Neither Ben nor Amy wished to cause a problem by objecting, and Amy’s mother couldn’t refuse one daughter going on the journey when she thinks she might have given her consent to the other two, even though the circumstances are different. Although, in truth she is not entirely certain that she did give her consent.
Amy did not sleep well that night. A good night’s rest was stolen from her by an excitement and anticipation she did not quite understand. Over and over she told herself that maybe just maybe they were about to make progress. If they could indeed track down the boatswain, and if he was the old seamen who had left the satchel, then he would almost certainly know the secret—or at least more of it than anyone they had yet met. And he may well know the answer to the mystery of the Captain’s daughter.
Chapter 25
They set out early on the morning of August the fifth. That night they stayed once again at the Greyhound in Maidenhead. By Tuesday evening they reached the Quillins’ house, where once again Lord and Lady Quillin were not in residence, and where again they had been kindly invited to stay while making their inquiries in the Bristol area.
On Wednesday morning, because they were tired from their journey, they left a little late. They reached Bristol later in the morning.
After eating lunch, they went immediately to the office of the shipping company that owned the Bristol Ark. Ben and Amy were greeted by a rather colorful clerk who wore a checkered waistcoat that was too tight, and who had a narrow face and a nose that protruded outward in a manner that made it a most noticeable feature that Amy and Ben had to struggle not to look at.
“I am told,” said Ben, “that you had a captain by the name of Captain Maitland?”
“Yes,” said the clerk sadly, “we lost him this past March. It was on the 26th. A very sad business, very sad business indeed.”
Amy wondered if the man was about to start crying. Thankfully, that did not happen.
“We heard that he drowned,” said Ben, “is that true?”
The clerk looked down sorrowfully and nodded his head.
Gesturing towards Amy, Ben spoke softly to the clerk. “We are trying to find out more information for a relative who wishes to remain anonymous. I understand that he had a boatswain that served with him for many years.”
“Yes,” agreed the clerk, “that would be old Sam Grieves.”
“Would it be possible for us to speak with him?”
“He left our service after that fateful voyage.”
“Does he live in Bristol?”
“No,” the still sad clerk shook his head. “He now lives in Montpellier.”
“He lives in France!” said Amy surprised.
The clerk looked at her disdainfully.
“Isn't Montpellier in the south of France?” she asked, confused by his reaction.
The clerk looked down his very long nose at Amy, all the way to the very tiny point.
“I see you are not from these parts, milady. Montpellier is just north of the city limits of Bristol.”
“Oh.” Amy hoped she wasn't blushing.
She looked up at Ben who said nothing. Although he did seem to have a slight grin, which she interpreted as being condescending. How was she supposed to know every little hamlet around Bristol? The clerk turned to a younger man sitting on a tall stool next to a small slanted desk.
“Higgins, you remember old Sam Grieves do you not? Doesn't he live next to the Baths?”
The younger man nodded in agreement. The clerk turned back to Ben and Amy.
“In truth I didn't know Captain Maitland had any relatives. Anyway, Grieves lives near Rennison’s Baths. If you go to Montpellier, just ask anyone and they can point the Baths out to you.”
“Thank you. By-the-way, I am Benjamin Anstruther, this lady is Amaryllis Sibbridge, I do not believe you mentioned your name.”
“Let me offer my most humble apology, sir. I am Clarence Fitzgerald Fitzpatrick.”
“Milady and I are most grateful for your assistance Mr. Fitzgerald Fitzpatrick.”
“I am most humbled that I could be of service,” said Clarence Fitzgerald Fitzpatrick with a tiny wiggle of the point of his nose.
As they left the office, Amy through clenched teeth said to Ben: “I am struggling not to laugh, but I don't think I'm going to be successful.”
But she was—somewhat. As the coach took them in the direction of Montpellier, the one just outside of Bristol, not the one in France, Amy could not resist saying to Ben through a grin, “I will wager you did not know there was Montpellier at Bristol.”
“I'm afraid you would lose your wager.”
“Really? Then prove it!”
“Recall that I have been around Bristol several times lately.”
“Back there in the shipping office,” said Amy, “both you and Mr. Fitz-Fitz, looked at me as if I was daft. If you are so much smarter than me, all I ask is proof. Is that too much to ask for?”
“How do I do that?” Ben twisted his chin in thought. “I know. Not only did I know about Montpellier, but I can tell you all about the Baths. They have a huge bath. They say it is some four hundred feet across. I haven’t been inside so I can’t confirm that. It has a coffee house and a bowling green. There are teagardens and, oh yes, an inn.”
Amy wondered if Ben was making it all up, and then they arrived in front of Rennison’s Baths.
“If you know all that, how come you don’t know where our Sam Grieves dwells?”
“Because then there would be no mystery,” he answered with a twinkle in his eyes. “But mostly because our Sam Grieves as you refer to him, is less famous than the Baths.”
But fortunately Sam Grieves evidently had some fame, or more likely it was because so few townsmen lived in Montpellier that the first person they spoke to, an older woman with a large bundle, said: “He be livin’ in Picton Lane, which be ‘bout an hundred yards t’wards town and thirty yards south. There be Picton Lane.”
There indeed be Picton Lane, but when they located the humble abode of Sam Grieves, there he be not. They pounded on the door for five minutes, closely watched by a small boy with stained knee breeches and an even smaller urchin in a little torn dress. Despite the fancy baths and other facilities only a few hundred feet away, Montpellier was not the fanciest of neighborhoods.
“We’d best return later.” Ben was openly disappointed.
As they approached Bath Buildings, as the street with Rennison’s Baths was imaginatively named, an older man stumbled around the corner and almost into the path of the coach. He obviously did not anticipate a coach on the forlorn little lane. He had a bundle of sticks slung over his shoulder, and a seaman’s cap on his head, and what was more important, he turned out to be Sam Grieves.
By the time they turned the coach around and returned to Picton Lane, Sam Grieves had arrived at his house. Ben alighted from the coach. As Ben helped Amy down from the carriage, she noticed that the old man had started to tend his little garden in a self-conscious way, while watching them with a grave expression. Was it curiosity? Or was it fear? A coach stopping on the narrow lane in front his house, and a lady and gentlemen dismounting must be an unusual sight. Perhaps he was just wondering who they are and why they were there.
Amy spoke to Ben in a low voice so the old man would not hear, which would likely be true if he were deaf.
“I don’t know if it is him. He’s not wearing a sailor suit. If he just left the sea at the end of March or early April would he be tending flowers in a garden?”
Ben, with a friendly smile born out of his being sure the old man overheard, assured her that even sailors had once lived on land as children, and were likely well acquainted with gardens, or perhaps he just always wanted one, or maybe it just came with the cottage.
The old man warily stared at them as they approached.
“Good morning,” greeted Ben in a manner normally used for more gentle folk than a grizzled old seaman. “I am Ben Anstruther and this is Amy Sibbridge.”
&n
bsp; Amy was sure she saw a definite reaction in the old man’s demeanor. Ben saw it too.
The old man straightened up and looked intently at her. He looked uncomfortable.
“We believe you may know, or rather, know of Miss Sibbridge. Her full first name is Amaryllis. You are Sam Grieves are you not?”
The old man hesitated, and realizing they must have asked around for him, acknowledged that he was. He had no other course of action.
“A month or so past, Miss Sibbridge received a small satchel with some items and we are inquiring if you are the person who delivered it.”
Sam Grieves was still eyeing them warily.
“You said your name is Benjamin,” he asked, evidently fearing to use the diminutive form of Ben’s name even though Ben had used it himself.
He struggled to recall Ben’s last name.
“Ben Anstruther,” Ben helped. “I live not far from Lady Sibbridge. I am a friend of her family, and I have been making some efforts to assist her with finding out who delivered the pouch, because it contained certain items that whetted our curiosity, but did not answer the questions they raised.”
Sam was most clearly discomfited. There was no way out other than to confess.
“Indeed Sir, I was he who delivered the satchel, but naught I know of its contents. I had been honor-bound by one I may not name, to deliver the satchel to Lady Amaryllis Sibbridge.”
“May you then direct us to the one who asked you to deliver the pouch, or if you cannot do that, may we inquire of some means of reaching him? Perhaps we could send him a letter.”
Sam Grieves seemed to have some difficulty answering Ben’s request.
“I was instructed to take the satchel to Lady Sibbridge, but I am honor-pledged to keep the sender’s name secret.”
“You cannot help us,” inquired Ben.
The old man sadly shook his head.
“Tell me Sam Grieves, did you not serve under Captain Maitland?”
“I did indeed for many years. And a good captain and friend the captain was.”
“And, Sam, did not the pouch come from him.”
“I can assure you sir, the satchel did not come from Mister Maitland.”
It seemed to Amy there was something odd about this conversation. She was pretty sure Sam was hiding something. He was choosing his words carefully, but why?
“If you cannot tell us the source,” asked Ben, “and we respect pledges of confidence, is there anything you can tell us. The contents of the pouch indicate it is very important that Lady Sibbridge finds out what they mean. It could be a matter of life and death.”
The old man was struggling. He was clearly troubled.
“If you cannot betray a confidence perhaps there is something else you can tell us. How long did you serve with Captain Maitland?”
“I served under Captain Maitland nigh onto twenty years.”
“That was when he was promoted to captain, wasn’t it?”
“Yes Sir.”
“But you served with him longer?”
“That be true, Sir.”
“So you served under Captain Buchanan?”
Sam visibly stiffened. He acted almost as if he were trapped and unsure of what to do. Amy watched him with great curiosity. Why did these questions bother him so very much? They seemed like normal questions to Amy. Why were they so troubling to Sam Grieves?
Ben repeated the question, and Sam reluctantly answered yes.
Ben changed the subject. “Captain Maitland drowned? How did that happen to someone of Captain Maitland’s skill and experience?”
Sam told them that Maitland went out on deck at night in the middle of a storm. No one saw, but Captain Maitland must have been swept overboard by a rogue wave.
“Captain Buchanan also drowned,” mused Ben “Being a ship’s master must be hazardous.”
“But Captain Buchanan didn’t drown at sea,” hastened Sam.
“Didn’t he drown in the River Avon,” asked Ben?
“That he did.”
“There was a lawyer and lawyer’s clerk that drowned with him?”
“Yes sir there was.”
“And Captain Buchanan’s wife and child drowned with him?”
Sam hesitated and then said, “So they told me.”
Sam was clearly uncomfortable.
“Sam, I read the summary of the coroner’s inquest. Two witnesses testified that Joseph Sallison, a servant of Sir Hugh’s followed the coach with a baggage cart. They testified that he was alone. I have reason to believe that they lied, and since they would personally have no reason to lie and could be severely punished if the court ever found that they had perjured themselves, I feel that if they did lie, they must have had a compelling reason to do so. It must be either that they were handsomely bribed or that they were in fear, perhaps of their very lives. Now I have seen one of those men, and I cannot see any convincing evidence that he ever received much money. Perhaps he did and squandered it, but I don’t think so.”
Amy closely watched Sam Grieves. He was almost squirming.
“But I have also been told by a very good source that Joseph Sallison did not drive that cart to Bristol. I was told that someone else drove it and he had a youth with him. Now listen closely Sam. I seem to recall that in a conversation I’ve had recently, that I was told that First Mate Maitland was of diminutive stature. Perhaps I remember incorrectly, but if not, that seems to suggest that seen from the distance Maitland could have appeared to be a youth.”
Sam was clearly afraid.
“Were you there?” Ben paused. “Sam. Did you drive that cart?
Sam clearly did not know what to say.
“Sam, by your response you have just told me yes. So now was Maitland in that cart with you?”
Ben had asked the question firmly and forcefully.
Both Ben and Amy are surprised when Sam confidently answered, No!
“No?” Ben repeated puzzled. “I know that you drove that cart, Sam. You wouldn’t have hesitated to try and come up with an answer otherwise, and I know you’re an honest man or you wouldn’t have struggled so hard to answer me without lying, so here is another question I...we must know the answer. Did you follow the carriage and see it go into the River Avon?”
“I did not follow it but I went ahead of it, but we...I saw it go into the river.”
“Did Margaret Buchanan drown? All the occupants of the carriage must have drowned. The river was at flood stage and flowing swiftly. No one could have gotten out alive, or at least that is what I think. Was First Mate Maitland with you in the cart, now answer truthfully Sam?
Sam bowed his head, and after a few moments looked up at Amy and Ben.
“I can tell you truthfully that Captain Maitland was indeed with me in that cart.”
Ben noticed the contradiction but decided to change the subject just a little.
“We need to know what happened at Sir Hugh Anselan’s house. Did First Mate Maitland go inside with Captain Buchanan?
“No sir,” replied Sam. “First Mate Maitland remained outside with me. Captain Buchanan thought they might want him but they never called him into the house.”
Amy, looking very unhappy, said to Ben: “We are never going to find out what happened at that meeting. It is so important, but we will never know.”
She had tears in her eyes. Sam was following her intently and looked miserable. Ben and Amy thanked him and started to leave, and then Ben turned back to Sam.
“I almost forgot to ask. You knew Ishmael Anselan?
Sam stiffened and a shadow of fear passed over his face.
“I knew of him.”
“But he inherited the Bristol Ark?”
“He inherited the company but he didn’t pay it no mind and he soon lost it.”
“Do you know if he is still alive?”
“He well may be, sir.”
“I gather that you do not know where he is?”
“That be true sir.”
“We need to
find him.”
“From what I hear sir, maybe it be best that you don’t.”
“Oh?”
“He has a reputation to be a bad one.”
“But why would he be any danger to us, if he is a gentleman?”
“From what I hear, he be no gentleman.”
“I think you must be wrong,” said Ben as he turned to go.
Sam called to them as they left, pleading: “For the sake of the lady, please do not try and find Ishmael Anselan.”
As they headed towards Bath, Amy asked Ben: “Well, what do you think about Sam Grieves?”
“I think we got a lot of truth out of him, but I also think he held back and may have given us some deceptive answers. As to what they were I want to think through our exchange with him when I am alone.”
“He is frightened isn’t he,” asked Amy?
“Yes, and what is more interesting and much more important to me, is that he is frightened that you are in danger, and that fear seems to point directly at Ishmael Anselan. But Ishmael Anselan seems to have disappeared. I don’t know who he is. We have many knights in England but at some point one usually hears their name, but I’ve never heard of Sir Ishmael Anselan. I am going to ask around, but I have the feeling I must do it casually, carefully, and circumspectly.”
“Be careful, Ben. I hope Sam Grieves is wrong and his fear unfounded, but if not, please take care.”
Ben was deep in thought. “On a less threatening note,” continued Ben, “I am convinced that our friend the boatswain knows at least something about the contents of that pouch, but won’t tell us.”
“He was sworn to secrecy,” says Amy.
“I know,” said Ben, “but somehow we can find out. He never even hinted at the contents, but I am sure it wasn’t handed to him by a stranger but is directly connected with everything else.”
“Well we have really come to a fine point,” said Amy with some sarcasm. “The Captain’s dead, both captains are dead, and the Captain’s wife is dead, the baby is dead, and I still don’t know who I am, but whoever I am, I am in danger, but I do not know why. And I am in danger from a mysterious, evil knight, who might jump out from anywhere. Things just keep getting worse and worse.”
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