Watery Grave (32 page)

Sir John interrupted: “What was your reaction to that order from Mr. Hartsell?”

“One of surprise, sir,” responded the lieutenant, “for Mr. Hartsell had captained the ship in all but name for a good two weeks and had certainly made all decisions so far that day and had managed well to keep us afloat. In point of fact, I had not even seen Captain Markham for three days. He had put in a brief appearance on the quarterdeck during our stay in Cape Town. I wondered, considering all this, why Mr. Hartsell had grown suddenly shy of command.”

“In what condition did you find Captain Markham?” asked Sir John.

“In a frightful state. He seemed more dead than alive. He had been drinking, certainly, for he had a near-empty bottle by him in his bed. There was fresh vomit there, too, and the smell of spirits was heavy in the air. Yet he seemed more than drunk. I have heard of men, through illness or injury, falling into an unnaturally deep sleep for days, weeks even. So he seemed to me. I simply could not rouse him. And so I returned to Lieutenant Hartsell on the quarterdeck and told him I could in no wise rouse the captain. His response was that I must do it nevertheless, but that I was to take him to the poop deck, where the two of them would also inspect the mizzenmast. That was his order. I had no choice but to do what I could to carry’ it out. And so I returned to the captain’s cabin, pulled him bodily from his bed, and began dressing him in whatever manner I could. I recall throwing a cape around him and tying it, yet leaving him bareheaded, thinking that the wind and the rain might do something to bring him to consciousness. Before taking him above to the poop deck, I tried walking him around the cabin for a minute or two. I believe I did get some response from his legs, but his head slumbered on, just as before. But in the end, I managed, by supporting him, to get him up the ladder to the poop.”

At this point. Lieutenant Landon paused in his narrative, apparently in need of a brief rest from the rigors of such recollection. I have known it to be so, reader, that in recalling and retelling events of great stress a man may find himself caught up in them once again, enduring the same feelings, the same strains as before. Thus it seemed to be with Mr. Landon, for sweat dripped from his face in that room which was not uncomfortably warm, and he seemed somewhat short of breath.

All this Sir John seemed to perceive, for he waited an interval before putting his next question to him.

“What did you find when you arrived on the poop deck?”

“It was a question of what I did not find,” responded the lieutenant, a smile of irony upon his lips.” I did not find Lieutenant Hartsell there as he said he would be. The poop deck was empty but for me and the man I bore as a burden. It is, of course, the uppermost deck, and as such is a dangerous place in such a violent storm as that one. The ship was plunged down in a trough. I managed to catch hold of the rigging of the mizzenmast while yet keeping my grasp upon the captain. In that perilous posture, I caught sight of Mr. Hartsell below on the quarterdeck, clinging tight to an eighteen-pounder which was well secured. He raised an arm and beckoned us down. At the bottom of the trough the
Adventure
righted herself, and I thought it possible to risk it to the starboard ladder. I had near reached it with my arm about the captain when we were thrown hard along to the starboard quite of a sudden, and the violence of the motion tore him from my grasp. He landed against the taffrail just opposite the ladder, yet at the same time, the ship continued to slip starboard, and he began to topple overboard. I reached out to grasp him, but he continued his slide and passed through my arms into the sea, and I was left holding his shoe — as I believe I told you before.

“Now, Lieutenant Byner,” said Sir John, “my next question will have to do with motive — important to cover this, for none can be attributed to Mr. Landon.” He paused, then began again in his court voice: “Tell me, sir, were you and Captain Markham on good terms?”

“Neither good nor bad,” replied Mr. Landon.” I honestly do not believe he knew my name, so slight was our acquaintance. I am not sure I ever had occasion to address him directly, except when I was introduced to him at the beginning of the voyage —that is, until I sought to rouse him during the storm.”

“Yes, in content that will do well,” said Sir John to him, “but do not use that phrase ‘neither good nor bad.’ It seems to imply indifference. Find some other way of saying the same thing, Mr. Landon. I shall now ask you another question to make the matter more explicit.” Again, he paused; then: “Had you any reason to wish Captain Markman dead?”

“None, absolutely none.”

“Did you, in truth, cause the death of Captain Josiah Markham by pushing him into the sea?”

“I did not —absolutely not.”

Turning toward Mr. Byner. who continued to write feverishly upon the sheaf of papers on his knees. Sir John called attention to his last rvvo questions.” They must, no matter what the circumstances, be asked. Is that understood?”

“Understood, sir.”

Through all this, Mce-Admiral Sir Robert Redmond had listened carefully, and as he had done so, the severe expression he had earlier worn softened somewhat. Yet as the next line of questioning developed, it returned to his face, so that he appeared both apprehensive and disapproving.

“Did Lieutenant Hartsell discuss the matter of the captain’s death with you immediately afterward — say, within the next twenty-four hours?”

“Only in the most general way,” said Mr. Landon.” He said what was obvious —that with the death of the captain he would serve as acting captain and that I should correspondingly consider myself acting first officer. Then on the day after the storm, he held his First captain’s table and explained all this to the rest of the officers, reassigning duties and so on, all quite unnecessary’, of course, for in practice we had done without a captain from the beginning of the voyage. Some sort of memorial to the captain was attempted at that occasion. Lieutenant Hartsell said something brief which I recorded in my diary. Then Mr. MacNaughton informed us of the captain’s con —”

“Just a moment,” said Sir John, interrupting. “You kept a diary?”

“I did, yes.”

“You have it now?”

“No, sir. I surrendered it to Admiral Sir Robert Redmond. I trust it is still in his possession.”

Sir John responded with silence. Beneath my hand I felt his shoulder tense.

“No accusation of murder came from Mr. Hartsell immediately following the captain’s death then?” said Sir John after near a minute’s delay.

“None, sir.”

“When did Mr. Hartsell first inform you of his charge of murder against you?”

“Late in the afternoon, the day before we anchored at London Bridge. We were in London roads waiting to enter. Members of the crew speculated as to the reason we had not proceeded to Portsmouth. They wondered would this mean shore leave m the great city, and so on their behalf I asked Mr. Hartsell. We were on the quarterdeck at the time. I recall his words exact. He said, ‘Mr. Landon, we are putting into London so that you may be tried in court-martial for the murder of Captain Josiah Markham. And now that you know, I think it only fitting that you confine yourself to quarters. Go to your cabin. Your meals will be brought to you there.’”

“And what was your reaction?”

“Amazement. I was quite overwhelmed. Having served under him for over two years, I knew it was no joke. Besides, there was another matter between us with which this fitted.”

“What was that other matter?”

“I had made a threat against him.”

“For what cause and of what nature?”

“In general, Lieutenant Hartsell was a good officer and played the part of captain very well. Having had a command in the French War, he brought authority to the position. He was a good sailor and calm in battle. Yet as a man, Mr. Hartsell’s conduct left much to be desired. His ascent to full command allowed him to give full rein to his unnatural propensities.”

“Be careful with your accusations,” the admiral warned his nephew darkly.

“I would make none, ” said Lieutenant Landon, addressing Sir Robert directly, “had he restrained himself to his liaison with Mr. Grimsby, but he began to prey upon the midshipmen —upon mere children! I heard him boast of it to Mr. Grimsby. He called them his harem.”

“I will hear no more of this,” said the admiral, pounding his desk with his fist.

“The threat!” shouted Sir John over the admiral. “What of the threat?”

“Yes, yes, the threat,” said Mr. Landon, himself near shouting. “Midshipman Sample came to me, told me of acts that had been forced upon him by Lieutenant Hartsell. He had appealed to the Reverend Mr. Eagleton and got no satisfaction. The boy, who was but thirteen, asked me to intervene. I went to Lieutenant Hartsell and warned him that if he did not cease these acts with the midshipmen, I would bear witness against him on the matter when we returned to Portsmouth. That, I believe, is when he fabricated his charge of homicide against me in a letter from India, whose contents Sir Robert has made known to me. All this is recorded in my diary — including the death of Midshipman Sample who, one week after his conversation with me, fell or was pushed by Mr. Boone from the fore-topsail yardarm to his death —he may even have jumped. I was belowdecks at the time and did not see. And did Mr. Hartsell cease his practices after my threat? After the child’s death? He did not. He was only more secretive in them.”

“Enough, Lieutenant,” said Sir Robert, jumping from his chair.” We have heard quite enough. Mr. Byner, take him out. Tell the marines to show him back to the Tower.”

Byner jumped to the order, scattering his pages over the floor, grabbing Mr. Landon by the arm and jerking him with unnecessary roughness toward the door.

Sir John called after him: “Thank you, Mr. Landon. Now at last we have the full story, and you told it well.”

The lieutenant’s reply was naught but a grateful look as he was pulled through the door.

The admiral had circled round the desk. He confronted Sir John, hands on his ample hips, bending angrily to Sir John, who remained seated. They were thus face-to-face for a long moment before the admiral spoke in what was not much more than a whisper.

“You are satisfied, are you. Jack? Now you have the story, as it were? What is it that has driven you on but morbid curiosity —that and a desire to sully the reputation of an institution you once claimed to love! You wish to befoul the name of the Navy in repayment for the loss of your sight. I understand it now—you, who were once a hero to me, to all of us.”

Sir John then spoke evenly, calmly, and coldly: “I wish only to see justice done for that innocent young man who is your nephew.”

“Yes, he is my nephew, and I love him well, but I love the Navy better. Jack, there have always been such as Hartsell in the service. These things happen, but in the larger sense, they do not exist. They cannot exist, for England believes in its Navy, has always believed in its Navy as in no other institution. To let such a scandal as this out would besmirch it in such a way that fathers would never again send their sons to be midshipmen. Worse, the Navy would be held to ridicule, to contempt. Don’t you see?”

During this heated oration, Mr. Byner reentered the room, yet so quietly that I was not sure that Sir John had noted his presence. I gave a slight squeeze to the shoulder beneath my hand. Though I was sure he had caught my signal. Sir John gave no sign.

“I recall,” said he, “that you pled with me to find witnesses, teach Mr. Byner my ‘tricks,’ as you called them, do anything necessary to save your nephew. Now I find ‘anything necessary’ excludes the truth. How has it come to this? There is even a diary kept by him which would corroborate all that he has said. You have it. It must be entered as evidence under the rules of any criminal proceeding, even the Navy’s. Do you intend to withhold it?”

That last question brought forth a gesture from Sir John, a hand extended to the admiral, which he returned sharply to his chest, slapping the fingers of my hand as he did so. With this, he returned the sign to me.

I doubled over of a sudden as if in great pain, recovered a bit, then whispered in his ear. Having listened, he turned to me in annoyance.

“But you said you were done with that, ” said he gruffly.

“I know, but …”

I grimaced then and held my belly.

“The lad had a touch of diarrhea last night. It seems now to have returned. Could you … ? Could Lieutenant Byner … ?”

The admiral sighed.” Yes, yes, of course. Lieutenant, see the lad to the necessary down the hall. Wait for him. We cannot have boys of such an age wandering around the halls of the Navy Board alone.”

And so out I went, Mr. Byner all but taking me by the hand. I played my role throughout, continuing to grimace, doubling over once or twice more along the way. In all modesty, I thought I did quite well.

In any case, Mr. Byner seemed convinced. He hurried me along down a long hall and around a corner, threw open a door and pointed inside.

“In here, ” said he, “and be as quick as you can.”

He slammed the door after me.

The place was lit by two candles set in holders against the wall. Though small, as such rooms always are, it was quite the best of its kmd I had seen since my time in Lord Goodhope’s residence a year or more before. This one was also equipped with a cistern and had a proper washstand, as well.

I waited inside near five minutes, counting the minutes out by sixties. Sir John had reckoned this about the maximum length of time our stratagem might be made to work. He had devised it as a way of speaking at greater length to Sir Robert without Mr. Byner present or listening at the door. He did not trust Mr. Byner, not in the least.

When the time was up, I pulled the chain and set the cistern going with a great sustained splash. As I left the room I fumbled with the buttons on my coat, as if putting myself back in order.

“Come along,” said Mr. Byner.

And that I did, hopping along beside him, as a sick man might when suddenly made well.

Whatever more had been discussed between admiral and magistrate had not taken as much time as expected, for I found Sir John waiting for me in Mr. Byner’s outer office, my hat in his hand. The door to Sir Robert’s larger office was now closed. I knew not quite what this meant.