The Hidden Man (21 page)

‘In what business?'

‘Marine insurance.'

‘Well now, Mr Jackson, I presume you are aware we are putting to inquest the sudden death of Phillip Pimbo, goldsmith of this town. Did you know Mr Pimbo?'

‘No Sir, in person I did not.'

‘You did not do business with him?'

‘Not directly.'

‘Indirectly, then?'

‘I recently discovered him as the backer of one with whom my company has business.'

‘And that person is?'

‘Mr Zadok Moon.'

A new ripple of interest agitated the room.

‘The court is delighted to hear that name, Sir,' I said with feeling. ‘At last we've found someone with knowledge of the mysterious Mr Moon.'

Jackson had been sitting with his hands clasped in his lap, and I saw that I could measure, by the tightness of the clasp, the tautness of his nerves. But now he partially loosened a forefinger from the clasp and raised it.

‘I do not say I know him, Sir. I have never met him, although what I do know of him is not much to his credit.'

‘Ah! Perhaps now we are getting to the point. You have said you can help the court in this matter of the allegation of fraud by the late Mr Pimbo against Mr Moon. How can you do that?'

The witness's voice had a tendency to hoarseness. He cleared his throat before answering.

‘Mr Moon was engaged in a venture in the Guinea Trade. He had undertaken insurance of a vessel,
The Fortunate Isle
, and paid the premium accordingly. But then a few weeks ago Mr Moon sent in notice of claim for the loss of the vessel, along with a large and valuable cargo. The company believes that this claim, before it is paid out, should be enquired into further.'

‘Can you be precise? How much did Mr Moon claim?'

‘An indemnity of fifteen thousand pounds – a very large sum for a loss that had not even been entered in the Casualty Book at Lloyds.'

‘Which means?'

‘A casualty is a ship totally lost with all its cargo. There is a book at the Coffee House in London where the underwriters meet, and every confirmed casualty is entered there.'

‘And this particular casualty has not been so confirmed.'

‘Not to my knowledge.'

Amidst a buzz of comment from the audience, I glanced along the table and saw that one or two of the jury were finding the evidence hard to follow.

‘Well, I understand why your company feels it must investigate. The sum in question is, as you say, an enormous one. How much was the premium they had to pay for this amount of cover?'

‘One thousand five hundred pounds.'

‘Was it a single payment?'

‘Yes.'

‘And paid by Mr Moon himself?'

‘I don't know. It was forwarded by Moon, but it was in the form of bills or notes payable to bearer.'

‘And these notes were good for cash?'

‘Oh yes, they were legitimate.'

‘So there is no question of fraud in respect of the premiums?'

‘No – the policy was sound and properly paid. The suspected fraud was in relation to Mr Moon's claim.'

‘Very well. Let us turn to that claim, which, you have told us, was for fifteen thousand pounds. Shall we examine that figure? What was the approximate value of the ship, in round numbers?'

‘Five thousand pounds.'

‘And what was its cargo?'

‘Slaves.'

‘How many?'

‘About one hundred and fifty.'

‘Male and female?'

‘Yes.'

‘So, according to Mr Moon, if his complement of negroes was worth ten thousand pounds, they must sell for about sixty-five pounds apiece.'

But Jackson shook his head violently.

‘Oh no! Nothing so high. At market an adult slave fetches between ten and, for a really good specimen, twenty pounds. A child is of course less.'

‘So let us say the mean is fifteen pounds: a hundred and fifty might then be sold for two thousand two hundred and fifty pounds?'

‘Yes.'

‘Why then was Mr Moon's cargo insured so high?'

‘Because the price of a slave in the West Indies can buy sugar that will be worth three or four times as much when it is brought home.'

‘I see. Three or four times. Is that right? So converted into sugar, the real value of the 150 slaves might indeed be uplifted to ten thousand pounds?'

‘Just so.'

Someone in the audience whistled at the increment.

‘Very well. Now, what did Mr Moon say in his claim?'

‘That the ship was lost at sea. All souls on board were drowned except for one. The claim came accompanied by the survivor's statement.'

‘Who was that happy person?'

‘His name is Edward Doubleday.'

‘And Mr Doubleday was?'

‘He was Captain Doubleday, the master of
The Fortunate Isle
.'

‘Have you the Captain's statement?'

‘Not here, no.'

‘Will you summarize it for us?'

‘It related that the ship had gone without incident to the Guinea coast where manufactures were traded for the 150 negroes, who were brought on board. The ship then commenced the Middle Passage, at the end of which the disaster happened.'

I interrupted.

‘The Middle Passage: what was that?'

‘The Guinea Trade is a triangular voyage, Sir, and a clever contrivance for multiplying profit. The first passage is to the Guinea coast to get negroes; the second is across the ocean to the West Indies where those negroes are sold for cash which is then exchanged for sugar, spices, coffee or tobacco; and the last is the passage home. As I have just demonstrated, the ship-owner expects to make a multiplied profit on each of these exchanges.'

‘But the profits are earned only at considerable risk, I understand,' I said. ‘Tell us more about those risks, would you?'

‘The risks are from disease among the negroes, a negro insurrection, an attack by pirates or by the Spanish, and finally a storm or accident to the ship.'

Jackson was speaking fast, and on a single level, as one stating matters of fact with neither forethought nor reflection.

‘I do not suppose we know how many ships are lost by these means,' I said.

‘Of course we do. My company's business is to know, as it calculates premiums according to the level of risk. It is known at Lloyd's that one in a dozen ships undertaking this voyage is lost.'

‘And what of the other eleven? Are they reliably profitable?'

‘Prodigiously profitable, if the voyage is carried out with the necessary rigour. All costs must be kept as low as they can be. A few metal trinkets, barrels of rum or bales of cloth will secure negroes from the baracoons.'

‘Baracoons?'

‘Slave compounds at the entrepots, or slave-markets, on the coast. The negroes are brought there from the interior of the continent to be sold. Seasoned Guineamen then say that, once you have them aboard, the secret is to keep them alive while feeding them as little as possible during the Middle Passage.'

‘How long does that last?'

‘It is considered to have gone well if it is done in fourteen weeks. But the captain must get his navigation right, and avoid attacks and bad weather.'

‘I see that many factors are in play. So continue, please, with Captain Doubleday's account of events.'

‘Well, according to her captain,
The Fortunate Isle
had sailed for a hundred days and was a day or two away from landfall at Barbados when the negroes rose up and attempted to gain their freedom. In the course of the struggle the ship was fired and as she blazed the captain and three other white men got away in the cutter.'

‘The cutter?'

‘Every ship carries one. It is a small open boat which can be rowed or sailed.'

‘And what of the others – the crew and the human cargo?'

‘All burned alive, or drowned as the ship was consumed. The captain could do nothing to help because of the danger from the slaves and the intense heat.'

At this point the jury foreman, James Purvis, had a question.

‘There were three others in the boat with Doubleday? You said before he was the only survivor.'

‘His statement is that his companions in the boat died while the boat was at sea. They succumbed to their wounds, or burns, so that he was alone by the time he reached the coast of Barbados two days later.'

Now Thomas Proctor butted in with a query of his own.

‘All this happened a long way from here, Sir. Have you met this Doubleday fellow? How do you know that what he says is true?'

‘His statement came in the form of a letter from Barbados. He has not yet returned from there, and he has not been examined.'

‘You said you doubted this claim, didn't you? You thought he was lying.'

Proctor's challenge made Tybalt Jackson, all of a sudden, uncomfortable. It was as if having volunteered to give evidence he suddenly saw the extent to which he was exposed. He answered cautiously.

‘I said the company, not me, has deemed it necessary to enquire into the claim before it could be paid. I am merely charged with that duty. I travelled from Bristol to Liverpool to speak to Mr Moon on the matter, but could not find him. Not being able to find him perturbs me, naturally.'

As Proctor lapsed back into silence, I picked up the interrogation again, for Doubting Thomas's question had been very pertinent.

‘Is there anything inherently unlikely about Doubleday's account of the events at sea? This revolt of the slaves?'

‘Everything is done to prevent such a thing, but sometimes it happens.'

‘So the very element that rose up and fired the ship was also – how shall I put it? – the element that made it valuable.'

‘Yes, she was destroyed by the very commodity and cargo that she was intended to carry.'

I reflected for a moment, then burst out, unable to prevent myself:

‘By God, Jackson, I find it uncomfortable to hear and use such language. You speak of commodity and cargo, but they were human beings were they not?'

As soon as we had started to speak in detail of the slaves there had been a slight but audible disturbance in the room. Now a few voices were being lifted above the level of a whisper, so much that Jackson was obliged to raise his own voice to be heard himself.

‘I merely use the common language of the Trade.'

‘Which treats such individuals only as commodities, not as members of humanity?'

‘Yes.'

‘What do you yourself think, Mr Jackson?'

‘I am not … qualified to judge. I do not engage in the Trade myself.'

I could not let this pass.

‘But you do! Your business is to insure the value of men whom their fellow men presume to own.'

‘Some do say that the negro is not human at all, and therefore—'

‘And so he isn't!' called someone in the room.

To which another answered:

‘Yes he is! For shame!'

I rang my handbell.

‘Quiet, if you please. No interrupting. We must hear the evidence.'

As the noise began to subside I hastened it down by speaking more urgently.

‘Mr Jackson! You were about to say?'

Jackson had grown red in the face, and he was rapidly blinking his eyes. His voice was hoarser now and, for a moment, he almost coughed over his words.

‘We cannot approve of, we cannot judge, every activity of those we engage with. Business would become impossible.'

The room was quiet again, all agog, except for one voice which growled out,

‘Judge, or be ye judged!'

‘No! Listen!' Jackson cried, his voice still cracking but clearly heard. ‘My employers believe that the business we speak of is a good and profitable one, conducted for the righteous welfare of our nation, but also as a means whereby the negro is brought to civilization, and to true religion. The continent he comes from is full of darkness, tyrants, terrors and diseases, while the place he goes to offers useful employment and safety. My employers believe that everyone should be happy about this; they see it as their vindication. I do not say—'

The noise in the hall had grown considerable once more. Some of the audience were crying ‘Aye!', while others shouted out in hot denial.

‘I don't say that I myself
agree
with them,' went on Jackson, redder and redder in the face and with his voice cracking, ‘I merely state their position.'

I was feeling heated myself. I wished I knew more and would have liked to continue my questioning about these rights and wrongs. But it was the court's purpose to listen to the facts, not fall to moral wrangling. I quietened the audience, then said,

‘Well, Mr Jackson, that is a debate for another time and place. If we may return to matters here in hand, you volunteered some information that might help us with our difficulty over Mr Pimbo's allegation of fraud against Zadok Moon. Is it not the case, then, that you do suspect Mr Moon for fraud?'

Jackson's cheeks had previously indicated some emotional arousal, but their glow now faded and his complexion was inclined to the chalky, though not as white as his knuckles in their handclasp. Was he beginning to regret his impulsive decision to give evidence?

‘I may have gone too far,' he said. ‘I make no accusation at this stage. But I do say that there is no corroboration of the loss of the ship so, while I do not say there has been fraud, I say there is no proof that the loss was suffered. No insurance company in the land would pay out a claim so large without being certain of the facts. I have nothing more to add to that. I … I really cannot say more.'

‘Cannot, Mr Jackson, or will not?'

It seemed to me he was like the man that has lifted the roof off a hive for the honey but forgotten about the bee-stings. And some of those stings would be inflicted by his employers should he speak out of his turn.

‘I have given my evidence,' he stated. ‘May I please go now?'