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Updated: June 15, 2025


He was dressed in the black clothes of a Spanish judge. On his round face there was always a smile like that which hangs around the jaws of a pike only more humorous. He bowed a little exaggeratedly to me and said: "Ah, ye are that famous Mr. Kemp." I said that I imagined him the more famous Señor Juez O'Brien. "It's little use saying ye arren't famous," he said.

"Senor Juez," I said, addressing him, "let me beg you to consider what you are doing. Surely my accent is enough to satisfy any reasonable person that I am not a native of this country. I am willing to remain in your custody, or to go wherever you like to send me; but your men shall tear me to pieces before making me suffer the indignity of the stocks.

Was it not my duty to return to the bay and give myself up? In that case, as Castro expressed it, our throats would be cut for love of the Juez. But Seraphina, the rabble would carry to the Casa on the palms of their hands out of veneration for the family, and for fear of O'Brien. "So, Señor," he mumbled, "if to you to-morrow's sun is as little as to me let us pull the boat's head, round."

No sooner had we all entered than a hen, leading a brood of a dozen half-grown chickens, rushed into the room after us, the chickens instantly distributing themselves about the floor in quest of crumbs, while the mother, more ambitious, flew on the table, scattering the papers right and left with the wind she created. "A thousand demons take the fowls!" cried the Juez, starting up in a fury.

He suggested San Estevan and wrote the promised letter to the juez of that village. San Estevan is a pretty village, near the summit of some low gray hills of tufa, behind which rises a background of higher hills of the same material. The slope is terraced for the houses, which are all built of adobe bricks and have flat roofs.

His late excellency owned a sugar estate halfway between Rio Medio and Havana, and a relay of riding mules was kept there for quickness when His Excellency of holy memory found occasion to write his commands to the capital. The news of our escape would reach the Juez next day at the latest. Manuel would take care of that unless he were drowned. But he could swim like a fish. Malediction!

Moreover, I hate that familiar of the priests, that soft-spoken Juez, intendente, intriguer that O'Brien. A sufferer for the faith! Que picardia! Have I, too, not suffered for the faith? I am the trusted humble friend of the Riegos. But, perhaps, you think Don Balthasar is himself a pirate!

I heard him mumble, with almost incredible, sardonic contempt, that, indeed, the senor would soon have none but dead friends if he refrained from striking at his enemies. Had the senor taken the very excellent opportunity afforded by Providence, and that any sane Christian man would have taken to let him stab the Juez O'Brien we should not then be wandering in a little boat. What folly!

Bribery first and foremost; and if that fails personal intimidation, political influence, private friendship, and the compadrazgo. Naturally, if you have a lawsuit or are tried for a crime, you should lay a good foundation. This is done by working upon the Juez de primera instancia, who corresponds in some degree to the Juge d'instruction in France.

The Lugareño stammered, "Nikola... Nikola el Escoces, Señor Don Patricio." "You hear?" O'Brien asked the judge. "This villager identifies the man." "Undoubtedly undoubtedly," the Juez said. "We need no more evidence.... You, Señor, have seen this villain in Rio Medio, this villager identifies him by name." I said, "This is absurd. A hundred witnesses can say that I am John Kemp...."

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