Dead in the Water

of the headsail reefing system. She explained this carefully to the jury, and they seemed to understand what the problem was. She told then of looking down and seeing her husband, apparently ill, and of his collapse and her fear of being stuck at the top of the mast. Tears had begun to roll down her cheeks, and she dabbed at them with a tissue. When she told how she had buried her husband at sea, she wept openly, and the judge had to call a brief halt to her testimony while she recovered herself. Stone was delighted; she hadn’t cried at the coroner’s inquest, but the tears flowed freely now, and a glance at the jury revealed how affected they were. Finally, she stopped crying, and the judge nodded at Stone to continue with his questions.
    “Mrs. Manning, did you know how to sail the yacht after your husband’s death?”
    “Only in the most general sense. The deck of the boat was laid out so that Paul could easily handle it without my help. The only time I had any real job to do was handling the bow-line when we docked.”
    “So, alone in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, you had to learn how to sail the boat?”
    “Yes, and to navigate, as well. There was a book aboard on celestial navigation, and from that I learned to take a moon sight to establish our latitude. From then on, I just tried to keep the boat on the same latitude. I was off a little, though, when we made our landfall. I was aiming at Antigua, but I fetched up in St. Marks.”
    “When you say ‘we,’ to whom are you referring?”
    “To the boat and me. I began to think of the boat as my partner in survival.”
    “Mrs. Manning, has everything you have told the court today been the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”
    “Yes,” she said firmly. “As God is my witness it is the truth.”
    Stone turned to Sir Winston. “Your witness,” he said, then sat down.
    Sir Winston rose slowly and looked contemptuously at Allison for a good half minute before he began. “Your Lordship, I will be brief,” he said. “Mrs. Manning, why did you kill your husband?”
    “I…” she began, but Sir Winston cut her off.
    “Was it for the millions he had earned?”
    “I…”
    “Was it for the twelve million dollars in insurance?”
    “Sir Winston…”
    She was beginning to grow angry now, and Stone had warned her against that.
    “Was it because you had learned to hate him while you were confined with him aboard the yacht for protracted periods?”
    “Sir Winston!” she shouted. “I did not kill my husband!”
    “Oh, but you did, Mrs. Manning,” he replied. “There were many times aboard the yacht when Mr. Manning was vulnerable, weren’t there?”
    “Vulnerable?”
    “Times when a small shove would have put this large man overboard. Weren’t there such times?”
    “I did not push him overboard!”
    “Answer me, Mrs. Manning! Were there not opportunities?”
    “If that was what I wanted, I suppose so. But…”
    “As when your husband stepped outside the lifelines to urinate, holding on to the yacht with only one hand?”
    “Perhaps, but I didn’t…”
    “You could have stabbed that one hand with a knife, couldn’t you?”
    “No. I…”
    “You could have bitten that hand, couldn’t you?”
    “I didn’t!”
    “That hand that had fed and clothed and given you every luxury!”
    “I did not do that!” Tears were streaming down her face again.
    “Oh, yes, you did, Mrs. Manning. This jury can look into those angry eyes and see that you did!”
    “You’re mad!” she screamed at him. “Completely mad!”
    “But not as mad as you were with your husband. So mad that you could abandon him to his fate in the middle of a huge ocean.”
    “I did not!” she bawled. “As God is my witness…”
    “Yes, you did!”
    Stone was on his feet. “Your Lordship, Sir Winston is badgering the witness, not offering evidence.”
    The judge held up a hand to quiet him. “Sir Winston…” he said.
    “I am finished with this witness, Your Lordship,” Sir Winston said, looking at her once again with contempt. “I think the jury can see through this performance.” He sat down.
    Allison sat in the witness chair, sobbing.
    “You may step down, Mrs. Manning,” the judge said quietly.
    The bailiff helped her down and back to the dock, where she continued to weep.

Chapter
56
    T he judge looked up at the jury. “Gentlemen, we will now move to closing arguments. Sir Winston, may we have your closing?”
    Sir Winston