He answered querulously, “Yes, yes, afterwards.” And then creaked, “Now the indictment....”
Someone hidden from me by three barristers began to read in a loud voice not very easy to follow. I caught:
“For that the said John Kemp, alias Nichols, alias Nikola el Escoces, alias el Demonio, alias el Diabletto, on the twelfth of May last, did feloniously and upon the high seas piratically seize a certain ship called the Victoria... um... um, the properties of Hyman Cohen and others... and did steal and take therefrom six hundred and thirty barrels of coffee of the value of... um... um... um... one hundred and one barrels of coffee of the value of... ninety-four half kegs... and divers others...”
I gave an immense sigh.... That was it, then. I had heard of the Victoria; it was when I was at Horton that the news of her loss reached us. Old Macdonald had sworn; it was the day a negro called Apollo had taken to the bush. I ought to be able to prove that. Afterwards, one of the judges asked me if I pleaded guilty or not guilty. I began a long wrangle about being John Kemp but not Nikola el Escoces. I was going to fight every inch of the way. They said:
“You will have your say afterwards. At present, guilty or not guilty?”
I refused to plead at all; I was not the man. The third judge woke up, and said hurriedly:
“That is a plea of not guilty, enter it as such.” Then he went to sleep again. The young girl on the bench beside him laughed joyously, and Mr. Baron Garrow nodded round at her, then snapped viciously at me:
“You don’t make your case any better by this sort of foolery.” His eyes glared at me like an awakened owl’s.
I said, “I’m fighting for my neck... and you’ll have to fight, too, to get it.”
The old judge said angrily, “Silence, or you will have to be removed.”