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.