The Quality of Mercy - By Barry Unsworth Page 0,26
fine, sir,” the broker said. “Impeccable sentiments, egad, they do you credit. If you but had the trying of the case yourself, there could be very little doubt of the verdict. But it is far from certain whether the judge will take the same view.”
He had spoken tartly, provoked at last by the arrogant certainty of the other’s tone. Now he saw Kemp relax a little from the braced position he had assumed in the high-backed chair, and he wondered for a moment if the way to get the fellow on terms less stiff was to quarrel with him. The broker was an observant man, and shrewd in his way. There was some absence in the other’s face, a kind of blankness, in spite of the fierce regard. This was a man who believed so strongly in his own purposes as to appear stricken by them, afflicted—and he answered this affliction with rage. “In a case of this kind,” the broker said, “at such an interval of time and with such flawed and partial testimony, no one can predict the outcome.”
He saw the other pick up a ruler and strike down at the desk with it. “Filthy little creatures,” Kemp said. “How do they get in? The window can’t be opened.”
“What can be predicted are the legal costs,” Van Dillen said.
“My good sir, the facts are not in dispute, at least as regards the central fact of the negroes being cast overboard and the necessity thereof.”
“It is precisely the necessity of it that the insurers will dispute if it comes before a court.”
“There was a shortage of water. Lawful jettison is one of the hazards covered by the underwriters. You guaranteed the policy with my father in 1752, through his agent in Liverpool, where the ship was built and fitted out.”
“Not I,” Van Dillen said. “I inherited the policy on the death of my uncle, when I became one of the partners. I would never have signed an agreement on a per capita basis at a fixed rate. No firm that I know of would insure against loss of cargo at more than twenty percent of the current market value.”
“Well, sir, like it or not, the insurers accepted the risk at that time to the extent of thirty guineas per head for the men and twenty-three for the women. Come, it is not so unreasonable. In the summer of 1753, when these negroes were cast overboard with just cause, a male slave would have fetched forty-five guineas in Jamaica, whither the ship was bound, and a female thirty-three or -four. The numbers are not in dispute. There were eyewitnesses, some of them still alive.”
“They will be the surviving members of the crew, no doubt, presently lying in Newgate Prison, men who will be facing charges of murder and piracy once this insurance claim has been settled. Fine witnesses, sir.”
“There is also the chief officer, Barton. He will testify to the numbers and to the shortage of water.”
“The mate on a slave ship, we know what that is. And freed on your surety. Neither judge nor jury will take him to their bosoms. And then, memory plays us false, all men of ordinary judgment recognize that. It was a desperate action—ship and crew were in a grievous state at the time. It is no use whatever to talk about the value of the cargo, as we both know full well. A Corymantee black, for instance, will fetch more than an Ibo, as being more robust and less likely to cut his throat or decline into melancholy and so die.”
Van Dillen smiled and nodded and sat back as far as he was able, smoothing down the white cotton waistcoat over his ample paunch. “Sir, latitude of thought, the ability to make distinctions, is a main mark of civilized man. I know the Guinea trade, sir, we do a great deal of business in that line.”
“I do not doubt it.” These last remarks had confirmed Kemp in his dislike of the broker, whose quality of civilization had an odor he recognized. That he was obliged to recognize it, that it was an odor Van Dillen obviously took for granted they had in common—something Kemp could not deny, even if he had so far demeaned himself as to attempt it, since denial would have been tantamount to admission—his visitor could hardly have given him offense more mortal. “I have business to attend to,” he said. “What is the nature of this proposal of yours?”