Through all this, Adam had been struggling to contain his impatience. Would Capt. Mimms ever get to the point? Before he wandered yet further into reminiscence, Adam ventured a question. ‘Did you learn ought of interest from these men?’
Capt. Mimms regarded him with a benevolent smile. ‘My good doctor, you are yet young and as impatient as all of your age, I see. Forgive an old man’s ramblings. They did indeed have much to tell me. Old seafarers love little more than to share tales, unless it is a glass of good grog. To save you from becoming quite frustrated, I will tell you all, as plainly and rapidly as I may.
‘My friends expected something to happen along this coast. The word had gone round these past three months that the government was taking a close interest in the whole coast from Harwich to Lynn. One, who has several ships plying the seas between here and the estuary of the Scheldt, noticed an increase in the number of navy ships lying at anchor in Yarmouth Roads. Another heard rumours of government spies abroad amongst the inns and drinking places most used by mariners. Such people are common enough, for the Revenue work hard to find where they might best send their riding officers to surprise smugglers. Yet now the number of spies had increased. All, it seemed, were seeking information about landings of contraband along the north coast. They did not show the usual interest in the creeks and beaches southwards to Orford. Instead they wanted to hear of gangs who operated between Hunstanton and Cromer – and, most especially, between Wells and Sheringham. There were also sudden searches of cargoes, ostensibly for contraband. Officers questioned ships' masters about any passengers carried. They were especially interested in those taking passage to and from the continent.
‘As you may well imagine, this behaviour gave rise to much discussion. Those who make their living by trade and the sea are ever alert for signs of trouble. We have no love for the smugglers, nor they for honest merchants, but we manage to leave one another alone. Their interest lies in small, easily handled items of high value; ours in these parts mostly in grain, timber and cloth. If the inns sell liquor more cheaply as a result of these rascals’ actions – and a neighbours’ cellar contains good brandy and geneva spirits for him to dispense liberally to his guests – why should we complain?
‘Your face tells me plainly that I am rambling again. Sadly, it is a common failing in the old. Very well, I shall return to the essence of my tale.
‘The general opinion amongst merchants and shipowners was this. The authorities wanted information to let them seize people slipping spies and gold into England. The French want information about our military strength and readiness. That is plain. These revolutionaries also send money to support insurrection amongst the disgruntled and poor. France is in ferment, yet we, in England, are not so free from riot and disturbance that we may be smug. Scarce a dozen years ago, London was set ablaze by riots against the Papists. Of late, mobs have chanted ‘for God and the King’ in Birmingham, while destroying Unitarian meeting-houses and the homes of some noted men of science who are of that sect. I hear that the magistrates stood by and urged on the rioters, while the constables joined in the destruction. Men like Wilkes and Paine inflamed sedition, and the fire still burns.
‘At first, too many of our men of influence ignored events across the Channel. Some even thoughtlessly welcomed the overthrow of the previous regime. They believed it would lead to more peaceful relations if our neighbour employed a constitutional system of monarchy like ours. Not a few reasoned that a France weakened by political upheavals would allow the growth of English trade. Without their interference, the extending of our empire could proceed without challenge.
‘Now, it appears, France has overcome its first brushes with chaos and is building a new and more powerful army. In the first months of popular fervour, the French navy was laid low. Too many of its officers were noblemen. Most fled, others suffered a bloody death at the hands of the peasants. Yet now even their navy is being rebuilt and fresh officers found. The Frogs hate us, sir, and have a strong taste for seizing trading advantage from us, as well as our colonies in the Caribbean. No, war with France is coming again and both sides are manoeuvring for advantage before it breaks out.’
‘And the death of our archdeacon? What of that?’ Adam said.
‘It is my belief, doctor,’ Capt. Mimms replied, ‘that the archdeacon blundered somehow into one or two French spies just landed on that stretch of coast. Thus he paid the penalty. They could not take the risk that he might have recognised what was taking place. I suspect they did not even know who he was. No, they saw only a gentleman, well-dressed, in an unexpected place. They cannot be blamed for making the obvious deduction that he must be an officer of the courts or the crown.
‘This business of high politics might also explain the reluctance of those in power to allow the archdeacon’s death to be investigated fully. They wish, sir, to keep any suggestion of what they know about the French activities from slipping out. To do so would hamper their efforts to discover the presence of spies and the identities of the people they meet with.
‘And now we have proof enough, at least to my eyes. That seizure of the smuggling gang was carried out with a superabundance of forces. Thus it is impossible to doubt something more was expected than a boatload of laces and spirits. One clandestine passenger was secured, as I hear. Maybe they expected many more. Whatever else, they have blocked that rat hole. None will risk that route for a good while to come. I imagine they have also sorely frightened any more planning to offer passage to the continent in secret.’
The old sailor sat back and took a large mouthful of punch, then leaned forward again with a look of triumph. ‘So, my good friend,’ he said. ‘What do you think of that?’
13
Frustration
Wednesday, 13 June 1792, Aylsham, Norfolk
Mrs. Brigstone provided the two men with an excellent supper. She relished any opportunity to display her skill in the kitchen. As a bachelor, Adam rarely entertained at his home, so she felt her abilities as a cook had little outlet. Only when his mother came to stay was Adam moved to send out dinner invitations to the better class of people in the area.
That day, Capt. Mimms also proved a most agreeable guest. He praised Mrs. Brigstone's efforts at every turn and helped Adam do full justice to the dishes. The meal also made a large inroad into Adam's wine cellar. Adam was not a great drinker when alone. Now his store would need replenishment before he could consider entertaining again.
Growing merry, the two men talked of the state of trade, the prospects for a better harvest and the countryside ways of Norfolk. Then Capt. Mimms began on a series of tall tales of his days at sea, typical of mariners everywhere. He told Adam of his encounters with whales and of sailing amongst icebergs off the coast of Greenland. Then he switched to relating how he and his crew once fought a gang of pirates along the Barbary Coast. And, as was only natural, he described the delights of landing on exotic shores. How he once came close to bearing off one dark-skinned beauty to be his wife. And how glad he was after that he had not, when he found another even more wanton and voluptuous.
In all this, Adam proved the best of listeners, never suggesting any of it was more than the plain truth. Indeed, the talk was so brisk that it was late by the time the old man left for the short walk to The Black Boys Inn.
Adam was sad to see him go. His loud, good-humoured presence had filled the house, leaving it feeling somewhat empty and cold afterwards. It was with a heavy heart that Adam at last made his way to bed, rather more unsteadily that was usual.
* * *
The next morning Adam’s head ached a good deal. His servants, perceiving their master not to be in the best of humours, went about their business softly and kept as far away from him as they might. They noted that he ate little, but drank a good deal of small ale – sure signs that he had over-indulged the evening before. Fortunately, he was engaged to visit several patients and left the house promptly at eleven. If he did not hear the sighs of relief that followed his departure, he sur
ely should have done.
Whether his patients noticed any difference in his manner none of them said. Adam's way of consultation was always brisk and business-like and he liked to conclude his visits with dispatch. Some doctors spent many hours indulging their patients in discussing ailments and treatment. To Adam's mind, such close attention to their present problems too often encouraged patients to fall into melancholy. He preferred to raise their spirits by speaking and acting as if any current problems might be soon at an end. The mind was, in his experience, the most remarkable power in medicine. Let a person become sure of quick recovery and the chances of it happening were great. Let them dwell on their fears and the outlook became bleaker by the day.
Nevertheless, it was well into the afternoon when he made his way at last to Peter’s shop. His temper was not improved when he found the place shut up and his friend also engaged on house calls in the neighbourhood. One look at his face when he returned home and his servants resumed the furtive movements they had set aside when he left that morning.
Thursday was no better. Adam had to leave early in the morning to visit a patient living almost ten miles distant. He had put if off for as long as he could, for the gentleman, though rich, was a hypochondriac of considerable experience and a niggardly host. Thus he returned in yet another bad temper, for it had proved a wearisome ride and a yet more wearisome consultation. Now there were letters to write and fresh supplies of medications to be gathered together to refill his medical bag. It was enough to try a saint's patience and Adam assuredly did not possess that.
Still, having been forced to set the matter of the archdeacon aside for a time, he did take a small step forward. During this time, when his personal search for answers to the thousand questions that bubbled in his mind had been suspended, it finally occurred to him to write to his mother in Norwich.
As a dutiful son, Adam wrote to his mother regularly with news of himself and his practice. He loved his mother dearly and often worried that she was too much alone since his father died. He had even thought of trying to find a practice in Norwich, so that he might see her more often. His limited means soon put an end to such plans, and he had to content himself with such visits as he could manage. It was fortunate therefore that Mrs. Eleanor Bascom was a regular visitor to both her sons' homes, being still on the right side of her fiftieth year and in excellent health. Nor was she any more content to be always alone than her son was to see her thus. Her last letter had brought the news that she had engaged a companion: a young lady of excellent accomplishment but slender means. She would arrive quite soon to take up residence.
‘Thus she may be viewed and approved when next you visit me,’ his mother had written. ‘But I warn you that any failure on your part to offer her the welcome she deserves will incur my displeasure. I am quite decided that she will prove a dear friend, for she plays the fortepiano with uncommon skill and speaks both French and Italian fluently. I have already warned her that my two sons are rude, untutored men, barely able to speak English and quite without other accomplishments. Thus she will be prepared to endure your next visit with fortitude, if not pleasure.’
Adam knew his mother to be the most sensible and perceptive of women. He thus had little doubt that this female paragon of a companion would prove to be daunting in the extreme. Far from looking to show her a poor welcome, he was becoming nervous that she was quite unlikely to approve of him. His imagination drew a picture of a haughty, sharp-faced blue-stocking, who would take one look and dismiss him as unworthy of more than a distant courtesy.
Of course, he said none of this in his letter. Instead, he complimented his mother on her decision to engage a companion. He assured her he much looked forward to making the lady's acquaintance and would be affability itself when he did. Then, hoping he had occasioned a good mood in his parent with these words, he included a special request. Would she be willing to make some enquiries on his behalf amongst her friends? He assumed many must have known Dr. Ross and his family personally. Might she therefore help him to discover what manner of man he was?
This was nearly the only positive thought that Adam had managed to make in the past two days. He could not sift and make sense of all the information he had on the man's death until he better understood the man himself. What was his character? What were his beliefs? Might there be any clue there to show why he was in Gressington churchyard?
14
Bigotry Made Plain
Friday 15 June 1792, Aylsham, Norfolk
When Friday morning dawned, Adam’s mood had lifted. He had at last accomplished something. A servant would give his letter to the carter who plied the dozen miles from Aylsham to Norwich most days. Thus it would be in his mother’s hand that evening, or the next morning at the latest. He also had a day free from business commitments.
Seeing their master enjoy his usual lavish breakfast, his servants relaxed. Harmony returned to the household. After breakfast, Adam stepped out into watery sunshine to make his way along the street to the apothecary’s shop. He was hoping that Lassimer might have leisure to talk with him and he was in luck.
After a busy week, his friend was making up fresh stock. Adam joined him in his compounding room, where Lassimer assured him that he could listen and work at the same time. None of the remedies he was making contained dangerous contents. None required the most careful preparation.
‘Most are simple nostrums,’ Lassimer said, ‘which do not harm. Indeed, they do little enough good, unless they are taken with total faith in their power. Our bodies and minds are, as I know you agree, closely intertwined. Thus the most feeble medicine may have a powerful effect on those who believe in it without reserve.’
They sat together as the apothecary worked, the room filled with the fragrant odours of herbs and the sharper scents of spices and oils. Lassimer called to Anne to bring them a jug of punch and, if she could persuade the cook, a few dainties to stimulate the appetite.
Once Adam began, Mr. Lassimer’s response to his fresh news was again all any storyteller might wish. The young apothecary gasped, slapped his hand on his thigh and, on several occasions, cried out, ‘Damn me, is it so?’ and ‘The Devil!’ in his excitement. Then, when Adam had finished, he sat in silence. He seemed bemused by all he had heard, the punch untouched by his side. ‘I thought I had news enough for you, but this quite o’ertops it. Spies! Foreign gold! Why, my friend, it is like the tales of adventure I loved to hear when I was still a boy. Not in some far-off land either, but right here on my own doorstep. I am quite dizzy with excitement.’
Adam had had more time to think over all that Capt. Mimms had told him. Thus he was gratified by Peter’s response, but less ready to accept all at face value. After all, these were but rumours. Even so, information that circulated among successful merchants must be worth more than gossip heard in a tavern. Where Lassimer was excited, his own speech was more measured. ‘Is this the answer, do you think? That Dr. Ross blundered into something quite unexpected and was either struck or stumbled and fell as he tried to make his escape? It sounds like enough, but it bears not at all on the great mystery that lies at the heart of this matter. Why was the archdeacon in that churchyard at that time to blunder into anything? Why did Mr. Harmsworthy take him there with so little curiosity about the reason. Why leave him there alone? I can make no sense of it.’
‘Listen to what I have learned, my friend,’ Lassimer said. ‘It is not so momentous as your Capt. Mimms’ discoveries, but may yet play its part. It too bears on events across the Channel.
‘On Wednesday, I paid a call on an elderly clergyman who is a patient of mine. He lives to the south of here, along the road to Norwich. Nowadays, he keeps to his house a great deal, for he is much troubled by the gout. Yet he has kind and dutiful children. From time to time, they take him to their homes in the city to be within reach of old friends and attend sermons and lectures. He is a man of some learning and likes to keep his mind active, even though his body is failing him.
‘He did not know of my interest in the archdeacon’s death. Yet the death itself – and the likely candidates to be his successor – have been topics of considerable interest amongst the clergy. On a chance, I asked him if he had known Dr. Ross. At first, his answer seemed to offer no interest. He had not known the man, for he no longer has a cure of souls in any parish and so would not come to the archdeacon’s attention.
‘All was not lost. He had heard the man preach on more than one occasion. Our Dr. Ross was, he told me, a powerful and combative preacher in several of the city churches, as well as the cathedral itself. His sermons were of a strongly moralising tone. He often castigated the people of Norwich for their laxity in church attendance. He railed against their lives of indulgence and debauchery. He was loud against fornication, whoring and the like. He had a particular hatred of men who indulged in what he called ‘filthy and unnatural perversion’. That he condemned many times.
‘Such was typical of most of the sermons Dr. Ross preached since his arrival in the city. Yet of late – or so my patient had heard – he had preached in a different vein. Indeed, he had himself heard the man speak but a few months ago and noted that his views had become more political and more extreme. Not only did he consign all who questioned the authority of the Church of England to everlasting damnation. He also seemed to have developed a tremendous hatred of the revolution in France. Their rejection of the God-given authority bestowed on the King and the Christian church was, he said, the most rank blasphemy.
‘According to his latest sermons, this rejection of God's chosen is but an aspect of a Satanic plot to destroy mankind. The overturning of proper respect for King, church and nobility, would loose anarchy upon us. Tolerance of dissent or seditious doctrines and writings is but the first step on the road to Hell. Anything that undermines orthodox belief should be anathema. All that stands between us and eternal damnation are the teachings of the Church of England. He issued violent denunciations of all who disagreed with him. Their views, he claimed, would soon bring revolution to England.’
An Unlamented Death: A Mystery Set in Georgian England (Mysteries of Georgian Norfolk Book 1) Page 9