‘No matter.’
Tom gave him an uncertain look. ‘Mr Cheesman seemed most sympathetic to our plight.’
‘No doubt he was,’ Tilly said. ‘As shipping master, he had a legal duty to report any death at sea, but he also knows how often shipwrecked seamen have been forced to resort to the custom of the sea. Had it been left in his hands, or had you claimed that the boy had drowned with the wreck or died of natural causes while adrift in the dinghy, I’m sure the incident would have been quietly buried in the files of the Board of Trade.
‘Unfortunately your determination and even eagerness to tell the whole truth, while it does you great credit, did alert Sergeant Laverty, who was much less sympathetic. According to Mr Cheesman, Laverty said he had no intention of allowing officials in Whitehall to decide whether you should be prosecuted. He had witnessed your full confession to the crime of murder, corroborated by Stephens, and you had handed him the murder weapon.
‘He immediately left the Customs House to obtain a warrant for your arrest. The chairman of the justices of the peace was very aware of the widespread sympathy for you in the town and I know that he showed a marked reluctance to sign a warrant, but I’m afraid Laverty was not to be denied.’
‘But the charges will be dropped? It will go no further?’
Tilly hesitated, selecting his words with care. ‘News of your arrest is already widespread and there is great public sympathy for you, not just in seafaring communities like Falmouth but throughout the country. But it is not shared by the Home Office.’
‘But we were simply following the custom of the sea.’
Tilly pressed the tips of his fingers together and studied them in silence before raising his eyes to meet Tom’s gaze. ‘I’m afraid you should not put your trust in the custom of the sea. No matter how many shipwrecked men have had resort to it, it has no legal status whatsoever.’
Tom’s expression darkened, but when he spoke, his voice remained strong and certain. ‘Then I’ll put my faith in God’s truth and English justice. We have committed no crime and no jury of Englishmen will convict us.’
Tilly pursed his lips and looked away from Tom’s unwavering gaze. ‘I hope your trust is not misplaced.’
While Tilly was preparing Tom’s defence, the Home Office civil servants had turned their attention to the cables from the Board of Trade. The notes written on the Home Office file as it passed up the official pyramid reflect the uncertainty and ambivalence felt — at low levels at least — about a prosecution.
The first annotation, made on the morning of Monday, 8 September, as Tom, Brooks and Stephens were appearing before the Falmouth magistrates, read: ‘It does not appear to me a case in which any action should be taken. They had been nineteen days without food or drink, were driven mad with thirst and the only question was whether they should kill the boy or all of them die.’
Later the same day, a second official added: ‘If they are committed on a capital charge the case will in ordinary course come into the hands of the Treasury Solicitors.’
The attorney general, Sir Henry James, also saw the file and wrote at once to the home secretary, Sir William Harcourt. ‘The Mignonette people ought to be properly prosecuted. They certainly ought to be convicted, for if the principle of these proceedings be admitted as correct and justifiable I shall decline for the future to sit near any men with a large appetite.’
When the file reached the home secretary, any doubts about the proper course of action were removed. ‘This is a very dreadful case. The law must decide what is the character of this terrible act. I presume the men will be committed. In any case I should wish the Public Prosecutor to take charge of the case so that it may be properly dealt with.’
His instruction to the Board of Trade was even more specific: ‘If these men are not tried for murder, we are giving carte blanche to every ship’s captain, whenever he runs low on provisions, to eat his cabin boy.’
The Crown already possessed the self-incriminating statements given to the collector of customs and the murder weapon, but other evidence was also secured. Richard Hodge was sent back to the Moctezuma, which was still in port awaiting orders to sail, and towed the Mignonette’s dinghy into the harbour. It was locked up in a private warehouse, Mr Buckingham’s store at Upton Slip, where it was examined by officials from the Customs House.
Hodge also brought ashore the other items from the dinghy: two paddles, the brass crutches for the oars, the chronometer and its metal case, the sextant and a bundle of clothing. A packet of papers fell out of the clothes as they were being unloaded and Sergeant Laverty examined them. They were drafts in Tom’s hand describing the sinking of the Mignonette and the fate of Richard Parker. They did not deviate significantly from the one that Tom had already handed to Cheesman, but Laverty added them to the now-bulging file of evidence and witness statements.
When he was handed the clothes later that day, Tom searched through them. ‘Did you not find any papers?’
‘I did,’ Laverty said.
‘Please give them to me. They are my private property.’
‘They were. They are Crown exhibits now.’
On the Tuesday evening, 10 September, Tom heard a commotion from Superintendent Bourne’s apartment. Richard Parker’s eldest brother, Daniel, who bore a strong likeness in both looks and voice to his brother, had been working as a hand on the yacht Marguerite. It was at anchor in Torquay when he heard of the death of his brother and the arrest of Tom, Brooks and Stephens. ‘I only heard a little bit about the news on Sunday afternoon and I could not believe it was true, but on Monday morning the skipper of the yacht read it out from the papers to all hands and we were, of course, much shocked.’
Daniel at once asked the captain for leave to go to Falmouth for the hearing at the magistrates’ court. As soon as he arrived, he went straight to the police station and was shown upstairs into Superintendent Bourne’s apartment. Tom had never met Daniel and had not seen him arrive, but when he overheard the two men talking, he cried out, ‘Why, that’s Dick’s voice.’
Daniel at once asked to see the three defendants, and persisted until he had overcome the initial opposition of the superintendent and the vociferous protests of Sergeant Laverty.
As he entered their room, Tom stood up and extended his hand. After a momentary hesitation, Daniel shook hands with each man in turn, first Tom, then Brooks, then Stephens.
‘You are so like your brother,’ Tom said. ‘He was a fine lad and a credit to you.’
Daniel nodded. ‘He was always a smart little chap. He knocked about on the boats and got his own living almost as soon as he could crawl. He had it a little bit rough like the rest of us, but I can tell you there was not a healthier young fellow in the place.’ He paused. ‘I was filling out my vessel at Lymington at the time he went away. I saw him after he had shipped on the Mignonette but if I had seen him before he signed articles I might have persuaded him not to go.’
He looked away from them, gazing out of the window, then swung back to meet Tom’s steady gaze. ‘Why did you not draw lots, as the custom of the sea requires?’
‘My men refused to,’ Tom said, his voice matter-of-fact. ‘I would have taken my chance with the rest, but they would not do so. Then, the poor boy drank sea-water one night. He was dying anyway and we had wives and children depending on us. To save the lives of three, I hastened his end.’ He held Daniel’s gaze. ‘Had I my time over again, I would do no different.’