Watery Grave (6 page)

“And -where was this Lieutenant Landon all that while?”

(It seemed to me, reader, as it must seem to you, that Sir John was asking questions to which he knew the answers. He must have decided to say nothing of what he had learned of the matter the night before from Tom Durham.)

“You would suppose, would you not,” said Sir Robert, “that he would have been clapped in irons aboard ship, or cast into some Indian prison for keeping until such time as a court-martial could be assembled there in India —would you not?”

“Something of the sort, yes.”

“Well then, you would be wrong —as 1, too, was wrong, for that also was my supposition. This Lieutenant Hartsell kept Landon on as his acting first officer for the
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‘?, entire tour of duty. Landon was not notified of the charges against him until the ship was to anchor oft Tower Wharf. Only then was he confined to his cabin.”

“Most unusual,” said Sir John.” But why, specifically, did this Hartsell make no effort to have the fellow tried earlier in India?”

“Since shortly after the French War the Royal Navy has had no regular presence in India. The East India CompanN has taken it upon itsell to arm its ships heavily that they might protect themselves and their precious cargoes. Perhaps you were unaware.”

“And so now those greedy bankers on Leadenhall Street have their own navy, as well? ‘

“You might say so, yes. But the Admiralty’ was quite willing to let them have their way. We are, as you must know, cutting back our naval force in near every way possible. Not my wish, nor that of my fellow officers, but the politicians have overruled us. However, having lost one or two of their precious merchantmen to pirates, the barons of the East India Company called upon the Admiralty to send a frigate to seek out those sea-robbers and destroy them. The H.M..S.
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was the frigate sent. All told, I understand the mission was carried out rather well.”

“So what you say, Bobbie, is that there could be no proper court-martial in India for want of Royal Navy officers, captain or above?”

“Exactly so. I did rather lose the point there, didn’t I?”

“According to the old Articles of War,” said Sir John, “this fellow Hartsell could have tried Landon on the spot, served him up in canvas, and had him tossed overboard — he, after all, being both judge and chief witness for the prosecution. He would not have doubted his own testimony, I daresay.”

“I daresay. Yet he must have feared others might, for he told me that he felt he had not the power to proceed in such a way, since he was not captain —only acting captain.”

“Soyou have talked to him already?”

“Indeed I have.”

“And to Landon, as well?”

“To him, as well.”

“Well, what do you think, Bobbie?”

“What do I think? I think it is, as I said at the start, a damned sticky business. I think that Hartsell’s conduct of the matter — the late charges, the fact that he did not immediately relieve Landon of his duties and confine him in some way— leaves him open to question and the charges open to doubt.”

“And what does Landon have to say in his own behalf?”

“Very, very little beyond simple denial. But then …”

Vice-Admiral Sir Robert Redmond trailed off glumly at that point, quite unable to continue.

“What is the trouble, old friend? Do speak up, please.”

“The trouble,” said Sir Robert, “is my own inadequacy in this matter, Jack. I know damned little of the law and even less of questioning witnesses, weighing testimony, and so on. I am wholly unprepared for this burden, and I wish profoundly that it had not been placed upon me. Jack, could you —” Again he broke off, but immediately resumed: “As I wrote you in my letter I need help. Could you see your way clear to giving me a hand in this?”

“In what way?”

“Well, I have no art in questioning. I know not how to draw a man out, to trip him up, if need be. To you, I’m sure, this must all be second nature. I had intended to go back to the
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today to interrogate both men, since I got so little from them yesterday. Would you accompany me—you and the boy? Put questions of your own to them. You know far better than I how it is done.”

“Bobbie, it is many years indeed since I was on shipboard.”

“Is that ayes or a no?”

“A very strong affirmative.”

The same eight-oared pinnace that had conducted the crewmen of the H.M.S.
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to shore awaited us there at the deserted Tower Wharf. A petty officer attended us there and snapped sharply in salute at the admiral’s approach. Sir Robert returned it carelessly in the weaiy fashion of high authority.

“At your command, suh!”

“There are three in my party.”

“Right this way, suh!”

“Jack,” said Sir Robert, “canyou manage the ladder?”

“I did It earlier often enough,” said Sir John, “and if memory serves me aright, it was done more by feel than by sight.”

“As you say. Perhaps the lad can precede you and I position you so.”

“That should work well enough. Jeremy?”

He placed his hand upon my shoulder, and I led him to the point indicated by the pett)’ officer. It looked like any other spot in sight but for the two ropes spiked down into the timbers of the wharf. I leaned forward right careful and looked down. Sure enough, there was a good-sized boat there bobbing below in the Thames at the foot of the ladder. But it looked to me well filled already with its eight oarsmen — and good God, it did seem a great distance down! Would the ladder hold me? Would it hold Sir John’s considerable weight, as well? It did seem so flimsy—and what if the boat should move away just as I had reached the bottom of the ladder? Perhaps I should tell them I had never learned to swim. Perhaps I should be excused from this perilous exercise altogether!

“Jeremy?” prompted Sir John.

“Uh … yes sir?”

“You simply turn about and find the first rung with your foot,” said

he quietly.” Then hold on to the ropes with your two hands and go down rung by rung. The men in the boat will pull you in.”

“Yes, Sir John,” said I, but hesitated still.

“Turn about now and take my two hands. I shall hold you until you are on your way.”

And so held by the blind man, I clambered down, feeling my way with my right foot on one of the wooden rungs, then my left. The strength in his hands gave me courage. He knelt, still holding tight, then released me as I sought the ropes with my hands. With my four extremities engaged, I found it all went much smoother.

I was near down when the ladder suddenly stiffened with added weight. I looked up and found Sir John had begun his descent. There was naught to do but put my faith in the flimsy thing that now supported us both. I scrambled down quick as I could and found myself taken into the brown arms of one of the oarsmen. He said nothing but pointed to a spot forward in the boat where I was to put myself. Somehow, though the rocking of the boat unbalanced me with each step, I managed to find my way to my designated perch betwixt two of the dark crew.

These, I told myself, must be the Lascars of whom Tom Durham had spoken. The fellow to my right, who seemed not much older than myself and no larger, nodded and smiled broadly, revealing a row of teeth of the brightest white. Nodding, I returned his smile, though I’m sure a bit less certainly.

Then, a moment later. Sir John took his place behind me, and moments after that Sir Robert and the petty officer descended into the boat. We cast off and were on our way. Though all eight oars were manned by Lascars, and not many were larger than the fellow beside me, we made swift progress toward the
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. And as we approached, I saw what I had not before noticed: A flotilla of four or five small boats had preceded us —simple rowboats they were, heavy laden with goods and …yes, women. What could women want aboard a warship? What could a warship want with women?

Puzzled, I watched as first one and then another of them ascended a ladder tossed over the side, skirts aflutter yet moving with surprising nimbleness.

“Ahoy, the bumboat!” shouted the petty officer from his place at the tiller.” Pull away from the ladder!”

“I will,” shouted back the boater, “soon as I’m paid for hauling the bawds.”

“Pull away, or we’ll ram you proper!”

Since ours was much the bigger craft, and since we were bearing down straight upon him, he had no choice but to obey the petty officer’s command. That he did, letting flow a stream of curses as he went. For some reason this occasioned great hilarity among the other boatmen and their female passengers. He could but glower in response to their guffaws and giggles.

The Lascars paid them no heed but pulled up hard against the H.M.S.
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in the space occupied a bare minute before by the rowboat. This time I felt not so intimidated by the ladder that hung down and, in any case, wished to get the ordeal over with. I started to rise, but was caught in midmotion by Sir John.

“Sir Robert precedes us, ” he whispered in my ear.

Then bellowed forth the petty officer: “Boatswain, pipe the admiral aboard!”

We waited but a moment until one of those queer tunes was played on a whistle up above us on the ship. And as the last notes died down, I felt the boat shift slightly. Casting a glance over my shoulder, I saw Sir Robert moving up the ladder with admirable agility. Still I was restrained by the hand that remained upon my shoulder. I understood the reason when, after another brief pause, a miniature band of fife and drum started up a martial ditty There would be a deal more of strutting and saluting on deck ere we were allowed aboard.

“The Nayv’ does love its customs and ceremonies, does it not, Sir John? ” — this in a whisper over my shoulder.

“All too much,” said he to me.

At last things quietened above. The petty officer came forward and whispered in Sir John’s ear, who allowed himself then to be led to the ladder. I followed. The next bump of the pinnace against the ship, he was handed the ladder, fixed his foot on a rung as in a stirrup, and started upward. He proceeded confidently, his stick tucked through one of the large buttonholes of his coat. And when he was near the top, the petty officer beckoned me over. He grabbed at the ladder and held it tor me as I mounted —then up I went.

Though I had farther to go to reach the top, I found it not near so hard going up as it had been coming down. Life on the deck above seemed to have returned to normal. Seamen crowded the rail and called out in rowdy style to those in the little boats that circled behind me beyond the pinnace —from which they were answered in kind:

“Hey, you, Jolly Jack Tar, I’ve enough spirits to keep you drunk a week, or a month, or aear! ” Another voice: “Rum or gin or beer!”

“And a woman to share it with,” piped a husky soprano, “who’ll bring you good cheer!”

“Just look at these bubs, ” cried a fourth.” You’ll hold them ever so dear!”

Thus they rhymed their pitches and were answered rudely from the deck with catcalls and whistles. It was Covent Garden on the Thames! Indeed, I had no notion of the commerce carried on around and about the great ships anchored in the river. (It continues thus, or so I am told, unto this day, reader.)

When at last I reached the rail, there was none to help me over, so intent was that gang of seamen on the hucksters below. Yet I threw a leg over and came down light upon the deck with what I reckoned to be good shipboard style.

There were sounds of music from a lively fiddle, raucous singing, and the clop-clop-clop of dancing from below. Through a large open space in the deck I spied men and women carrying on in most outlandish fashion, cutting figures among the tethered cannon. In no wise had I expected such merriment aboard a warship. The admiral had done nothing to dampen their fun.

Where was he? Where was Sir John? Not below, surely. I surveyed the level whereon I had dropped and saw no trace of them there, none but common seamen and a few marines. Yet there was a deck above this one to the rear of the ship — “aft, ‘ as I was to learn soon enough was how one said it rightly. There was a narrow stair (“ladder “) leading upward. I hied over to it at good speed and hopped up to the top. My way was barred at that point by another whom I would have called a boy, though he may have been ayear older than me. He wore a uniform that was certainly not seaman’s dress, yet was not quite that of an officer’s. I was not sure, in other words, just who he was, nor what authority he had. However, I was sure that Sir John, Sir Robert, and another whom I took to be the acting captain stood together only a bit beyond him. I wanted past this bothersome boy.

“Here, you, “said he to me, “get down where you belong. Such as you is not allowed up here unless summoned — as you should well know.”

Not merely his words but his manner, as well, were most arrogant. I sought to explain just who I was and why I should be allowed to join those I had come with. He gave no ear whatever to what I said, but simply thrust out his chin and continued bullying at me in a low and threatening tone of voice:

“A landsman, are you? Just pressed into service? Call me Mr. Boone and be sure that I shall make life aboard ship hell for you if you do not get belovvdecks damned quick.”

“But you do not understand” said I.” I am not one of your crew. If you would but listen to —”

“Must I thrash you on the spot? I’ll have you cobbed. I’ll … I’ll…”

Then he signaled his intent by setting his jaw and raising his two open hands before him. Just as he leaped at me across the three feet that separated us, I jumped neatly to m’ left, leaving an empty spot where I had been and a free passage down the narrow stairs—which he took, headfirst, then heels over head, tumbling quite uncontrollably to the bottom, where he lay in a moaning heap.

Though I found it difficult to feel great sympathy for him, since he had clearly intended to put me down on the deck in a similar state, I did regret the incident and hoped blame would not be put to me. However, I was quite unprepared for the response of the crewmen. They gathered round silently. Then, as he attempted weakly to rise, there were a few giggles from the crowd, one right hearty guffaw, then suddenly all joined in and the ship rang with laughter at Mr. Boone’s misery. They came from belowdecks to see, and then these, too, became quite panicked with hilarity to see the boy struggling painfully to his feet. None moved to help him. I could only surmise that young Mr. Boone was not much loved by the crew.

“What is this? What has happened here? ‘

I looked up and tound, standing beside me, that officer I took to be the acting captain—which is to say, the author of that statement of charges which Sir Robert had read aloud to us. He was, as the admiral, of a rubicund complexion but appeared to be in a high emotional state, as if choleric by nature. Tall he was, as well, with a loud, commanding voice.

“He seems to have fallen down the stairs, sir,” said I, all innocent.

He gave me a sharp look but made no reply to me. Instead, he addressed himself to the crew: “You men, leave off that laughing. It is goddamned unseemly is what it is. ‘

The merriment ended more sudden, even, than it had begun.

“Now, tAA’o of you—you and you— ” He pointed them out of the crowd.” Help Mr. Boone down to the surgeon.”

“No longer with us, sir,” spoke up one of the designated helpers.

“Then take him to the surgeon’s mate, you fool!”

“Aye-aye, sir!”—with a salute.

And then, suddenly solicitous, the two seamen gently brought Mr. Boone erect, and he hobbled off between them toward belowdecks.

With that, the acting captain turned abruptly on his heel and in a few long strides returned to Sir John and the admiral. I trailed along after him and quietly took a place next Sir John. I felt his hand grip me strong upon the shoulder. I was certain I should have some explaining to do.

“I suggest,” said the acting captain, “that we continue our discussion in my cabin —that is if you are agreeable.”

Sir Robert murmured his assent.

“Mr. Grimsby,” said—yes, his name was Hartsell, as I remembered at last —“send down for one of the other midshipmen to take Mr. Boone’s place, will you?”

At that request, a young officer stepped forward, whom I had not before noticed. He seemed to have stood apart from the rest, as if to distance himself from the discussion.

“I’ll attend to it, Mr. Hartsell,” said he.