INTERNATIONAL INCIDENT

Auckland Star, Volume LXIX, Issue 138, 14 June 1938, Page 19

INTERNATIONAL INCIDENT

GREAT nations move, and diplomat* and counsellors pen with colossal dignity their Notes. Memoranda, and even Ultimata. The policies of nations are discussed, and over a million miles_ of telegraph wire their reactionto trivial deeds are flashed, to give excitement to a world fear-stricken, wondering, or belligerent. Seldom, however, does the human element intrude into these deliberations. The plane of ollicial thought and dis-cus-ion seems too lofty for the plain, simple emotions, such'as hate, desire, longing. But back of every crisis, somewhere ill the wing of diplomacy, hidden like a stagehand operating the highlights. there is the man or the woman who. by a simple human act. precipitates counsellors and under-sccretaries. even kings md autocrats, into fierce wrangles. And such a man was Jose Lomasto. of Marseilles, thin and weedv gutter rat from the great city of the ships.

'lhe origin rf Jose Lomasto was some tiling of a problem. But that is not t<> say lie was unusual in the city of mixed races. Jose di.l not bother himself very greatly about his origin, being content just to hang about the waterfront, to take wliat jdd jobs were offered, to laugh infrequently with his friends, and to dawdle away a pleasant existence between the quay and the cheap restaur ants, where those in the know might eat cheaply at the end of the day when more profitable customers had gone their way.

Sometimes, It is true, Jose left the town of his adoption. Often enough he had 'been engaged in various capacities on cargo boats sailing about the Mediterranean. Once, indeed, on a passenger ship, in the guise of steward.* But it was only a small passenger ship, and the passengers were known to be not over-insistent upon perfect service. That job lasted one trip only, and Jose was back on the waterfront. The trip that led to Jose becoming an international incident was even less congenial to a man of his tastes. He was engaged to keep the galley clean, and much to his annoyance he found tha* an absurdly detail-loving captain took steps to see that the galley was so kept. Jose Lomasto rebelled, and finding rebellion did not jmy. he deserted his ship at the earliest possible opportunity. He was in a Creek port, without a ship and without hope of work. He was homesick for Marseilles. And now. crouching in the shadows, he waited for the favourable moment when lie could become an uninvited passenger on a ship

going west. From his place behind a vast mountain of casks 011 the quayside, he had measured in his mind the exact number of steps to the gangway in front of him. He had measured, too, the beat of the Creek policeman who paced the waterfront. The moon appeared fitfully; the cloud wrack raced across the sky. Jose, noiseless and invisible, a part of the black night, glided across the quey and oil to the ship without the creak of a board. Poor Jose! If only it had been any other ship ir. the harbour! For three days and nights he prayed his thanks for the co-opt rat ion of God in his plan. The tship was under way, and he felt no doubt that after a certain passage of time, after a certain agony of body, he would be flung ashore in his native France. Marseilles, the Cannebiere, the friendly waterfront, home again after the inhospitalitv of Athens. He found a tin in the locker of the boat, and during the dark hours contrived to put it through the canvas cover and catch rain water. It was salty, si'ice the tin had been in the boat for many months; but it kept him going for three days until a gradually increasing thirst made him almost delirious. Then he struggled out. his heart beating fast. But he was prepared for violence. The first surprised words of the seamen filled him with terror. Italian! Where was he bound. East or West': The inoon had betrayed! He had sworn that this was an English boat, therefore bound for England; therefore almost certain to call at Marseilles. Where now? He did not know. The captain found him a source of amusement, and turned him over to the chicf mate. They were kindly people, and he. found that he was expected to do no more than an average man's work. The food was good; the men were tolerant, good humoured But when, speaking in the strange jargon that is the Esperanto of the high seas, he asked where they were bound, they laughed and said: '"London. Then Athens." "But Marseilles?" he suggested. "London," they repeated. "Never Marseilles. London. Then Athens again." On the sixth day of the journey. Jose Lomasto. Portuguese Frenchman of the city of Mar«c;'..c.-. looked into the night over the starboard bow. Marseilles was there. Could that really be a twinkle of light, shed from the Cannebiere? Could the ship really pass that great friendly port, with its alleyways of romance, where Jose Lomasto was born and bred? The ship sailed on. At Tilbury, a group of importantlooking people in bowler hats came aboard. Jose was tent for to report in the captain's cabin. There seemed to be some argument in progress. The officials were very emphatic, and the captain was insistent. But they were friendly still to each other. Eventually the captain slirugged his shoulders, capitulated and produced a bottle of wine. Jose remained in the cabin. At the end of half an hour, while they were still discussing him. one of the officials beckoned to him and left. The captain waved a hand and said, "Au revoir, Jose." He followed the officials down the gangway and to the police station. Well, perhaps that was better than going hack to Athens. It might well be the first step to Marseilles. Late in the morning he was summoned out of the comfortable cell where he had been given breakfast, and conducted along cold corridors to a flight of steps. The warder stood by him. "You're next, Jose,"' he said. Jo*e did not understand, but said: "Merci, monsieur." Then, at a signal, the warder took him up the steps, and he found himself in a police court, in the dock. There were a great many people, none of them very interested in the prisoner. The magistrate hardly looked at him. A smartly dressed man below him began talking, and he heard his name mentioned once, with obvious difficulty. Then began a veritable spate of talk, none of it, apparently, concerning Jose. Jose was a "lest case. He did not know it, and indeed he did not know that all the talk concerned him in the least. The stuffy atmosphere of the Court made him sleepy, and the torrent of words confused his mind. The magistrate, well trained in these matters, had made the surprising discovery that it would be of no benefit either to the State, the police, or to Jose if he were put in gaol for & tl-ne. He

Short Story

had sent hundreds of stowaway- to gaol over a period of many yeors on the lii'iich, but he had decided that it was now time to talk about these matters. He suggested that Jo>e should be sent out of the country on a French !• -it. being of French nationality, tin ; Portuguese by parentage. Why not. he asked': That started the international incident.

The Italian captain, who wan in Court that day. said through an interpret >r that it was the custom in his country for stowaways to work on the ship they had illegally boarded until the end of the trip. In thin case, he contended, tinend of the trip was to lie at Athens. He in-i.-ted on Ihe right to take J one as a working hand back to Athens. Or lie compensated, he added as an afterthought.

One of the officials wlio had boarded the boat did at one period mention .To-e personally. He said lie had connulted the prisoner. It was Lii«s wish to go to Marseilles, the town of his birth. The magistrate received the news without emotion. It seemed unimportant to him, as indeed it was. But he did confirm the fact from .lose through the interpreter. "\ou wish to go to Marseille*'! I lia' is why yon boarded this ship illegally?" lie asked. "Vc<." saiil .Tose. N*ot even then did the other people ill Court look at him. After an hour the warder touched him on the arm and beckoned him. ll'.' was taken back to the eel In. "Kemanded, youngster/' said the warder. For a week more .Tone stayed in the cell. He was comfortable, and he enjoyed it. The warder brought him a paper to read. Jose repeated every word the warder said to him. At the end of die week Jose knew a few halting words of greeting in English. Once again the magistrate swapped theories and interpretations of the law with the other gentlemen, Jose being seldom mentioned. The lawyers were now increased by the attendance of two men representing the Creek consulate and two others taking the part of the Italian captain. The British port authorities also had a lawyer, and an immigration official held a Matching brief.

FURTHER FOOLISHNESS

Once more the highly technical conversations, remotely connected -.villi Jose, droned on. I'lie case of Bex versus Nprager, I!HM>, wan quoted at some length; counsel for the Creeks laid great store on the judgment in Whistler versus the Anglo-Oriental Steamship Company, in 1 S7:>; by way of repartee, the magistrate related the learned conclusions in a cane as recently as ]•» 17.

Sometimes, for Jose, there were reminders that all this spate of orat.uy was concerned with his sudden .lash from 'he shade of the quay in Athens. He wan indicated by airy waves of the hand by eloquent counsel; more than once some solicitor prompted his learned friend with the name of Jose Lomasto; but it was evident that he was failing more and more into the background. He was insignificant; just the central figure of a Test Case.

Now and then he thought of Marseilles. He thought of the friendly lights, the camaraderie of the quays, and 'he cosiness of the cafes. He thought of some day when lie might see the harbour again and know that he was home. Me thought of all the years of exile, during which he had dreamed of returning one day to the city of his birth. But Jose continued to learn English. With the quickness of the ntreet Arab, he was picking up sentences. He talked with his warder for as long as the good man would listen to him. He devour-d the daily newspaper, memorised whole sentences. And he had never been no happy ill his life or so comfortable. For the first tone he knew at the beginning of a day where his night's rest would he, and when he would get his meals. He was warm and free from the molestations of authority. Hin cell was possibly the most luxurious apartment he had ever inhabited.

'I lie ease dragged on. At one time theie. were high feelings in Court, and it was stated that the (Jreek Consul had been insulted by the solicitor representing the Italian captain. The diplomat, at an y rate, averred that the honour of his country had been doubted. Under croos-exa iniiia t ion he had been asked to state whether or not lie was allowing his wishes to dominate the veracity of his evidence. Perhaps the interpreter made a mistake; perhaps the good :nan really felt aggrieved. Whatever the reason, there was a first-class row. Jose, unconscious of drama, nodded his head in the dock.

Thou Italy became annoyed with the way tliin«K were "oing, and a dinner party was held to calm down ruffled dignity at tlie Italian Embassy. G.eece. meanwhile, maintained a dignified silence and. expressed the determination of the nation to stand l>v the captain who had claimed the use of .Jose's muscles on the return journey. France naturally claimed the return of one of her sons at the earliest possible moment. Portugal decided that it was up to her to tight for one who bore a Portuguese name. And Jose yawned. He became the Lomasto C«se. to be referred to long years afterwards whenever maritime law was being debated.

A photograph of him appeared in one of the newspapers, just in case anyone cared to see the feature** of the cent nil figure of the Test Case. But for the most part he was ignored. He caught a glimpse of his name written on the piles of paper strewing the lawyers' desks. but when his name wan called and he stepped into the dock at intervales of a week, few people troubled to look <it him. They were more concerned with their resounding phrase* lieginning: "May it plea-e Your Worship . ."

Jose was quite happy. He knew that eventually the talk would end. ami some decision would l>e made about him. Ihit he had given up thinking of that glorious day when he would walk down the Cannebiere. no longer a Tent Case, but a free man. His thoughts were concentrated only on bin progress with the English language, and his ambitions were directed solely to the impressing of his warder.

By now he could conduct slow and stilted conversation*, reiving to a large extent on phrases repeated parrot-like from his newspaper.

"Ex-cune me. sir," he would begin "Tt is your opin ion that Dora is ob-se lete

"Liimme . . ." said the warder "What"* that got to do with you, any wa v

But Jose had no answer. That kind of phrase was not to be found in the lie wn.

He prospered exceedingly. His lean cheeks filled out, and the regular, spartan food gave him a new flush of health. He now enjoyed his weekly appearances in Court, as a child enjoys a pantomime, and his only wish was that more English and less Latin wan talked by those lawyers. He understood little of what they were caving still. Only a few phrases were comprehensible to one whose command of the language had been gained only by [>erusal of the newspapers and some education in Cockney slang from a prison warder. But he had a new resolve.

On hin next appearance in the dock he nerved himself to carry out his intention. He needed only the o: iortunity. But after the brief recital by tho clerk, which always mentioned his name, the magistrate beamed genially at one of the lawyers and Jose's chance wan gone. His ]ij>n were open to speak; uobodv wanted to hear him.

Once again, when the warder touched his arm to take hitn below, Jose flashed a look ttt the iragistrate. If only he could catch bin eye he might give him leave to npeak. The word* were ready oil his tongue, carefully rehearsed. He dallied a moment, nearly cried out to demand attention.

But the warder was prodding his elbow.

'•Come on, youngster!" ho said, "You'll be late for dinner . . ."

His chance was gone

Then came a day when the Court was alive with an air of excitement and tension. It was the last day of the hearing. Counsel were packing up their papers, and the thick books, each one bristling with little pieces of paper to mark the place, were being carried out of the room. The gestures that dav were more eloquent, and more than once counsel waved towards the figure of Jose, standing there with a look of appeal.

1 he voice of the last lawyer had sunk into silence. He sat down, with an air of finality. All eyes were on the magistrate. The test case was over.

"Jose Lomasto . . ." he said, "after hearing the arguments of learned counsel. and after giving the most careful consideration to the opinions, backed up by legal precedence, in this most complicated case of international law and custom; a case, T must add. that is almost certain to have the most jnipi rta "it legal repercussion in the fuettre; alter hearing these arguments. I sav. it is my duty to announce the decision of this Court regarding yourself . . .

He puised a moment; and continued

"\<.ii will be taken to Marseilles, the town of your birth. But in onlrr to satisfy the -all, demands of international custom so far as I am able to interpret them, you will make the journey by a somewhat irregular route. Y<«i will travel as a working hand to Athens on the next available ship. Thence, you will fie taken as a working hand on a French ship to Marseilles. Have you. Itefore I make this order, anything to Sil v

For the first time during that long] hearing, all eyes were turned upon Jo-e Lomasto. The buzz of excitement, which followed the pronouncement of the magistrate, died down. Even the eminent. counsel turned, some of them for the first time, to see what kind of human this was who had provided them with a legal bone to gnaw throughout these long weeks. Jose's lips trembled. He had understood something of the magistrate's words. This was his chance; this moment for which he had waited. "'Sour worship," h" said, an imitation of the legal gentleman. '"Your Honor . . . if you please . . . it is my earliest de-sire to reside in Eng-land—your Honor, in my cell, with my war der, if it pleases your wor ship ... J want no longer to go to Marseilles . . THE EX 11.