earl Cowper, who was the first Lord Chancellor of Great Britain. He was educated at Westminster, and made Controller of the Bridge House Estates in 1690. At the time of this trial his brother was the member for Hertford. In 1705 and 1708 he represented Beeralston in Parliament; he was one of the managers in Sacheverell's trial, and lost his seat in consequence, but was afterwards elected for Truro in 1711. In 1714 he became Attorney-General to the Prince of Wales, and in 1717 Chief-Justice of Chester. On the accession of George the Second he was made Attorney-General of the Duchy of Chester, and a Judge of the Common Pleas in 1727. He died the same year. He was the grandfather of William Cowper the poet.

[44] Sir Henry Hatsell (1641-1714) was the son of an active Roundhead who sat in the House of Commons during the Commonwealth. He was educated at Exeter College, was called to the Bar in 1667, and became a Baron of the Exchequer in 1697. The present trial was the most conspicuous with which he was connected, from which fact it may be supposed that he never enjoyed a very high reputation. He was removed from the Bench soon after Queen Anne's accession.

[45] This John Dimsdale was apparently the father of the first Baron Dimsdale, who inoculated Catharine of Russia and the Grand Duke Paul, her son, for smallpox in 1728. John's father was William, who accompanied William Penn to America in 1684; so that it is not clear who the Mr. Dimsdale, senior, and Dr. Robert Dimsdale of this trial were. The family is, however, one which has long been settled in Hertfordshire.

[46] Vulgar Errors, Book IV., ch. vi., 'Of Swimming and Floating.'

[47] The Lord of the Manor might have a right to the forfeited goods of a felon.

[48] Sir Hans Sloane (1660-1753) was born in Co. Down. He studied medicine abroad, and was elected a member of the Royal Society in 1685. In 1687 he went to the West Indies as secretary to the Duke of Albemarle, and made valuable scientific collections. He was elected secretary of the Royal Society in 1693, and succeeded Sir Isaac Newton as president of the same body in 1727. He was physician to Queen Anne and George the Second, and founded the botanical garden at Chelsea for the Society of Apothecaries. He left his collections to the nation, and they formed part of the original nucleus of the British Museum. Sloane Street and Hans Square derive their names from him.

[49] The lay reader must observe that Sloane is talking of the 'civil law.'

[50] William Cowper (1666-1709) was a leading surgeon at the time of this trial, having been elected a member of the Royal Society in 1696, and in 1698 having published a treatise on anatomy, which led to a vigorous controversy between him and a Dutch doctor of the name Bidloo, whose anatomical plates he seems to have adopted for his own work. He subsequently published a variety of papers on surgery, and was the discoverer of Cowper's glands.

SAMUEL GOODERE AND OTHERS

On the 18th of March 1741, at the Bristol Gaol-delivery, Samuel Goodere,[51] Matthew Mahony, and Charles White were indicted for the murder of Sir John Dineley Goodere, the brother of the first-named prisoner. They were tried before Serjeant Michael Foster.[52] The trial was adjourned to the 26th on account of Goodere's health, when there appeared for the prosecution Vernon, and for the prisoner Goodere, Shepard and Frederick. The other prisoners were undefended.

Vernon opened the case. He began—

May it please you, Mr. Recorder, and you, gentlemen that are sworn on the jury, I am counsel for the King against the prisoners at the bar, who stand indicted for the murder of sir John Dineley Goodere; they are also charged on the coroner's inquest with the same murder; and though it is impossible for human nature not to feel some emotions of tenderness at so affecting a sight as now presents itself at the bar; yet, gentlemen, should the guilt of this black and frightful murder be fixed upon the prisoners (as from my instructions I fear it will be), pity must then give way to horror and astonishment at the baseness and barbarity of the fact and circumstances; and our sorrow ought to be that, through the lenity of the laws, the unnatural author and contriver of so shocking a piece of cruelty, and this, his brutal accomplice in the ruffianly execution of it, should be to share the common fate of ordinary malefactors.

He then proceeds to point out that the indictment alleges that Mahony strangled the deceased, and that Goodere was present aiding and abetting him in the act; that therefore it would be immaterial for the jury which of the two actually committed the act, if they were acting together; and that it would not be material whether they strangled the deceased with a rope, a handkerchief, or their hands, 'so the kind of death be proved.' Goodere was Sir John's brother, and there had long been a quarrel between them owing to various causes, particularly because Sir John had cut off the entail of a property in Worcestershire, to which Goodere would otherwise have been the heir in default of Sir John's issue. He had recently been appointed captain of the Ruby man-of-war, and in January last she was lying in the King's road, within the county of Bristol. Sir John had been ordered to Bath for his health, and had made an engagement to call, on his way there, at the house of Mr. Jarrit Smith, in Bristol, to transact some business. Goodere had asked Smith to arrange a meeting between him and his brother to effect a reconciliation, and accordingly this visit, which was to take place on Tuesday the 13th of January, had been fixed upon for the purpose. On Monday the 12th, Goodere and Mahony called at the White Hart Inn, near the foot of College Green, in view of, and almost opposite to, Smith's house; and Goodere, commending the view from a closet above the porch, ordered breakfast to be prepared for him there the next day. On Tuesday, Goodere, accompanied by Mahony, and a gang of men belonging to a privateer called the Vernon, whom he had hired to assist him in seizing Sir John, 'but whom one would have thought, the name of that gallant admiral should have inspired with nobler sentiments,' came to the White Hart, where Goodere went upstairs to the closet he had ordered, and the others posted themselves below to watch for Sir John. He soon arrived, armed with pistols, and followed by a servant, but only made a short stay at Mr. Smith's, promising to come again the next Sunday. He was too well protected for it to be advisable to interfere with his movements, but Goodere's men, at his order, followed him a little way down the hill as he left the house. Mr. Smith afterwards told Goodere that his brother would return the next Sunday, and advised him to be in the way, that he might bring them together. Goodere accordingly made all his arrangements to effect his purpose. He ordered one Williams, a midshipman, to bring up the man-of-war's barge on Sunday, to leave it at a point a little below Bristol, with two or three men in charge of her, and to bring on the rest of the crew to meet him at the White Hart, explaining that he was going to bring some one on board. Accordingly, on the Sunday, Goodere, the barge-men, and the privateersmen, all met at the White Hart; and at three in the afternoon Goodere went across to Mr. Smith's. There he met his brother, with whom he spent some time, conversing and drinking with him apparently on perfectly friendly terms. After half an hour, however, Sir John rose to go, followed by his brother; as soon as they got into the street Goodere made a sign to his men in the White Hart, who immediately seized Sir John, and partly led him, and partly carried him towards the boat which was waiting for them, as Goodere had ordered. Sir John made what resistance he could, calling out that he was ruined, and that his brother was going to take his life; his captors, however, explained to bystanders who tried to interfere that he was a murderer, whom they were arresting, and kept off the crowd by means of the bludgeons and truncheons with which they were armed. They could not prevent Sir John, however, from calling out, as he was being put into the barge, that he was going to be murdered, that the people by were to tell Mr. Smith, and that his name was Sir John Dineley. The privateersmen were landed lower down the river, and at about seven in the evening Sir John was brought on board the Ruby. There his brother pretended to the crew that he was a madman, and shut him up in the purser's cabin, on to the door of which he had two new bolts fitted. A sentry was posted outside the door, but at some time after midnight he was relieved by Goodere himself, who admitted Mahony and White, keeping back another man from approaching it. A struggle was heard in the cabin, and Sir John calling out, 'Murder! must I die! Help, for God's sake! save my life, here are twenty guineas, take it!' Then Mahony called for a light, which was handed in to him by Goodere, while he still kept another man away from the cabin door by his cutlass. Goodere then withdrew to his cabin, and Mahony and White were put ashore in the ship's yawl. In the morning the ship's cooper, who had heard Sir John calling out, and in fact seen a part of the attack on him through a chink, broke open the door of the purser's cabin and found the dead body. Goodere was then arrested by the crew, and brought before the Mayor of Bristol, where he denied all knowledge of the matter.

Shepard asked that the witnesses for the prosecution should be ordered out of court.

Vernon replied that he had no right to this, and that as it would seem to cast a slur upon their honesty he objected to it being done.

Shepard admitted that he had no right to it, but asked it as a favour; on which all witnesses were ordered to leave the court, an exception being made in favour of Mr. Jarrit Smith, who claimed a right to be present as he was prosecuting solicitor as well as a witness.

Chamberlayn was called, and said that about three weeks before the death of Sir John he was asked by Goodere to interpose with Mr. Jarrit Smith to bring about a reconciliation between him and Sir John. He went to Mr. Smith as he was asked to, and he promised to do all he could in the matter. The brothers had been at law a long while, and spent a great deal of money, and that was why Goodere wanted Mr. Smith to bring about a reconciliation between them.

Jarrit Smith was then called, and deposed that Mr. Chamberlayn had brought him the message he had described, and had brought Goodere to his house, and that he had promised him to do what he could to bring about a reconciliation.

Some little time after they were gone, I saw sir John, and told him that Mr. Goodere had applied to me to do all I could to reconcile them. Sir John seemed to speak much against it at first, and thought it would be to no purpose; for that he had been a real friend to the captain, who had used him very ill; but at last he was pleased to pass a compliment on me, and said, I cannot refuse anything you ask of me. He then mentioned several things the captain had said; and in particular told me that at the death of sir Edward Goodere, his father, Mr. Goodere, the prisoner, had placed several persons in the house where sir Edward lay dead, in order to do him some mischief, and he apprehended to take away his life.

Shepard—I must submit it to the Court, that what sir John said at that time is not a matter of evidence.

The Recorder—It is not evidence, but perhaps it is introductory to something Mr. Smith has further to say; if it be not, it should not have been mentioned.

Smith—And that he had endeavoured to set aside a common recovery, and made strong application to the Court of Common Pleas for that purpose.

Shepard—Whether this be evidence, I insist upon it that in point of law it is not, and it may have an effect on the jury.

The Recorder—I will take notice to the jury what is not evidence. Go on, Mr. Smith.

Smith—After sir John had repeated several stories of this sort, he concluded at last (as I told you before), And why, Mr. Smith, if you ask it of me, I can't refuse. I saw Mr. Goodere soon after, and told him I had seen sir John and talked with him, and he was pleased to tell me, that he would see him, and bid me contrive a convenient place to bring them together. I told Mr. Goodere about the attempt to set aside the recovery. I wonder, said Mr. Goodere, he should mention anything of that, for I can set it aside when I please. I told him, I thought he could not; for, said I, I have a good opinion on it, and am to lend a large sum of money on the Worcestershire estate. He said, I wonder that any body will lend him money on that estate; I am next in remainder, and they will run a risk of losing their money, I do assure you; and he cannot borrow a shilling on it without my consent: but if my brother was reconciled, then, if we wanted money, we might do it together, for he cannot secure it alone. He told me, that he should take it as a great favour, if I could fix a time as soon as I could to bring them together. Soon after I saw sir John, and he told me he was very deaf, and was advised to go to Bath, and then appointed to be with me on Tuesday, the 13th of January last, in the morning, when he would talk with me about the business of advancing the money on his estate. After this I saw Mr. Goodere, and told him that I had seen his brother; that he was to be with me on Tuesday, the 13th of January last, and desired him to be in the way, for sir John was always very punctual to his appointment; and if business or anything happened to prevent him he always sent me a letter. Mr. Goodere thanked me, and told me he would be in the way; and on the Tuesday morning sir John came to me on horseback, just alighted and came into my office. I asked him to sit down, which he refused, saying his head was bad; that he must go for Bath, having been advised to go there for some time, and then he did not doubt but he should be better. I told sir John, that his brother knew he was to be in town therefore hoped he would sit down a little, for that I had promised him to bring them together. He said, I can't now, but you shall see me again soon, and then I may do it. I asked him, when shall I see you again, to finish the business you and I are upon? the writings are ready, name your own time, the money will be paid. He appointed to be with me on Monday morning to settle that business; and said, I shall come to town the Saturday or Sunday before, and when I come I will let you know it: he then mounted his horse and rid off. Shortly after (as I was going to the Tolzey) at, or under Blind-gate, I met Mr. Goodere, and told him I was glad to see him and that his brother had been in town. He said he had seen him and thought he looked better than he used to do. I told Mr. Goodere that his brother had appointed to be with me on Monday morning next on business, and I expected him to be in town either the Saturday or Sunday before. I then had many compliments from Mr. Goodere, and he said, how good it would be to make up the matter between him and his brother. I heard nothing of sir John being in town till Sunday the 18th of January last, in the morning, when he sent me a letter to let me know that he came to town the night before, and would be glad to call upon me at any time I would appoint. I sent him for answer, that I was to dine from home, but would return and be at home at three o'clock that afternoon. And as I was passing by, I stopt the coach at captain Goodere's lodgings in Princes Street. I asked if he was at home? Found him alone, and then shewed him sir John's letter. He read it, and asked the time I appointed. I told him three o'clock that afternoon. Said he, I think my brother writes better than he used to do. I said, Mr. Goodere, I think it would be best for you to be accidentally on purpose at that time at my house. No, says he, I don't think that will be so well, I think it would be better for you to send for me. I returned to my house, and my servant told me that sir John had called, and that he would be here again presently. Whilst my servant was telling this, sir John came in; I took him by the hand, and asked him how he did? I thank God, says he, I am something better; and after I have settled this affair with you, I will go to Bath for some time, and then, I hope, I shall be better. I said, captain Goodere is waiting, I beg you will give me leave to send for him; you know you said you would see him. With all my heart, says sir John, I know I gave you leave. I then sent down a servant to captain Goodere's lodgings, to let him know sir John was with me, and desired him to come up. The servant returned, and said, Here is captain Goodere; on which I said, sir John, please to give me leave to introduce your brother. He gave me leave: captain Goodere came in, went directly and kissed him as heartily as ever I had seen any two persons who had real affection one for the other. I desired them to sit down. Sir John sat on one side of the fire, and captain Goodere on the other, and I sate between them. I called for a table and a bottle of wine, and filling a full glass, I said, sir John, give me leave to drink love and friendship. Ay, with all my heart, says sir John; I don't drink wine, nothing but water; notwithstanding, I wish love and friendship. Captain Goodere filled a bumper, and pledged it, spoke to his brother, and drank love and friendship with his brother's health. We sate some time, all seemed well, and I thought I could have reconciled them. The cork lying out of the bottle, captain Goodere takes up the cork in his hand, put it into the mouth of the bottle and struck it in very hard. I then said, though sir John will not drink wine, you and I will. No, says captain Goodere, I will drink water too, if I drink any more; and there was no more drank. After they had talked several things (particularly captain Goodere of the pleasantness of the situation of the estate in Herefordshire and goodness of the land) in a very pleasant and friendly way, sir John rose up, and said, Mr. Smith, what time would you have me be with you to-morrow morning? I appointed nine o'clock. He said, Brother, I wish you well; then said to me, I will be with you half an hour before. Sir John went down the steps; the captain was following; I stopt him, and said, Pray don't go, captain, let you and I drink a glass of wine. No more now, I thank you, sir, said he. I think, said I, I have done great things for you. He paused a little and said, By God, it will not do; and in a very short time the captain went very nimbly down the steps. I followed him to the door, and observed him to go after sir John down the hill; and before he turned the churchyard wall, to be out of my sight, I observed some sailors come out of the White Hart ale-house, within view of my door, and they ran up to captain Goodere. I heard him say, Is he ready? (I thought he meant the boat), they said, Yes. He bid them make haste. Then they ran very fast towards the lower-green, one of them having a bottle in his hand; captain Goodere went very fast down the hill, and had it not been by mere accident I should have followed him (but some people think it was well I did not), for I promised my wife to return to the house where we dined in Queen's-square, where I went soon after.

Mr. Recorder—Mr. Smith, did they all go toward the lower green?

Smith—No, Sir; but some towards the butts on St. Augustine's back. Sir John went that way, and captain Goodere followed him; but the men who came out of the ale-house went toward the lower green some of them. About 5 o'clock in the evening, as I was riding up the hill towards the College-green I observed a soldier looked hard at me into the coach, as if he had something to say, and seemed to be in a confusion. I walked into the court, the soldier with me, and then he said, I am informed, Sir, your name is Mr. Jarrit Smith. Yes, says I, it is. (What I am now going to say, Mr. Recorder, is what the soldier told me.) He told me, that as he was drinking with a friend at the King's Head ale-house at the Lime-kilns, he heard a noise, and ran out to see what was the matter, when he saw a person dressed (as he described) like sir John's dress.

Vernon—Pray, Sir, how was sir John dressed?

Smith—Sir John was dressed in black clothes, he had a ruffled shirt on, a scarlet cloak, a black velvet cap (for the sake of keeping his ears warm) and a broad-brimmed hat flapping. He described this exactly, and told me likewise, that the captain of the man-of-war and his crew had got the person into custody, and by force had put him on board the man-of-war's barge or boat lying near the Slip, by the King's Head; that the gentleman cried out, For God's sake if you have any pity or compassion upon an unfortunate man, go to Mr. Jarrit Smith, and tell him how I am used: and that the captain hearing him cry out, stopt his mouth with his hand.

Mr. Recorder—What did the soldier desire of you?

Smith—The soldier desired me to enquire into it, for that he did not know the intention of taking off a gentleman in that way.

Mr. Recorder—Did you do any thing on that request of the soldier?

Smith—Yes, Sir; it immediately occurred to me, that sir John, when he left my house, told me that he was going to his lodgings. I went to his lodgings (which was at one Mr. Berrow's near the mint), I there asked for him, and related the story I had heard; they told me they had not seen him since he went to my house.

Vernon—Mr. Smith, Sir, will you inform us by what name the unfortunate gentleman (you are speaking of) was commonly called?

Smith—Sir John Dineley Goodere; his mother was a Dineley, and there came a great estate from her side to him, which occasioned his being called by the name of Dineley.

Vernon—When sir John went from your house on Tuesday, was he alone, or had he any attendants with him?

Smith—Sir John was well guarded; he had pistols, and I think his servant had pistols also.

Vernon—I think you told us but now, that sir John was to be with you on Sunday; pray, when did you let Mr. Goodere know it, Sir?

Smith—I met captain Goodere that very day at Blind-gate, and told him of it; and he said, he had met his brother himself.

Vernon—Pray, Sir, did Mr. Goodere tell you, to whom the estate would go on sir John's death?

Smith—Yes, he has often said he was the next remainder man, and that the estate would come to himself on his brother's death.

Mr. Recorder—Well, Mr. Goodere, you have heard what Mr. Smith hath said, have you any questions to ask him?

Mr. Shepard—Mr. Recorder, what I have to ask of you, with submission, in behalf of Mr. Goodere, is, that you will indulge counsel to put his questions for him to the Court, and that the Court will then be pleased to put them for him to the witnesses. It is every day's practice at the courts of Westminster, Old Bailey, and in the Circuit.

Vernon replied that the matter was entirely in the discretion of the Court, and that Shepard could ask for nothing as a matter of right.

The judges, I apprehend, act as they see fit on these occasions, and few of them (as far as I have observed) walk by one and the same rule in this particular; some have gone so far as to give leave for counsel to examine and cross-examine witnesses, others have bid counsel propose their questions to the court; and others again have directed that the prisoner should ask his own questions; the method of practice in this point is very variable and uncertain; but this we certainly know, that by the settled rule of law the prisoner is allowed no other counsel but the court in matters of fact, and ought either to ask his own questions of the witnesses, or else propose them himself to the Court.

He then asked Jarrit Smith one more question, to which he replied.

Vernon—Sir, I think you were present when Mr. Goodere was brought to Bristol after his brother's being killed; I'd be glad to know whether you then heard him say anything, and what, concerning this foul business?

Smith—I was present when Mr. Goodere was brought to Bristol after this murder happened, when he was asked (before the justices) about the seizing, detaining and murdering sir John Dineley; and he then directly answered that he did not know that his brother was murdered or dead. He was then asked in relation to the manner of seizing him, and carrying him away; he said he knew nothing of it till he came to the boat, and when he came there he saw his brother in the boat; but he did not know that his brother had been used at that rate.

Shepard—Mr. Smith, Sir, you are speaking about sir John; by what name did you commonly call him?

Smith—Sir John Dineley Goodere.

The Recorder—Mr. Goodere, have you any questions to ask Mr. Smith?

Goodere—Yes, Sir. Mr. Smith, I ask you what sir John Dineley's business was with you, and how much money were you to advance?

Smith—Five thousand pounds, Sir; and I told him that I was satisfied that it was a good title.

Goodere—I ask you if you knew him to be a knight and a baronet?

Smith—I can't tell; I never saw the letters patent.

Goodere—Can't you tell how you styled him in the writings?

Vernon objected to this, because baronetage must be derived from letters-patent, and therefore could not be properly proved by Mr. Smith's personal knowledge; and added that it was not material, because the indictment alleged that the person murdered was Sir John Dineley Goodere, and the prosecution would prove that he usually went by that name.

To this Shepard answered that if the person killed was a baronet, and was not so described, there was a misdescription, and the prisoners could not be convicted on that indictment.

Vernon then argued at some length that the necessity of setting out a personal description in an indictment applied only to the defendant, and that all that the law required in the description of the person on whom the offence was committed was a convenient certainty; and that a description by the Christian and surname sufficed. Besides, this was all begging the question, for as it did not appear in proof that the deceased was a baronet, he might, for all that appeared judicially, have been christened Sir John.

Had we called the deceased in the indictment sir John Dineley Goodere baronet, then, Sir, we should probably have been told that we had failed in proof of the identity of the person, for that the baronetage was in its creation annexed to, and made a concomitant on, the patentee's name of Goodere, and waited only on that name; and that the deceased, considered as a baronet, was not of the maternal name of Dineley, and so upon the matter no such person as sir John Dineley Goodere baronet ever existed in rerum natura.[53]

Shepard pointed out that they could not be expected to produce letters-patent to show that the deceased was a baronet, because the prisoner had not been allowed to see, or to have a copy of his indictment; and that it was only on hearing it read that the defence became aware that the deceased was not described as a baronet. He therefore hoped that Goodere might be allowed to ask the question he proposed of Mr. Smith, who having been familiar with Sir John, and seen all his papers and title-deeds, must know the certainty of his title and degree.

The Recorder held that it was sufficient if the deceased was described by his Christian and surname; and that the question proposed to the witness was improper, for that it was not material whether the deceased was a baronet or not.[54]

Morris Hobbs was the landlord of the White Hart. He could see Mr. Jarrit Smith's house from his windows; and had seen the prisoners before.

Vernon—I would not lead you in your evidence, but would be glad you'd give an account to Mr. Recorder, and the jury, whether Mr. Goodere (the gentleman at the bar) applied to you about coming to your house; if so, pray tell us when it was, and upon what occasion?

Hobbs—The 12th of January (which was on Monday) captain Goodere and Mahony came to my house; captain Goodere asked my wife, Have you good ale here? She said, Yes; he also asked, What place have you over-head? I answered, A closet, a place where gentlemen usually sit to look out. Will you please to let me see it, says he? Yes, Sir, said I. I went up to shew it, he and Mahony went up; the captain said it was a very fine prospect of the town; he asked for a pint of ale, I drawed it, and he gave it to Mahony, he drank it: and then the captain asked my wife, whether he might have a dish of coffee made to-morrow morning? Sir, said she, it is a thing I don't make use of in my way; but, if you please, I will get it for you. Then he told her, he would be there to-morrow morning by about nine o'clock. Mahony was by then.

Vernon—Did you hear this discourse pass between your wife and Mr. Goodere?

Hobbs—Yes, I did, and then the captain paid for his pint of ale, and went away; and the next morning (being Tuesday the 13th of January) he came again to my house before my wife was up, and I was making the fire (for I keep no servant). I did not know him again, I thought he was another man; says he, Landlord, can't you open them windows in the parlour? I told him, I would, and so I did; he looked out, and I thought that he had been looking for somebody coming from College prayers. He asked where my wife was? Says I, she is a-bed: because, said he, I talked with her about having some coffee for breakfast. I told him, she should come down presently, but I had much rather he would go down to the coffee-house, where he would have it in order. No, says he, I will have it here. My wife came down, he asked if he might go upstairs where he was before; he went up, and by and by Mahony and three men more came in; I did not know Mahony's name; when they came in, the captain was above stairs; he directed me to make his men eat and drink whatever they would, and he would pay for it; I brought them bread and cheese, they eat what they pleased; Mahony went backwards and forwards, up stairs and down several times; he went out, but where, or what for, I did not know.

Vernon—Did Mahony, when he went up stairs, go in to Mr. Goodere?

Hobbs—Yes, several times; Mahony put the coffee, and some bread and butter, and made the toast, and did everything for the captain, I thought he had been his footman. When the captain had breakfasted, and had made the men welcome, he shifted himself (some porter brought fresh clothes to him). By and by a man rid along, who, I believe, was sir John Goodere's man, with pistols before him; I heard somebody say that it was his man: and soon after the captain had shifted himself, Mahony went out about a quarter of an hour, and came back sweating, and went up to the captain; and I looking out of the window saw the man on horseback, and leading another horse (which I took to be his master's) and by and by sir John mounted, and rid down between my house and the church; and I had some glimpse of him, and heard the captain say, Look well at him, but don't touch him.

The Recorder—This you heard the gentleman above stairs say to the four men below?

Hobbs—Yes, Sir, he spoke these words to the four who came in.

Vernon—Did sir John and his man appear to have any arms?

Hobbs—Yes, Sir, they had both pistols before them.

Vernon—Those men that were along with Mahony, do you know what ship they belonged to?

Hobbs—There was a young man, I believe something of an officer, came to my wife, and asked her, Is the captain of the man-of-war here? She answered that she did not know; but there was a gentleman above, and there were six other men besides in the other room in another company, which I did not know belonged to the captain, until he ordered six pints of ale for them. The captain ordered entertainment for ten men.

Vernon—Where were those six men?

Hobbs—In the kitchen; they did not belong to the man-of-war, nor were not in company with the other four.

Vernon—Now, will you proceed to give an account what followed upon Mr. Goodere's saying, Look well at him, but don't touch him.

Hobbs—As soon as sir John went down the hill, this Mahony stept up to the captain and came down again, and he and the other three in his company went down the hill, and the captain followed them; the clothes which the captain pulled off were left in the room; when the captain was going out at the door with his sword and cloak, I thought I was pretty safe of my reckoning, because of his clothes being left. The captain said at the door, Landlady, I will come back and pay you presently.

Vernon—How long was it before Mr. Goodere returned to your house?

Hobbs—He came again in about a quarter of an hour: When he came again, he went upstairs, changed a guinea, he asked what was to pay? I told him four shillings and one penny half-penny, and then went away. About an hour and a half after Mahony and the other came again, sweating, and said they had been a mile or two out in the country. Mahony asked credit for a tankard of ale, and said his master would come up on Saturday following, and then he would pay for it: Well, said I, if he is to come up on Saturday, I will not stand for a tankard of ale; but if he don't come, how shall I have my reckoning? Says Mahony, I live at the Scotch arms in Marsh-street. Well, said I, I will not deny drawing you a tankard of ale, if you never pay me. Said he, You had best get the room ready against Saturday, and make a fire, and just dust it.

Vernon—Pray, when Mr. Goodere went away from your house was he in the same dress as when he came that day?

Hobbs—No, Sir. When he came there he had a light-coloured coat, and he looked like a country farmer at his first coming in; but when he was out, he had a scarlet cloak on, wore a sword, and had a cane in his hand; a porter brought him the things.

Vernon—Do you know any thing of what happened on the Sunday following?

Hobbs—Yes, Sir; the Sunday morning Mahony came to my house, having trousers, a short jacket and leather cap on, asked for a quart of ale, this was Sunday: My wife said, Don't draw any more upon tick. Mahony gave a sixpence and paid for it, and said, See that the room be clear, the captain will be up in the afternoon, and then he will be here; And as he was going out of the house, he said to me, If you fortune to see that gentleman go up with the black cap before that time, do you send a porter to me to the Scotch arms. I told him I had no porter, and could not send. About 3 o'clock in the afternoon when he came again with a person who had a scalled face, and one or two more, a man who lodged in the house came and told me, that they wanted to go up stairs; but I would not let them, because it was in service-time. They all went into the parlour, and had a quart of ale, and when that was drunk, Mahony called for another; and then eight or nine men more came and called for ale, and went into the parlour, but still kept looking out; and one of them being a little fellow, I don't know his name, kept slamming the door together, ready to break the house down. Says I, Don't break my house down about my ears, don't think you are in Marsh-street; then the little fellow came up as if he was going to strike me, as I was coming up out of the cellar with a dobbin of ale in my hand, for a gentleman going to the college; I saw this gentleman (pointing to the prisoner Samuel Goodere) and the deceased walk down the hill, I looked after them, and so did Mahony; and then all those men rushed out, and followed them. Mahony paid the reckoning, and went away: I ran in to see after my tankard for I was more afraid of losing that than the reckoning. And that is all I do know from the beginning to the end.

Vernon—How long did he continue at your house on the Sunday?

Hobbs—I believe, Sir, an hour and a half; and there was some or other of them still looking out and waiting at the door.

The Recorder—You say that Mahony desired you that if you saw the gentleman in the black cap go by, to send a porter; who did you apprehend that gentleman to be?

Hobbs—The gentleman that rode down the Tuesday.

One of the Jury—To what place were you to send the porter?

Hobbs—To the Scotch arms in Marsh-street, where Mahony lodged, if the gentleman in the black cap did go up to Mr. Smith's.

Vernon—I think, you say, you saw Mr. Goodere on the Sunday go down the hill, after the gentleman in the black cap?

Hobbs—I did, Sir; but nobody at all was with him.

Goodere—Did you see me at all that day?

Hobbs—Yes, Sir, I saw you go into Mr. Jarrit Smith's; and when you came down the hill, after the gentleman in the black cap, you called out to Mahony and his company, and bid them to look sharp.

Goodere—Did you see anybody with me that day? I was not at your house that day.

Hobbs—I did not say you were; but as you was going to Mr. Jarrit Smith's, I heard one of your men say, There goes our captain, or else I had not looked out.

Mahony—I beg leave, my lord, to ask him, who it was that the captain bid Mahony to look sharp to?

Hobbs—The gentleman with the black cap.

The Recorder—Was the gentleman in the black cap, at whose going by they all rushed out, the same gentleman whom you had seen before go to Mr. Jarrit Smith's?

Hobbs—Yes, Sir, but Mahony gave half-a-crown for my reckoning, and as they rushed out so hastily, I was afraid they had taken away my tankard; for which reason I went to look after it, and saw no more.

Thomas Williams, sworn.

Vernon—Mr. Williams, I think you belonged to the Ruby at the time when this melancholy affair happened?

Williams—Yes, Sir.

Vernon—What station were you in?

Williams—I was ordered to walk the quarter-deck.

Vernon—Will you give an account of what you know in relation to the ill-treatment of sir John Dineley Goodere? Tell all you know about it.

Williams—I came up on Sunday the 18th day of January last for my commander, went to his lodgings, he was not at home. I was told there that he dined that day at Dr. Middleton's and he was just gone there. I went to Dr. Middleton's after him, and he was just gone from thence; I then returned to his lodgings and found him there; I told him the barge was waiting for his honour. He asked me if I knew the river, and if I knew the brick-yard at the lime-kilns? I told him that I knew the lime-kilns, and at last I recollected that I did remember the brick-yard he meant. That is well enough, says he. While I was there, Mahony came up to him, and the captain desired of me to go down stairs, for he wanted to speak to Mahony in private. I went down stairs, by and by Mahony came down and went away; then I went up to captain Goodere again, when he directed me to get all the hands together, and go down into the barge, and, says he, let it be landed at the brick-yard. He asked me, if I knew the White Hart in the College Green? I told him, I did, and he directed me to take eight men up with me to the White Hart, and let two remain in the boat for I have a gentleman coming on board with me. I did as I was ordered; and when I came to the White Hart, I saw Mahony and some of the privateer's men with him there in a room; I did not like their company; I went into the kitchen; I asked the landlord to make me a pint of toddy; he asked me, whether I would have it hot or cold; I told him a little warm; he was going about it but before it was made, Mahony and the privateer's men rushed out of the house: I seeing that, followed them; they had the gentleman in possession before I came to them, and were dragging him along. I asked them what they were at? One of the privateer's men told me, if I did not hold my tongue he would throw me over the key into the river, and immediately captain Goodere came there himself; The privateer's men asked what they should do with him, and he directed them to take him on board the barge. I followed them down the butts, the gentleman cried out Murder, murder! Mr. Stephen Perry, the anchor-smith, came out of his house, and asked me what was the matter; I told him I did not know: Mahony said he was a murderer, he had killed a man on board the man-of-war, and that he had run away; they had carried him before a magistrate, and he was ordered back to the man-of-war to be tried by a court-martial.

The Recorder—Was the captain within hearing at the time Mahony said that?

Williams—He was just behind.

The Recorder—Was he within hearing?

Williams—He was; and when they had brought him into the barge captain Goodere desired to have the cloak put over sir John to keep him from the cold, but sir John said he did not want a cloak, neither would he have it. The privateer's men wanted me to put them on the other side the water, but I said I would not without the captain's orders. They asked the captain, and he directed me to do it, and I put them ashore at the glass-house, and just as we came over against the hot-wells, there was a gentleman standing whom sir John knew, to whom sir John cried out, Sir, do you know Mr. Jarrit Smith? But before he could speak any more, the cloak was thrown over him to prevent his crying out, and the captain told me to steer the barge on the other side, until we got clear of the noise of the people; and when we were got clear, he directed me to steer the boat in the middle, as I ought to do. I obeyed his orders.

The Recorder—Who threw the cloak over him?

Williams—The captain. And the captain being as near to sir John as I am to your lordship, sir John asked the captain what he was going to do with him? Says the captain, I am going to carry you on board, to save you from ruin, and from lying rotting in a gaol.

Vernon—And what reply did sir John make to that?

Williams—He said, I know better things, I believe you are going to murder me; you may as well throw me overboard, and murder me here right, as carry me on board ship and murder me. No, says the captain, I am not going to do any such thing, but I would have you make your peace with God. As I steered the boat, I heard all that passed. We brought sir John on board between 7 and 8 o'clock, he could hardly go up into the ship, he being so benumbed with cold; he did go up of his own accord, with the men's assistance.

Vernon—How was he treated on board the man-of-war?

Williams—Sir, I don't know how they treated him after he went on board the ship. I was excused from watching that night so I went to my hammock; but after I was got out of my first sleep, I heard some people talking and walking about backwards and forwards: I was surprised; at last I peeped out of my hammock, and asked the centinel what was o'clock. He said, between two and three. And then I saw captain Goodere going down the ladder from the deck towards the purser's cabin, but for what intention I know not. I believe he came from his own cabin.

The Recorder—Whereabout is the purser's cabin?

Williams—The purser's cabin is in a place called the Cockpit, the lower steps of the ladder is just by the door of the purser's cabin.

The Recorder—And it was that ladder you saw the captain go down, was it?

Williams—Yes, Sir, it was.

Vernon—Mr. Williams, you have not told us all the particulars of sir John's treatment between the seizing and carrying him to the barge.

Williams—One of the men had hold of one arm, and another the other, and a third person was behind shoving him along.

Vernon—Where was captain Goodere then?

Williams—He was just behind him.

Vernon—How near was he to him?

Williams—Sometimes he was as near to him as I am to you.

The Recorder—How many were there in the company, do you think, in the rope-walk, when they were carrying sir John along?

Williams—There were five of the privateer's men, and Mahony made six, and there were nine belonging to the barge; about sixteen in all.

Recorder—At what distance were you?

Williams—At a pretty great distance; I walked just before them; I saw them take him along in the manner I have said; I heard sir John cry out murder several times as he went, as they took him along the rope-walk.

In answer to Goodere, the witness said that he slept on the starboard side of the gun-room, and that he could see people coming down into the cockpit, because the gun-room came unusually far out; there was no other cabin but the purser's in the cockpit. He did not know where the ship lay, being but a foremast man.

Samuel Trivett, sworn.

Vernon—Will you give an account to Mr. Recorder and the Jury of what you know relating to this business?

Trivett—On Sunday the 18th of January last, I was at a public meeting in the rope-walk; I heard a noise of people cried, Damn ye, stand off, or else we will knock your brains out; I stepped up, and asked what right they had to carry a man along after that manner? I followed them: their answer was, it was a midshipman who had committed murder, and they were taking him down to the ship to do him justice; other people likewise followed, enquiring what was the matter the gentleman was behind, and ordered them to make more haste.

Vernon—Look upon the prisoner at the bar, Mr. Goodere; is that the gentleman that ordered them to make more haste?

Trivett—I believe that is the man, my lord. On the gentleman's ordering them to make more haste, five or six of them caught him up in their arms, and carried him along; and as they were got down about the corner of Mr. Brown's wall, he insisted upon their making more dispatch, and then they hurried him as far as captain Osborn's dock. By that time his clothes were ruffled and shoved up to his arm-pits; they put him down, and settled his clothes, and then I saw his face, and knew him to be sir John Dineley: he cried out murder several times, and said, they were taking him on board to kill him, he believed. As they were going with him along, he cried out to Mrs. Darby, For God's sake assist me, they are going to murder me. I told Mrs. Darby it was sir John Dineley: she said she knew him; the cloak was then over his face. As they got him further, he called out to a little girl, to get somebody to assist him, for they were going to murder him. They pushed him along to Mrs. New's house, and made a little stop there, and then they brought him to the water-side, where was a boat; they put out a plank with ledges nailed across: he was ordered to go on board the boat; they got him on board, and put him to sit down in the stern-sheet: then he cried out, For God's sake, gentlemen, if any of you know Mr. Jarrit Smith in the College-green, tell him my name is sir John Dineley. One of the men put his cloak and covered him, and before he could say any more, that gentleman (pointing to the prisoner Goodere) took his hand and put it on his mouth, and would not let him speak any further, and ordered the boat to be pushed off, which was done; and the tide making up strong, the boat got almost to the other side. I heard that gentleman (pointing as before) say, Have you not given the rogues of lawyers money enough already? Do you want to give them more? I will take care that they shall never have any more of you; now I'll take care of you.

The Recorder—Prisoners, will either of you ask this witness any questions?

Goodere—No, I never saw the man before in my life.

Thomas Charmsbury, sworn.

Charmsbury—On Sunday the 18th of January last, between the hours of four and five in the afternoon, I was on board the ship called the Levant, lying in Mr. Thompson's dock; I heard a noise coming over the bridge of the dock, and I saw a man in a scarlet cloak, and a parcel of people, some before and some behind, guarding of him, and he made a noise. I went towards them, to see what was the matter, and at Mr. Stephen Perry's counting-house (they rested) I asked, what was the matter? They said, he had killed a man on board a man-of-war; that he had run away; and they had had him before a magistrate, and he was ordered on board the king's ship to be carried round to London to take his trial. Mr. Perry (on hearing the noise) came out and saw him; says Mr. Perry, Gentlemen, do you know what you are about? I would not be in your coats for a thousand pounds, for it is 'squire Goodere. They threatened to knock down any that should come near; a fellow, I take him to be Mahony, came up to me, and threatened to knock me down several times. They took and carried him as far as captain James Day's lofts and warehouse, where he keeps his hemp; and there they rested him again, and threatened to knock down any that should come near them. Then said Mahony, Damn ye, here comes the captain. Immediately I turned about, and saw a gentleman with his cane poised in one hand, and his sword in the other; he had a dark shag coat and yellow buttons, whom I take to be that gentleman the prisoner at the bar. They took up the man in the scarlet cloak again, and carried him so far as coming out from the lower College-green into the rope-walk: the prisoner Goodere came up to them and ordered them to mend their pace; they took him up again, and carried him as far as Brown's garden, at the lower end of the rope-walk, as fast as they could well carry him, where they settled his clothes, and in the meanwhile the prisoner Goodere came up to them again, and ordered them to mend their pace. With much difficulty they got him between the gate and stile, and carried him as far as the warehouse at the corner of the glass-house, there they rested and settled his clothes again; then they took him up, and carried him down to the Lime-kilns, as far as the lower part of the wall below madam New's; and then brought him down to a place opposite to the King's-head, and then they put him on board a boat (I take it the man-of-war's barge) having ten oars, and they handed him in. After, the prisoner Goodere went into the boat after him, and set sir John on the starboard-side, and the prisoner Goodere on the larboard-side; then sir John cried out, Murder! you gentlemen that are on shore, pray tell Mr. Jarrit Smith that my name is Dineley, and before he could say Goodere the gentleman took up the flap of the cloak, threw it over the face of sir John, and stopped his mouth; and says he, I will take care of you, that you shall not spend your estate; and ordered the barge to be put off; and then he took the gentleman's cloak from his shoulders, and put it on his own.

The Recorder—Who was it that stopped his mouth with his cloak?

Charmsbury—That gentleman the prisoner at the bar. The boat was so full, had so many people in it, that they were obliged to row but with eight oars: and when they proceeded down the river, it being about three quarters flood, and the gentleman continually crying out, they went out of sight, and I saw no more of them.

Mrs. Darby, who lived at the limekilns, saw Sir John forced along between two men; he was crying out, Murder, murder! for the Lord's sake save me, save me, for they are going to kill me. She knew Sir John very well; she had mended his chair for him last summer; she was told that the gentleman at the bar was the captain of the man-of-war; he was dressed in a dark drab-coloured coat, and his waistcoat was trimmed with gold. She heard Sir John cry out something as he was being hurried into the boat, but she could not hear what.

William Dupree was drinking at the King's Head with a friend, and a young woman who was reading at the window said she heard a great noise, on which they went out, and saw a company of men forcing a gentleman along, the prisoner Goodere coming behind them. They said that he had murdered a man, and that they were taking him on board for justice. They put him on the yawl, while Captain Goodere stood by. He cried out, 'For God's sake! go and acquaint Mr. Jarrit Smith, for I am undone, they will murder me.' The witness went back to the King's Head, where the people advised him to go to Mr. Jarrit Smith and inform him of it, which he did. When Sir John cried out he saw Goodere put his hand on his mouth.

Theodore Court, Master of the Ship, sworn.

Vernon—Will you tell Mr. Recorder and the jury what you know concerning the death of sir John Dineley Goodere?

T. Court—On the 18th of January last, being Sunday, the barge went up to fetch captain Goodere from Bristol, and about seven of the clock in the evening he came on board, and when he came into the gangway, says he, How do you all do, gentlemen? Excuse me, gentlemen, from going the right way to-night, for I have brought an old mad fellow on board and I must take care of him. I saw a gentleman with a black cap coming up the ship's side, and his groans shocked me, so that I could not help him; he looked much surprised as a person used ill; as soon as he was on board he was taken into custody, and carried by the captain's orders down to the cockpit, and put into the purser's cabin, and a centinel ordered upon him; and I saw him no more at that time. Next morning I was told that the captain's brother was murdered, and that the captain had given Charles White and Mahony leave to go on shore.

The Recorder—By whose direction was he put into the purser's cabin?

T. Court—The captain himself went down and saw them put him in.

Vernon—Whereabout in the ship is the purser's cabin?

T. Court—In the cock-pit.

Vernon—Was it a place where gentlemen who came on board commonly lay?

T. Court—No, nobody had laid in it for a considerable time. The next morning the cooper met me, and said, Here is fine doings to-night, Mr. Court! Why, what is the matter? said I. Why, said he, about three o'clock this morning they went down and murdered sir John. The ship was in an uproar; the Cooper said, if Mr. Perry (the lieutenant) did not secure the captain, he would write to the board; we had several consultations in the ship about it. The captain sent for me to breakfast with him: I accepted his invitation; I can't say but he behaved with a very good name to all the people on board. About ten o'clock Mr. Perry, myself, and the other officers, with the cooper, consulted about securing the captain. Mr. Perry cautioned us not to be too hot; for, said he, if we secure the captain before we know sir John is dead, I shall be broke, and you too. We send for the carpenter, and desired him to go down and open the cabin-door, the centinel who stood there having said it was lock'd; the carpenter went down, opened the cabin-door, and came up, and said sir John was murdered; and that he lay on his left side, with his leg up crooked. I told them, gentlemen, there is nothing to be done before the coroner comes; and therefore we must not touch him: whereupon the door was ordered to be fastened up; we then consulted how to take the captain, and a method was agreed on for that purpose. And as soon as the captain was taken, he declared he was innocent of it, that he knew not that his brother was murdered. When the coroner came, I saw the deceased, and my heart ached for him.

The Recorder—Who was it put the centinel upon sir John?

T. Court—The captain ordered it to be done.

Vernon—Is it usual to place a centinel at the purser's cabin-door?

T. Court—No, it is not; unless there be somebody there under confinement.

Vernon—Is there any other cabin near the purser's?

T. Court—Yes, there is the slop-room just by; there the cooper and his wife lay that night: there is just a little partition of about half-inch deal, parting the slop-room from the place where sir John lay confined.

Vernon—Pray, will you tell us whether any and what discourse passed between Mr. Goodere and you, about sailing, and when it was?

T. Court—Sir, in the morning he asked me, Will the wind serve to sail? He said, he had another pressing letter from the lords of the admiralty to sail as soon as possible. I told him that the wind was west-south-west, and that we could not go out to sea; for no pilot would take charge of the ship I believed. And as this is a harbour where a pilot is allowed, I don't pass for this place; otherwise I must have observed his orders.

Vernon—Did he acquaint you how far or to what part, he would have you sail?

T. Court—Yes, he said, if he got no further than the Holmes, he did not care; and asked me if it was safe riding there. I told him it was not; for it was foul ground for such a ship as ours.

The Recorder—Mr. Goodere, will you ask this witness any questions?

Goodere—What cabins are there in the cock-pit?

T. Court—I know no cabins there but the purser's cabin and the slop-room, etc.

Vernon—Call Mr. Williams.

William Williams produced a watch which he had found in a vault in Back Street. Culliford, who kept the Brockware Boat on the Back, had reported at the Council House, when he was examined there, that a watch and some money had been left at his house; but his wife, when asked for them, denied the watch, but afterwards admitted that she had thrown it into the vault where the witness afterwards found it.

T. Court said that the captain had had a watch like the one produced. In answer to Goodere, he said that there were in the cockpit the steward's room, the purser's cabin, and the slop-room. The ship had been moored on Thursday the 15th of January. When Sir John was murdered she lay in the King Road; the witness then described the position of the ship with greater detail.

Vernon interposed to state that the ship was in the King Road, which was well known to be within the franchise of the city: the sheriffs of the city continually executed writs there; and such a serious matter ought not to be decided on a side wind.

Duncan Buchanan, one of the crew of the Ruby, was ordered to go to the White Hart on Tuesday the 13th of January, and there were Mahony and the privateer's men drinking hot flip. He saw a gentleman come out of Mr. Smith's; he was mounted, and had pistols before him; he was followed by a servant, also armed. Some of the men ran out, and Goodere followed them and ordered them to follow the gentleman. On the 18th, the barge came alongside the ship, about seven in the evening, with the gentleman in it. The witness stood in the gangway to receive him.

When he came up, I heard him make a moan, and the captain said, I have brought a madman on board, bring him along, I will bring him to his senses by-and-by. I saw them take him along the gangway. You must not mind what he says, said the captain; and he was ordered down to the purser's cabin: I was ordered centinel there. About twelve o'clock the captain sent for me to come up to him, and I laid down my sword and went up, and Mahony was there with him; and there was a bottle of rum and a glass before them: the captain asked me to drink a dram, I thanked him and drank. He asked me how his brother was? I told him he groaned a little; says the captain, I know the reason of that, he is wet, and I am coming down by-and-by to shift him with dry stockings: so I left the captain and Mahony together. Some time after the captain came down to me as I was at my post at the purser's cabin; he asked if his brother made a noise; I told him no; upon which the captain listened a little time at the door, and then said, Give me the sword, and do you walk upon deck, for I want to speak to my brother in private. Soon after this Mahony went down, and very soon after Mahony was down, I heard a great struggling in the cabin, and the gentleman cry out Murder! I then thought the gentleman had been in one of his mad fits; but now I suppose they were then strangling him. As I was walking to-and-fro in the gun-room, I looked down, and saw the captain take the candle out of the lanthorn, which was hanging up there, and he gave the candle into the cabin.

The Recorder—Where was Mr. Goodere when you heard the cry of murder?

Buchanan—In the cock-pit by the purser's cabin-door, with the sword in his hand.

The Recorder—What time of the night was this?

Buchanan—Between two and three o'clock; I lighted a candle at the lanthorn in the gun-room, and was going down to the captain with it, as supposing him to be without light; and as I was going down with it, the captain held up his sword, waved it, and said, Go back, and stay where you are.

The Recorder—You said that sir John Dineley cried out Murder! Was that before you offered the candle to the captain?

Buchanan—Yes, Sir; it was before.

The Recorder—How long?

Buchanan—About a quarter of an hour.

The Recorder—How long did the cry of murder continue?

Buchanan—About three or four minutes; soon after the captain had ordered me to keep back, he called for a candle, and I carried one down, and he gave me the sword, and bid me stand upon my post; and said he, if my brother makes any more noise, let him alone and send for me; and he locked the purser's cabin-door, and took the key away with him; and in the morning the doctor's mate, the cooper, and I consulted together about it; and I was willing to know, if sir John was dead or not: and when we peeped into the cabin, we saw him lying in a very odd sort of posture, with his hat over his face, and one of his legs lay crooked; upon which we concluded he was dead.

The Recorder—How long were you off your post from first to last?

Buchanan—I can't tell exactly.

The Recorder—Recollect as well as you can.

Buchanan—About three quarters of an hour.

The Recorder—And could you see who was at the purser's cabin-door all that time?

Buchanan—Yes, Sir; I saw the captain stand at the foot of the ladder at the door, with a drawn sword, from the time I went up to the time I came down again; he locked the door, and carried the key away with him.

Vernon—Pray, were there any bolts on the purser's cabin-door?

Buchanan—Yes, there were bolts on the door; they were put on soon after sir John came on board: sir John was in that cabin when they were put on.

Vernon—You say you heard a noise and outcry of murder; how far were you from the cabin-door when you heard that cry of murder?

Buchanan—I was walking to-and-fro the gun-room.

Vernon—How far is that from the purser's cabin-door?

Buchanan—As far as I am from you.

Vernon—Whom did you see go into the purser's cabin to sir John?

Buchanan—I saw Mahony go in there.

Vernon—Did you see any other person go in besides Mahony?

Buchanan—No, I did not; I saw Mahony go in just before the cry of murder, but no other person.

Vernon—Do you know any thing about securing the captain?

Buchanan—Yes, I will tell you what happened then. We went and secured him. As soon as he was laid hold of, he cried out, Hey! hey! what have I done? We told him his brother was murdered, and that he had some concern in it. He said, What if the villains have murdered my brother, can I help it? I know nothing of it.

Goodere—Did you see me in the cabin at all?

Buchanan—No, Sir, I don't say you were in the cabin.

The Recorder—Mr. Goodere, the witness does not say he saw you in the cabin, but at the door, and with a sword in your hand, and that you handed in a light after the cry of murder was over.

Goodere—I could not have been in the cabin without Buchanan's seeing me go in, because he stood at the bulkhead of the gun-room.

The Recorder—Mahony, will you ask this witness any questions?

Mahony—Are you certain that I was in the cabin when you heard the groans?

Buchanan—I am positive you were there in the purser's cabin when I heard the murder cried out.

Daniel Weller, sworn.

Vernon—I think you are the carpenter belonging to the Ruby man-of-war?

Weller—Yes, Sir, I am.

Vernon—Give an account to Mr. Recorder and the jury of what you know relating to this business.

Weller—The 18th of January last, about seven o'clock in the evening, the captain came on board in the barge; as I attended him, I observed he seemed in a pleasant humour, he came upon the deck at once, and said he had brought a poor crazy man on board, who had been the ruin of himself and family, and that he had now brought him on board to take care of him: he took him down to the cock-pit, and having been there a little while, one of my people came and asked for some bolts; I asked, What for? He told me it was to put on the outside of the purser's cabin-door, to bolt the crazy gentleman in. I gave him a bolt; after he had nailed it on, he came and wanted another: I had another, gave it to him, and went down to see the bolts put on. Sir John cried out, What are you doing, nailing the door up? I answered, No. I ordered the door to be opened, to turn the points of the nails. The door being opened, sir John asked whether the carpenter was there? I told him I was the man. The centinel told me no-body must go in there; however, I went in, while they turned the points of the nails. Sir John bid me sit down, and asked me, What does my brother mean by bringing me on board in this manner, to murder me? No, Sir, says I, I hope not, but to take care of you. He asked me, if his brother told me that he was mad? I saw no more of him till next morning.

Vernon—And what did you see then?

Weller—Next morning the lieutenant sent me down to see if sir John was dead. I went down and asked the centinel for the key; he told me the captain had been there in the night, and had taken away the key in his pocket. I broke open the cabin-door, and sir John was lying on one side dead, with his right leg half up bent, his hat was over his face, with blood bespattered about his mouth and nose. I went directly up, and told the lieutenant of it.

The Recorder—By whose orders did you put the bolts on the door?

Weller—One of my people came to me for bolts, and told me he was ordered by the captain to put the bolts on; and none of them ever came for any thing to be done, without an order of an officer.

Edward Jones, sworn.

Vernon—Mr. Jones, I think you are the cooper of the ship Ruby?

Jones—Yes, Sir.

Vernon—Were you on board upon Sunday the 18th of January last?

Jones—Yes, Sir, I was.

Vernon—In what cabin did you lie that night?

Jones—I had no cabin, but I made bold to lie in the slop-room that night, having my wife on board.

Vernon—Pray what is that you call the slop-room?

Jones—It is like a cabin.

Vernon—How near is the slop-room to the purser's cabin?

Jones—Nothing but a thin deal-partition parts it from the purser's cabin.

Vernon—Will you relate to Mr. Recorder and the jury what you know about the murder of Mr. Goodere's brother; tell the whole you know concerning it.

Jones—About Wednesday or Thursday before this happened, the captain said to me, Cooper, get this purser's cabin cleaned out, for he said he expected a gentleman shortly to come on board. I cleaned it out; and on Sunday evening the gentleman came on board, when the people on deck cried, Cooper, shew a light. I brought a light, saw the captain going down the cock-pit ladder, the gentleman was hauled down: he complained of a pain in his thigh by their hauling him on board. The captain asked him, if he would have a dram? He said no; for he had drank nothing but water for two years. The captain ordered Mahony a dram; he drank it; he also ordered one Jack Lee to put two bolts on the purser's cabin-door. The gentleman walked to-and-fro the purser's cabin while they were nailing the bolts on. He wanted to speak with one of the officers. The carpenter told him he was the carpenter. Says the gentleman, Do you understand what my brother Sam is going to do with me? And said, His brother had brought him on board to murder him that night. The carpenter said, He hoped not, but what was done was for his good. The captain said, They must not mind what his brother said, for he had been mad for a twelvemonth past. And the captain went up again, and went into the doctor's room. I went to bed about eight o'clock. Some time about eleven o'clock at night I heard the gentleman knock, and said, He wanted to ease himself; to which the centinel gave no manner of heed. Is it not a shame, said he, to keep a gentleman in, after this manner? At last, some other person spoke to the centinel, and says, Why don't you go up and acquaint the captain of it, that the gentleman may ease himself? Soon after Mahony comes down with a bucket, for the gentleman to ease himself. Mahony sat down in the cabin, and he and the gentleman had a great deal of discourse together; the gentleman said he had been at the East-Indies, and told what he had got for his merit; and Mahony said, some by good friends. I heard the gentleman, after Mahony was gone, pray to God to be his comforter under his affliction. He said to himself, he knew that he was going to be murdered, and prayed that it might come to light by one means or another. I took no notice of it, because I thought him a crazy man. I slept a little, and about two or three o'clock my wife waked me. She said, Don't you hear the noise that is made by the gentleman? I believe they are killing him. I then heard him kick, and cry out, Here are twenty guineas, take it; don't murder me; Must I die! must I die! O my life! and gave several kecks with his throat, and then he was still. I got up in my bed upon my knees: I saw a light glimmering in at the crack, and saw that same man, Mahony, with a candle in his hand. The gentleman was lying on one side. Charles White was there, and he put out his hand to pull the gentleman upright. I heard Mahony cry out, Damn ye, let us get his watch out; but White said he could not get at it. I could not see his pockets. White laid hold of him, went to tumbling him up to get out his money, unbuttoned his breeches to get out his watch; I saw him lay hold of the chain; White gave Mahony the watch, who put it in his pocket; and White put his hand into one of the gentleman's pockets, and cursed that there was nothing but silver: but he put his hand in the other pocket, and there he found gold. White was going to give Mahony the gold: damn ye, says Mahony, keep it till by-and-by.

The Recorder—In what posture did sir John lie at that time?

Jones—He lay in a very uneasy manner, with one leg up; and when they moved him, he still remained so, which gave me a suspicion that he was dead. White put his hand in another pocket, took out nothing but a piece of paper, was going to read it. Damn ye, said Mahony, don't stand to read it. I saw a person's hand on the throat of this gentleman, and heard the person say, 'Tis done, and well done.

The Recorder—Was that a third person's hand, or the hand of Mahony or White?

Jones—I cannot say whether it was a third person's hand or not. I saw but two persons in the cabin, I did not see the person, for it was done in a moment. I can't swear I saw any more than two persons in the cabin.

The Recorder—Did you take notice of the hand that was laid on sir John's throat?

Jones—I did.

The Recorder—Did it appear to you like the hand of a common sailor?

Jones—No; it seemed whiter.

Vernon—You have seen two hands held up at the bar. I would ask you to which of them it was most like in colour?

Jones—I have often seen Mahony's and White's hands, and I thought the hand was whiter than either of theirs; and I think it was neither of their hands by the colour of it.

The Recorder—Was sir John on the floor, or on the bed?

Jones—On the bed; but there was no sheets: it was a flock-bed, and nobody had lain there a great while.

Vernon—How long did the cries and noise which you heard continue?

Jones—Not a great while: he cried like a person going out of the world, very low. At my hearing it, I would have got out in the mean time, but my wife desired me not to go, for she was afraid there was somebody at the door that would kill me.

Vernon—What more do you know concerning this matter, or of Mahony and White's being afterwards put on shore?

Jones—I heard some talking that the yaul was to go to shore about four of the clock in the morning, and some of us were called up, and I importuned my wife to let me go out. I called, and asked who is centinel? Duncan Buchanan answered, It is I. Oh, says I, is it you? I then thought myself safe. I jumpt out in my shirt, went to him; says I, There have been a devilish noise to-night in the cabin, Duncan, do you know any thing of the matter? They have certainly killed the gentleman, what shall us do? I went to the cabin-door where the doctor's mate lodged, asked him if he had heard any thing to-night? I heard a great noise, said he. I believe, said I, they have killed that gentleman. He said, he believed so too. I drawed aside the scuttle that looked into the purser's cabin from the steward's room, and cried, Sir, if you are alive, speak. He did not speak. I took a long stick, and endeavoured to move him, but found he was dead. I told the doctor's mate that I thought he was the proper person to relate the matter to the officer, but he did not care to do it then. If you will not, I will, said I. I went up to the lieutenant and desired him to come out of his cabin to me. What is the matter, said he? I told him I believed there had been murder committed in the cock-pit, upon the gentleman who was brought on board last night. Oh! don't say so, says the lieutenant. In that interim, whilst we were talking about it, Mr. Marsh the midshipman came, and said, that there was an order to carry White and Mahony on shore. I then swore they should not go on shore, for there was murder committed. The lieutenant said, Pray be easy, it can't be so; I don't believe the captain would do any such thing. That gentleman there, Mr. Marsh, went to ask the captain if Mahony and White must be put on shore? And Mr. Marsh returned again, and said, that the captain said they should. I then said, it is certainly true that the gentleman is murdered between them. I did not see Mahony and White that morning, because they were put on shore. I told the lieutenant, that if he would not take care of the matter, I would write up to the Admiralty, and to the mayor of Bristol. The lieutenant wanted the captain to drink a glass of wine: the captain would not come out of his cabin; then the lieutenant went in first; I followed him. I told the captain that my chest had been broke open, and I desired justice might be done. Then I seized him, and several others came to my assistance.

The Recorder—Mr. Goodere, do you ask Mr. Jones any questions?

Goodere—Do you know whether the midshipman was sent away on the king's business, or else only to put those two men on shore?

Jones—I know not, you were the captain of the ship.

The Recorder—Mahony, will you ask this witness any questions?

Mahony—Did you see me lay hands on the gentleman?

Jones—Yes, I did, as I have already related.

Margaret Jones, sworn.

Vernon—Mrs. Jones, pray acquaint Mr. Recorder and the jury what you know about the murder of sir John Dineley Goodere (the gentleman ordered by Mr. Goodere into the purser's cabin).

Mrs. Jones—About seven o'clock in the evening, the 18th of last January, the captain (having been on shore) came on board, and came down into the cock-pit, and asked if the cabin was clean? My husband answered, yes. On which the captain gave orders to bring down the gentleman; and the captain said to the doctor, Doctor, I have got an old mad fellow here, you must doctor him up as well as you can. They brought the gentleman into the cabin, the captain asked him how he did now? The gentleman complained that he had a great pain in his thigh, he was hurted by the men's hauling him as they had done. The captain asked him if he would drink a dram of rum? He answered, No; for he said he had drank nothing but water for two years past. The captain gave a dram to several persons there; and he gave orders for some sheets to be brought; and he said to Mahony, As his clothes are wet, do you pull them off. And the gentleman said to Mahony, Don't strip me, fellow, until I am dead. The gentleman said, Brother Sam, what do you intend to do with me? The captain told him that he brought him there to save him from rotting in a gaol. About ten o'clock Mahony was left there; the gentleman desired him to go; but Mahony said, I have orders to abide here, to take care of you. The gentleman said to Mahony, I can abide by myself. Before the captain went away, he bid Mahony to see if his brother had any knife about him. The gentleman gave up his knife to Mahony, desired him to take care of it, for it was his son's knife. The gentleman asked about the knife several times in the night. About twelve o'clock I went to sleep; about two o'clock I wakened again: I heard the gentleman talk to Mahony, but Mahony advised the gentleman to go to sleep. He said, I cannot sleep. They talked together a great while. Mahony said, I am to go on shore in the morning, and if you have any letters to send to Bristol, I will carry them for you. I heard somebody say to the gentleman, You must lie still, and not speak a word for your life. Some minutes after I heard a great struggling; who it was, I don't know. The gentleman cried out, Murder; help for God's sake! and made several kecks in his throat, as though somebody was stifling him. I shook my husband, told him that somebody was stifling the gentleman. I heard two people in the cabin whispering; I don't know who they were. The gentleman cried out murder again, Help for God's sake! He said, I have twenty guineas in my pocket, here take it; must I die! Oh, my life! And just about that time, before he was dead, somebody from the outside offered to come into the cabin, but I heard one of the persons on the inside say, Keep out, you negro; and then a great noise was made; I thought the cabin would have been beat down. Some few minutes after the gentleman had done struggling, a candle was brought: I soon got up, and looked through the crevice: I saw a man, who I believe to be White, take the gentleman by the coat, and pulled him upright. I saw Mahony with a candle in his hand; I observed the other to put his hand in the gentleman's pocket. One of them said, Damn ye, pull out his watch. Then I saw the person take hold of the watch-string and pull it out, and he said to the other, Here 'tis, take it, and put it into thy pocket. Then one of them put his hand in another pocket, and took it out, said, Here's nothing but silver; and then he searched another pocket, and said, Here it is; and pulled out a green purse: soon after that, the door was unbolted, I heard a person say, Where shall I run? who I believe was Mahony; and the other, Charles White, said, Follow me, boy. And they went to go upon deck through the hatch-hole, which is an uncommon way; and that is all I know.

The Recorder—Mr. Goodere and Mahony, do either of you ask this witness any questions?

Goodere—No.

Mahony—No.

James Dudgeon, sworn.

Vernon—Mr. Dudgeon, I think you are the surgeon's mate belonging to the Ruby?

Dudgeon—Yes, Sir.

Vernon—Give Mr. Recorder and the jury an account what you know relating to this matter.

Dudgeon—I am very sorry that I should come on this occasion against captain Goodere, because he ever behaved towards me in a genteel manner. The week before this happened, I was told by one of the officers, that the captain was going to bring his brother on board; and on Sunday the 18th of January, about the dusk of the evening, the barge came down to the ship. I was at that time walking the quarter-deck; some of our people seeing the barge a-coming they said, Our captain is coming on board with his brother sure enough: but instead of coming up the quarter-deck, the captain went down upon the main-deck, and I still kept walking on the quarter-deck, expecting to see the gentleman when he went into the great cabin, but I afterwards found that he was ordered down to the cock-pit. Soon after, I went down there myself; and the captain being there, said, Doctor, I have brought a madman to you, I don't know what we shall do with him, but we must make the best of him that we can; and Mahony came down likewise. The captain sent his steward for a bottle of rum, Mahony had a dram of it. The captain asked sir John if he would have one? Sir John replied, No; for, said he, I have not drank any thing of that nature for two years past; he groaned several times. There was then one Cole at the foot of the ladder, to whom also the captain gave a dram; then there was a centinel put upon the cabin-door; but Cole asked the captain if he might go in, and the captain said he might. The old gentleman made a noise as the captain went up the ladder; the captain told him, We have now brought you on board, and will take care you shall want for nothing. After the captain was gone, Cole wanted to go in, but the centinel would not let him; telling him that his orders were to let none in but Mahony: however, Cole went up and got leave of the captain to go in, and he did go in. Soon after this the captain came down again to the cock-pit, and came into my place, and sat down; and after talking of things promiscuously, he said, he believed it would be proper for me to go and feel his brother's pulse; or else, Doctor, he said, do you chuse to leave it alone till to-morrow morning? I made answer, that to-morrow morning might be the best time; because the gentleman may be much confused by being brought down on the water. Come, said he, let us go in now; for I believe it will be as well. If you please, Sir, said I, I will; so the centinel opened the door, and we both went in. Immediately after, the captain went out again, and forthwith the door was shut upon me: which very much surprised me, to think that the captain should leave me with a madman, and I observed the captain to peep through; I then asked the gentleman what he mostly complained of? and felt his pulse. He then made some groans, and told me, that he had got a great cold last week at Bath, and that he felt a severe pain in his head. I was going to ask him some more questions, but the captain called me, and said, Don't ask him any more questions, but only feel his pulse. Then the centinel opened the door, and I came out, and the captain and I went into my place again. Well, doctor, said he, how do you find his pulse? Why, Sir, said I, his pulses are very regular. Why, said he, I believe he was pretty much hurried upon the water. Then the captain went up the ladder, and a little while after he came down again; there were two midshipmen with me in my place, and when the captain came in, they went to go out, but he desired one of them to stay, for he had something to say to him, because he was to go up for letters in the morning; so we sat down, and talked of various things; but I informed the captain that the old gentleman have had hard lodging to-night. Why, said he, I would put another bed in there, and have given him clean sheets, but he would not hear anything of this kind. Then said he to me, Doctor, I believe it will not be amiss to take an inventory of everything he has about him, for fear it should be reported that he is robbed. I replied, Sir, it may not be amiss. By-and-by, Cole came tumbling down the ladder, the midshipman opened the curtain to see who it was; Captain, said he, that is Cole, and I then told that Cole had been drunk a great part of that day. Soon after that the captain opens the curtain, and sees Mahony stand by the centry. Mahony, said he, I thought you had been about the thing which I sent you to do; which I take to be getting the money out of the gentleman's pocket. No, Sir, said he, I chuse to do it after he is asleep. Very well, said the captain. Then the captain spoke to the midshipman, and said, Mr. Marsh, You are to go up for letters to-morrow, and if anyone takes notice of what was done to-day, you may tell the people that it is my brother, and he is very much disordered in his brains, and I have got him on board in hopes of getting relief for him. Sometimes, Doctor, says he, he can talk as well as you or I; but at other times, he is very much out of order. About eight o'clock I was for going to bed, but did not till an hour and a half after; and about that time sir John was making a great noise, and asking who is without the door, what must I do my affairs in the cabin? What a shame is it? Will not you let me have anything to do it in? but nobody made any reply. Upon which I said to the centinel, why don't you answer the gentleman? Are not you ashamed of it? Upon which, I suppose, one went up to the captain and he came down, and said, he was sorry that the gentleman should make such a disturbance; but he hoped, that the first night would be the worst: upon which the captain went up, and Mahony went in; and I heard the gentleman and him talking together, and he asked Mahony, what his brother was going to do with him? What, says he, does he say I am mad? Formerly I used to be so, but now I have not tasted any thing stronger than water these two years. But, said he, to be sure these fellows are not sailors who attacked me this day; they are not sailors, for, if so, they are sadly degenerated from what sailors were formerly, for I myself have been at sea, and might have been a commander. About half an hour after ten, I fell asleep, but was very uneasy. About twelve the centinel was sent for to go up to the captain, but soon came down again; and about half an hour after two I awaked, hearing some stir in the cock-pit; and I heard Mahony's voice in the cabin, saying, Lie still and sleep, Sir. In a short time after that I heard a struggle, and sir John cried out, Here is 20 guineas for you, take it; must I die? And it seemed to me, by his speaking, that they were stifling his mouth. Upon which the person who stood centry upon the cabin turned the key, whereupon Mahony cried out in a terrible pucker, Damn ye, keep the door fast. Upon which I spake, and said, What is the matter? what a noise is that? And the person who stood centinel made answer, Nothing at all, nothing at all; so I lay still a while, and all was pretty quiet. A little time after that, Mahony called for a light, and the cabin-door was opened, and a light handed in; the cock-pit was then in darkness, so all was quiet again for some time. Soon after that the cabin-door was opened again, and I heard as if two or three people were coming out of the cabin, and heard Mahony say, which way shall I go? And somebody made answer, you may go through the hatch-hole. He repeated the question, which way shall I go? and the other answered, by the ship-side. I then thought somebody had been murdering sir John sure enough, and they are carrying off his body that way; at the same time a person stept up the cock-pit ladder, and I heard the captain's voice, and he said, Centry, if he makes any more noise, let me know it; but I thought within myself, that he was past that. After this was past, all was pretty quiet, and the centinel kept walking without my room: I was cautious of speaking to him, not knowing who he was; but soon after, one of the captain's servants came down to the store-room for liquor, and he asked the centry whether he had made any noise lately? To which he replied, You may tell the captain that the gentleman hath been at the lock. About half an hour after, the person who was upon the watch came to me, and asked, if I had any commands on shore, for the boat was going up? I told him, No; but perceiving by his voice who it was, I called him to come to me in the dark, and I whispered, and said to him, Mr. Heathorne, here hath been a hellish cabal to-night, I believe they have murdered the gentleman; doth Mahony go on shore? He answered, that he did; then, said I, the thing is done. I then asked who was the centry without my door? and he told me; whereupon I called the centry to me, and asked him, what noise and cabal is this that hath been here to-night? He said, He did not know; but the captain, said he, hath been down several times to-night, and that he had taken the sword from him. Just after this, in came Edward Jones, the cooper, and his wife shaking and trembling; and said, White and Mahony had murdered the gentleman sure enough. I told them, I did believe they were both going on shore; and I would, said I, have you tell the lieutenant what you saw of the matter, and let him know that I am of the same opinion with you: but do you first go into the steward's room, and draw the scuttle, and then you'll see whether he is dead, or no. Upon which they went and drawed the scuttle, and a cat fled in their face, and they found the gentleman lay in the same posture as White and Mahony left him. I then bid them go and tell the lieutenant the matter, that those fellows might be prevented from going ashore; but yet, said I, we can't stop them neither, seeing they have the captain's orders. Then went Jones up forthwith, and I believe, told the lieutenant; and I also stept up to him just after, and told him, that I believed sir John was actually murdered; for, said I, there have been a terrible noise in the cock-pit to-night, and the captain himself was there this morning when 'twas almost three o'clock, and the men that were with him are going on shore. The lieutenant answered, that he could not stop these men from going ashore, because the captain hath given them leave; so, said he, we must let it alone till morning, to see whether the gentleman is dead, or no. About eight o'clock in the morning I went to him again; but he told me it was best to defer it till we did see whether the captain sends down to him, or not. It is, said he, no way proper for us to think of seizing the captain, till we see that the gentleman is actually dead, and have reason to think he is murdered. When the captain's breakfast was ready, he sent for the lieutenant and me to come and breakfast with him: accordingly we did; and soon after there was a shore-boat came towards us, and then Mr. Chamberlayn came on board, and went to the lieutenant's cabin; and the lieutenant told that gentleman, that they were then going to seize the captain, for it was believed that he had been accessary to the murder of his brother. Immediately a message was brought by one of the men, that sir John was dead: upon which the captain was forthwith seized by eight or ten men.

Vernon—How far was your cabin from the purser's?

Dudgeon—I can't say certainly, but believe about three yards.

Vernon—Did you view the body of the deceased whilst he lay dead in the purser's cabin?

Dudgeon—I did.

Vernon—And did you find any visible marks of violence upon him?

Dudgeon—Sir, I saw no rope, but he had a neck-cloth about his neck, and there were some marks in his neck, which looked like the scratching of nails; and I believe that he was strangled, the blood came out of his nose and mouth.

William Macguinis was in his hammock when Sir John was brought aboard, but was called up at twelve o'clock to stand sentinel in the gun-room.

I had not been long on my post before I saw the captain come down; and soon after I saw Mahony, that man there (pointing at the prisoner Mahony), also come down. I stopt him, and asked him where he was going? Damn your blood, you son of a bitch, what is that to you? How busy you make yourself. And when he came to the bottom of the cock-pit ladder I heard him say to another man, Come here, this is the way. But who it was he spake to, I know not. This was a little after two o'clock. The captain espied me, he made towards me, and waved his naked cutlass, and said, Stand back! stand back!

The captain was down in the cockpit then. Buchanan had been sentinel in the cockpit, but had been released by the captain. The witness saw Mahony go into the purser's cabin, and afterwards saw the captain and Mahony come up again from the cockpit; it was then about three o'clock.

Walker found a watch in the necessary house in the Brockware Boat, a public-house on the Back, kept by Culliford. He searched for it by the order of the justices; when he found it, the watch was in one place, and the case in another, about a yard off.

Sarah Culliford, of the Brockware Boat, received the watch from Mahony. She had it in her possession about two hours before and two hours after he was taken up.

This young man (meaning the prisoner Mahony) was drinking in my house, he pulled out the watch, delivered it to me, and desired me to keep it for him until he did call for it; some time after I had business to go out, I went into town, and had the watch in my pocket; when I came back, my children told me that the constable had been there to search the house for it, which much surprised me; I went and threw the watch into the necessary house for fear I should come into trouble.

John Fussell—I had this handkerchief from Mahony on the 19th of January last, the night when we took him, I found it on his neck; when he was seized he took it off; I took it out of his hand, it was bloody then as it is now, I put it into my pocket.

John Mitchel, the chief clerk to the Town Clerk, produced the examination of Matthew Mahony, taken before the Mayor, voluntarily signed by Mahony in the Mayor's presence, and signed by the Mayor.

Clerk reads the Examination in these words:

City and county of Bristol, to wit. The voluntary Examination and Confession of Matthew Mahony, a native of Ireland, aged about 21 years. This Examinant confesseth and saith, That about sixteen or seventeen days ago, and several times since, he was desired by Mr. Goodere, captain of the Ruby man-of-war, now lying at King-road, in the county of the city of Bristol, to seize his, the captain's, brother, sir John Dineley Goodere, bart., and bring him on board the said man-of-war; and that on Tuesday last, this examinant, and the crew belonging to the man-of-war's barge, and Edward Mac-Daniel, John Mac-Graree, and William Hammon, privateer's men, were placed by the said captain at the White-Hart alehouse, opposite St. Augustine's Church, in order to seize sir John Dineley Goodere that day; but it so happened that the captain forbid them to do it then. And that on Sunday last, this examinant, the said barge's crew, or the greatest part of them, and George Best, cock-stern of the barge, the said Edward Mac-Daniel, John Mac-Graree, William Hammon, and one Charles Bryer, privateer's men as aforesaid, were again placed at the White-Hart aforesaid, to seize the said sir John Dineley Goodere, and waited there for some time; and he coming out of Mr. Jarrit Smith's house, and coming under St. Augustine's church-yard wall, this examinant and his comrades pursued him, and near the pump there they came up with him, and told him there was a gentleman wanted to speak with him; and he, asking where the gentleman was, was answered, a little way off, and he went quietly a little way; but no one appearing, he resisted and refused to go; whereupon this examinant and comrades sometimes forcibly hauled and pushed, and at other times carried him over St. Augustine's butts, captain Day's rope-walk, and along the road to the hot-well (captain Goodere being sometimes a little behind, and sometimes amongst the crowd all the way), till they came to the slip where the barge lay. But sir John was very unwilling to go, made the utmost resistance, and cried out murder a great many times; and when he was put into the barge, called out and desired somebody would go to Mr. Jarrit Smith, and tell him of his ill-usage, and that his name was sir John Dineley; whereupon the captain clapt his hand on sir John's mouth to stop him speaking, and told him not to make such a noise, he had got him out of the lion's mouth (meaning the lawyer's hands), and would take care he should not spend his estate; and bid the barge men row away, which they did; and in their passage to the man-of-war, the two brothers bickered all the way. But when they came to the man-of-war, sir John went on board as well as he could, and the captain took him down into the purser's cabin, and stayed a little time with him, and treated him with a dram of rum, and then left him for a considerable time; and in the interim sent for this examinant into his, the captain's cabin, and there told this examinant he must murder his brother, for that he was mad, and should not live till four o'clock in the morning; and this examinant reasoning with him, and telling him he would not be concerned and that he thought he had brought him there with intent only to bring him to reason, and take care that he should not spend his estate in law, and to have a perfect reconciliation: but the captain still insisting, that this examinant had taken him, he should do it; and this examinant then saying, he was not able to do it of himself, the captain replied, if this examinant could get nobody else, he and this examinant must do it themselves. And then ordered him to call one Elisha Cole; and he being too drunk to undertake such an affair, bid this examinant call one Charles White, a very stout lusty fellow, and the captain gave him a dram, and bid him sit down, and soon gave other drams, and asked him if he could fight, and told him, Here is a madman, he must be murdered and thou shalt have a handsome reward. And this examinant, the said Charles White, and the captain, all being agreed to murder the said sir John Dineley Goodere, the captain then proposed the method, and produced a piece of half-inch rope about nine foot long, and Charles White having made a noose in the rope, the captain said, applying himself to this examinant and the said Charles White, You must strangle him with this rope, and at the same time gave the handkerchief now produced, that in case he made a noise, to stop his mouth; and said, I will stand sentinel over the door whilst you do it; and accordingly instantly went out of his own cabin, and turned the centinel from the purser's cabin-door, and let this examinant and White into the purser's cabin, where sir John Dineley Goodere was lying in his clothes on a bed. The captain having pulled to the door, and standing centinel himself, the said White first strangled sir John with his hands, and then put the rope about sir John's neck and hauled it tight, and sir John struggled, and endeavoured to cry out, but could not. And this examinant confesses, that whilst White was strangling sir John, this examinant took care to keep him on the bed, and when one end of the rope was loose, this examinant drew and held it tight; and thus each bore a part till sir John was dead; and they having rifled the deceased of his watch and money, knocked at the door to be let out; and the captain called out, Have you done? they replied, Yes. He opened the door, and asked again, Is he dead? And being answered in the affirmative, and having a light, swore, by God, he would be sure he was dead; and then went in himself, and returning, locked the door, and put the key in his pocket, and they all went together to the captain's cabin again, and there this examinant gave the captain sir John's watch, and the captain gave this examinant his own watch in lieu of it; and then the captain gave them both some money, and White afterwards gave this examinant eight guineas as part of the money he took out of the deceased's pocket, and then the captain ordered them to be put on shore in his own boat. And further this examinant confesses and saith, That before and after the murder was committed, the captain, Charles White, and this examinant consulted what to do with the corpse; and the captain proposed to keep it two or three days in the ship, and, as he expected to go to sea, would sew it up in a hammock, or something else, and there throw it over-board. And that before this examinant and his comrades were sent to seize sir John, as is before set forth, they were ordered by captain Goodere, that, if they met with any resistance, they should repel force by force, and were prepared with short heavy sticks or bludgeons for that purpose.

Matthew Mahony.

The Recorder cautioned the jury that this statement was evidence against Mahony only, and was not to be taken as evidence against Goodere.

Vernon said that this concluded his evidence as to the facts; but that as Goodere had made a point as to the position of the ship, he would call evidence to show that the King Road had always been taken to lie within the city and county of Bristol; and that the sheriff's officers of Bristol had always used to execute both city and county process in the King Road.

John Wint and Lowden were called, and proved that they had served process out of the Mayor's and the Piepowder Court, and process issued out of the King's Bench, and the Common Pleas, and the Admiralty Court, in the King Road.

Goodere being called on for his defence, said that he would call witnesses to prove that sir John was a lunatic, and that he was doing his best to take care of him.

Mrs. Gethins said that Goodere had asked her for a garret to keep his brother in, for he was a madman; he made no secret of it. She had heard nothing about Mahony having five pounds a month to take care of him. She had heard Goodere talk with his own doctor about his brother.

Mr. Marsh, sworn.

Goodere—Did you go ashore in the morning about the king's business, or what business did you go about?

Marsh—I had an order about eight o'clock the night sir John was brought on board, to go up in the morning to Bristol for the letters from the Admiralty, and about four of the clock in the morning I was called up to go: but the lieutenant seemed much disordered, and bid me come to him before I set out. I waited on the lieutenant, and told him, that White and Mahony said they had liberty to go on shore, that the captain had given them liberty to go; the lieutenant said, he knew nothing of it. But as it is always my way, before I carry anybody off, I said, I would go to the captain and ask leave. I went to the captain, and asked him, if White and Mahony had liberty from him to go on shore? And he said, Yes, let them go.

Goodere—Mr. Marsh, did you go upon the king's business, or on purpose to take up these men?

Marsh—I went about the king's business.

Vernon—But it was after sir John was brought on board, that Mr. Goodere ordered you to go up?

Marsh—Yes, Sir, it was.

Vernon—Did anybody else go up with you, besides Mahony and White?

Marsh—No, there did not.

Vernon—Did Mr. Goodere give you orders to put them on shore in any particular place?

Marsh—I will do justice between man and man: the captain did not give me orders to put them on shore in any particular place.

Vernon—Were they landed publicly or privately?

Marsh—I put them on shore at the Gibb, about six of the clock in the morning.

Goodere—Now, may it please you, sir, I shall show that Mahony had business at Bristol that day by appointment, to receive some wages that was due to him; for which purpose I shall call Mr. Dagg.

Abel Dagg, the keeper of Newgate, had had one Mervin in his house as a prisoner for debt. Mahony had a claim against him for wages due to him before he was pressed, and Mervin wished to settle the matter with him. Accordingly Dagg had seen Goodere on the Tuesday or Wednesday before this matter, and he said that he would meet Dagg to accommodate the difference on the Monday following. The captain made the appointment to meet him on the Monday, but he told Taylor, an attorney, that Mahony would come on shore on Monday. He did not know that White had any business on shore on Monday.

Bridget King was sworn.

Goodere—Mrs. King, will you give the Court an account of what you know of the lunacy of my brother sir John Dineley?

Mrs. King—Please you, my lord, I think he was mad; for he would get up at two or three of the clock in the morning, and call his servants up, and fall a-singing; and then he would go to bed again, and swear it was but twelve o'clock at night, and lie a-bed all day. He would send his boy out all over his grounds to pick up stones, and have the wheel-barrow rattling about the streets on a Sunday: he hath ringed the bell to call his servants up to his bedside, and when they were come up, he would ask them what they did there, and swear they were come to shoot him? He himself hath gone over all his grounds on a Sunday to pick sticks, and hath sent his servants to market when there was none; and he would be busy in every thing, and hang on the pot himself; and he hath been quite raving mad.

Vernon—Did you live as a servant to sir John?

Mrs. King—I lived as a servant with him in London, and he came down for the air to Tockington; he brought me down to go to Bath.

Vernon—How long did you continue with him?

Mrs. King—A twelve-month, sir.

Vernon—And how durst you venture to live so long with a madman? He did not go mad for love of you, I hope? Have you lived any time in Bristol?

Mrs. King—No.

Vernon—Then I suppose you came but now from London?

Mrs. King—Yes, I did.

Goodere—Do you believe he was a madman?

Mrs. King—In the actions that I have seen by him, I have reason to think he was a madman.

Mrs. Mary Stafford, sworn.

Goodere—Mrs. Stafford, will you tell his lordship and the jury what you know of sir John's being a lunatic?

Mrs. Stafford—Sir John hired me for a housekeeper in London, and told me he had a great many servants, and he wanted a housekeeper. When he brought me down, he ordered me to his seat at Tockington; where, he said, he had a great deal of company frequently. When I came there, I found there was nothing in what he had told me; for, instead of a great many servants, he had but one: a poor old shattered house, ready to tumble down about one's ears, and the household goods all to pieces: he was a madman, for if I had followed his directions in any thing I should have done mischief. He hath sent me and the rest of his servants to Thornbury market, when there was none; he hath ringed the bell to call his servants to come to his bedside to him, and when we have come up to him, he hath asked us, what we did there? Sir, said I, you called me up; he hath said he did not: and after we had been there a quarter of an hour, he would take a knife, fork, glass-bottle, or anything that came in his way, to throw at us, asking of us, What did we come to rob him? And I was afraid of my life, to live with him. I do believe he was a madman, or else he would never have acted as he did; he would go into the kitchen, and take the pot, and hang it on the fire. I style him a madman by his actions.

Vernon—And must he therefore be hanged himself like a mad dog, think you?

Mrs. Stafford—I know nothing of that, Sir.

Vernon—How long did you live with sir John?

Mrs. Stafford—Three months, Sir.

Goodere—Call Mr. Robert Cock.

The Recorder—What do you call him to prove?

Goodere—My lord, in order to prove sir John Dineley a lunatic. Mr. Cock, will you give an account to my lord and the jury what you know of the lunacy of sir John Dineley?

Robert Cock, sworn.

Cock—My lord, I have known Mr. Dineley at Charlton for some years; I have been several times in his company; I have seen him do several acts of lunacy, as a madman.

Vernon—Where do you live?

Cock—I live in Cumberland, when I am at home.

Vernon—Are you of any business?

Cock—I am an officer belonging to his majesty.

Vernon—What kind of officer?

Cock—A salt officer.

Goodere—I will not give your lordship and the jury much more trouble. I am entirely innocent; they have not proved that I was present at the death of sir John Dineley.

The Recorder—Don't deceive yourself; though they have not proved you was actually in the cabin, when sir John was murdered, yet they have given evidence of that, which (if the jury give credit to) will amount to presence in the eye of the law.

Goodere—I shall now call some witnesses to my character, and likewise to shew how improbable it is that I should be guilty of the murder of my brother.

Call Mr. Pritchard.

Mr. Pritchard had known Goodere many years; he always bore the character of a good husband, a good neighbour, and a kind friend.

The Rev. Mr. Watkins, three months or half a year before Sir John's death, had told Goodere that Sir John had told him that he had made his will and cut his brother off from everything, and had given his estate to the Footes. The witness had found Sir John a good neighbour, and a kind friend; he was a man of strong passions, and if any one affronted him, he would let the party know that he did resent it. His tenants, and those the witness had conversed with, said that he was one of the best of landlords.

Vernon—I don't ask you, Sir, concerning his moral character; but whether he was in his senses or not?

Watkins—In his senses! I saw him last Christmas, he was making up his accounts with several of his tenants; he was then in very good understanding. I take him to have been a man that always had his senses in a regular exercise.

Vernon—What have you heard the prisoner Mr. Goodere say in relation to Sir John's making his will?

Watkins—I believe he told me that sir John had not the power to make a will; I told him it was my opinion, if they would be reconciled together, sir John's will would not stand.

Mr. Thomas and Mr. Ashfield and the Rev. Mr. Rogers spoke in general terms to Goodere's good character.

George Forcevil had known him for fourteen or fifteen years; he had a very good character in the neighbourhood; he constantly attended his church twice a day Sundays, and would be there at prayers almost every day. He thought him to be a good man.

Goodere said he would not trouble the Court with any more evidence as to his character; he was deprived of some evidence by reason of his sickness in gaol, which prevented his friends from coming to advise him about his defence; also there were witnesses on board the ship who might have been of great service to him, but the ship had sailed before he got an order from the Admiralty ordering them to stay on shore.

Frederick drew the Recorder's attention to the fact that there had been several aspersions in the newspapers to the prejudice of Goodere, and that a pamphlet had been published in Bristol called The Bristol Fratricide; but he hoped that the jury would not be influenced by such matters against the prisoner.

The jury declared that they had never seen any such pamphlet or newspapers.

Vernon—Mr. Recorder, we must beg leave to ask Mr. Jarrit Smith's opinion, as to Sir John's being a lunatic or not?

Smith—I am surprised to hear it said by some of Mr. Goodere's witnesses that sir John Dineley Goodere was mad. I knew him fourteen or fifteen years, and conversed with him both in person and by letter; but never discovered that he was in the least disordered in his senses, I always took him to be a man of sound understanding. On the Sunday before his death, he expressed himself with a great deal of good nature and affection at the sight of his brother.

Shepard proposed to call evidence to show that the place where the ship lay was not in the city and county of Bristol.

The Recorder said that the evidence that had been given as to the service of writs, proved that the King's Road was within the jurisdiction, and it was admitted that the ship lay within the Road. If, however, the prisoner could show that any part of the Road was, or ever had been esteemed to be, within any other county than the county of the city of Bristol, he would hear him. He then asked Mahony if he had anything to say.

Mahony—I hope your Lordship will consider that I was a poor, pressed servant, and that I was drunk when I made the confession, and I was frightened out of my wits.

Mr. Recorder—You say you were drunk when you made the confession; it is possible, that night when you were taken and brought before the magistrates you were in liquor, but it seems your confession was not taken until the next day.

Vernon then replied on the whole case; confining himself to pointing out that if Goodere was abetting Mahony in killing Sir John, it made no difference that he was not in the cabin at the time that he was killed.

Shepard replied, trying to distinguish Goodere's case from those which had been cited by Vernon, and suggesting that Goodere only brought his brother on board the ship in order that he might take proper care of him; but the Recorder stopped him, pointing out that he was going off from the point of law to matter of fact. He said that he should tell the jury that if they believed that Goodere stood at the cabin door to prevent any persons coming who might prevent the murder, or to encourage those within in the business they were about, they must find him guilty on the indictment. He then recapitulated the facts in some detail, but did not add any comment. He concluded by laying down the law as to whether Goodere was an accessory to what was done, in the sense already indicated, and told the jury that, in such a case as the present, they would be well-advised not to attach much weight to the evidence given as to Goodere's character.

The jury thereupon retired, and after a short space returned, and found both the prisoners Guilty.

The next day Charles White was tried on a separate indictment for the same murder. He pleaded Not Guilty, but was convicted, chiefly on the evidence of Jones the cooper and his wife, and his own confession.

On the next day all three prisoners were brought up, and having nothing to say for themselves were all sentenced to death.

They were all hung at Bristol on the 15th of April, having confessed the fact. 'The body of Mahony is hung in chains near the place where the horrid fact was committed.'