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"How do you plead to the charges, Mr. Burke?" the judge asked.
"Guilty of drunkenness, Your Honor. But innocent of the rest, which is a bunch of lies," Willie replied.
"These men all say you attacked Captain Atkins," the judge said, gesturing at the paddy rollers.
Willie said something the judge couldn't understand.
"Speak louder!" the judge said.
"I'd consider the source!" Willie replied.
"We have two sides of the same story, Mr. Burke. But unfortunately for you the preponderance of testimony comes from your adversaries. Can you pay a fifty-dollar fine?" the judge said.
"I cannot!"
The judge cupped his ear and leaned forward. His face was as white as goat's cheese, his hair like a tangle of yellowish-gray flaxen.
"Speak louder!" he yelled.
"I have no money, sir! I'll have to serve a penal sentence!" Willie said.
"Can you pay twenty-five dollars?" the judge said.
"No, I cannot!"
"I'll pay his fine, me," a voice at the back of the room said.
The judge leaned forward and squinted into the gloom until he made out the massive shape of Jean-Jacques LaRose.
"The only fine you'll pay will be your own, you damn pirate. Get out of my court and don't return unless you're under arrest," the judge said.
"May I speak, Your Honor?" Abigail Dowling said.
The judge stared at her, his glasses low on his nose, his head hanging forward from his black coat and the split collar that extended up into his jowls like pieces of white cardboard.
"You're the nurse from Massachusetts?" he asked.
"Yes, sir, that's correct!" she yelled.
"Everybody in this proceeding is red-faced and shouting. What's the matter with you people?" the judge said. "Never mind, go ahead, whatever your name is."
Abigail walked out of the gloom into a patch of sunlight, her hands folded in front of her. She wore an open-necked purple dress with lace on the
collar and a silver comb in the bun on top of her head.
"I know Mr. Burke well and do not believe him capable of harming anyone. He's of a gentle spirit and has devoted himself both to his studies and works of charity. His accusers-"
She paused, her right hand floating in the direction of Rufus Atkins and the paddy rollers. "His accusers are filled with anger at their own lack of self-worth and visit their anger with regularity on the meek and defenseless. It's my view their testimony is not motivated by a desire to further truth or justice. In fact, their very presence here demeans the integrity of the court and is an offense to people of good will," she said.
The judge looked at her a long moment. "I hope the Yankees don't have many more like you on their side," he said.
"I'm sure their ranks include much better people than I, sir," Abigail said.
It was quiet in the room. One of the paddy rollers hawked softly and leaned over and spit in his handkerchief. The judge pinched his temples.
"You want to say anything, Captain Atkins?" he asked.
"I haven't the gift of elocution that Miss Dowling has, since I wasn't educated in a Northern state where Africans are taught to disrespect white people," he said. "But that man yonder, Willie Burke, attacked an officer of the law. You have my word on that."
