Watery Grave (17 page)

“Jack! Please! Mr. MacNaughton has been most cooperative.”

“Yes,” said Sir John, rising from the table, “and I shall ask his cooperation for twenty minutes more, while Jeremy and I go upstairs and prepare a statement drawn from the interrogation of this pusillanimous Scot. Do not worry, Donald MacNaughton, I shall put no words in your mouth. It will contain no more than you told me. But then, sir, you must sign it. You must.”

He waved briskly at me, who had risen by his side.” Come along, Jeremy.”

There was a curious silence in the kitchen when Sir John and I returned from Portsmouth. It was near the dinner hour and indeed we hoped to be fed. Yet as we ascended the stairs, we heard no hustle and bustle, no rattle of pots and pans, nor none of Annie’s loud laughter. We, or at least I, presumed that the kitchen was empty; but when I, struggling with Sir John’s portmanteau and my ditty box, managed to open the door at the top of the stairs, I was surprised to find both Lady Fielding and Tom Durham sitting quiet at opposite sides of the kitchen table. Her arms were folded. His head was hung low. There was no sign of Annie about.

Tom jumped up immediately to help with the portmanteau.

“I’ll just take this upstairs,” said he, seeming most eager to be away.

Thus he made his escape, bag in hand. And though his mother seemed about to call him back, she checked herself and raised no objection.

Sir John entered the kitchen, came forward a few steps, stopped, and sniffed the air.

“What,” said he, “no smells of dinner? Nothing in preparation? I persuaded Bobbie to go through without a stop except to water the horses. I hoped that we might eat what Annie cooked us. Where is she?”

“Annie Oakum has returned to the Magdalene Home, John.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.”

“I see,” said he, in such a way as to make it clear he did not.” But couldn’t you … ?”

“I was detained with matters at the Home. I only just arrived here myself. There was no one about to do the buying. ‘

“But … Tom … ?”

“Tom is in disgrace.”

“But in disgrace or no, could he not … Ah, well, what then have we to eat in the house?”

“All I can offer is bread and cheese.”

“Well, then, bread and cheese it shall be.”

“And tea, of course.”

“Of course.” He ruminated a moment, then said he to me: “Well, Jeremy, I reckon a pair of hungrv’ travelers can fill their bellies on a simple meal as easy as a grand one.”

Yet before I could make polite agreement, my lady raised her arm in a manner almost threatening and pointed to the stairway.

“Jeremy,” said she, “up to your room, please. You and my son will be called when dinner is put out. Sir John and I have matters to discuss.”

Having no choice and no proper reason to argue, I picked up the ditty box, excused myself, and marched up the stairs. Tempted though I may have been to stop halfway and eavesdrop, I continued to the top, assured that I would hear the whole stor) from Tom.

Yet he proved evasive. I found him in a posture not unlike that in which I had first seen him in the kitchen: he sat upon the bed, elbows on his knees, chin in his hands. He seemed the very picture of melancholy there before me, as he glanced up and acknowledged my presence with but a nod. I put the ditty box down on the floor and threw myself down on the bed next to him.

“What is it?” I asked him quite direct.” What has happened?”

“Oh, please, Jeremy, let it be.”

“Well, I will if you insist, but you might at least tell me what has happened to Annie. I believe I deserve to know, for I’ll probably catch some blame myself. It was I spoke up for her in this household, more or less. Why was she sent away?”

“She is in disgrace.”

“So are you —or so says your mother.”

“Oh, well I know, well I know. She has done nothing but remind me of that, ever since … Never mind, Jeremy. Let it be.”

“As you will,” said I.

Then, half in annoyance, I jumped up from the bed and went to where I had left the ditty box. I unpacked it in a trice, for there was Httle of mine inside it, and thanked him for its use. In response, he merely nodded, annoying me further. So then with nothing better to do, I went to the books piled against the wall to search out one I had not yet read. Though they numbered near a hundred, this was becoming more and more difficuh each time I looked. What should I do when I had read them all?

It vould be disingenuous for me to play the complete innocent with you, reader. If Tom was in disgrace, and Annie was in disgrace, it was very likely they had together committed some disgraceful act. And I knew full well that what men and women did together was held to be immoral, unless done within the bounds of marriage. It might to some then seem all the more reprehensible if undertaken by such as young as Tom and Annie. Yet I wanted to hear this Irom Tom. Above all — and I burn with shame to admit it —I wanted instructive details.

But then of a sudden Tom spoke out to me in a manner most accusing: “Why did you not tell me of the true nature of this ‘Magdalene Home’? Penitent prostitutes, after all!”

“Your mother told me not to.”

“Why did you not tell me Annie was one of these former prostitutes? That she had been on the streets for near a year?”

“Well,” said I, “if I did not tell you of that about Annie, neither did I tell her that you had been a thief.”

That seemed to me to be a reasonable retort, yet I admit I meant to sting him with it. What had become of us —we two mates, we chums — that we should now speak so sharp to one another?

“She could have given me a disease —the pox or some other!”

“Who? Annie?” It seemed a strange idea to me.” She seems healthy enough to me.”

“Mother says you cannot tell. She has scarce talked to me of anything else. She has me frightened as I was back in Bombay.”

“But what about Annie? You could have given her a baby.”

“I could?”

“Well, isn’t that how it is done? I admit I don’t know much about it, but that much, at least, I heard from Jimmie Bunkins.”

Tom seemed quite awestruck by the notion:

“By God, I suppose it’s possible.”

“It may be growing inside her this very moment.”

“But she’s so young.”

“Well, so are you.”

After that, he quietened down somewhat, perhaps brooding upon the pox or his unintended fatherhood. Time passed. I began to wish that Sir John and Lady Fielding would soon conclude their discussion, no matter how grave, so that I might have my portion of bread and cheese.

Oh, I would miss Annie long after Tom had gone, I knew full well I would. She was a remarkable good cook—and a good companion, too. Having gone back to the books, I dwelt upon that a bit as I shuffled through them desultorily.

“It was in this very bed, ‘ said Tom, unbidden. giving the mattress a slap.

“Truly?”

“Yes, it was all arranged beforehand, it was. The girl is quite daft, Jeremw Said she loves me … would do anything I liked …” He hesitated.” Id no idea, reallw

I frowned in my effort to comprehend.” What was it you didn t understand?” I thought she had made her feelings quite plain.

“Well, none of it. What a lot of doing there is to that business, mate! Why, we did and did all night until we fell asleep quite exhausted in one another’s arms. And that, you see. was our mistake.”

“Falling asleep, you mean?”

“Well … yes. We had chosen this bed quite wisely because it was well away from where my mother slept. But I had been chosen to set the fire in the stove in your absence. When Mama rose in the morning and found neither me nor Annie about, she must have suspected the worst, for she came directly here and found us all atangle, as naked as ever could be, dozing away there where I now sit.

“What happened then?”

“What do you suppose? She let out a terrible roar, sent Annie away to get something on her, and as I tried to cover up she began preaching to me that I might now have the pox, and such other terrible things as I do not wish to mention. And then —”

Just at that moment the summons came from our kitchen. Lady Fielding called us down in a manner much less genteel than was her usual.

“Bread and cheese.” said I.

“Ah, well,” said he, “at least it is something. I’m quite famished.”

And so, together we answered the call, descending to the kitchen not as two hungry lads in a great hurry to eat, but with the slow measured tread of two who know not what to expect but expect the worst.

In the event, what we experienced was far from the worst —thanks, in large measure (if not completely), to the efforts of Sir John. Redelivered a long report on our trip to Portsmouth which, all m all, was a most eventful journey, what with the attack upon our coach by marauding highwaymen. and my near recruitment into His Majesty’s Navy.

Even Lady Fielding was impressed by this last. She roused herself from her unhappy musings and reached across the table to clasp my hand.

“Oh, Jeremy,” said she, “how terrible! You would simply have disappeared. We would have had no notion of what had become of you.”

“A goodly portion of the men on the
Adventure
were pressed, ” said Tom.” It was them who were left aboard when we anchored.”

At that his mother gave him a critical look. Apparently those in disgrace were not allowed to contribute to table talk.

“Indeed,” said Sir John, “and it was them who Hartsell allowed ashore with Sir Robert’s permission — or connivance, better put —to cause mischief in my jurisdiction.”

“Not likely to see them again aboard the
Adventure
,” said Tom.

“We are likely, though, to see a good many of them in my court.”

A knock came upon the door. I jumped up from the table and went to it, throwing it open, and there I found none other than Benjamin Bailey, captain of the Bow Street Runners.

“It is Mr. Bailey, Sir John,” I called back to the table.

“Well, have him come in, by all means.”

“No need, sir,” said he.” It’s just as I was making my first round of the night I was stopped by a drunken seaman who gave me a letter addressed to you. Sealed it is and in a good hand, so I’m sure it were not the sailor who wrote it.”

“Was he off the
Adventure
?”

“He didn’t say, Sir John. Just stuck it in my hand and asked me to give it you. From the look of it, he’s been carrying it about for a while. I’ll just hand it over to Jeremy here and be on my way. Pleasure to see you, my lady. Sorry to interrupt things.”

“Nice of you to come by, Mr. Bailey,” said she, waving in good fashion.

And with that he touched hand to brow and started back down the stairs. I put the letter in Sir John’s hand, and he laid it carefully by the side of his plate.

Though modest by our household standards, the meal was in no wise stingy. There was near a pound of Stilton set out upon the table alongside a good-sized loaf with butter aplenty and a bowl of pickled cucumbers. We ate well, though after Sir John fmished his tale of our travels, we ate mostly in silence. It was indeed only after he had finished that I noted that he had omitted any mention of his interview with Mr. Donald MacNaughton and had said nothing of Sir Robert’s startling revelation of his kinship to Lieutenant Landon. In fact, nothing was said of our purpose in making the journey to Portsmouth.

Alter we had done with the meal and drunk the last of our tea, Sir John pushed back from the table and belched appreciatively “Thank you, Kate, that was indeed as good a meal from scratch as has ever been got together.” Then: “Tom, dear boy, I wonder, would you be willing to take on Jeremy’s usual washing-up duties on this occasion? He and I have a bit of work to do.”

Then, rising, he took up the letter Mr. Bailey had brought and signaled me to follow. We climbed the stairs to his small study. He took his accustomed place behind his desk and laid the letter between us.

“Let us hear what Mr. Bailey has brought us,” said Sir John.

There was still light from the window, yet it was growing dim from the lateness of the hour.” I wonder, sir,” said I, “if I might light a candle to read by?”

“Of course, Jeremy. Light or dark are much the same to me. There are matches there? A tinderbox? ‘

“Yes, sir.”

I lit the candle nearest me, took the letter, and broke the seal.

“The letter is signed Jonathan Grimsby, Lieutenant, R.N.,” said I.

“Hah! Well, the third officer of the
Adventure
—or perhaps acting second officer, since Lieutenant Hartsell states himself ‘acting captain.’ What has Mr. Grimsby to say to us, Jeremy?”

Holding it close to the candle, I read the following letter aloud to Sir John:

To the Hon. Sir John Fielding, Bow Street Court, No. 4 Bow Street.

Sir John,

Whereas I, with the unfortunate Lieutenant William Landon, am become as a virtual prisoner upon the H.M.S.
Adventure
, it is impossible for me to visit you, which is unjust as I have information to give. I wish to impart it to you for you seem most truly interested in helping my brother officer. Would it be possible for you to return to the H.M.S.
Adventure
, so that I might speak to you direct?

Since we are extremely shorthanded as to officers with Mr. Landon confined to his cabin and Mr. Hartsell remaining in his by choice, I serve as officer of the deck through all the daylight hours. I cannot be sure when, or even if, this letter will reach you, since I am entrusting it to one of the crew, and so I shall not request that you come on any specific day, which would be rude and presumptuous of me in any case. All days are the same to me here aboard the
Adventure
. I shall be eager to see and talk with you whenever you can come.