Chapter 21

I was soon brought before the magistrate, an old kind man with a calm demeanor. He looked at me with some seriousness, then turned to my escorts and asked who the witnesses were.

About six men stepped forward, and one, chosen by the magistrate, said that he had been fishing the night before with his son and brother-in-law, Daniel Nugent. Around ten o'clock, they noticed a strong northerly wind picking up, so they decided to head for port. It was a dark night, with no moon yet. They didn't dock at the harbor but at a creek about two miles away. The man led the way, carrying some fishing gear, while his companions followed at a distance. As he walked along the sands, he tripped over something and fell. His companions rushed to help, and by the light of their lantern, they discovered the body of a man who appeared dead. At first, they thought it was a drowned person washed ashore, but upon closer inspection, they found the clothes dry and the body not cold. They took it to a nearby cottage and tried unsuccessfully to revive it. The victim seemed to be a young man of about twenty-five, seemingly strangled, with finger marks on his neck.

The initial part of this testimony didn't concern me much, but when they mentioned the finger marks, I remembered my brother's murder and became extremely upset. My limbs shook, and I had to lean on a chair for support. The magistrate watched me closely, drawing a negative conclusion from my reaction.

The son confirmed his father's story, but Daniel Nugent claimed that just before his companion fell, he saw a boat with a single man near the shore. He believed it was the same boat I had used to land.

A woman testified that she saw a boat with one man push off from the shore where the body was later found, about an hour before it was discovered.

Another woman confirmed that the fishermen had brought the body to her house, which was still warm. They laid it in bed, tried to revive it, and sent Daniel to town for a doctor, but it was too late.

Several others testified about my landing, suggesting that with the strong north wind, I might have been forced to return to the same spot. They also noted that it seemed I had brought the body from elsewhere, speculating that I might have docked in the harbor unaware of the distance from the town.

Mr. Kirwin, the magistrate, upon hearing this evidence, wanted to see how I reacted to seeing the body. Perhaps he was influenced by my earlier agitation. So, I was taken to the inn, where the corpse lay. The sight of Henry Clerval's lifeless form overwhelmed me with horror. I collapsed, gasping for air, and had to be carried out in convulsions.

I fell ill with a fever and spent two months close to death. I raved, calling myself the murderer of William, Justine, and Clerval. At times, I begged my attendants to help me destroy the fiend tormenting me, feeling its fingers around my neck.

Why didn't I die? I felt more miserable than anyone, yet I lingered on, enduring repeated torment like a cruel cycle.

Afterward, I found myself in a prison, weak and surrounded by guards and locks. It was morning when I regained consciousness, initially forgetting what had happened. But as I looked around, the memory flooded back, and I groaned bitterly.

An old woman, a hired nurse, spoke to me callously, indifferent to my suffering. I recoiled from her heartless words but lacked the strength to dwell on them. The days passed in a blur of misery and neglect. I realized that only the hangman cared about the fate of a murderer.

But I later learned that Mr. Kirwin had shown kindness, arranging for the best available room and medical care. He visited occasionally, though he couldn't bear to witness my anguish for long.

As I slowly recovered, I sank into a dark melancholy that nothing could dispel. Clerval's image haunted me, and I often wished for death to end my misery. Yet duty compelled me to return to Geneva and seek justice for my loved ones.

Despite my weakened state, I urged my father to leave Ireland. We boarded a ship bound for Havre-de-Grace in France, sailing away from the Irish coast under a starlit sky. I longed to leave behind the nightmare of Ireland and reunite with my family in Geneva.

As I lay on the deck, gazing at the stars and listening to the ocean's rhythm, I felt a mixture of relief and sorrow. Memories flooded back, and I wept bitterly, tormented by the events that had led me here. Yet, amid the darkness, a glimmer of hope flickered—a hope that justice might one day be served.