When I took my stand in the witness
box, Wasby scowled and darted a malignant and vindictive glance at me, and
then turning away his head, gazed at the judge.
As the reader is already in
possession of the facts I had to relate, I need not repeat my evidence. I
may mention, however, that when I spoke of the terror visible on the faces
of the children when I entered the shanty that morning after hearing the
squabble, and of the sharpened stakes that I had seen near the fireplace,
the fear manifest on the prisoner’s face was most noticeable. I was
cross-examined closely on what I had overheard as I approached Wasby’s
shanty the day I visited him, and then I was allowed to sit down. Mrs.
Dooley gave evidence of the marks of ill-treatment she had observed upon
Colin when he was taken to her house.
The county constable next testified
to his discoveries at the ill-fated shanty, and produced one of the
stakes, the sharpened end of which was still covered with clotted blood
and singed hair, thus telling its mute but awful story. Other evidence was
brought to show that marks of violence found on the bodies had been
inflicted before they were exposed to the fire.
When Colin’s name was called by the
crier, a murmur ran through the courtroom, which was hushed to silence as
Mrs. McNabb entered, leading the child by the hand. She placed him upon a
chair, and as the child faced the great crowd of rough-looking and
coarsely clad men, I feared that he would break down. But he was naturally
a brave child, and I had recently observed evidences of that self-mastery
which his mother had possessed.
Just as the lawyer for the crown
rose to question Colin, there was a bustle in the direction of the
prisoner’s dock, and the constable told the judge that the prisoner asked
to be allowed to kiss the child. The instant the request was made Colin
uttered a cry of dissent, but he was promptly assured by the judge, and by
Mrs. McNabb as well, that he need not comply.
What prompted the prisoner to prefer
such a remarkable request, no one could guess. His countenance at the time
bore a sinister expression most incongruous with the wish he expressed.
When the excitement occasioned by this strange incident had subsided, the
In his childish voice, and with his
eyes fixed upon the dock, Colin repeated the words already quoted:
"Jerry till Mammy. And Jerry till
Betty. And Jerry till Johnnie." And so on, until all the names of the
victims were mentioned.
"Who is Jerry?" asked the
"Dat is him," said little Colin,
pointing to the prisoner.
"Why do you call him Jerry?" again
queried the lawyer.
"Mammy said he was Jerry," answered
"What did he kill Mammy and Betty and the others
with?" asked the lawyer.
"He till ‘em wif de stick," answered
Colin. "Can you show me the stick?" asked the lawyer. The blackened
implement was lying upon the table, and pointing to it, Colin said, "Dat
After little Colin had told in his
simple way how the others had been killed, the lawyer handed the youthful
witness over to the opposing counsel.
"And now, my child," said that
gentleman, "will you tell the court why the prisoner did not kill you, and
how it comes that you, and you only, are left to tell the tale?"
I could see that from the tone of
the lawyer the child fancied that he had done something to offend. The
judge, who was a kindly man of ripe experience, seeing the danger of a
break-down on Colin’s part, intervened and said gently, "My child, tell
the man how it was that you were not killed with the others."
"Jerry holded me up in his hands,"
said Colin, "and hurted me awful, an’ tol’ me he till me like de ozzers. I
said, ‘Pease don’t till ‘ittle Tolin,’ an’ den he jist drop me to de floor
and I runned away."
Cross-examination merely elicited a
repetition of the same answer. The child could not be led to vary it in
the slightest detail, despite the ingenuity of the lawyer.
A deep hush prevailed while the boy
was on the stand, and many a scalding tear trickled down bronzed and
swarthy cheeks as the child’s voice related how he had come to be saved
from the fate intended for him.
This concluded the evidence of the
crown, and the defence had none to offer. It was impossible, owing to
Wasby’s conduct during the day of the tragedy, to attempt to prove an
alibi. The counsel for the defence therefore contented himself with
putting the best face he could on the prisoner’s case in his address to
the jury. The counsel for the crown briefly outlined the irresistible
evidence, and the judge gave an able summing up.
There was a great stir among the
spectators when the jury retired. In an hour and a half the jurors filed
into the courtroom, and after the roll had been called, the clerk said,
"Gentlemen of the jury, have you agreed upon your verdict?" The foreman
rose and announced that they had agreed.
"How say you, gentlemen, — do you
find the prisoner guilty or not guilty of the crime charged?"
"We find him guilty," said the
foreman. Instantly a shout of approval went up from the rough audience.
The judge commanded silence and threatened to clear the room if instant
obedience were not vouchsafed. His lordship then thanked the jury for
their verdict, in which he said he entirely concurred, and discharged
"Let the prisoner stand up," said
the judge, gravely. Wasby, who seemed to be in a dazed stupor from instant
the terrible word "guilty" had reached his ears, was raised to his feet by
The judge proceeded solemnly: "Jeremiah Wasby, after a
fair trial, in which every opportunity was afforded you of proving your
innocence, twelve of your fellow-men have found you guilty of perhaps the
most heartless and brutal crime that has ever been committed in this
colony. The sentence of this court," continued the judge, placing the
black cap upon his head, "is that you be confined in the common jail till
the thirteenth day of November ensuing, and that upon that day you be
taken to the place of execution in the jail-yard, and that you there be
hanged by the neck until you be dead. And may God have mercy upon your