Black Sam - Prince of Pirates

Two - THE TRIAL

 Two-THETRIAL

 Two days later

 The old, worn wooden courthouse blended into the foggy morning. Inside there was not an empty seat in sight. Stuffed with men, women, and even some children, it was much warmer inside than out on such a crisp spring morning.

 Thomas Davis watched from the side of the courtroom as a tall, thin man stood before the bench. His ragged, soiled clothing hung down, nearly concealing the shackles and chains clamped to his ankles and wrists.

 Judge Abernathy sat stoically in his raised seat. His bushy white brows furrowed as he peered over his spectacles and down at the defendant who glared right back at him.

 “That’s quite a story Mr. Atwell. Is there a man here today who can attest to its validity?”

 Mr. Atwell nodded. “Yes, your honor.” He turned to the crowd and motioned for a man to come forward.

 An old man stood and struggled to make his way to the front. Judge Abernathy, already having lost his patience, looked at the Bailiff with a nod. The bailiff helped the old man the rest of the way to the witness box.

 The officer of the court held out a bible for the old man to swear in. The black, beady eyes of the witness looked down at the faded white letters embossed into the worn leather binding. He took it from the bailiff and held it close to his body as if protecting it. The audience erupted with laughter.

 The bailiff took hold of the holy writ, struggled against the old man's resistance, and was finally able to pull it free from the desperate clutches of the witness. “Place your left hand on the bible and your right arm to the square.”

 The old man did the exact opposite. Thomas looked around at the many laughing faces. It seemed to him that the people watching these proceedings were more spectators at an event, than concerned citizens.

 The judge slammed his gavel down and brought them to order while the bailiff helped the old man with his hand position.

 “State your full name.”

 “Henry Daniel Fuller.”

 “Do you intend to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

 Henry swallowed the lump in his throat. “Yes.”

 Before Henry even finished, Cornelius Rathbone, a notorious Massachusetts prosecutor, was up on his feet. He straightened his gray wig and adjusted his black coat. “Mr.Fuller, you say you know Mr. Atwell?”

 “Yes.”

 “Can you tell us how it is you came to know him?”

 “Yes.” Spurred by chuckles from the audience, Henry looked around the courthouse with a smile as if they laughed with him.

 “How about right now?” Cornelius asked.

 “Yes, I know him right now.”

 The audience roared with laughter again. Henry looked around at the people in the courthouse, seemingly unaware of the real humor.

 “Henry!” Cornelius yelled, silencing all in the courtroom.

 Henry jolted to attention and began to tremble.

 Cornelius relaxed his eyebrows and took a deep breath. “Henry,” he said much more softly. “Will you tell us how you met Mr.Atwell?”

 Henry just stared at him with wide eyes.

 “Please?” Cornelius begged.

 “Well, I met Mr.Atwell… Jack...I met Jack Atwell in London. We were… uh...we were both working aboard a merchant ship.”