Watery Grave (26 page)

Trindle brought back the torch and looked uncertainly at the hundred who had accompanied him to Mrs. Gerney’s. Were they with him or not? A few had already begun to drift back, perhaps seeking to make their departure.

“I heard of you. You’re the one they call the Blind Beak. ‘

“So I am. And if you have heard of me, then you know my reputation as one who keeps his word. I have given you my promise that if bodily injury is done to me or my constables, you and others will be hanged. I have also promised that if a fire is set, there will be the same result. I now give you another …”

He had raised his voice to its fullest. He was addressing the mob as well as its leader.

“I promise, ” said Sir John, “that if you now disperse and return to whatever pursuits had occupied you before starting out on this mission of destruction, you will not be pursued. You will not be arrested singly or in twos or threes. The place upon which you have vented your rage has given us trouble before. I will consider that rough justice has been done. That is my promise to you. But if, in defiance, you persist, you will be considered in a state of riot.”

Having thus concluded, he turned and, walking to the sound of Mr. Bailey’s voice (“Here, Sir John”), returned to us in the first row of onlookers. He waited.

Tobias Trindle threw his torch down to the cobblestones and stamped it out. The others who had played that dangerous game did likewise. They retired to speak with their fellows. They held a council of war — or perhaps one of peace, for it seemed promising that Sir John’s reason and promise of leniency would prevail.

I believe indeed that it would have done so, had it not been that at that moment two wagonloads of grenadiers came clattering down the Strand from the Tower. The drivers reined in, and twenty-four red-coated troops piled out, muskets and all. A very young lieutenant had accompanied them on a well-blooded brown mount. The crowd parted, giving them space aplenty to assemble.

“Damn,” said Sir John, “they usually arrive too late to do any good. It couid be tonight that they arrive too early.”

The rioters took the sudden appearance of the grenadiers as a betrayal. They hooted and jeered as the lieutenant lined up his men.

“Take me to him who is in charge, Mr. Bailey.”

Together they started forward, we two again trailing behind. But by the time we reached the soldiers, the lieutenant had his men positioned, in two wade lateral lines, on either side of the heap of property thrown from Mrs. Gerney’s establishment. He had his sword out and raised.

“Fix bayonets!” came his command.

Only then did Sir John reach him with Mr. Bailey’s assistance. He had in his hand the scrolled document I had fetched for him from his desk in the study.

“Lieutenant!” He spoke most sharply to the young fellow.” What you propose to do is not according to legal process until I read the Riot Act. And I am not ready to do so.”

The lieutenant gave another command, and the grenadiers brought their muskets up in sharp precision so that they were grasped behind the trigger and at a midpoint along the barrel; the bayonets, directed outward, shone bright beneath the streetlamps.

“You may read what you like, sir” drawled the lieutenant.” I have orders to put down a riot, and I intend to do that.” He raised a white-gloved hand and pointed a drooping finger at the ragged crewmen of the
Adventure
and their chums who had wreaked havoc within the brothel. “I take it that is the rabble against which we are to move?”

“You will move against no one until I tell you to do so. I remind you, young man, that you are under my command here in the streets of London. I am Sir John Fielding, Magistrate of the Bow Street Court.”

“I give no particular care to who you are, sir, and I am under no one’s command but my captain’s. It is he who has ordered me, and I intend to execute his orders. Now, sir, if you will step aside?”

“See here, you young -—”

Yet Mr. Bailey, seeing that the lieutenant had every intention of moving his men ahead whether Sir John was in the way or not, pulled him back from the ranged bayonets and then signaled urgently to his four constables to get out of the grenadiers’ path; they wasted no time in complying.

The watching crowd of spectators had grown silent in expectation. The mob, by contrast, had become increasingly noisy. Their improvised jeers and taunts were now replaced by a mocking and obscene chorus of “The British Grenadier,” which they sang loudly together. There was a bit of bravado in that, for it seemed without doubt that their number had dwindled since last I looked.

“Forward, march!”

The lieutenant’s sword came down, and the soldiers stepped out in perfect order, muskets extended, bayonets wickedly aglitter.

Trindle tried to rouse his companions to one more chorus of their song, yet they were no longer so defiant. So much less so, in fact, that they were now in retreat —backing away down the Strand. Their last bold act was to loose a shower of sticks and stones upon the advancing soldiers, which in truth had little effect. Yet they were not yet in full flight — not, that is, until by a series of commands the lieutenant ordered his troops in a single line forcing the remnants of the mob, the rear guard as it were, some twenty yards or more distant. At which time the lieutenant called out, “At the double time, march!”

Then did the last of the seamen turn and take to their heels. The mob had been routed. The grenadiers, weighed down by their muskets and military impedimenta and forced to jog-run in step, were no match in pursuit of the crew, which was now fast disappeared —and Tobias Trindle along with the rest.

All that we had seen we reported to Sir John.

He heard us out and commented that it could have been worse.” That young idiot of a lieutenant might have begun shooting, then gone to the bayonet.”

Just then, somewhat in the distance, perhaps down Bailey Alley, we heard the muffled roar of a ragged volley of shot.

The grenadiers’ volley killed none but wounded two, neither of them seriously. Both were taken prisoner by the soldiers, as was a seaman who had fallen and twisted his ankle and another who had gone to assist him. As Sir John said before the volley had been fired, it could have been worse.

The arrogant young lieutenant was much too pleased with himself and his handling of the situation to brook criticism from Sir John.

“If there is a specific procedure —a legal process, if you will,” said he, as his men climbed back into the wagons which had borne them from the Tower, “then I have never been made aware of it, sir. If you wish my name for purposes of complaint, I should be happy to give it you. It is Thomas Churchill, and I bear it most proudly. As for the prisoners, them I give to you, as well.” He made a sharp little bow, no more than a bob of his head.” Good evening to you, gentlemen.”

And with that he left us, mounted his horse and rode out into the Strand and stopped vehicle traffic with a wave of his hand that his little caravan might return unimpeded.

Benjamin Bailey watched him go, a deep dislike written upon the rough features of his face. He turned and spat down upon the cobblestones.

“Thomas Churchill,” said he then.” He would be one of Marlborough’s puppies.”

“Some relation, no doubt,” said Sir John “How old would you judge him to be, Mr. Bailey?”

“Oh … seventeen, nineteen at the most. He’ll have a regiment long before he’s thirty. It’s because of such as him I gave the King back his shilling.”

“Ah yes, that’s a story you promised one day to tell me.”

“And it’s a story one day I shall, Sir John.”

“Whenever you like. For now, I wish you to oversee transportation of the prisoners back to Bow Street. At least one of them will have difficulty walking, so you may call a hackney —two, if it suits you. I intend to bill Lieutenant Churchill for incidental expenses —including medical. Fetch that fellow Carr, the one you said had Army experience. He should do.

Mr. Bailey saluted sharply.” Yes sir.”

So saying, he wheeled about and went off to join his five constables (Mr. Perkins having returned) and their prisoners.

The walkway before Mrs. Gerney’s, now nearly empty, had only a while ago so teemed with footloose men and women of dubious character that the crowd overflowed into the broad street. The drama had ended. Their entertainment was done. All who remained were of Mrs. Gerney’s company; they labored to return the bedding, mattresses, looking glasses, and other odds and ends back into the house.

“Lads? Are you still with me?”

“Both of us here, sir, ” said I.

“Then let us return,” said Sir John.” It has been a long night, and I am exhausted — as you must be, too.” He sighed.” Point me in the right direction, will you? It’s all been so back and forth here that I have quite lost my bearings.”

And so, with Tom on one side and me on the other, we set off toward Bow Street, retracing our path down the Strand. Sir John walked silent and at a slower pace than was his usual. He seemed somewhat disheartened by the turn that events had taken there at Mrs. Gerney’s. Though not wishing to add to his discouragement, I felt he should be apprised of Tom’s discovery.

“Sir,” said I, “Tom has something to tell you about the seaman you dealt with before the grenadiers arrived.”

“Oh? The fellow who near burned my nose off? What about him, Tom? He was not among the prisoners, I understand.”

“That was Tobias Trindle, sir.”

“Oh, damn! Our witness, eh? Then our Lieutenant Churchill spoiled even more than I realized. What bad fortune!”

Again he lapsed into silence. Yet gradually, as we approached Southampton Street, his pace quickened. His lower lip jutted forth, and he began nodding to himself in such a way that I was sure that his confidence had returned.

“We may yet be able to turn this to our advantage,” said he.” Tom, it is true, is it not, that Tobias Trindle was aware of Lieutenant Landon’s predicament?”

“Oh, yes sir, all of us knew by the time we dropped anchor. The news went around the ship like a flash of lightning. There was nothing else we talked of.”

“Yet Trindle, perhaps the only true witness to what had happened except Mr. Landon himself, did not come forward. Tell me, was Trindle in that first leave party —the one with which you yourself arrived?”

Tom took a moment to be certain.” Yes sir, he was.”

“The admiral made an appeal there on Tower Wharf for any who knew something of the Landon matter to step forward. Yet Trindle did not — nor did he later visit the admiral in his office. Nor did he contact me. That much is certain. I must ask you, Tom, why has he remained silent?”

“Fear of retribution,” said Tom, “fear of the captain’s revenge.”

“Yet Trindle’s testimony, together with other information that has now come to light, could destroy Lieutenant Hartsell utterly in a court-martial. He must know that. He was certainly a bold enough fellow when he talked to me not long ago. Why should he quail before a court-martial?”

Tom Durham took a long moment to answer, and when he did, it was with obvious reluctance: “Sir, the men of the
Adventure
give Mr. Landon no chance at all before a court-martial. They would count any effort on his behalf as wasted.”

“Including our Mr. Trindle?”

“Oh, certainly, sir.”

“Including you ?”

If Tom had seemed reluctant a moment before, he now seemed quite torn in two: “I’m … I’m afraid so, sir.”

We had by then turned down Southampton Street which, unlike the Strand, was near deserted. Our footsteps echoed hollow across the night for a good many steps before Sir John spoke his response.

“Have you so little faith in His Majesty’s Navy?” said he in a manner most grave.

“Perhaps in its justice, sir.”

“Well, no matter,” said Sir John, “for I have a plan by which Tobias Trindle may be made to testily at the court-martial. I shall put out a warrant for his arrest. I shall say he fomented a great disturbance of the peace. I shall say there was damage to property. I shall say a good many other things —
except
that he led a mob in riot, which of course he did. But in saying that I should have to pass him on for trial at Old Bailey, and I want this to be a matter between Tobias and me. When he is apprehended, as I’m sure he will be when I put my constables out after him, then I shall have something to hold over his head. I daresay he will then agree to testily at Lieutenant Landon’s court-martial.”

He picked up his pace again, his stick now making a sharp click-click-click upon the cobblestones.

“Yes, ” said he, “I daresay he will.”

Tom was thrown into a great turmoil by this conversation. He groaned and complained of it to me until long past the time the candle had been blown out and we should have settled down to sleep.

“But don’t you see the position this puts me in, Jeremy?”

“Of course I do,” said I into the dark.” You have made it clear.”

“But they are my shipmates!”

“I understand, Tom.”

“Tobias Trindle is my shipmate.”

“Yes, I see that.”

“How can I assist in a search for him when I know what Sir John has planned?”

“Yes, but what he has planned is merely to force him to do the decent thing. But tell me true, Tom: Was not Lieutenant Landon also your shipmate?”

“Certainly, yet he is …”

“He is what?”

“He is past saving.”

“So you said. I think you fail to give Sir John his due. He has worked wonders in the past.”

He said nothing to that, and so I shifted in the bed in such a way that sleep might come soon. I was breathing deeply and about to doze, when Tom sat up in bed of a sudden and pounded his pillow with his fist.

“Those men are my shipmates! ” he wailed.

“You’re repeating, ” said L “Now, go to sleep, Tom.”

And at last, after another such protest, that is what he did, leaving me to wonder just how dependable he would prove to be during our search the next day.

I was in no wise encouraged by our conversation, after breakfast, when he took me aside and asked where the four prisoners from last night might be held. I was surprised at that —surprised that he had taken such little notice of the working of the court and constabulary which were below.

“Why, in the strong room, ” said I.” You must have seen it. It is a cage with bars and a door that must be opened with a key.”

“I suppose so,” said he.” Indeed I may have been kept in it but cannot remember. I have blotted all that court business of three years ago from my mind.”

What an odd thing to say, thought I then, and an even odder thing to have done. Would that I could expunge from my memory much that I had seen and experienced during my last years.

“I was wondering, Jeremy, if you would go down and inquire how they are getting on. I would count it a great favor if you would do so.”

“But why do you not yourself go down and greet them? No doubt you know them. You could give heart to them. Tell them they may expect fairness and more from Sir John.”

“Have you understood nothing of what I have been telling you?” He managed somehow to shout in a whisper.” I do not wish to set myself apart from my shipmates. I do not wish to show myself as being one with the power that holds them prisoner.”

What power? The law? Then, with a bit of a shock, I divined his intention.

“You mean … Sir John?”

“Yesss!”

The hiss of his whispered answer seemed to linger in the air between us. I knew not what to say.

“But Tom,” I managed at last, “Sir John Fielding is the fairest, the decentest of men. Why, you owe him your life, if I have heard the story aright.”

“Oh, indeed I do — as my mother has reminded me at least a hundred times since my arrival. But if I owe him my life, as you say and I allow, I also owe it to two —no, three of my mates on as many separate occasions on the
Adventure
”

“So for this you would deny Sir John to your shipmates?”

“No, I would not! That is why I am asking you, Jeremy, to go in my stead and make inquiries as to their condition for me. Don’t you see? I do not wish to be put in a place where I am asked to deny him.”

My own poor head was quite split asunder by Tom’s divided loyalties. He had not even mentioned Lieutenant Landon, whom he admired, nor would I mention him, for the complexities of Tom’s situation were already enough; I dared not plague him with more. Of course I did in the end agree to call upon the prisoners taken last night and agreed, also, to make note of their names. How could I, considering Tom’s dilemma, have done otherwise?

And so it was, leaving him to pore further over Lord Anson’s Voyage Round the World, I descended through the kitchen and down to the warren of rooms and alcoves set back behind the courtroom, searching for Mr. Marsden, the court clerk. I found him engaged in conversation with Mr. Fuller, the day constable, as he enjoyed his morning puff on his pipe of clay. He sent a great billow of smoke into the air, then gave me a wink.

“What have you on your mind this morning, young Jeremy?”

“I was merely wondering, sir, ” said I to Mr. Marsden, “if I might speak to the prisoners.” So saying, I nodded beyond Mr. Fuller toward the stoutly barred cage which we named the strong room.

“I’ve no objection so long as Mr. Fuller has nothing against.”

I looked hopefully toward Mr. Fuller.” Sir?”

Though Mr. Fuller bore the title of constable, he was in matters of general duties a jailer, for he had the responsibility of maintaining the prisoners, conveying them to the bench, and thence to Newgate or the Fleet, should that be Sir John’s disposition. I got on less well with him than with the rest of the Bow Street Runners, for he suspicioned my friendship with Jimmie Bunkins and put no store by his reform.” Once a thief, always a thief,” he had said to me on more occasions than one.

At this moment, however, he seemed inclined toward leniency— perhaps because Mr. Marsden was present.

“I trust you’ve some purpose, ” said he, “and it ain’t mere curiosity urges you on in this.”

“Oh yes, Mr. Fuller,” said I, “for Sir John has appointed me to find one of the crew of that frigate — those who were involved in last night’s trouble. I thought to question the prisoners as to the man’s whereabouts.”

(That was the answer I had prepared for Mr. Fuller to meet his expected challenge. There was, after all, the possibility that I should find out something regarding Tobias Trindle —though in all truth I thought it unlikely.)

“In that case, ” responded Mr. Fuller, “I could have no objection.”

So, giving my thanks to both, I proceeded past them to the strong room. Glancing back, as I should not have done, I noted Mr. Fuller looking after me most sharp. Not knowing quite what sort of face to show him, I attempted to smile reassuringly and offer a confident wave —no doubt thereby awakening even greater distrust in him.

There were, as we had been told, four prisoners in the strong room. To my surprise, two of them were known to me from my visit with Tom and Bunkins to the Gull and Anchor.