They were agreed. Whatever happened next, they must play the part of ignorant innocents. And now they could delay no longer. They had been summoned. To Norton Manor they must go.
13.
Caleb knew nothing of shipping or the sea, but he understood the nature of drama well enough. What passed at Norton Manor that evening was a piece of theatre: perfectly stage-managed and expertly delivered. He and Letty were players, but as they had been given neither script nor directions they were little more than marionettes being jerked along on a length of string.
They were ushered towards the kitchen on arrival. A large pine table had been moved to one side and several chairs stacked upon it to make room for the families of the crew who were gathered there, whispering amongst themselves, awed to be in so grand a house. There were so many of them that the room was full, the air hot and sticky. Caleb and Letty were asked to wait with Anne by the door that opened onto the corridor. In hushed tones she told them that the crew were already gathered in Sir Robert’s study, awaiting the arrival of Narcissus Puddleby, the magistrate from Tawpuddle. The families were not permitted to see or speak to any of their men until the business was done.
Caleb glanced around at the faces of those who stood in the kitchen. Women, mostly wives, he presumed, although maybe there were some mothers too. Children of all sizes. One or two men: fathers maybe, or sons and brothers. He saw little joy or relief on any of them. What was more evident was shock. Nervousness. Apprehension. This was not the reunion they had expected with their loved ones.
It was a good half an hour before the clatter of hooves and wheels on cobbles announced the arrival of the magistrate’s carriage. Looking along the corridor, Caleb saw Narcissus Puddleby, a short, squat dumpling of a man, enter the house. Sir Robert left the study to greet him, shaking him warmly by the hand and throwing an arm about his shoulders as though they were old friends. No one who saw them could doubt that the magistrate was as much Sir Robert’s man as William Benson. Catching Caleb’s eye, Sir Robert smiled as if to underline the point.
Caleb expected the official business to take some time. There had been eleven men on the Linnet’s crew. Piecing each man’s account together to arrive at a semblance of the whole truth might take hours. Caleb was prepared for a long, weary wait.
And yet in no time at all the study door opened, the men emerged and were directed towards the kitchen. There were no noisy exchanges as families were reunited, no rapturous embraces, no cries of joy, no tears: just whispers, pressed hands, fond looks. They should have met on the quayside, Caleb thought, where they could behave without inhibition. Men could have gone to the tavern to celebrate their safe return, or back to their own homes. But Sir Robert had decreed otherwise. All was as muted and decorous as he could have desired.
Letty’s father was the last to leave the study, lagging behind the rest of the men. He looked so like his daughters Caleb couldn’t doubt who he was even before he broke into a run, coming along the corridor and sweeping his wife right off the floor and into his tight embrace. His face showed signs of tremendous strain, which relaxed only a little as he held her, eyes shut, face bent towards her neck, breathing her in, oblivious of his surroundings, not even greeting Letty or Dorcas and only setting Anne back down when William Benson laid a warning hand upon his shoulder.
Sir Robert was advancing in his stately fashion down the corridor towards them with Puddleby trotting at his heels. Edward Avery, Anne and the rest pressed themselves against the wall to let him pass. In the kitchen, people squeezed together to make room. When he was at the centre of the throng he cleared his throat and then addressed them.
“This has been an appalling tragedy,” Sir Robert said clearly. “Yet I will not have it compounded by speculation or idle gossip. These men have suffered enough. I wish you all to hear the account of the event that has been authorized and approved by the magistrate.”
He ushered his man forward. The magistrate unrolled a length of parchment and began to read.
“I, Narcissus Puddleby, magistrate duly admitted and sworn, do hereby certify that on the thirty-first day of December in the year of our Lord 1752, came before me Luke Slater, master of the Linnet, along with ten of his crew, who have put their names to this paper. All are agreed to the following particulars of their voyage.
“They did set sail from the port of Tawpuddle on the sixth July last, laden with bale goods, besides twelve convicts, men from Torcester gaol, bound for Maryland.”
Caleb kept his face utterly neutral but beside him Anne cried out, her hand raised to her mouth in horror. “Convicts?”
It seemed this was news to no one but her. While Letty and Caleb merely acted the part of ignorant innocents his aunt truly was one. Anne was upset. Severely so. “Edward?” she whispered, turning to her husband. He put his finger to her lips to silence her, for Sir Robert’s eyes were on them and the magistrate was still speaking. Anne flushed and then grew pale. Her husband put his arm about her waist. Letty took her hand.
“Having the wind hard against them for much of the crossing, they could make but slow progress. On the fifth day of October last, being in the middle of the ocean, the wind began to blow hard from the north. The sails were split by the sudden gale and, it coming on to dark, new sails could not be put on and they thought it most advisable to come to anchor until the next morning. But before daylight a mighty storm arose, so furious that the anchor came home whereupon they let more cable slip even to the utmost end. They made it fast about the bit but it was dragged away and the vessel was driven before the wind and on towards a jagged reef. A colossal wave then fell upon them, picking the vessel up and breaking its back upon rocks before tearing it asunder. The ship began to sink and the convicts, being chained in the hold, could not be reached…”
Anne pressed a hand to her lips to stifle a cry. Her distress grew with every word that Narcissus Puddleby read and she didn’t yet know the worst, thought Caleb. His own heart ached in anticipation of the wound that would shortly be inflicted on hers.
Anne was not alone in her horror at the convicts’ fate. To go down with a ship, to be chained, unable to escape, to drown in such conditions was worse than any sailor’s nightmare, and that of their loved ones too. There was a murmur of sorrow, a wave of pity that rippled through the room.
Indifferent to it, the magistrate continued. “The crew had no choice but immediately to lower the rowing boat over the side of the ship and betake themselves to it. They remained in it, tossed by wind and waves, all the hours of darkness. In the morning, the wind being to the westward they were blown once more before it and were providentially observed by a brigantine named the Celandine, out from Philadelphia bound for Bristol, who very compassionately came to their assistance and took them on board from the rowing boat, which was likewise in danger of sinking in a very small time…”
The magistrate concluded by saying that captain and crew had sworn the disaster to be an act of God and that the loss of convicts and cargo was total and unavoidable. To this every man had set his hand.
This was the sworn testimony of them all. And yet from the start the picture conjured by their words did not make sense to Caleb. He was no sailor, but he could not understand why a storm of sufficient violence to down a large vessel, to break it open on the rocks, to pick it up bodily before plunging it to the depths, would not likewise overwhelm a rowing boat weighed down by a crew of eleven.
It was a dreadful tale. But it also struck him how very neat an account it was. That the entire crew – eleven men who would have been running hither and thither and struggling to prevent the sinking of the ship in a great howling tempest – had all seen and heard and done the selfsame things at the selfsame moment, that they should all be so perfectly in agreement was suspicious in itself, was it not?
He recalled Pa’s tale of the three blind men who had – for the very first time – chanced upon a horse. The first took hold of only an ear and remarked, “Aha! Now I understand. A horse is sma
ll enough to fit in the hand, and is as soft as velvet.” The second had only its hoof, and assured him, “No … a horse is hard and has an iron edge.” The third, grasping only its tail, declared, “Fools! You are both wrong. For a horse is long and hairy.”
The story had been told to amuse him, but Caleb knew there was a moral that lay at its heart. There was no such thing as the whole truth. “If something happens, Caleb – a fire, perhaps, or an accident? – ask five men what happened and you’ll get five quite different stories. Some notice one thing, some another. There will be five different truths, not one, and all of them as fragmented and incomplete as the other. Man cannot know everything there is to know. Distrust anyone who tells you he has all the answers to life’s mysteries, for God alone sees the whole.”
He looked around the room. Every man of the Linnet’s crew had fixed his eyes dead ahead and was staring into space.
Caleb knew that if he glanced at Letty he would see his doubt reflected in her eyes. So he did not. They exchanged neither word nor look and kept their faces perfectly composed, aware they were being scrutinized by both William Benson and Sir Robert.
With Puddleby’s account concluded there seemed no more to be said on the matter. But then Anne asked guilelessly, “Sir Robert, forgive me… May we know the names of the convicts? Poor souls! We must pray for them!” There were a few muttered words of approval from the other crewmen’s wives.
Sir Robert raised his eyebrows. “Do not waste your breath. They were villains. Sinners! I have no doubt their punishment came from God, for as you see the honest men were saved from the tempest.”
Anne’s voice was mild as ever, but when she spoke she did not yield to Sir Robert. “Are we not taught ‘judge not, lest ye be judged’? I would wish to pray for every man who drowned.” Again, there was a murmur of support amongst the families.
Sir Robert now displayed some irritation. “You are too tender-hearted, madam. Their names? Regrettably, I do not know them.” He turned to the ship’s captain. “Mr Slater, are you aware of the felons’ names?”
Luke Slater straightened his back as if standing to attention. “They were listed on the bill of lading no doubt, Sir Robert, but I have not seen that since the day we sailed.”
Sir Robert turned to the magistrate. “Mr Puddleby, are you aware of the felons’ names?”
“Why yes. I had the bill copied before I left Tawpuddle. I have it here.”
And so the names were read, each one sounding like the tolling of a bell.
“Jack Lancey, Mark Andrews, Thomas Sinnett, John Kingscot …”
This is it, thought Caleb. Any moment now I will be called on to act my part.
“Henry Meddon, Edwin Hampton, Robert Buckleigh …”
I must make it convincing. They must believe I know nothing of this.
“Walter Coombs, William Hockin …”
Shock. Display utmost shock. Make it sincere.
“Edward Braddick, Richard Brendon …”
Here it comes. Help me, Pa.
“… Joseph Chappell.”
Caleb took a sharp breath. He widened his eyes. Looked at Letty in startled confusion. Popped open his mouth just a little. He didn’t need to do more because Anne turned to her husband.
“Joseph Chappell? Edward…” Anne clutched his arm. “Edward! He’s my bro— but you don’t know…! Joseph, I…”
“Do you know the man?” Edward Avery asked in great astonishment. His eyebrows had shot ceiling-wards in a display of surprise but his voice, thought Caleb, sounded too loud, too theatrical to be entirely credible. His words seemed intended for the gathered crowd, not his wife alone.
“Anne?” he repeated.
She did not answer. Her eyes fluttered, she staggered sideways and then fell to the floor in a faint.
There was a collective gasp from the people assembled in the kitchen. Suddenly the family were centre-stage in a drama of operatic scale and the audience were gripped.
Cradling his wife’s head in his lap, Edward Avery looked to Letty for the first time that evening. “What is this about, my girl?”
Holding Dorcas tight, speaking through her sister’s hair in stiff, wooden phrases, Letty told her father, “It seems your wife had a brother. They’ve been estranged these many years. He was taken for a thief back last summer. Transported. Oh Lord, Father! Looks like you had him on your own ship and didn’t know it! This is his son.”
It was Caleb’s turn to feign amazement. “I came here when he was taken, Uncle. How strange that he should have been on the very same vessel you sailed on! My poor Pa! Drowned! Is it true? Did he go down with the Linnet?”
“He did! Alas! Alas!”
The audience began to whisper. Anne Avery had a brother! Her own husband did not know it! And him a felon! Fancy that! Both men on the selfsame ship and neither man known to the other! How extraordinary! A full-grown nephew – appearing from nowhere! And a darkie at that! Far from curtailing tittle-tattle this sensation would give the scandalmongers meat enough to feed on for a century. And, thought Caleb, if the gossips were kept busy feeding on his family, no one would be asking questions about the sinking of the Linnet. What a lucky chance for Sir Robert. How very, very convenient…
As the scene played out, Caleb fervently hoped that his acting was better than his uncle’s. For while Anne’s feelings were utterly sincere, Letty’s father was a different matter.
Sorrow and concern for his wife were writ large upon Edward Avery’s features and Caleb didn’t doubt for a minute the depth or extent of those emotions: any fool could see that Edward’s heart bled for Anne’s suffering.
But surprise at the existence of Joseph Chappell?
Real astonishment at their close connection?
No. There was not a trace of it.
14.
The evening had been beautifully orchestrated from beginning to end, Caleb thought bitterly as they were ushered out of the house and into the cold night air. Pa would have been impressed by the slick deftness of it. As they walked back to Fishpool in the moonlight he turned the question over in his mind: what was the purpose of it all? What had Sir Robert hoped to achieve by this charade?
Firstly, he supposed, it had given an authorized version of events. Signed by every member of the Linnet’s crew and sanctioned by the magistrate, the affidavit could never be questioned. It had also been made plain to Caleb that there was no higher authority to which he could appeal. The law in these parts was in Sir Robert’s pocket.
He seethed with anger. That man, that high-born, titled man, with his vast estates and carriages and money and grand house and fine clothes, had stood there and lied in his own kitchen like the lowest of criminals! With no qualms, with not a moment’s remorse or regret, he had declared that he was entirely ignorant of the convicts’ names. And yet he must have both known them and known that they’d come out. If Anne hadn’t asked her question someone else would have. Every week in church the congregation of Fishpool prayed fervently for the souls of the drowned. Sir Robert had expected the question to come – why else would Puddleby have had a copy of the bill of lading so conveniently to hand?
And the result? The names of the convicts were common knowledge and Pa was declared drowned and dead, dragged down to the bottom of the sea by his convict’s chains. Caleb was now expected to grieve publicly for a man he’d privately mourned for weeks. He was expected to swallow the lie that Pa had been lost in the middle of the ocean halfway between England and the American colonies along with the other felons. This would be the received truth from now on, unless Caleb could prove otherwise.
There was besides the matter of his uncle to consider. Edward Avery walked a little ahead, his arm around his wife’s waist, his hand upon Letty’s shoulder. She was carrying Dorcas and the child was asleep in her arms. They looked like a family happily reunited, and yet Caleb could see from the stiffness of Letty’s back that she was profoundly ill at ease.
Edward Avery had said he was unaware of Pa’
s existence, and yet how could that be true, for he’d betrayed not an ounce of amazement?
That Anne herself had never told him she had a brother wasn’t in doubt. Her fit of fainting, her appalling distress, her grief: this part of the scene alone had not been acted. So if she’d never told Edward about her brother, who had?
It wasn’t hard to fathom the answer. All the men had been closeted in Sir Robert’s study for some time before Caleb and Letty had arrived and then they’d all stayed in there even longer waiting for Narcissus Puddleby. There would have been plenty of opportunity for someone – William Benson or Sir Robert himself – to inform Edward Avery of Pa’s relation to Anne. It must have come as a huge shock – they’d have wanted to tell him in private to give him time to compose himself before he saw his wife, lest he accidentally let something slip.
Edward would have been told of Caleb’s unexpected arrival in Fishpool too, of his discovery of the body on the beach and of his insistence that the drowned man was Pa. They’d have impressed on Edward how vitally important it was that Caleb was not believed, for he was the fly in the ointment that threatened all their plans – he had to be discredited. Oh, it was ingenious, Caleb had to admit that. By formalizing this version of events, everyone but Letty would doubt his sanity. There seemed no hope now of ever doing anything to change it.
But there was Pa, lying in that unmarked grave. Surely every man on the Linnet must know what had truly happened to him? Yet they were all apparently sworn to silence.
Caleb’s head thumped. He felt as though he was engaged in the elaborate steps of an intricate dance. So many lies, so many deceptions, so many people involved! If he put a foot wrong he risked catastrophe.
If he’d only had himself to consider he wouldn’t fear the consequences of seeking out the truth. Indeed, that night he felt he could happily have beaten his uncle to a pulp and forced it from him. But there was Letty. And there was Benson’s threat to Dorcas. He couldn’t risk her safety.
Hell and High Water Page 11