Flood came back to Deveau, aware that because of his interruption the man had had the opportunity to regain his composure.
‘You were about to tell us the complement of the initial boarding party?’ he reminded the witness.
‘Seaman Johnson held the boat alongside,’ said Deveau. ‘I went aboard with second mate Wright.’
‘What did you find?’
‘There was much disarray,’ said the man. ‘There were lines and rigging over the deck and hanging over the rail. I tested the pumps and found three and a half feet of water. There was also a great deal of water below decks,’
‘Was this the first thing you did?’
‘Sir?’
‘Commence an immediate examination of the condition of the vessel?’ said Flood.
Deveau frowned, aware of a mistake and trying to realise what it was.
‘Yes,’ he said doubtfully.
‘You knew from the moment of stepping over the rail, then, that there was no one aboard. Ill or incarcerated below decks, for instance?’
Colour spread from the man’s neck and then up to his face.
‘We had watched the ship for some hours through the glass,’ he said. ‘There had never been any movement on deck in all that time.’
‘ Below deck, I said, Mr Deveau.’
‘We shouted, of course. Before boarding. Asked permission to board, as is the custom. And then hulloed again, as soon as we were aboard.’
‘Did you, Mr Deveau?’
Again the man hesitated, unable to see the Attorney-General’s point.
‘Or is that something you have just decided to add to your evidence at this moment?’ pursued Flood.
‘No, sir!’ protested Deveau plaintively. ‘It is as I said.’
‘You initially conveyed the impression that you boarded the vessel without any attempt to discover whether there were people on board… as if you knew the situation you were about to find.’
‘That was the whole purpose of boarding, to render any assistance that was necessary. We had shouted from the Dei Gratia for almost an hour.’
Judging that the degree of doubt at the man’s evidence had been sufficiently established, Flood said, ‘Go on with what you found — after shouting loudly, that is.’
‘I went first to the cabins, it being the most obvious place, I thought, to find if anybody were still aboard — ’
‘But there wasn’t?’
‘No, sir. The main cabin, which was slightly raised above the deck, was wet. Its door was open and its skylight raised. The windows on the starboard side were nailed up with planks and canvas and those on the port side shut.’
‘Was the cabin in disarray?’
‘Sir?’
‘You’ve given evidence that there was some confusion and mess upon the deck. Was there anything in the main cabin that surprised you… evidence that might have been produced, for instance, in a struggle?’
‘Not a struggle, sir,’ said Deveau doubtfully.
‘What then?’
‘I gained the impression that everything had been left behind in a great hurry.’
‘A panic?’
‘Great hurry,’ repeated Deveau, refusing the other man’s words.
‘What had been left behind in this great hurry?’
‘In the main cabin, I found charts, books and the slate-log which had been entered up to November 25 and showed that the vessel had made the island of Santa Maria. In some chests I found articles of women’s clothing from which I assumed there had been a female aboard. Upon a pillow and some bedding in a bunk I saw what I thought was clearly the impression of where a child had lain.’
‘A child?’
‘Yes, sir. There was an outline most clearly marked. A small child, little more than a baby. In the cabin there were also some toys and a child’s clothing… dresses, things like that.’
‘The bed was unmade?’
‘Yes, sir. As I said, everything had the appearance of being hastily left. It was wet, too. I thought that was because of rain or squally weather coming in through the fanlight.’
‘What else did you find?’
‘There were two boxes, containing both men’s and women’s clothing. There was a work bag, containing needles, threads and buttons. And some books, all of a religious nature. There was a case of plotting instruments, a writing desk, a dressing case, some dirty clothes in a bag, a clock which had stopped, a sewing machine under a sofa and a rosewood harmonium or melodeon beneath the fanlight. Because of its positioning, it had got wet.’
Remembering how a long silence had upset the man before Pisani’s intervention, Flood stood for several moments without putting another question. Deveau began shifting, gazing towards the Dei Gratia lawyer and then beyond, to where Captain Morehouse sat in the well of the court.
‘Surely you discovered something else?’ said Flood finally. ‘Something more out of keeping than those articles about which you have spoken so far?’
‘Sir?’
‘What did you come upon beneath the captain’s bunk?’
Deveau’s face cleared.
‘A sword,’ he said.
From beneath the covering, the Attorney-General took the weapon in its scabbard and held it aloft. This had been the moment, he thought, when he could have produced the incontrovertible evidence of the fool Patron.
‘This sword?’ he said.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Why did I have to prompt you about its finding?’
‘Sir?’
‘You appeared to have forgotten it.’
‘You confused me by saying it was out of keeping with everything else,’ said the man.
‘You weren’t surprised to find such a thing beneath a bunk!’
‘No, sir.’
‘A sword, Mr Deveau! Does your own captain arm himself in such a manner?’
‘I did not regard it as a weapon.’
‘Not a weapon! Really, Mr Deveau, you are straining the incredulity of this court. What is a sword, if it is not a weapon?’
‘I thought of it as nothing more than a souvenir that the master of the vessel had obtained during his travels somewhere and put out of mind beneath his bunk.’
‘Out of mind?’
‘Yes, sir. It did not appear to have been put there with any care.’
‘Thrust there for concealment, perhaps?’
‘My impression was rather that it had just been put there… a convenient storage place.’
Again Flood allowed the silence, to show the disbelief.
‘What did you do with the sword?’
‘Do, sir?’
‘Didn’t you examine it?’
‘I believe I half-pulled it from its case… I can’t rightly recall.’
‘You can’t rightly recall, Mr Deveau?’
‘I have said, sir, that I did not attach over-much importance to it. I believe I might have half-taken it out.’
‘Why?’
Deveau shrugged. ‘It’s a sort of instinctive action, with a sword, isn’t it?’
‘I would not know. Perhaps you are better versed in the instinctive uses of swords than most people at this enquiry. Did you examine it, having extracted it?’
‘I believe I looked at it…’ The man’s head was bent, in a genuine effort for recollection. He looked up, hopefully: ‘I did look at it,’ he said. ‘I remember thinking it was of ornate design, the sort of thing one sees in Italy. There’s a kind of crest upon the hilt.’
‘The Gross of Savoy, I believe,’ prompted Flood.
‘I was unaware of what it was, sir. I thought of it only as a design.’
‘So we have established that you did examine the sword. Tell this enquiry what you discovered.’
‘Nothing,’ said Deveau immediately.
‘Nothing! We’ll have a little more attention to detail than that, Mr Deveau. I’ll repeat the question. What did you find upon the blade of the weapon?’
‘Nothing that occurs to my memory now.’
Flood shifted irritably. The man was more obtuse than clever, he decided.
‘Were there not stains upon the blade?’
‘I believe there were some marks. Rust, I took them to be.’
‘Was it not really stains, Mr Deveau? Stains of blood, which had been hastily wiped?’