Watery Grave (13 page)

We listened to that gripping account quite transfixed by the teller. At its astonishing conclusion Lady Fielding shuddered. Tom and I exchanged looks of amazement. Only Sir John sat quite unmoved.

“And that young midshipman is in our midst tonight,” concluded Sir Robert.” In fact, he sits at the head of the table. His name was and is still John Fielding.”

All heads turned to him who had been named. Sir John kept silent. When at last he spoke out it was in a calm voice, near colloquial in manner.

“Ah, Bobbie,” said he, “I do hate to spoil a good story, but the truth of it is, I had a bit of vision in my left eye, which I had shut sighting down the barrel of that exploding musket. I could make out the general shape of the fort, and I thought if I could lead them there, they would do the rest. And so they did. They were brave, plucky lads.”

“And yet you ultimately lost that bit of vision you had left, did you not?”

“Yes, I fear I did,” said Sir John.” It left me on the hospital ship on the way back to Jamaica. I believe I lost it to the maggots. I lay untended there for the length of the voyage. Can you imagine a hospital ship without a single surgeon aboard?”

“Ah, Jack, they did what they could, I suppose. Had the remainder of the battle gone to us, they would have sent you home bemedaled and beribboned.”

“Though sightless.”

“Though sightless,” Sir Robert agreed.” Yet they did promote you to lieutenant, did they not?”

“Yes, and immediately retired me on half-pay. It was all I had until my brother Henry took me in hand.”

“We were all proud of you on the
Resolute.
You were ever after a hero to us, your fellow midshipmen. The captain and the chaplain arranged a special service in your honor.”

“For which I am grateful, of course. But let us talk of other things, shall we?”

That proved to be difficult. The weight of Sir Robert’s story put a pall upon the rest of the evening. The pudding Annie had baked was eaten in near silence by our little party at the table —and not eaten at all by Lady Fielding.

The offer of an after-dinner port was made as Lady Fielding excused herself, though Sir Robert declined it. He rose from the table and thanked her profusely for the excellent meal and the kindness she had shown him. He assured her, too, that he would do all possible on her son’s behalf. For this she thanked him warmly and then departed the room toward the kitchen.

At that, all made toward the sitting room and the seldom used front entrance to Number 4 Bow Street.

“Jeremy,” called out Sir John, “will you fetch Sir Robert’s hat?”

“I will, of course, sir,” said I.

And off I went to the kitchen, where I found the richly braided thing where I had hung it on a peg. I also found my lady sitting at the kitchen table, weeping, as Annie did her best to comfort her. I wanted to comfort her too, yet what could I but return with the admiral’s tricorn?

Once back, I found the two men deep in talk as Tom Durham stood respectfully to one side.

“Even so,” Sir John was saying, “I wish you had not told it —not in her presence, at any rate.”

“But Jack, women should know what happens in war —what it is like.”

“Why?”

“So they will not cheer so enthusiastically when we sail off to it.”

“Would you have crying and weeping instead?”

“It might be more fitting.”

“It might indeed.”

Sir Robert took his hat from me with an indifferent nod.

“Jack,” said he, “I know we promised not to discuss the matter which concerned us the day past, but that ship’s surgeon, MacNaughton, has been located in Portsmouth about to ship out.”

“So soon?”

“I, too, thought it strange. I wonder, would you accompany me to Portsmouth, say tomorrow, so that you might question him?”

“I have not been out of London for an age, it seems. So yes, Bobbie, if I can arrange with Mr. Saunders Welch to handle my docket, I shall accompany you — and Jeremy, too.”

The next day began calm—but ah. how quickly it went! In the morning Sir John dictated to me a letter to Mr. Saunders Welch, magistrate of the districts beyond of Sir John’s. It was a simple request that Mr. Welch assume responsibility for the cases, civil and criminal, that were scheduled before the Bow Street Court the next day. Dictated, it was signed by Sir John at that place on the paper where I placed the pen in his hand. Signed, it was sealed with wax. And sealed, it was delivered by me to the hand of him to whom it was addressed.

Saunders Welch was a handsome man who gave the impression that he was quite pleased with himself. He took the missive with a languid hand, as soft and clean as a nobleman’s, opened it without difficulty, and read it through.

‘“Ah, so he wants me to fill for him. does he?

“Perhaps, sir. If that is what the letter says.” Of course I knew the contents of the letter very well, for I had served as Sir John’s amanuensis.

“Do you know*. is he leaving town?”

“That he did not tell me. sir.” In point of fact, he had told Vice-Admiral Sir Robert Redmond: I had merely been present at the time.

“Pah! ” said Mr. Welch, exclaiming in dismay at my ignorance. He turned quickly on his heel and strode to a writing desk in the corner of his office. without bothering to sit. he dipped a quill in ink and scrawled a brief message on the bottom of the letter. Then, taking a moment to blot it and fold it up again, he handed it back unsealed.

“On your way then, boy.”

“Yes sir.” said I, only too glad to be gone.

I skipped out of the magistrate *s house and court, both of which were accommodated in a building which seemed twice the size of Sir John’s on Bow Street. Once safely away and out of sight, I opened the letter — reasoning that if its contents had truly been confidential, Mr. Saunders Welch would have sealed it —and read what had been written in reply: “Glad to oblige, S.W.”

My heart leaped within me. Sir John would be traveling to Portsmouth, the home of His Majesty’s Fleet, and I should be traveling with him!

In all fairness, Mr. Welch could hardly decline the request that had been made him, since Sir John had filled so often for him. I had learned from Mrs. Gredge that there had been bad blood between the two magistrates in the beginning. When in 1754 Henry Fielding made known his plans to retire from Bow Street and journey to Portugal for his health (from which he never returned, tor he died there less than a year later), Mr. Saunders Welch expected to be named as his successor. But his half-brother, John, was given the position of Magistrate of the Bow Street Court in his stead. Mr. Welch fumed in envy and acrimony and passed remarks that a blind man could never do the job (even though Sir John had already proven himself on the Bow Street bench). He set up shop beyond John Fielding’s jurisdiction, and soon found it ‘svas in his own interest to make peace, for he frequently absented himself and needed a substitute. Requests for such assistance between them were quite uneven; it had been near a year since Sir John had last asked.

But with the news I carried in my hand, and the growing anticipation I felt in my breast, I ran back near the whole distance to Bow Street. I found the magistrate with his clerk and could bare contain myself until they had Finished. But at last they did, and before I could present the letter. Sir John turned abruptly to me and spoke up.

“And now what, Jeremy? You have been perspiring and hopping about on one foot and then another from the moment you arrived. I daresay I have never known you so excited.”

“Mr. Saunders Welch said yes, he would be glad to oblige.”

“And how do you know that? Surely he sent back a written acceptance.”

“Well, he wrote it on the bottom of your letter —and, well, he did not then seal it.”

“And what is not sealed is fair game? Is that your rule? ” It was said teasing, for he often plagued me thus, and I read the smile on his lace.

“Does that not seem fair, Sir John?”

“I shall remember your rule in the future and warn my correspondents of it. But as it happens, I anticipated Mr. Welch’s agreement, and dear Kate packed my portmanteau. I am quite ready to leave as soon as my session is done. I advise you also to pack and be ready. You would not want to be left behind, now would you?”

“No, Sir!”

And with that I was off and running for the stairs to the sound of his laughter.

When I burst into the kitchen, I found Tom sitting at the table and Annie leaning against a cabinet. Although there seemed nothing untowardlv in their posture, manner, or tone, they seemed to start guiltily from their places at my appearance. (Did I truly notice that then, or has time given me this wisdom in retrospect?)

“I must pack,” said I, all breathless.

“Where are you going?” asked Annie.

“To Portsmouth. But Tom, what shall I take? I have never packed before.”

“Well, you need not take much —a clean shirt, a —”

“I thought to wear my clean shirt today.”

“No, the one you have on will do. Always best to save the clean for the second day. And stockings — have you clean stockings?”

“I think so. I must see.”

“And you must take along that waistcoat Mother got me yestermorning.”

“Oh, I cannot do that.”

“But you must if it fits. And bring it all in my ditty box. Things should fit well inside if we fold them proper. We cannot have you traipsing off to Portsmouth with all you own in a bundle on a stick. What would the admiral think? Come along, mate, I’ll help you.”

I gave in to him completely. He had traveled the world over and knew of such things, while I had made but one journey in my life —and that to London with little to my name but the clothes on my back. As we started up the stairs to the room we shared, I could not but think how good it was to have a wise and generous friend at a time like this.

It seemed we had bounced and been shaken about for an eternity, yet since the sun was still well up in the July sky, it could only have been four or five hours. Though Sir Robert had promised a fairly pleasant trip in his coach-and-tour, I myself would as soon have walked. The cushions were soft enough, but below them there was something hard and unyielding which punished the spine yet left the buttocks undamaged.

My travel companions seemed not to mind so much, but then they were all much heavier than I and bounced not near so often, nor so high. We were four in number. Besides the admiral, Sir John, and myself, there was that lieutenant from the admiral’s office, himself a rather corpulent man of about sixteen stone. The lieutenant — Byner by name — had been chosen by Sir Robert as the defendant’s counsel. As we traveled slowly through London early in our journey, and it was still possible to talk within the coach, Sir John asked the lieutenant if he had had any legal training. He answered in the negative with a great loud “suh!” but said he would be happy to learn whatever the magistrate wished to teach him. This must have seemed a bad beginning to Sir John, for he did not pursue the matter further.

Once we were out on the road, conversation became quite impossible. What with the turning of the wheels, the galloping hoofbeats of the horses, the bucking of the conveyance, and the shaking of the passengers, nothing could be said at less than a shout. It was only at those intervals when the horses were walked and rested that once more talk could resume. At one of them, the admiral remarked that he had planned a stop along the way at an inn just ahead.

“Surely not to overnight there?” said Sir John.

“Oh no, Jack, we’ll stay at the George in Portsmouth. Even though we make a late arrival, they will have room for us, I’m sure.”

Sir John grunted his approval.

“No, I thought a bit of dinner might go well. Though it is early to eat, there is no better place between it and our destination. Nothing approaching that feast you laid on last night, I fear. That was indeed memorable —the tenderest, tastiest, best-seasoned lamb that ever was.”

I wondered if word had been passed to Annie.

“Just so we are not too long in the dark, Bobbie. There are highwaymen aplenty on all these roads leading south.”

“Surely they would not dare!”

“They dare much, for they are very saucy fellows.”

And so, not much later, with great dash and flash and reining in of horses we came to a halt at the inn by the roadside which Sir Robert had designated as our stopping place. It was an ordinary-looking sort of place, no doubt of it. I had seen many like it on my way to Lxjndon — two floors, rambling, a survivor from the last century, or perhaps the

one before it. There were two horses tethered in front and a coach smaller than our own pulled up to one side, where the horses might be watered.

The inside of the place was no more impressive than its outside. The dining room was dark and tight, without seeming in the least cozy; it crowded us close with the passengers from the smaller coach, a most respectable-looking married couple, and in the darkest corner of all, two men of low, slouching appearance who seemed to have spent a long time drinking at the table. As we sat down next the man and his wife, I noted they seemed to be fmishing their meal, such as it was, of bread and cheese and a bottle of wine.

“They make a good stew here,” said the admiral.

“Well then, Bobbie, that is what I shall have —and Jeremy, too.”

“Didyou hear that, innkeeper?” Sir Robert shouted to the man behind the bar.” Dip four stews for us, but bring us also a bottle of wine and a bottle of brandy.”

The innkeeper hopped to, serving the drink before the food, placing four glasses before us, then popping the cork on the wine. He sloshed it out into our glasses and left the bottle at the table.

“A man develops a terrible thirst on the road,” said the admiral, downing half the glass before him.” Do you not find it so. Jack?”

“I am so seldom on the road, to give you the truth, that I could not say.”

“Well, here’s to good health and long life for all at this table.”

“And for Lieutenant Landon, as well,” said Sir John, raising his glass.

“What? Ah yes, of course.”

I tasted the wine; it had a raw, sour taste, quite unlike any I had had at Sir John’s table, yet the admiral did not seem to mind. Lieutenant Byner, who merely sipped at his, did not seem to find it to his liking.

As the innkeeper served up our stew, I saw that those at the table next ours had risen to leave. The man tossed a few coins down on the table and led his wife to the door. There was a swift movement at the table in the corner. I looked sharp and saw the one fellow pulling the other back. They talked for a moment in low voices and one of them, it seemed to me, nodded in our direction.

“Bobbie, a most curious thing came about yesterday during my court session.”

“Oh, and what was that, Jack?”

“I had two seamen from the
Adventure
before me for pubHc drunkenness.”

Sir Robert burst out laughing at that with so httle restraint that he lost a bit of stew down his chin. He wiped it off, drank the rest of the wine from his glass, and filled it up again.

“What is curious about a drunken sailor?” he said at last.” I should think that a drunken sailor was the lechft curious thing ever. Put a seaman on shore, and he’s bound to do two things —get drunk and catch the clap.” He laughed again, though a bit more tidily.

“That’s as it may be,” said Sir John, “but these two fellows astonished me by saying that they had been given leave from the
Adventure
on the very night of their arrest, that in fact the ship had been emptied of its crew.”

“Not so! Not so! The Lascars are still aboard. It would not do to let fifty niggers loose in London.”

“Yet two hundred white-faced drunks bent on whoring should be no worry at all — do you believe that, Bobbie?”

“Well …”

“Frankly,” said Sir John, “it worries me. We manage to keep the peace in Westminster, thanks to my constables, yet it is a precarious business at best.”

“But Jack,” said the admiral in a tone of mild censure, “I fear you must take a good part of the blame onto yourself. The mood of the crew was ugly after that show you put on with the captain. I feared mutiny. And so I gave permission that all be put on leave.”

“Permission in advance, I take it. ‘

“I gave Lieutenant Hartsell an option, and he took it. Damned difficult it was, too, to get leave tickets and pay for them all. Put quite a strain on the bursary, it did. Is that not so, Lieutenant Byner?”

“Oh, indeed, sir!” said the plump lieutenant.

“He was up half the night counting out pounds and pence by candlelight there on Tower Wharf. But here, Jack, let’s have no more of this on our little ramble. I see you’ve finished your stew. Why not drink up and let me fill your glass with brandy?”

Sir Robert hefted the flask and pulled out the stopper. He held it at the ready.

“I fear not, ” said Sir John.” I can hold my wine, but spirits are dangerous to me.”

“And you used to be the greatest toper of us all! Ah, well.”

He gulped the remainder of the wine in his glass and filled it with brandy. Then he downed that in short order too.