Watery Grave (27 page)

“Old Isaac,” I called quietly.” How do you fare?”

I had captured his attention. He rose from the bench where he sat, all morose and dejected, and hobbled over to the place where I stood at the bars, looking in. Was he wounded? I thought not, for there was no trace of blood on the bandage that was bound tight about his bare ankle. One of the two he had left on the bench had sat at the table with us, yet whether he was Bristol Beatty or Trotter Tim I could not be certain, for I had made no sure distinction betwixt the two when first we met.

But as Old Isaac approached, he seemed to recognize me, for though he could not quite manage a smile, he brightened somewhat and began nodding like the wise old fellow he pretended to be.

“I knows you,” said he.” You come with Tom Durham and the little lad who proved hisself a proper guzzler. What’s your name?”

“Jeremy,” said I.” Jeremy Proctor.”

“Well, it’s glad I am to see a familiar face.”

“What happened to you, Isaac?”

I pointed down to the ankle, which was wrapped so thick his foot was near too big for the shoe he had squeezed upon it.

“Well, ” said he, “I was merely strollin’ along tryin’ to clear my head of the gin I drunk during the day. Uh, Bristol Beatty was by me side he was. When of a sudden, and quite without warnin’ it was, a great troop of men come runnin’ down upon the two of us. I says to Bristol, I say, ‘Why, them’s our mates from
Adventure
.’ And Bristol says to me, ‘So they are. Where can they be off to in such a hurry?’ So we tries to stop one to inquire of him, so to speak. Yet he would not stop, indeed he knocked me down and another stepped upon my ankle, causing me great pain. Now, how is that for mates? I ask you. Anyways, as they were past and Bristol was helpin’ me to my feet, the two of us seen what it was caused the great panic: a squad of grenadiers it was, with bayonets fixed come down the dark street at the double. Before we could move out of their path, they was upon us. Twas a sergeant arrested us, Bristol and me, for it seemed the other lads from the Ad’enture was involved in some manner of disturbance. But not us, oh, indeed not Bristol and me. We was just walkin’ by.”

It would have been impertinent of me to voice my doubts — yet I had them. Had I not seen Old Isaac, or someone quite like him, among those grouped in the doorway of Mrs. Gerney’s establishment? I believed I had.

“Well, ” said I, thinking only to make an agreeable response, “I’m glad you were not wounded. I heard the volley fired by the grenadiers and feared the worst For all.”

“They had no call for that,” said Isaac darkly.” It was that little piss-ant of a lieutenant ordered it. But the mates was then so distant and scattered that they did little harm to us.”

“How many were hit?”

“Two. But it weren’t bad for either one. Henry Bladgett got a finger shot off. He could we got away, but he stayed to look for it and got arrested. Damn foolish thing to do —not like a surgeon could stick it back on and make it work like new. And Fat Paddy, the cook, got shot in the arse. That’s him stretched out on the other bench; can’t sit down, but he can walk right enough.”

I had learned from Isaac all that Tom had asked me to discover. Wondering then how I might take my leave, I looked right and left, hoping for a proper excuse. I wished not to leave a man cold in such sad circumstance.

But then Old Isaac spoke up again: “I’ll do a bargain with you, lad.”

“What sort of bargain, sir?”

“My nose tells me there’s tobacco bein’ smoked down the way. Ain’t that so?”

He meant Mr. Marsden, of course. The aroma of that strange weed had wafted down to the strong room. Isaac was quite in ecstasy for a moment as he sniffed the air. He produced his own pipe and offered it to me.

“Now, if you’ll take my pipe and beg a fill for me, I’ll tell you something will interest you, I swear it. Might interest that blind fella we’re to see later on today. What say to that?”

I took the pipe from him and was surprised at its lightness in my hand.

“I’ll see what I can do for you, ” said I.

Hastening back to Mr. Marsden, I wondered what it was Old Isaac had to trade. Would he know where Tobias Trindle had now gone to hide? Perhaps —and perhaps not. He might simply be gulling me for the pleasure of a morning pipe. But if that were the case, it would count against him, he must know that. And Isaac seemed much inclined to ingratiate himself.

Mr. Marsden, who had by that time gone to his desk in the alcove, was occupied with the routine of court business. Mr. Fuller was then noplace about, for which I was grateful: he would surely disapprove any such favor to a prisoner.

After hearing me explain my mission, the court clerk took the clay pipe and began filling it from his pouch, as all the while he kept his long churchwarden clenched between his teeth.

“What have we to lose but a bit of tobacco?” said he, handing back the filled pipe.” And you may tell him there’ll be more good Virginia for him if what he has to offer is of value.” And with that he winked.

Giving him my thanks, I made my way back to the strong room, where I found Isaac waiting patiently by the barred door. Patience slipped swiftly to impatience as he grabbed the pipe from my hands and began fumbling with his tinderbox. Only when he had the pipe lit and had exclaimed enthusiastically at the quality of the tobacco would he deign to discuss other matters. He beckoned me close and began whispering.

“I remember you three lads was lookin’ to find Tobias Trindie.”

“Yes,” said I most eagerly.” Do you know where he might be?”

Isaac shook his head in something akin to annoyance.

“That ain’t the point. What I got to tell you is this: There’s others looking for Tobias.”

“Oh? Who?”

“This is how it was, like. A long time after you come by, there was another come asking the same sort of questions—where is he, where might he be, and such like. Only us three at the table, we told him nothin’ at all, considerin’ who he was.”

“But who was he?”

“Aw, ‘twas that little shit, Mr. Boone, the midshipman —the one you sent flying down the poop deck ladder. Damn, we did enjoy that!” He ended in a cackle, revealing gums, stumps, and a few whole teeth.

“But what would he want with Tobias Trindie?”

“Have you no sense, boy? It’s the captain sent him to find Tobias. Boone even said as much, he did. ‘The captain wants him,’ said he. ‘Tell him so, if you see him.’ Oh, we nodded, gave assurance and all. But when he left, we agreed amongst ourselves that if the captain wanted him, it was for no good.”

“And what did you tell Tobias?”

“Oh, we told him the captain wanted him, right enough, and that he’d sent snotty Boone to find him. But we advised him to stay well hid till after they got done hanging Lieutenant Landon. That’s what it’s about, ain’t it? I mean, it was well known in the fo’castle that Tobias had a view of it when the captain — Captain Markham, I mean—went overboard, and according to him, it happened just as Mr. Landon said. But we all kept still about it.”

“But why?”

He looked at me in dismay and shook his head as if marveling at my ignorance.

“You ain’t got the littlest notion of what it is to ship aboard in His Majesty’s Navy, have you?”

“No,” said I in a manner suitably grave.” But tell me, you said that it was some time after we came to the Gull and Anchor that Boone came by. Could you be any more exact about when it was?”

“Sorry, lad, drinking the day away with no ship’s bells to ring the watches, you lose your sense of time, in a manner of speakin’. Yet it seems to me it must have been gettin’ toward dark. For not long after it was that Tobias hisself came by, and we — ” At that point he stopped, realizing perhaps that what he had been about to impart would impeach the tale of innocence he had earlier told.

“Was that when you let Tobias Trindle know that Boone was searching for him?”

“Well, you never mind when one thing happened and then another, ” said he, most suddenly peckish.” I done what I said I’d do. I told you what you wanted, and it weren’t for the tobacco I told you, neither. It’s because Tobias would be better off with the blind man than if the captain got hold of him.”

“Lieutenant Grimsby was pulled from the river,” said I.

“That’s what I mean. We got word of that. So did Tobias.”

“Where is he? You must know.”

“I mustn’t no such thing. He’s a fair bright man, so he would have sense enough to stay hid. If you want him, you must search him out — and pray you find him before Boone does.”

He held the pipe up to me and waved it in a great fit of pique.

“Now look what,” said he.” All this talkin’ with your questions and all, and my pipe’s gone out on me.”

He fetched out his tinderbox once again and began the business of lighting the pipe all over again.

“One thing I will say, ” he muttered through clenched teeth.” Tobias said he’d had his fill of high-priced whores. You’ll not likely find him around Covent Garden. Look where you was lookin’ on the docks. He could’ve holed up with some wharf doxy in her crib, paid her well, and sent her out for food and drink. That’s what I would do if I was him: keep low and let the ship sail without him. There was one he was lookin’ for from years back—-Black Emma or Black Ella, some such name. Anyways, she was mixed blood. He likes them so.”

He shook the pipe in disgust. Ashes flew.

“Damned thing won’t light, all smoked out.”

“Don’t worry, Isaac, ” said I, backing away from the bars.” I’ll see you get more tobacco —a good deal more. I promise.”

The question was this: Had last night’s notable occurrence at Mrs. Gerney’s constituted a riot, or merely a disturbance of the peace? If the latter, then the matter would be heard and judged by Sir John Fielding alone. It would go no further than his Magistrate’s Court. If, however, he ruled that riot had taken place, any and all who had participated would be bound for trial at Old Bailey, for riot was a hanging offense. It was an interesting question, one whose answer attracted quite a crowd on what would otherwise have been a slow day m court. In point of fact, no other cases were to be heard that day. Ordinarily, that would have made for a short session, as well. The court crowd expected no more than a brief entertainment, a bit of diversion at the expense of a few unruly sailors. Yet it became clear that Sir John meant to treat this as a far more serious matter. To that end, he had put me to work for a good hour or more in his chambers, looking up law and reading cases to him from the dusty collection of books on the shelf behind his desk. He had also assembled diverse witnesses for examination in the matter.

So it was that the Bow Street Magistrate’s Court convened at its usual hour, well filled with spectators. The prisoners, bound only in wrist irons, were marched into the courtroom by Constable Fuller. As Mr. Marsden read off their names —Timothy Beatty, Henry Bladgett, Patrick McGough, Isaac Tenker —they answered right sharply. All were then told to seat themselves, and all did, save Patrick McGough, who asked if he might remain standing due to the nature of his wound. There were titters and a few guffaws at that. But Sir John gaveled the room to order and granted permission to the prisoner to stand, if he chose, and went so far as to say that should he grow tired, he might take a place next to Mr. Fuller and lean against the wall. It was then time to make a proper beginning.

“We are here to determine the nature of the incident which occurred last night at Number Seventeen in the Strand,” said Sir John, “and having made a determination on that matter, to make some disposition of the four prisoners taken there.” He paused at that point and told Mr. Marsden to call the first witness.

The first witness was Constable Cowley, at twenty the youngest of the Bow Street Runners yet more than an apprentice, for in size and initiative he compensated for what he lacked in experience. As the first officer at the scene, he had the earliest look at the situation and had seen it through to its end. He had been notified of a great gang of men on the march down the Strand, and thinking they could be up to no good in such number, he hastened to intercept them. When he reached Number 17, he found them arrived and the first of them ready to push through the door. He yelled at them to halt, desist, disperse. Yet no attention was paid to him, nor to Constable Rumford, who arrived upon the scene but a few minutes later.

“Didyou and Constable Rumford attempt to use physical means to prevent their entry into the house at Number Seventeen?” asked Sir John.

“We did, sir,” said Mr. Cowley, “but it was quite useless. We tried to block the door, but they pushed us aside. We beat upon a few with our clubs, but they just ignored us. Laughing they was, having a great time of it. They paid us no mind at all.”

“Were they acting as drunken men? Would you characterize them as a drunken mob?”

“Well, they weren’t staggering or nothin’, but yes sir, I would say they’d probably been drinking right through the day, for the smell of gin and rum was strong upon them. I would say they was drunk, but active drunk —oh, right active, if you get my meaning.”

“I do indeed. And at what figure would you put their number?”

“Sir?”

“How many of them were there?”

“Near a hundred.”

“Very well, continue your story.”

And so he did. Constable Cowley said that upstairs windows were broken and that objects of all kinds began to fly out to the pavement—as Mr. Bailey had earlier described. The captain of the Bow Street Runners had come on the scene with Constables Perkins, Sykes, and Cummins.

With that Sir John dismissed Mr. Cowley, and the court clerk called Benjamin Bailey, who continued the tale from that point, describing the events much as I have earlier done. Only two matters stand out as noteworthy. As I sat listening to Sir John’s questions, recalling the cases he had asked me to read to him earlier, I sought to discern some pattern from them. Yet from Mr. Bailey’s answers none seemed to emerge.

Sir John interrupted his chief constable as the latter told of his urgent visit to summon Sir John to Number 17 in the Strand.

“Let me ask you here, Mr. Bailey, when you came to me, how did you describe the trouble you had witnessed?”