Watery Grave (19 page)

I was approached by one of the Lascars. He, like the rest, was thin and small of stature —no bigger than my fourteen-year-old self—but unlike the rest he spoke a kind of English.

“Good day,” said he to me.

“Good day to you, sir.” Though I could not judge his age, he was plainly older than I was.

“We all like you. Inja boys all hate Mr. Boone. Oh yes.” There was a most peculiar rhythm to his speech —quite rapid and a bit up and down the scale.” I think we go to sea, and there is a storm, he fall overboard. Oh yes.”

He flashed a great smile at that, as if he had just told a great joke.

“Why do you hate him? What has he done?”

“Oh, many things, many things. He like to beat Inja boys with bamboo stick for no reason. Just he like to. Oh, very bad boy. Best he die, start a new life, do better next time. Oh yes. ‘

(This seemed to me such a peculiar notion that I wondered had I heard him aright. But reader, I have since learned that this business of living successive lives is part and parcel of their strange religion.)

“And what of Lieutenant Hartsell? ” I asked, remembering what Tom Durham had predicted.

He flashed his smile again.” Same storm. Oh yes. For Mista Landon. Silly man Mista Hartsell, makes girls of boys, thinks nobody knows. Very silly.”

That struck me as a most peculiar thing to say. I wanted to question the Lascar gentleman further to ascertain his meaning, yet before I could do so, he had pointed to the shore and changed the subject.

“That is London there?”

“Yes sir,” said I with a citizen’s pride.” It is the largest city in the world, sir.”

“Many big houses, yet I think Bombay is more big. More people in Bombay. Oh yes.”

Footsteps behind me brought me swiftly round. (Did I fear that it might be young Mr. Boone, the “very bad boy,” with his bamboo stick or a knife to plant in my back?) But just a few paces away I found Mr. Grimsby and Sir John returning. Their conference had not lasted near as long as I had expected. The Lascar gentleman to whom I had been talking snapped a sharp salute, and Mr. Grimsby returned it in the casual manner common to most officers.

“Ah, Mr. Singh,” said the lieutenant, “are you keeping our young guest entertained?”

“Oh yes, sir. We finish to sand the quarterdeck, sir. Wait your look, sir.”

“You shall have it. Oh, Mr. Templeton!”

Mr. Grimsby called up to the poop deck where a boy who looked bare twelve years old strutted about as though he himself were master of the
Adventure
. He answered with a salute and a “Suh!” sung out in high soprano.

“I should like you to convey these two visitors from the city to Mr. Landon’s cabin.”

“Suh!”

As he descended, Mr. Grimsby said softly to Sir John: “For appearance’ sake, I think this necessary.”

“I quite agree, ” said Sir John.” And who knows? With Sir Robert absent, the poor fellow may be willing to speak more in his own behalf.”

Moments later, Midshipman Templeton appeared among us, saluting again, and Mr. Grimsby sent us off with him.

“Will Mr. Hartsell be available to us?” Sir John asked the young midshipman.

“I think not, sir,” said the boy.” He spent a restless night, on deck most of the night. He retired to nap but an hour ago.”

He was quite the young gentleman. Mr. Boone could and should have taken lessons from him in deportment.

Having brought us to the door of Mr. Landon’s cabin, the midshipman rapped sharply upon it.

The door opened and there stood William Landon, somewhat in a state of dishevelment. He had doffed his coat and unbuttoned his shirt against the heat and closeness of the small room. His long hair was damp with sweat.

“Visitors, sir,” said Midshipman Templeton, and stepped aside.

“Ah, Sir John Fielding, is it not? But your name, young man, eludes me for the moment.”

As he shook our hands, I took the opportunity to inform him. He seated Sir John, and I took my place to the side of the magistrate’s chair. Then, looking about before seating himself, Mr. Landon found the door still open and the midshipman standing at an attitude of attention.

“That will be all, Mr. Templeton. Please shut the door.”

The boy did as he was told, and Mr. Landon seated himself opposite the magistrate.

“This is indeed a surprise,” said the lieutenant, “not so much seeing you as seeing you unaccompanied.”

“By your uncle?”

“Ah, he told you then.”

“He did indeed,” said Sir John, “in the course of our visit to Portsmouth.”

“You have been and come back so quickly?”

“Yes, and had we not, we might have missed your declared admirer, Mr. Donald MacNaughton, altogether. He had snagged a berth on a ship of the line, the Steadfast, bound for the Mediterranean.”

“That was his choice and his right.”

“Perhaps, but to my mind, it showed a deficiency in moral courage, especially in one who purports to hold you in such high regard. In any case, we got a statement from him. It may be helpful.” Sir John paused, then said to him rather severely: “But tell me, Mr. Landon, why are you so forgiving of those who run from you?”

The lieutenant was silent for a moment; then he burst out as one in anger: “Because my cause is lost! Because the noose is already tight round my neck!”

“Let me rephrase what I said on my earlier visit to you, young man. Your cause is lost only if you think it so. If you do not fight, if you do not do all you can,
tell
all you can to help yourself, then you will surely hang. But if you tell me or your defense counsel. Mr. Byner, all you know, then you have a chance and a good one, I beheve. Now, please inform me, has Mr. Byner visited you?”

“Yes, this morning.”

“I thought as much. Did you tell him any more than you told me three days past?”

“No sir, I did not.”

“He seems a bit dull, but we must work with what we have. To be quite frank with you, Mr. Landon, I believe, though I cannot seem to convince your uncle or Mr. Byner, that you know very well why Lieutenant Hartsell has lodged a charge at you which we both know to be false. Why can you not give it forth?”

Again, silence from the lieutenant. Then: “Not here.”

“Do you fear for your life?”

“That is all I can say.”

“Well …” Sir John stopped, exasperated.” At least your man MacNaughton gave us something —the name of a witness.”

At that, the lieutenant caught my eye and put a finger to his lips and pointed to the door. I gave Sir John’s shoulder a squeeze in an attempt to persuade him to hold his tongue and began across the short space to the door on my tiptoe.

“What? What did you mean by that touch, Jeremy?”

I had reached the door. I flung it open in one swift motion, exposing young Midshipman Templeton. Though he threw himself immediately erect, he had been caught in that classic posture —ear to the keyhole.

“Who is there?” roared Sir John.

“It … It is I, Midshipman Templeton. I wished only to ask if there was anything you would require, sir.”

“Yes, that you absent yourself far from here, young man, and do not return.”

“Yes, sir!” And so saying, he left in a great hurry.

“You see the difficulty in talking here,” said Lieutenant Landon.

“I do, yes. Jeremy, I must ask you to close the door and stand guard outside it. I am quite disappointed in myself. My ears are such that none can approach without my knowing. At least as a rule.”

“He was in stocking feet. Sir John,” said I.” He had removed his shoes.”

“Then he was a proper little sneak, wasn’t he? But I’m afraid, Jeremy, you must guard the door. ‘

I shut it behind me and took a place in front of it, arms folded, a sour expression on my face. Let them come —Templeton or Boone. They would have me to deal with. Then came my second thought.

Though I saw the need for this task and could not, in any case, have refused it, I nevertheless regretted having to leave the lieutenant’s cabin at a time when it seemed likely that he might at last have something substantial to say. Sir John was indeed most persuasive. Yet why should Mr. Landon resist at all? Why should his uncle forbid him, with a shake of his head, from discussing certain matters? His uncle? Ah, it was all most perplexing. Perhaps, I thought, if I made my mind still and concentrated all my attention to the door behind me, I might be able to discern what was being said in the low, muffled voices behind it. In any case, I would not stoop to listening at the keyhole.

But then, quite surprising me, the door behind me opened. I had been leaning against it, and it unbalanced me, though I did not embarrass myself by falling upon my backside.

“Oh, sorry … uh … Jeremy, I should have tapped upon the door before opening it, something of the sort, to give you warning.”

Lieutenant Landon was most apologetic, and I most forgiving. The two men took leave of one another, and I saw Sir John out onto the quarterdeck.

There, waiting for us, hands clasped behind his back, erect, in a studied posture of command, was the acting captain of the H.M.S.
Adventure
, Lieutenant James Hartsell, R.N. I muttered the news in Sir John’s ear as Mr. Hartsell approached.

“You, sir, are not welcome aboard my ship.”

“Oh?” said Sir John.” Mr. Landon certainly seemed to welcome me.”

“Mr. Landon is a prisoner awaiting court-martial.”

“And therefore entitled to counsel. ‘

“His counsel, Mr. Byner, visited him this morning. We had a long talk. You, Sir John Fielding, have no standing in a naval court.”

“Perhaps a little as an amicus curiae. That has not yet been settled.”

“Quoting Latin will do you no good with me, sir. I will give you no access unless accompanied by Vice-Admiral Redmond. Lieutenant Grimsby was wrong in granting you permission to come aboard. He assumed you came with the authorization of the admiral. He was wrong in doing so —and thus I have informed him.”

“How can you be so certain that I have not Sir Robert’s authorization? ” asked Sir John, all innocent.

“That was one of the matters that emerged in my discussion with Mr. Byner. And so, sir, I will accompany you and the young street ruffian with you to the ladder and thank you both to leave my ship.”

“Then leave we must. Come along, Jeremy. ‘

The acting captain bumped along ahead, his boots thumping the deck loudly with each step. He seemed to wish to sound important, since Sir John was denied the sight of his commanding appearance.

“By the by, Mr. Hartsell,” said the magistrate, “since we may not be coming back this way again, I wonder, sir, if you would answer two questions I neglected to put to you on our earlier visit. The first is why you waited so many months to lodge charges against Lieutenant Landon in that letter to the Admiralty Court. The second is why, having lodged them, you allowed him to continue serving in active duty on the
Adventure
.”

I saw that we had come to the ladder on the port side of the deck. I plucked on Sir John’s sleeve as a signal to stop. He came to a halt and waited calmly for a reply.

Mr. Hartsell seemed quite affronted that Sir John dared to persist. He had thought, it was plain, to intimidate him, having no idea how difficult that would be. But then a smile of the most supercilious sort appeared upon his face. He had no doubt had an inspiration of sorts.

“Though I have no need to answer the questions you ask and do not recognize your authority to ask them, I shall do the charitable and gentlemanly thing and give you a response, sir. In fact, I shall give you two.

“The answer to your first question is that to charge an officer of my ship with the murder of its captain was indeed a very serious matter, and I felt it necessary to give such a serious matter long consideration. In fact, I took months to think about it before writing the letter to which you refer.

“As to why I continued Mr. Landon in active service, the answer is simple. He was a good officer in all respects but one. He had murdered his captain. Why should I have deprived myself of the services of a good officer? Good day to you.”

With that, he turned on his heel and left us there by the port ladder — though not quite alone. Mr. Singh was there to assist me in guiding Sir John onto the ladder. It was done without much difficulty. The boatman below gave a wave; all was well at his end. The Indian gentleman and I watched his swift descent. I wanted to ask him to explain the peculiar thing he had said—yet now was not the time. All I could do, when my turn came, was to say, “Thank you. Mr. Singh.”

It was not until we were settled within the hackney and on our return journey to Number 4 Bow Street that Sir John showed any inclination to talk of our visit to the Adventure. He had been silent in the bumboat — silent and within himself in such a way as to forbid discussion. Once more the loquacious boatman sought to inspire conversation by prattling on and asking questions. Yet he heard only grunts in response and soon gave up his enterprise.

We had gone but a little distance in the hackney coach, however, when Sir John chuckled of a sudden and gave my knee a touch.

“Jeremy,” said he, “did you hear what that popinjay of an acting captain called you? He called you a ‘street ruffian’! I’d no idea you’d acquired such a reputation —and on a warship, too. You must indeed be a nastier fellow than ever I had guessed.”

I knew not what to say: “Well, I … sir … that is …”

“Or perhaps we had misjudged Lieutenant Hartsell. He may be a gentler soul than we thought him —especially with regard to Mr. Boone, whom I understood from Mr. Grimsby to be a particular favorite of the acting captain. He made him an acting lieutenant, more or less at fifteen —isn’t that remarkable?”

“Was Mr. Grimsby’s information worth the trip to the
Adventure
?”

“I would say so, yes —though it did no more than confirm what I heard from Tom last night. He did give us a name, however —another frightened rabbit who fled the frigate —though not so far as Portsmouth, praise be. We shall pay him a visit tomorrow.”

I considered a moment, then decided.” Sir John,” said I, “there was a Lascar seaman assisted you to the ladder; he —”