Watery Grave (33 page)

He said a civil, though far from warm, goodbye to the lieutenant, and we started off down the stairs. He cautioned me with a finger to his lips against speaking inside the building. Only when we emerged onto Tower Hill did he speak — and then in the gravest tones.

“Ah, Jeremy,” said he, “what an infernal matter this is. It is worse than I thought and as bad as ever I feared.”

It is no short stretch between Tower Hill and Number Four Bow Street, and in the late morning, with dray wagons, carriages, and coaches plodding through the teeming streets, our route along Thames Street, Fleet Street, and the Strand moved so slow that there was naught for our hackney driver but to permit his two nags to plod along slow with the rest. Thus had Sir John more than ample time to relate to me the content of the conversation as it continued between him and Sir Robert in the absence of Mr. Byner, to comment upon it, and to rail against it. He seemed to hold nothing back from me. So much was said, reader, that I feel it best to summarize the greater part of it and quote him only where it does seem pertinent in some particular way.

Sir John brought up the death of Lieutenant Jonathan Grimsby. What could that have been but murder? In spite of the official findings of his inquiry, Sir Robert had tacitly admitted the likelihood of homicide by consenting to move Mr. Landon to the Tower. And why should Mr. Grimsby have been murdered? Because he communicated to Sir John the true situation aboard the H.M.S.
Adventure
as regards the midshipmen; all that he said there confirmed what was said minutes ago by Mr. Landon. And Grimsby offered to testify on Landon’s behalf.

(Sir Robert objected that such testimony would be tainted by the fact that Grimsby, according to Mr. Landon, had engaged in unnatural relations with Mr. Hartsell. Sir John brushed this aside.)

Then there was the matter of the counsel appointed by Sir Robert. Lieutenant Byner was at best incompetent and at worst traitorous. Sir John pointed out that Mr. Byner was present during the interrogation of the ship’s surgeon in Portsmouth; he had heard from his lips that the helmsman on the fateful day when Captain Markham was lost, one

Tobias Trlndle, had given out that though Mr. Landon had made a great effort to save the captain, nothing could have been done to bring him back once he had begun to slip over the taffrail. This account conformed perfectly with Mr. Landon s description of the action. Tobias Trindle would have made a strong witness for Landon s defense, but he was murdered the night before, shot between the eyes as he lay in bed. Sir John declared that he had withheld the name of Tobias Trindle from others; that he would vouch for his young assistant, Jeremy Proctor; and that surely Sir Robert would do nothing that would so brutally hamper his nephew’s defense. That would leave only Mr. Byner who had heard the name of the potential witness from Mr. MacNaughton, and it would seem likely that he had passed that name on to another; and that other would have caused that potential witness’s murder. Sir John urged Sir Robert to be careful what was said and entrusted to Lieutenant Byner.

(Sir Robert declared that Mr. Byner was his executive officer and that of course he trusted him and would continue to trust him. As for the death of Tobias Trindle, it was probably a personal matter —some low, seaman’s quarrel that resulted in his murder, over a woman no doubt. He thought it unlikely that it had anything to do with the coming court-martial. And by the by, it was doubtful that a seaman would be permitted to testify in contradiction to his captain, doubtful that a seaman would be permitted to testify at the court-martial of any officer.)

Sir John said there was another whose name he could give as a potential witness —that of the chaplain and schoolmaster, the Reverend Mr. Andrew Eagleton. Yet Mr. Eagleton would only testify were he summoned by subpoena — and then not dependably. He was, Sir John declared, frightened half out of his wits by Lieutenant Hartsell, and in fear of him had probably distanced himself a hundred miles from London, not to return until the court-martial be done.

(Sir Robert responded that for all the reasons Sir John had given, there was really no point in summoning Reverend Eagleton.)

Here, reader, I shall begin to quote Sir John as he spoke to me in that slow-moving hackney carriage, in order that you may grasp the intensity of his passion in this matter:

“At this point, Jeremy, ” said Sir John to me, T challenged Bobbie. I said to him, ‘You seemed earlier to have a wish to save that young man. Now you have set a course against him. How comes it that you have so altered in a few days’ time?’

“He said to me then, Jack, I have never changed in this, for when I first heard from my nephew this matter of Lieutenant Hartsell and the midshipmen, I forbade him to speak of it to anyone else. And I told him that under no circumstances could it be brought up in the course of the court-martial. But the lad seems determined to tell his tale of Hartsell and the midshipmen.’

“Bobbie said that his nephew derived satisfaction from telling his tale this morning to me, that he may be tempted foolishly to try to spread it further. He insisted that the lad had a chance in the court-martial if he restricted his testimony to the matter of Captain iMarkham, but none at all if he bladdered on about Hartsell. And then he added that we would soon find out about that, for the panel had been chosen. An admiral and a captain are traveling up from Portsmouth tomorrow. The court-martial will take place in but two days’ time.”

“Two days! ” said I to Sir John.” But is that regular, sir? The
Adventure
has been at anchor less than a week.”

“Whatever they may determine is regular, ” said he to me.” That is a truth about the Navy that I seem to be learning late in life, lad. It is disheartening to understand how little I knew about it during those four years I served. It seems the Navy is a law unto itself, a country all its own in which the ordinary rules of conduct and procedure need not

apply-

“Did you note what Bobbie said to me, accusing me of wishing to sully the reputation of the Navy in revenge for my lost sight? How dare he say such a thing? How dare he?”

Sir John brought his stick down sharp upon the floor of the carriage in a rare display of anger.

“Indeed, sir! ” I was truly filled with indignation on Sir John’s behalf

“I loved the Navy as no other did. If asked beforehand, I would have said, ‘Yes, I will give the Navy my eyes. I will give it my life!’ When I think now of the years I pined for my lost career, how I took as second best the hfe in the law that my brother gave me —I do wonder at my own stupidity, truly I do! I see now that I was made for the law, and if I came to it by a somewhat devious path, then that is unfortunate; yet the important thing is that I came to it. By God and by Jesus, I love the law, and she’s a better, fairer mistress than the Navy ever was. If Bobbie thinks that he may frighten me away by mouthing such grossly untrue suppositions in my face, then he has the matter dead wrong. He should not be trying the case in the first place because of his relation to the accused. He has meddled in it as no judge should. He has seized Mr. Landon’s diary — not as evidence pertinent to the trial but to sequester it that it may never be introduced. Yet, by some means, Jeremy, I promise I will see some justice done tor that young man.”

When at last we arrived at Bow Street, there was naught For Sir John but to rush inside and call his court to order. He had, however, given me my instructions as we drew close m the hackney, and immediately I had seen him inside the door at Number 4, I set off to the house and court of Mr. Saunders Welch. I knew the way well, having gone there but a few short days before. And on this occasion, as on that one, I was bearing a request from Sir John that Mr. Welch might hear Sir John’s cases two days hence. He felt assured that his request would be granted, for after all, the tally was still uneven.

As it developed, Mr. Saunders Welch, Magistrate of the Hanover Street Court, objected less to the content of the request than to the form in which it was sent.

He, having heard his cases for the day, allowed me to be admitted to his chambers. This setting differed greatly from that rough and dusty place in which Sir John drank his beer most afternoons following his court session. Mr. Welch’s quarters were well lit; there were pictures upon the wall, a rug upon the floor, a good many stout chairs about, and a heavy oaken desk behind which he sat. He was engaged in counting money, his collection in fines levied that day. It was said that near any offense but murder could be settled by means of a fine in the Hanover Street Court; and there were rumors that even an occasional homicide might be forgiven as accidental death wqth the offer of a fine large enough to suit Mr. Welch.

As I entered the room, he held his hand up to keep me silent at the door. Then, finishing his count of shillings, he entered a number in a ledger and beckoned to me, and I came forward.

“You’re the boy from Bow Street, are you not?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What have you for me?”

“A message from Sir John Fielding, sir.”

He extended his hand across the desk.” Give it me, ” said he.

“It is a message by word of mouth, sir.”

He frowned at me quizzically.” His word? Your mouth?” he then asked, in a manner somewhat exasperated.

“Yes, sir.”

Silence. Then: “I am not sure I like this at all. It does not seem right to me that the business of the Magistrate’s Courts of London be entrusted to the memory of a street urchin like yourself.”

I took this ill, reader, as indeed you would also have done it you had washed as careful as I had that morning and put on your best duds to meet the admiral. Street urchin indeed! I thought myself a proper young gentleman, at least in appearance.

“Why did he not send a written message, as is his usual?”

“He had not time, sir.”

“Ah, well, indeed. No time, is it? It’s true that our duties do oft press hard upon us, but surely he could have found time to dictate a letter and sign it with that blind man’s scrawl of his.”

Now I was truly offended. He could say what he liked about me, and I would hold my tongue, but to mention Sir John’s affliction in a manner so crude and callous seemed to demand some retort from me.

“Since it is to me he dictates his letters, more often than not,” said I, with all the dignity I could muster, “he no doubt trusted my memory in so small a matter as the message he gave me for you.”

“All right,” said Mr. Welch, “I’ll hear the message, then judge myself if it be a small matter.”

“Well and good,” said I.” Sir John asked me to go and seek you out and ask if you would take his cases on the day after the morrow. Mr. Marsden will deliver the docket. And the prisoners will be brought by Mr. Fuller of the Runners.”

“What he proposes will mean twice the work, twice the time for me! I took his docket but a few days ago. Who but an ignorant boy would call this a small matter?”

“Why, you would, sir,” said I, most innocent.” If I may quote in part your letter to Sir John of last May …” I cleared my throat and began: ” ‘And if you will oblige me in this J mall matter, I should be back from Bath in a week’s time more fit than ever for my duties and always ready to fill for you if and when you should ask.’”

(In truth, I know not whether I quoted his words exactly, yet I had read the letter aloud to Sir John and taken his dictation on the one in response, and I knew that in Mr. Welch’s was a promise to do the same for Sir John whenever called upon. And so I recited what I remembered firmly and confidently, as if it was of such import that I had committed it to memory.)

Mr. Saunders Welch stared at me long and hard without a word spoken. I began to wonder if perhaps I had not gone too far, and if it might not be proper to offer an apology at this very moment. I was, in fact, framing one in my head when Mr. Welch began to laugh. He laughed, in fact, long and quite uproariously in the way of a man who had just heard a great joke. At last he contained himself sufficient to speak.

“You are an impudent boy,” said he to me, “but I know when I have been bested. Go now before I decide to be angry, and tell Sir John Fielding that I will certainly handle his docket along with my own two days from now. But remind him, his Mr. Marsden, and Mr. Fuller that my court begins at ten. Now, off withyou.”

I made my way to the door at something between a rapid walk and a run.

“Thank you, sir,” said I, as I swung the door wide.

“Not another word!”

And so, in less than a minute I was back on the street and glad to be, swearing to myself I would never again play so bold in matters that concerned Sir John. It was a promise which, in general, I kept.

Having at that moment nothing urgent to attend to and knowing, too, that my route homeward might be bent in that direction, I decided to call upon the residence of Black Jack Bilbo and rid myself of the burden I carried in my coat pocket. That pistol with which he had entrusted me had stimulated much interest in Constable Perkins. I wondered at its origin. I wondered at much about Mr. Bilbo.

The grand house in St. James Street, where I had spent some time and Annie Oakum a great deal more, rose up before me at the end of my long noonday walk. I knew the secrets of that house, or some of them, and perhaps my friend Jimmie Bunkins had learned them all by now. I saw little of Bunkins in those days —less and less since Mr. Bilbo had taken over his tutelage. He was learning discipline, right enough, from his “cove” and wished to please him, yet as was proven by poor Bunkins’s misadventure during our search for Tobias Trindle, he had yet to learn discipline of his self. It must be difficult, I thought, for him to give up a way of life he’d learned so well.