‘I have said that almost everything in the cabin was very wet. I took the marks to be rust, caused by the sword becoming damp.’
‘Were the marks positive spotting, as happens when metal commences to rust?’
‘Not exactly, sir.’
Flood felt the stir of excitement. It was coming, he thought. Very slowly. But he was extracting the evidence he wanted. He would have to be careful his accent didn’t begin overwhelming him, making the words difficult to comprehend:
‘Explain exactly what they were?’
Deveau hesitated, seeking the words.
‘Smeared,’ he conceded finally.
‘Does rust smear?’
‘I considered it was rust recently forming… that I caused the effect by withdrawing the blade from its scabbard.’
‘Isn’t the real explanation that it was not rust at all?’ demanded Flood suddenly. ‘Isn’t the real explanation that it was unquestionably blood that had been hastily wiped after some horrific attack upon the captain and his family aboard the Mary Celeste?’
Flood had expected Deveau to react in confusion, but instead the man stood regarding him curiously.
‘I know nothing of that, sir,’ he said.
‘Don’t you, Mr Deveau?’ Flood extended his hand, as if offering the sword he still held towards the man. ‘Don’t you know how these suspicious stains came to be upon this weapon?’
Deveau frowned again, this time with the growing awareness of what Flood was suggesting.
‘No, sir,’ he said anxiously. ‘As God is my witness, I do not.’
‘Alas,’ said Flood, ‘God appears to have absented himself that day from the side of Captain Briggs and his unfortunate family. Let’s proceed with what else you found.’
‘After the captain’s cabin, we went to the galley,’ took up the witness. ‘The door was open. There was about a foot of water there, where the sea had come in. The stove was knocked out of place and the cooking utensils scattered everywhere — ’
‘As might have happened had there been an altercation… a fight perhaps?’ intruded Flood.
‘I thought it the effect of the ship being tossed about by the weather. That and perhaps the sea flooding in.’
‘There was no evidence of victuals, indicating a meal?’
‘None.’
‘Was the stove hot?’
‘No. Quite cold and shifted, as I say.’
‘What about the fo’c’sle?’
‘There was great confusion in the seamen’s quarters,’ remembered Deveau. ‘I found the men’s oilskins, boots and even their pipes scattered about the place.’
‘You have a great experience of sailing?’
‘Since a boy of fifteen.’
‘Tell me, what do you imagine would cause men to abandon a ship, as is being suggested by some witnesses that this vessel was abandoned, in such haste that qualified, trained seamen would not think to snatch up their boots, oilskins or even their pipes?’
‘I do not know, sir.’
‘Would you have expected people to leave the vessel in such unpreparedness?’
‘No, I would not.’
‘Yet, according to what you found in their quarters, this is exactly what happened?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘I would now invite you to recall the conditions that existed on deck,’ said Flood. He might have lost the initiative with the bloodstains through the incompetence of the analyst, but his other prime exhibit was going to be more difficult to explain away.
‘The main hatch was securely fastened and there were fenders upon which a boat had obviously been kept. The forehatch was off, though. So was the lazarette hatch, where the provisions and spare gear is stowed in the rear of the vessel. The water casks on deck had been moved, as if by heavy seas. The binnacle was stove-in and on its side, the compass destroyed. The stove pipe to the galley had been knocked over, I thought by the collapsed main staysail that was partially upon the galley roof. And as we had observed through the glass before boarding, the wheel was not lashed.’
‘What about the rail?’ began Flood.
‘The rail?’ queried Deveau cautiously.
‘The rail, Mr Deveau…’
Theatrically, Flood took away the cloth, to disclose a section of the rail that he had had Vecchio remove from the impounded vessel.
‘This rail,’ he said, holding it up and then gesturing for Vecchio to take it from him and carry it to the witness.
‘Examine it,’ he demanded.
Deveau took the exhibit and stared down at it.
‘What is that half-way along that rail section?’ demanded Flood.
‘A cut, sir.’
‘A cut, sir,’ parroted Flood confidently. ‘Is it not a very sharp cut? And deep? The sort of mark that it would have needed a particularly sharp weapon… an axe, for instance… to inflict?’
‘Yes.’
‘During your examination of the deck area, what cause did you conclude for this mark?’
‘I did not see it.’
‘Not see it, Mr Deveau! Is it not obvious enough and deep enough for anyone seeking an explanation for the mystery of the Mary Celeste, the very function for which you had crossed to the vessel, to seize upon immediately?’
‘It is deep, certainly.’
‘Would you have expected to have seen it, from your examination?’
‘Yes.’
‘But you didn’t?’
‘No.’
‘Why would that be?’
‘I do not know.’
‘Is it not yet another indication, along with everything else you have told us during your evidence, pointing to there having been aboard this vessel a most violent fracas?’
‘I would not like to guess how the mark came to be upon the rail.’
‘Why not?’ said Flood.
‘Because there is no way of my knowing.’
‘Isn’t there, Mr Deveau? Isn’t there a way you could help this court about this injury, were you so minded?’
To his right, Pisani rose, his chair grating noisily and on purpose across the floor.
‘Sir,’ he said, to the judge. ‘Surely this questioning amounts to nothing more than irrational, unnecessary harassment? Mr Deveau is making every effort to assist, to be met on all quarters by innuendo.’
Slowly Sir James Cochrane came up from the ledger into which he had been writing his own notes of the evidence.
He indicated the book, then said, ‘I am assembling the most careful notation of the evidence. And so far it occurs to me that the Attorney-General is engaged not so much in innuendo as in a genuine effort to ascertain whatever truth might lie at the bottom of this incident.’
There was more noise, again caused purposely, as Pisani slumped back reluctantly into his chair.
‘Proceed, Mr Flood,’ Cochrane invited him.
‘Could the damage to the rail have been caused by you or your men?’ said Flood.
Deveau shook his head, more a gesture of helplessness than denial. When he spoke, it was obvious that he had realised in advance the danger of losing control and was making a conscious effort to remain composed under Flood’s interrogation:
‘I do not think it was caused by the men I eventually took with me to form a salvage crew.’
‘Or prior to your forming a salvage crew?’
‘I saw no one with an axe in hand. There was no cause.’
‘Really, Mr Deveau?’ said Flood suspiciously. He had succeeded well in casting doubt upon the man’s evidence, the Attorney-General decided.
‘No one in my presence ever carried an axe, nor inflicted the damage upon this rail.’
‘What about the blood?’ said Flood. He was hurrying the questioning now, in an effort further to shake the other man’s composure.
‘I do not know what you mean,’ said Deveau.
‘Wasn’t there blood upon the deck?’
‘I saw none.’
‘There will be subsequent witnesses to yourself who will attest that there were clearly signs of blood, even after the Mary Celeste berthed here.’
‘I saw none,’ repeated Deveau stubbornly.
‘After you and your salvage crew took control, did you wash the decks?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Or scrape them?’
‘No, sir. We did not have enough men for that. We had to concentrate upon the sailing.’