The Quality of Mercy - By Barry Unsworth Page 0,18

had forced him to call on reserves of resistance, taken from him the commoner sort of kindness.

“What will you do?” she asked, as they moved together toward the door. “About Mr. Evans, I mean.”

He held the door open for her, keeping it wide to allow the unhindered passage of the skirts. “What I shall do,” he said eagerly, “is bring immediate proceedings for criminal assault on his behalf against Bolton, who ordered it, and the men who seized him and conveyed him to the ship, and the ship’s captain who had him chained to the mast.”

She smiled at him as she passed through. “Dear brother,” she said, “you will drown in litigation one of these days if you are not careful.”

He remained in the room for some minutes after she had gone, as if at a loss, momentarily disabled. These moments of arrest came sometimes to him, times at which his purposes seemed suspended, hoisted away from him, and he was recalled to his former life, genteel and pointless—the debating society, the coffeehouse, the written verses of slight value circulated among friends …

He glanced up suddenly, as if to break free. Yes, he would bring criminal charges against them. He had never before initiated criminal proceedings by a black man against a white. The Grand Jury might throw out the indictment. But it was only by testing the ground that any way forward could be found. Tirelessly, in spite of all disappointment, he persisted in the belief that a judgment would someday be delivered that would open men’s eyes, call the entire system into question. If Evans’s case went as far as the Court of King’s Bench, substantial costs were only to be expected …

The maid came in to take away the tea things, and with this Ashton recalled suddenly that he was awaited in his study and began to make his way there.

The man who rose at his entrance was middle-aged and corpulent, plainly dressed in frock coat and double-breasted waistcoat and wearing the raised wig with double roll common to men of business. “Good of you to give me your time, sir,” he said as they shook hands. “I am much obliged. Van Dillen at your service.” He spoke with a slight foreign accent.

“Pray be seated. You represent the insurers, I believe.”

“That is so, sir. You have been giving the case some attention, as I understand.”

Ashton’s first impulse was to ask the other how he had come by this understanding. But he forbore—it would be common knowledge by this time, at least in the circles frequented by his visitor. “Naturally, yes,” he said. “It has some unusual features, would you not agree?”

Van Dillen raised a plump, short-fingered hand and briefly caressed his chin. “Unusual features, yes, one could say that. You will know that an action has been brought against the underwriters to recover a percentage of the value of sixty-eight male slaves and seventeen females lost in the passage from the Coast of Guinea to the West Indies in the year 1753.”

“I did not know the numbers. What is your warranty for those?”

“The first mate of the ship, James Barton, has made a deposition to that effect and will repeat his testimony in court, if so required. Other members of the crew may be called upon to testify, since it is a question of fact and does not involve them in any criminal charges. Barton has said that they cast the negroes overboard while the breath of life was still in them. This they did on the orders of the captain, which orders, as he declares, were sufficient authority. He has been freed on the surety of the present owner, son of the former owner, by name Erasmus Kemp. His whereabouts have been kept secret to prevent him from being got at.”

Some snap of resentment in the tone of these last words told Ashton that efforts to get at the mate had already been made, without success. “Well,” he said, “if we can bring him before the court, we may get at him there.”

“You say ‘we,’ sir. I am delighted to hear you say it. It is in the hope that you will support our case that I have taken the liberty of calling on you at your home. They claim there was a shortage of water aboard the ship. It is our belief, and we will found our case on it, that this is gross falsehood, that these slaves were cast overboard because they were sick