Watery Grave (28 page)

“Well, I told you what I’d seen, sir.”

“Indeed you did, but what term did you use?”

“Well …” He hesitated, evidently uncertain as to what he should say. Finally: “I called it a riot.”

“On what did you base that?”

Again he hesitated.” The size of the mob,” said he at last, “the destruction of property, and the commotion caused in the street.”

“Andyou recommended that troops be called from the Tower.”

“Yes sir, I did.”

“And I accepted your recommendation without hesitation. Now continue, Mr. Bailey, please.”

He resumed his narrative and came swiftly to the peculiar behavior of the crewmen of the H.M.S.
Adventure
as they danced about that great heap of goods thrown down from Mrs. Gerney’s upper stories. Sir John allowed him to give a full description of the poke-and-parry that they practiced with their torches much to the distress of the four constables that Mr. Bailey had left on guard.

Sir John held him again with a wave of his hand.

“Mr. Bailey,” said he, “you described the activity of these men to me then in unusual words. Do you recall what you said to me?”

Benjamin Bailey took a moment to think on that; then said he: “I believe I told you, sir, that they was playin’ a game with the constables, that all they had to do was toss a torch on the pile if what they wanted was a fire.”

“Exactly,” said Sir John, “and then what happened?”

“Then what happened? Well, you went bold as brass and offered a bargain to the rowdies.”

“Yes, please tell us what was said and done by me and by him who spoke for the mob.”

In that part of his testimony the chief constable seemed somewhat hesitant, for he wished to be accurate in quoting the magistrate, most particularly in this matter. When he concluded, he was offered Sir John’s congratulations.

“That is exactly as I recall it. There are but a few more details I wish from you, however. First of all, the man with whom I spoke —would you, from your experience in such matters, say that he was the leader of this band of near a hundred?”

“I would say so, yes sir.”

“And is his name known to you?”

“Yes sir, his name has been given to me as Tobias Trindle.”

“Excellent, Mr. Bailey, and as you said, he conferred with his fellows on the offer that I had made. What happened then?”

“Why, the grenadiers came in two wagons, led there by a certain Lieutenant Churchill.”

“Thank you. Constable Bailey, that will be all for the present.”

All eyes in the Bow Street Court rested upon the young gentleman who had quietly taken his place among the constables. He stood out from the rest of the assemblage as a proud red-feathered peacock might from a homely group of woodcocks. There seemed to be a general expectation that Lieutenant Thomas Churchill would be the next summoned.

But he was not. As Mr. Bailey retired from his place before Sir John’s bench, Mr. Marsden called for Constable Oliver Perkins to appear as a witness. Upon hearing his name, Mr. Perkins jumped to his feet and made his way swiftly to the station his captain had left. He was a bit shorter than the rest of the Bow Street Runners; moreover, the left sleeve of his coat was empty— pinned up it was at the elbow, for he had lost that arm in the line of duty a year before. Thus he appeared somewhat different from the rest, though I knew him to be unsurpassed in courage and resourcefulness. But were his lively,manner, his modest stature, and his empty sleeve reason to laugh? Nevertheless, a long chorus of idiot laughter rang forth out of the crowd from the moment he showed himself.

(Mr. Marsden later suggested to me that firstly, they had anticipated Lieutenant Churchill being called and were therefore surprised when Constable Perkins came forward—a common response to surprise being laughter. Secondly, said he, they had been bored by the proceedings up to that time, for they had not been near so entertaining as expected, and seized upon the constable of a sudden as an object for derision. Perhaps the presence of a one-armed constable was thought amusing by them.” He ought not to take it personal,” concluded the court clerk.)

Yet take it personal he most certainly did. Mr. Perkins turned angrily upon the courtroom and might have shouted back at the crowd had not Sir John silenced them all wdth his gavel. The magistrate conferred briefly with his clerk to the reason for the (disturbance. Mr. Marsden may have then advanced to Sir John the ven reasons he offered me later. In any case, after a brief discussion, Sir John let fall the gavel one more time.

“Any more such disturbance, and I shall have the room cleared,” he announced. And he was answered with absolute silence. He listened carefully to it for a few moments, then nodded in satisfaction.

“Mr. Perkins,” he began, “I have but a few questions for you. Mr. Bailey sent you to the Tower with a request that troops be sent to Number Seventeen in the Strand, did he not?”

“Yes sir, he did.”

“You made all haste?”

“I did, sir. I ran to Russell Street, and caught a hackney carriage. In point of fact, I climbed up on the driver’s box and urged him faster all the way.”

“Very good. And you asked your way to the barracks of the grenadier guards? The’ were cooperative?”

“They sped me on my way. In no wise was I impeded. They treated it as an urgent matter, as it of course was.”

“And who did you speak to once you reached your destination?”

“To a Captain Weybright, sir.”

“And was Lieutenant Churchill present?”

“Is he the officer now present in the courtroom?”

“Yes, Mr. Perkins, just behind you, I believe.”

Constable Perkins turned and glanced back at the young red-coated officer.

“Yes, sir, he was one of three other officers who was engaged in a game of cards with the captain. He jumped up from his chair and said, ‘Let me go. Captain!’”

“And what did the captain say to him?”

“That I wouldn’t know, sir, for at that point I was invited by the captain to leave. ‘That will be all, Constable,’ said he to me. I offered to show them to the place on the Strand, but the captain just repeated, ‘That will be all.’ Quite frankly, sir, I was hopin’ for a ride back with them. But I left and went lookin’ for another hackney. You have to stretch your legs to find one on Tower Hill that time of night.”

“Now, Mr. Perkins, I would like you to think carefully before answering this question, for I would like you to respond accurately and with perfect honesty. The question is this: When you described the situation at Mrs. Gerney’s establishment in the Strand, what word or phrase did you use?

Constable Perkins did give the question serious consideration. He lowered his eyes, scratched his chin, and said at last: “I told the captain that it was a serious disturbance that was more than the constables present could handle. I told him I had been sent by your request and that you would be at the scene when the troops arrived —as I understand you was, sir.”

“Those were your words? “

“As I remember them, sir.”

“You did not use the word ‘riot’?”

“No sir, I did not.

“Thank you, Mr. Perkins,” said Sir John. “And Mr. Marsden, you may call the next witness.”

The next witness, of course, was Lieutenant Thomas Churchill. He stood before Sir John Fielding, his tricorn tucked under his left arm, in the military attitude known as parade rest. He was the very picture of a young officer of great promise. Putting aside his name, his family connections, and his wealth, it was possible to look upon this young man and know he would go far in the military. Capability’ and confidence showed forth from him in near visible measure. And indeed he had the night before demonstrated those qualities beyond doubt. All that had been missing were proper judgment and respect for authority.

After identifying himself by name, rank, and unit, he waited silently for Sir John’s questions. If he was nervous, or even uneasy, it was impossible to tell.

“Lieutenant Churchill?”

“Sir?”

“Will you tell the court your part in putting down the trouble at Number Seventeen in the Strand?”

“That I can do in brief, sir. Upon arriving at said number, I assembled my men in the street, ordered them to fix bayonets, and marched them toward the entrance of the house whereat the mob was assembled. They threw sticks and stones at us, but we carried on until they broke and began running in a westerly direction along the Strand.

“Ax that, I double-timed my men in pursuit of the mob and turned them down a side street, little more than an alley, thus continuing in pursuit. There we took our first prisoners —an old fellow who had fallen and twisted his ankle and another who had stayed to help him. Since we had stopped to take them, I ordered the men to shoulder and present fire —a single volley, no more. It wounded but two and killed none, but we took those two prisoners, as well. Since the mob was dispersed, I sent the men about-face and marched them back to the wagons. We did then depart.”

“I congratulate you, Lieutenant,” said Sir John.” An excellent summary it was —brief but truthful, for it revealed an omission on your part in the matter of procedure. You’ve been apprised of this, have you not?”

“I have, yes sir, by Captain Weybright. ‘

“And what did you learn?”

“I learned, sir, that while the tactics I used to disperse that great body of men were right enough, I was a bit hasty in putting them to work.”

“And specifically?”

“I did not wait until the Riot Act had been read.”

Then did Sir John address the court: “You present here may not be aware of this nicety of English law, so it were better perhaps if I make a short explanation. When a disturbance is of such proportion that troops must be called, it is the magistrate’s decision to call them. Their mere presence —the threat of bayonet and bullet —is usually sufficient to disperse the mob. If it is not, the magistrate has one last recourse, and that is the reading of the Riot Act to those causing the disturbance. Even here a brake is put on the use of the military force. For by custom, after the Riot Act has been read, those who have made the disturbance are given an hour to disperse. If they are not then gone, they are only then considered in a state of riot, and all means necessary— bayonet and bullet—may be used to clear them from the area. Prisoners taken are to be considered rioters and tried as such.

“Now,” continued the magistrate, “you can tell from what I have said so far how reluctant were the Members of Parliament who framed this act to allow the military to take the initiative in its enforcement. At each stage, it is the civil authority, usually the magistrate like myself, who must make a determination on the use of military force. He calls them to the scene of the disturbance; he threatens their use; he reads the Riot Act to let the unruly mob know of the dire consequences should their continued destructive behavior continue. As regards the military, the disturbance is not to be considered a riot until the magistrate has named it such with the reading of the act, and has after due pause given his permission to proceed against the rioters. It is a clear instance of the preeminence of civil authority over the military, a principle upon which the laws of our Kingdom rest.

“As I said in the beginning, we are here to make a determination as to the nature of last night’s trouble. As we have heard from the testimony given thus far, it is a matter on which reasonable men may differ.

When he came to me describing the situation in the Strand, Mr. Benjamin Bailey did not hesitate to characterize what he had seen as a ‘riot’ — and he gave good reasons for doing so. Constable Oliver Perkins, who was sent to the Tower with a request for troops in my name, described what he had seen as a ‘serious disturbance’ that was beyond the power of the constables to handle.”

By this time the crowd had grown restless. There was probably not one in ten among those who had come in from the street capable of following Sir John’s discourse. The remainder did not dare express their dissatisfaction by noisy comments or other rowdy behavior, yet express it they did with much restless shifting in their seats and beating of their feet upon the floor. Yet Sir John pressed on.

“Then, too, there is the matter of intent,” he declared.” The law takes it into account in many ways. For instance, homicide lacking the intent to kill is not murder but manslaughter. And if, at the end of a long coach ride, a man takes another’s portmanteau which is quite like his own, that is not theft but merely a mistake. So since it was generally agreed among the constables that this mob had a proper leader— which in itself is unusual —and his name as given by Mr. Bailey was Tobias Trindle, I think it important that this Trindle come before me as a witness that I might examine him as to his intent in this matter. Therefore I shall issue a bench warrant for his apprehension and detention as a material witness in this matter. I should like, in other words, to continue this question of riot versus disturbance to a later date when I may gather more testimony to come to an informed decision.

“Yet what am I to do with these four men before me now as prisoners? If last night’s disturbance is found eventually to have been a riot, then they must be passed on for criminal trial, but I cannot hold them indefinitely without charge. Perhaps a lesser charge would do. If you four would come up and face me now?”

Up they came, looking glum, fearing the worst. In spite of his wound, Fat Paddy, already on his feet, led the procession; Old Isaac, hobbled by his twisted ankle, was the last. They ranged before him, a good space between them and Lieutenant Churchill.

“Now, Constable Cowley has already given it that the mob which entered Number Seventeen was heavily under the influence of alcohol. Constable Bailey?”

Mr. Bailey shot to his feet and responded in sharp, soldierly manner.

“No need to approach the bench. It must be getting a bit crowded up here,” said Sir John.” Since you accompanied the prisoners to this place and oversaw their detention, perhaps you could give me your opinion as to their condition?”

“Their condition, sir?”

“Were they drunk?”

“They were drunk, sir. Been drunk for days.”