CHAPTER 27
Just before Sir Donald Crump was due to give his testimony the case took a new turn when the police arrested Himmat Singh alias Azad, who had been Maan Singh’s lieutenants and one of the conspirators. It did not take the police much time to get the whole story out of Himmat Singh. All that they did was to keep him awake for two nights. A naked bulb was kept burning in his cell and every time he dozed off he was shaken awake by a constable. That is all. There was no brutality, no torture of any kind, though the police have wonderful repertoire of those as well. But this simple but effective method was all they needed to make Himmat Singh talk. The fellow has been talking his head off. Singing like a canary. This will certainly cook Maan Singh’s goose, no matter what tricks his lawyer tries this time,” muttered the SP to himself as he supervised the investigations. By the time Sir Donald Crump took the witness box, Himmat Singh had already been made to depose in the court and details of the conspiracy were already the talk of the town.
Sir Donald Crump, even without his top hat, which he could not wear in the witness box, remained a formidable figure. The prosecution lawyer took him over his testimony with obvious deference, prefacing all his remarks with ‘now Sir Donald,’ and ‘if you please Sir Donald.’ The prosecution story was still the same, though now that the conspiracy had been laid bare, the Public Prosecutor tried to play it up by treating the whole matter as diabolical conspiracy to treating the whole matter as a diabolical conspiracy to destabilise India. Sir Donald, it seemed was not entirely in tune with this line of thinking. He was disposed to be rather dismissive of whole affair and thought of it as the usual ill-conceived and ultimately futile attempt was all that the Indians were capable of. It was this that the defence lawyer seized upon during the cross- examination.
“Now Mr Crump……”
“Sir Donald to you, my dear chap,” said the grandee without looking at the bench.
“As yes, Sir Donald indeed. I am sorry for the lapse Sir Donald.” Mr Dube did not seem to be at all sorry. His slip of the tongue was obviously deliberate and he had already succeeded in provoking the witness. “Sir Donald, you said in your testimony that this was an ill-conceived conspiracy that failed as usual, may I ask what you meant by that?”
The defence lawyer sensing danger, rose to protest, but Sir Donald silenced him with a magisterial wave of his hand. “It’s plain enough. What I meant was that the natives……er…. Indian, usually lack the ability to organize and execute practical schemes. There may be brilliant individuals among them here and there, but collectively they do not amount to much because of this deficiency.”
“I see, so you believe that the failure of this so-called conspiracy was due to a flaw in the national character.” Pratap Dube seemed all sweetness and reason.
“Well, yes, if you wish to put it like that.”
“In that case, may I ask how the natives of some other country who do not lack practical ability – say Englishman – would have gone about the business.”
The Public Prosecutor rose in protest. “That is a hypothetical question your honour. Not relevant to the issue at all.”
“ I agree.” The judge nodded gravely.
“Nevertheless I would like to answer this question, if I may.”
It seemed that Maitland, stood in awe of Sir Donald, like everyone else, because he did not stop him. Sir Donald went on. “To begin with I do not think any Englishman would have gone about the business in quite this fashion. The whole business is far too crankish. The government of India is a Leviathan, a vast, sprawling structure that has hundreds of ramifications; it’s pure folly to imagine that you could bring it down by capturing a few of its top officials. It’s brilliant but wayward, typical of the kind of thing that would appeal to the Indian mind, but certainly no to the methodical English.”
“What about the gunpowder plot then Sir Donald?”
Sir Donald was taken aback. He had not expected this in-depth knowledge of English history in the court-room of a mofussil town in the back waters of provincial India. “That was an unfortunate aberration. That is why Guy Faukes is such a figure of fun. No one takes him seriously. No, if an Englishman were to take on his government, he would organise a proper insurgency, train a guerrilla army and have a sound military strategy. Just the sort of thing that is impossible for an Indian. And even if some Englishman were foolish enough to hatch a plot as hare – brained as this one, why then he would have gone through with it. He would not have lost his nerve at the crucial moment, or become prey to sentimental scruples as you allege. We English are a practical people, you know. That, if I may I venture an opinion, is the reason why the British Empire extends over half the globe.”
“Thank you Sir Donald,” You have been most enlightening.
Cartwright was the last witness to depose for the prosecution. His evidence, it was thought, would clinch the matter. After all, it was he who had disarmed the defendant, at the risk of his own life. He was the hero of the whole episode, at least for the government side, as well as the Collector of the district. It was the natural for him to be the star witness, whose testimony was looked forward to by the prosecution. However, there were misgivings in certain quarters. Some people, chief among them being the Superintendent of Police, were not quite sure how things would actually turn out in court. There was never any doubt that Cartwright was brave and absolutely upright, but his conduct had always been slightly unconventional and there was no knowing what he would say before the judge. It was well known that when it came to Indians, his views were dangerously liberal, and he had spent a lot of time talking to the accused in jail. God knows what they had discussed, but these meetings certainly did nothing to allay the fears of the SP.
A day before the testimony, the SP, being unable to contain himself went to see Cartwright in his office. After some small talk, he came to the point. “I say Cartwright, you are deposing tomorrow, aren’t you.”
“I certainly am.”
“Not so common, for the District Magistrate to give evidence in a criminal trial, you know.”
“I know. But I am quite looking forward to it. A break from the usual routine.”
The Superintendent of Police scratched his head. “You wouldn’t mind standing in the witness box and being cross-examined buy the uppity defence lawyer.”
“Not really, I have gone over the whole matter in my mind a hundred times. No lawyer could upset me.”
The SP scratched his head again. “Still, be careful. Pratap Dube is a clever Brahmin who could easily trap you into saying something that you don’t want to say.”
Cartwright laughed. “My dear Macgregor, you need have no fears on my account.”
“If you say so old man. But what are you going to say. I mean you are going to back up the prosecution case aren’t you.”
“Of course. What makes you think I could say anything that could undermine your case.”
“I have full faith in you old boy. It’s just that the bazaar gossip that one has to hear makes one a little shaky at times. Still be careful old chap.”
“Take it easy Macgregor. I will tell the truth, and nothing but the truth. Surely the government has nothing to fear from the truth.”
The next day, the courtroom was full to capacity, as usual. The prosecution was going to close its evidence with its star witness, none other than the Collector himself. There was a sense of anticipation in the air. It was an unusual event for the Collector to take the witness stand in criminal trial, but then this was an unusual case. Of course the prosecution story was by now familiar to everyone and Cartwright was merely expected to confirm the story. Still the testimony of the main witness in a case is always important and there were some diehard optimists among the members of the bar who hoped that Cartwright just might say something that would save Maan Singh’s life.
Mr. Pratap Dube, the defence lawyer was among these. He had no real grounds for his optimism, of course just a vague suspicion that Cartwright might not be unsympathetic to his cause and would help the accused, if he could do so with deviating from the truth in any way. Mr. Dube thought he knew how this could be done, and he rose with a sense of anticipation when the Public Prosecutor said to him with a flourish, “your witness Mr. Dube.”
He began with some flattering remarks about Cartwright’s integrity and fairness. Flattery he knew, never did anyone any harm, and in this case, it wasn’t just flattery. It was the truth. “You are a brave man, Mr. Cartwright.”
To this Cartwright said nothing.
“You risked your own life to disarm a person whom you had every reason to believe was dangerous outlaw. Yet you did not resort to violence. Such bravery is commendable.”
Still Cartwright said nothing.
“Mr Cartwright,” said Pratap Dube, rubbing his hands with relish, “will you tell us what your feelings were when you advanced to disarm the prisoner.”
“I don’t know. I just acted on the spur of the moment, without forethought. I don’t remember what I was thinking at that moment, my thoughts were just a confused jumble.”
“I see. Yet what you did was certainly most unusual. You advanced on an armed man who also had outside help. If you had failed instead of succeeding, you would have been the villain of the piece instead of being a hero. What made you act in this unusual manner.”
“I don’t know.”
“Mr. Cartwright, I don’t think you realize what you are saying. Here was a moment of crisis, perhaps the supreme crisis of your life, in which you acted with perfect aplomb and complete self-possession. Yet you say you don’t know why you did it.”
There was a restless shuffling of feet and scraping of chairs at this. Cartwright however appeared to be unruffled. “I only meant that acted because I felt that I had to act.”
There were approving nods from the Britishers in the audience.”
“Mr. Cartwright, that still does not answer my question. Most other officers would have resorted to violence in your place. Why did you choose the path of non-violence in your place. Why did you choose the path of non-violence.” The Public Prosecutor was on his feet. “Objection Your Honour. This question is based on a wrong assumption.”
“Objection sustained.”
But the defence lawyer seemed unfazed. “Mr Cartwright, I put it to you that you acted in the manner that you did because you did not apprehend any danger from the accused. You acted in good faith, no doubt, but you also put your trust in the good faith of the prisoner, did you not.”
So this was the trap that the defence had laid for Cartwright. There was absolute silence in the court as Cartwright pondered the question. After what seemed a long time, he looked up and said, “I believe you are right. At that time didn’t really think about the matter at all. But deep down somewhere, I must have believed what you say. Now that you mention it.I do remember gazing into the prisoner’s eyes as I advanced towards him, and I did not see any hatred in them.
All that I saw was a curious detachment, as though he was watching the whole proceedings from far away.”
There was a collective sigh of consternation from the British community at this. “The stupid fool,” muttered the SP. He could have stonewalled the question, or said a hundred different things, any of which could have saved the day. But he had gone and said they very thing that the defence lawyer wanted him to say. It was the stupidest thing ever heard. Most of the Britishers just walked out in disgust, only a few remained sitting in stupefaction.
As Cartwright walked out of the court he was followed by the SP who buttonholed him in his office. Macgregor was fuming and did not bother with pleasantries as he confronted the Collector. “So, you have gone and done it.”
“Done what.”
“The very thing that I feared. You’ve turned this bandit into a bloody saint. Why did you have to do it.”
“I told the truth as I saw it. I don’t see why you should be so worked up. After all I only backed up the prosecution story.”
But the SP was not to be pacified. His face was red and his bulbous blue eyes were angry as he said, “can’t you see it. It’s plain as a pikestaff. You have saved this bastard from the gallows. He will now get away with a few years in jail. No punishment for a seditious son of a bitch like him.”
“My dear Macgregor I told the truth, according to my conscience. If it helps save a life, so much the better.”
The SP’s voice rose a notch higher. There are things that are more important than you bloody conscience.”
“Such as?”
“Such as the British Raj, Can’t you see this will encourage more young men to swallow this poisonous revolutionary rhetoric. If you can conspire against the lawfully constituted government and get off with a few months in the choky and turn into a bloody hero into the bargain you will have open season on such plots.”
“I don’t agree. I think a majority of Indians want us to run the show for them and the day this changes we will have to leave. And what I am doing will, at the end of the day, help us.”
“Do you know what they are saying about you at the club,” asked the SP as he rose to leave.
“It doesn’t interest me in the least.”
“I will tell you all the same. They are saying you are not quite pucca.” With that damning indictment the SP left the Collector’s bungalow.
