Laughter rippled through the courtroom. The judge rapped his gavel until the assembly hushed. “Mr. Grayson. You stand before this court accused of piracy, a hanging offense. You will refrain from making speeches and allow me to pose the questions.”
“If I’m to be hanged, where’s the benefit in decorum?” When the next wave of laughter faded, Gray lowered his voice and approached the bench. Contempt glimmered in the judge’s eyes. Good. He’d be only too eager to see Gray dead. “I know what you want, Fitzhugh. I’ll give it to you. I’m prepared to plead guilty to all your charges. You can build your career on my grave, claim your promotion, and return to England. I still doubt they’d allow you in White’s. But the questions, and the charges, begin and end with me. Do we understand each other?”
“You’ll plead guilty. To piracy.”
Gray nodded. “I’ll put on a show if you like, to make things interesting. In the end, you’ll have your hanging. But only one. Once I’ve admitted fault, you’ll call an end to this ‘informal proceeding,’ and everyone else in the room walks free.”
Fitzhugh smiled. “Very well.”
“I want your word. And if you cross me, by God I swear I’ll hunt you down in hell.”
“You have my word. Do I have yours?”
Gray gave him an easy grin. “My word as a gentleman.” He stepped back from the bench and addressed the courtroom. “Everything Captain Mallory testified is the truth.”
An outcry rose up among the men. Fitzhugh banged his gavel to no avail, until Gray motioned for silence.
It took great effort to ignore the look of betrayal in Joss’s eyes. But ignore it he did.
“I hailed the Kestrel as a friendly vessel. I boarded the ship without permission. I took command of her crew. I shot her mast down with a cannon. And I destroyed a large part of her cargo.” Gray ticked off the facts on his fingers. “All truths. If those actions make me a pirate, then I’m a pirate.” Gray spoke over a chorus of objections. “And neither I, nor the honorable Mr. Fitzhugh”—he swept the room with a meaningful glare—“care to hear any argument to the contrary. Do you follow me?”
He looked his men in the eye—O’Shea, Quinn, Levi, Stubb, and all the others, right down to Davy—until they absorbed his meaning and the obedience he demanded. He kept his jaw firm, shoulders squared, gaze unwavering. Not even a blink. The bravado came to him easily enough, when the actual dying was weeks away. There would be time enough later for trembling. Then he would be alone.
He turned back to face the bench. “Now then, Mr. Fitzhugh, you have your pirate. Do you suppose we can conclude these proceedings?”
“Yes, well …” Fitzhugh coughed. “In light of your testimony, Mr. Grayson, which is supported not only by Captain Mallory’s account but by that of your own first mate, Mr. Brackett, I find sufficient cause to hold you on a charge of piracy, a crime against the Crown. Arrangements will be made for your trial.”
The room was silent, save for the cackling laughter of Mallory. “Grayson, I
’m going to dance on the day that you swing.”
“If he swings, I swing with him.” Joss rose to his feet.
Gray drilled his brother with a glare. “Joss, no.” Sit down, damn you.Think of our sister. Think of your son.
“I’m the captain of the Aphrodite.” Joss’s voice rang through the courtroom. “I’m responsible for the actions of her passengers and crew. If my brother is a pirate, then I’m a pirate, too.”
Gray’s heart sank. They would both die now, he and his idiot of a brother. Joss walked to the center of the courtroom, the brass buttons of his captain’s coat gleaming as he strode through a shaft of sunlight. “But I demand a full trial. I will be heard, and evidence will be examined. Logbooks, the condition of the ships, the statements of my crew. If you mean to hang my brother, you’ll have to find cause to hang me.”
Fitzhugh’s eyebrows rose to his wig. “Gladly.”
“And me.”
Gray groaned at the sound of that voice. He didn’t even have to look to know that Davy Linnet was on his feet. Brave, stupid fool of a boy.
“If Gray’s a pirate, I’m a pirate, too,” Davy said. “I helped him aim and fire that cannon, that’s God’s truth. If you hang him, you have to hang me.”
Another chair scraped the floorboards as its occupant rose to his feet.
“And me.”
Oh God. O’Shea now?
“I boarded the Kestrel. I took control of her helm and helped bind that piece of shite.” The Irishman jutted his chin at Mallory. “Suppose that makes me a pirate, too.”
“Very good.” Fitzhugh’s eyes lit with glee. “Anyone else?”
Over by the window, Levi stood. His shadow blanketed most of the room.
“Me,” he said.
“Now, Levi?” Gray pulled at his hair. “Seven years in my employ, you don’t say a single goddamned word, and you decide to speak up now?”
Surrender of a Siren (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #2)
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