s, very dry, ancient, wrinkled. The judge
on his right called angrily:

"Nonsense, it is too late.... They are being sworn. You should have
spoken when the names were read." Underneath his wig was an immensely
broad face with glaring yellow eyes.

I said, "It is scandalous. You want to murder me, How should I know what
you do in your courts? I say the jury is packed."

The very old judge closed his eyes, opened them again, then gasped out:

"Silence. We are here to try you. This is a court of law."

The turnkey pulled my sleeve under cover of the planking. "Treat him
civil," he whispered, "Lord Justice Stowell of the Hadmir'lty. 'Tother's
Baron Garrow of the Common Law; a beast; him as hanged that kid. You can
sass him; it doesn't matter."

Lord Stowell waved his hand to the clerk with the ragged gown; the book
passed from hand to hand along the faces of the jury, the clerk gabbling
all the while. The old judge said suddenly, in an astonishingly deep,
majestic voice:

"Prisoner at the bar, you must understand that we are here to give you
an impartial trial according to the laws of this land. If you desire
advice as to the procedure of this court you can have it."

I said, "I still protest against that Jury. I am an innocent man,
and------"

He answered querulously, "Yes, yes, afterwards." And then creaked, "Now
the indictment...."

Someone hidden from me by three barristers began to read in a loud voice
not very easy to follow. I caught:

"For that the said John Kemp, alias Nichols, alias Nikola el Escoces,
alias el Demonio, alias el Diabletto, on the twelfth of May last, did
feloniously and upon the high seas piratically seize a certain ship
called the _Victoria_... um... um, the properties of Hyman Cohen and
others... and did steal and take therefrom six hundred and thirty
barrels of coffee of the value of... um... um... um... one hundred and
one barrels of coffee of the value of... ninety-four half kegs... and
divers others..."

I gave an immense sigh.... That was it, then. I had heard of the
_Victoria_; it was when I was at Horton that the news of her loss
reached us. Old Macdonald had sworn; it was the day a negro called
Apollo had taken to the bush. I ought to be able to prove that.
Afterwards, one of the judges asked me if I pleaded guilty or not
guilty. I began a long wrangle about being John Kemp but not Nikola el
Escoces. I was going to fight every inch of the way. They said:

"You will have y