“Might as well,” said Neely, with another shrug.
“Answer yes or no.”
“Awright then, yes-yass, yass, yass!”
“Then,” said Lord Mansfield, ”it will not be necessary for the jury to adjourn, confer, and vote guilty or not guilty.”
So saying, the judge donned the black cap and pronounced the death sentence. Then did he add with no more than routine piety his wish that God might have mercy upon the soul of William Neely. And having said it, he banged thrice with his gavel and called a recess to the court session. When the prisoner was led away, I expected a repetition of the earlier performance of the ladies, complete with crocodile tears, yet there was no such. Mrs. Neely stood, and her companions with her as I, too, made ready to leave the courtroom. I knew not what to say, and so I simply held my tongue, bowing silently and politely as they left.
“He weren’t really so bad,” said Madame Neely to me. ”It was just that he was tryin’ to prove he could make his own way. Boys is like that. They got to prove that they’re grown up-when they really an’t.”
And saying no more, she led her bevy out and up the aisle. She who had winked at me winked at me again and said, ”Come see us sometime. We’re in Tavistock Street. So easy to find.” Then she, like the rest, followed their leader out the door.
I, too, hastened to go, yet I left by a side exit, one which I knew would bring me nearer to the judges’ chambers. Yet there I found my way barred by a court guard.
“Where you goin’, young sir?”
“I have a letter for Lord Mansfield from Sir John Fielding which must be delivered. It is a most urgent matter.”
“Give me the letter, and I shall present it to him.”
“Much as I should like to do so, sir, I cannot. Sir John forbade me to let the letter out of my keeping, except it be to Lord Mansfield.”
“Hmmm,” said the court guard who, bless him, did truly seem concerned. ”Well, I must say you look like a responsible lad.”
“I am Sir John’s assistant.”
“Ah, indeed? You don’t say! Well then, I shall take a risk with you. If you take my place at this door and turn away all who seek exit through here, I shall go to the chambers of the Lord Chief Justice and ask him if he wishes your visit.” He gave me a sharp look. ”Do you accept this offer? It is the best I can do.”
“I accept it gladly.”
”Well and good.” And with that he departed, leaving me in charge.
I took my assignment seriously and turned back two or three during the few minutes he was absent. When he returned with a smile upon his face, I took heart that all was well with regard to my visit-as indeed it was.
“The Lord Chief Justice will see you,” said the fellow, ”for he assumes you would not trouble him were it not an urgent and important matter. You’ll find him third door on your left.”
I thanked him and ran to the door he had designated, beat upon it, and threw it open the moment I heard the invitation to enter.
“Ah, you, is it?” said Lord Mansfield, wearing his scarlet and regarding me in his usual skeptical way. ”I thought it would be. What have you for me?”
“A letter explaining the situation in Deal, my lord.”
“Well then, let’s have it.”
He took it from me, broke the seal, and read. As he did so, his expression changed from mild displeasure (which was his usual) to sudden concern, and on to absolute outrage. By the time he finished Sir John’s letter, he was breathing fire and snorting smoke (I mean that figuratively, of course). He then asked me a number of questions to learn more of events which were no more than mentioned in the letter. Then did he conclude by sitting down at his desk and writing out the document of temporary appointment which Sir John had requested. In addition, he wrote a letter of his own to the Commanding Officer of the Tower, another old chum of his, said he to me with a wink-”actually a cousin.”
“You must take this to Colonel Murray forthwith,” Lord Mansfield continued, ”and he will provide Sir John with a small contingent of mounted troops. Sir John may use them as he sees fit. That should help even things up a bit, eh?”
“Oh yes,” said I, ”that will help considerably.”
The rest of the day was taken up with the delivery of the remaining letters, which entailed a good deal of racing about from one destination to the next. Colonel Murray provided no problem. He simply read through Lord Mansfield’s missive, smiled, and assured me that the requested troops would be provided and should arrive in Deal sometime during the day after tomorrow-or upon that night.
“And where should they report to your fellow, Sir John?”
“To Number Eighteen Middle Street, sir. And if I might make a suggestion?”
“By all means.”
“A daylight arrival and a ride down High Street might be best. A show of force would be in order.”
“Very well, you shall have it.”
Thus I left the Tower in a state of high elation-only to begin what proved to be the most taxing of the errands, which was the delivery of Sir John’s letter to Mr. John Bilbo.
First, I set off for his residence in St. James Street. It was yet early in the day, and so I had every hope of catching him there before he left for his gaming club in Mayfair. Nevertheless, by the time I arrived, he had gone. Nor was Bunkins present to advise me on any change in plans his ”cove,” Mr. Bilbo, might have made for that day. All that could be said was told me by Mr. Burnham, Bunkins’s tutor. According to him, both Mr. Bilbo and Jimmie Bunkins had left together for the club.
And so I went on to Mayfair to find them. By that time, it was into the afternoon. Upon my arrival, I found the crew of cleaners busy at work, preparing the place for its evening opening at seven. A dealer of cards sat in the main gaming room, performing feats of sleight of hand with the deck for his own amusement. I waited respectfully for his attention. When he withheld it, I could do naught but shout for it.
“Where’s Black Jack?”
He stopped and looked me up and down. ”You know him well enough to call him so?”
“I know him well enough-and Bunkins even better.”
“Then you should know where the two of them spend most of their time these days.”
“In Wapping at the dry-dock.”
“Ah, then you do know a little something, don’t you?” He gave me a smirk he may have meant for a smile. ”Well, they’ve just left for Wapping, but the sloop is no longer in dry-dock. It’s in the slip next on.”
“Thank you,” said I as I turned and headed for the door.
“Better see them today, if that’s your intention. They’ll not be about for long.” He called it to my back. Turning, I saw that he had gone back to his amusements. I nodded and stepped outside.
I did not like the fellow. He acted entirely too pleased with himself. I wondered how long he had been in the employ of Mr. Bilbo-and how long he would remain so. He did not seem the right sort.
The prospect of walking to Wapping had little appeal. Footsore and bone-tired from my journey from Deal, I thought it right to travel to my next destination in style: I would take a hackney-one from that line there at the end of the street. Time also was a consideration. Having missed Mr. Bilbo and Bunkins twice afoot, I could not afford to miss them again. Thus, bolstered by logic, I rode.
It was, by any measure, a considerable journey. We hugged the river except near Tower Hill, where it was not possible. Peeking out at the crowded streets, seeing the waves of people pouring this way and that over the kerbs and sidewalks, I wondered how I might find my place among them. As I grew older, I found myself thinking more and more (and not always optimistically) about how I might make my way in the world. It would not be long, after all, until such conjecture must be replaced by action. Jimmie Bunkins and I often talked of this; he was as much perplexed about the possible direction of his own life as I was about my own situation.
In this way do such heavy thoughts often catch us unawares.
&
nbsp; The last part of my ride, which was taken along Wapping Dock, led past ships loading and unloading, fitting and refitting. I looked sharp at the docks and slips along the way that I might not be conveyed past the one which sheltered the Indian Princess. Then, of a sudden, I spied the Bilbo coach-and-four waiting next a dry-dock and supposed beside it was the right slip. I beat loud upon the ceiling of the hackney that the driver might stop where it was proper. He guided the horses over to one side and halted. Paying off the driver, I ran cross the street and up to the slip.
Mr. Bilbo’s sloop lay half in and half out the water at a slight angle, ready to be launched into the Thames. All glistening and new-looking it was from the many coats of varnish it had received. I saw that the tempo of work had increased markedly since last I visited. Where earlier workmen had walked about in a manner near casual, they now scrambled about from one end of the deck to the other. And in the middle of all this stood Black Jack Bilbo, shouting directions and encouragement, reminding them, none too gently, of their obligations.
“If you’re lookin’ to get paid tonight, gents, you’d best finish the job.”
Then did he give his attention to another group, one which seemed not to be performing to his high expectations. ”Work, lads,” he hectored them, ”work!”
And so it went. I watched, fascinated, for minutes as he hammered away at them with threats, a few blandishments, and occasional curses. Yet at last I reminded myself of the business at hand.
”Mr. Bilbo,” I called out to him. ”Permission to come aboard!”
He turned round and looked in my direction, squinting a bit against the afternoon sun.
“Ah, Jeremy, it’s you, is it? Permission granted.”
I made my way carefully across the gangplank, finding that the slight slant of the deck made quite a difference when out on the board between slip and sloop. In any case, I made it across and found Mr. Bilbo waiting at the far end to steady me as I jumped down.
“Good lad!” said he. ”How goes it down there on the east coast? Has Sir John come back with you?”
“No, he sent me back with letters to deliver. One of them’s for you.”
With that, I brought it out and handed it over. From some secret pocket he produced a pair of spectacles and carefully hooked them over his ears. Putting the sun to his back, he broke the seal and read the letter. When he had done, he folded it with a dark frown and tucked it away.
“It sounds bad,” said he.
“It is bad.”
“Well, as it happens, we’ll be leaving here on the morning tide on a run down through the Channel, to Cornwall and return, just as a test voyage, as you might say. Sir John’s asked that I bring you and a pair of his Bow Street Runners with us to Gravesend. I can do that with no trouble at all. He says that he’ll meet us there, for he has something to discuss with me which he’d prefer not to commit to paper. Do you have any idea what that’s about, Jeremy?”
“None at all,” said I.
“Hmmm, well, I’ll find out when we get there, I suppose. In the meantime, you’d like to talk to Bunkins, would you?”
“I would.”
“He’s belowdecks. Go find him. He’ll show you round the vessel. I do believe that he’s as proud of the Indian Princess as I am.”
I took my leave of him and went, as I’d been told, to search out Jimmie B.
Finding him offered no difficulty; keeping him was quite another matter. He was overseeing the finishing touches to be put upon the cabins belowdecks and seemed to be taking his responsibilities every bit as seriously as his cove. And so likewise did he use the same devices upon those doing the work. He railed at some and encouraged others, shook his finger at some and patted others upon the back. Yet it was all taken in good stead, and the work continued at the same furious pace below as on deck.
As Bunkins called the attention of one of the carpenters to a bit of indifferent sanding, I interrupted with a hand upon his shoulder. He whirled about, ready for anything (like the street boy he once had been), but then, recognizing me, he relaxed, laughing, and pushed my hat down over my face.
“Well, Jeremy, how’s my old chum?”
“Right as rain,” said I. ”The cove said you’d show me round the boat.”
“Ship, Jeremy, ship,” he instructed me. ”Vessel, you might say, but it’s never a boat. A sloop’s just too big to be called so.”
“I stand corrected,” said I. It was seldom that Bunkins had the opportunity to put me in the right on matters of proper usage, and it did seem to me that he was belaboring the matter a bit.
“That’s as the cove says, anyways.”
“Ah, yes, well … ahem,” said I, waiting.
He looked at me oddly for a moment, but then the light in his eyes rekindled, and he gave a great, loud laugh.
“You’re waiting for me to show you ‘round down here, an’t you?”
“Well … yes. That is, Mr. Bilbo said …”
”True, but he didn’t know how much more we still got to do down here.”
“Another time, then?”
“Whenever you’re next aboard.”
“That’ll be tomorrow. I’m going to passenger down to Gravesend on the Indian Princess with a couple of the Bow Street Runners.”
“We’ll do it then, I swear.”
And saying thus, he raised his right hand and placed his left over his heart, making it official.
He was as good as his word; that next day, he took me on a quick tour belowdecks immediately as I again set foot upon the Indian Princess. I had come, as I had promised, in company with constables Bailey and Patley. They, who had packed light, tossed the little they had into one of the cabins and went above to await our departure. It was then that Bunkins grabbed me by the wrist and began showing me cabin after cabin, far more than I had expected.
“We put in four extra,” he explained. ”That’s what all that work was yesterday-trying to get them done proper before we sailed.”
The gun deck, where the crew slept, was correspondingly smaller. But then, as Bunkins explained, not so many would be needed to man the sloop if it were to be used for pleasure. As it was, the crew which would take the Indian Princess on its test run was hardly more than it would take to sail a yacht.
“Just a few who sailed with Mr. Bilbo in the old days,” said Bunkins. ”They’re off together on a lark.”
It remained for me to inquire about the gun ports. I had noticed that they had not been sealed, but rather, had been fixed with hinged doors, so that they might still be put to their original use.
“That’s a sort of secret,” said he. ”Keep a dubber mum, will you, chum?”
I promised that I would indeed keep a dubber mum.
There was a bit of a creak from below, another from above, and then there was a curious feeling of floating free; we were launched-afloat in the Thames.
“Come, Jeremy, let’s up and out and watch all London go by!”
And that was what we did, hanging out over the gunwale, near the prow of the ship. A light wind touched our faces, giving to me the feeling that we were hurtling along at a very high rate of speed; whereas we were moving at little more than the speed of the current. Still and all, the buildings and roads on the shore along the way seemed absolutely to flash by at a rate much faster than that achieved by any horse-drawn conveyance.
A few watermen in their boats deigned to wave us a greeting. We waved back most enthusiastically. I know not why-perhaps it was no more than the face of one of the watermen which reminded me-but my thoughts were carried back in an instant to him I had met the day before in Mr. Bilbo’s gaming club. I decided to ask Bunkins about him.
“Jimmie B,” said I. ”I chased about a good long while, looking for you and your cove. And the last place I looked before I came to Wapping was the club in Mayfair.”
“Yes?” said he. ”What about it?”
“Well, there was a cod there, he was helpful enough, told me where to go to find you, but there wa
s something about him …”
“Something you didn’t much care for?”
“Well … yes, that’s right.”
“That’d be Mr. Slade, and truth to tell, I don’t care for him much myself.”
“What’s he doing there? Does he work for Mr. Bilbo?”
“No. You know the cove, he don’t talk much about his business, or his plans for the future, or any such matters, but he’s let it out that this here Mr. Slade has made an offer to buy the gaming club.”
“To buy it? I didn’t know it was for sale. I mean, what’s Mr. Bilbo say about it? Does he want to sell?”
“He says he’s thinking it over.” Bunkins sighed. ”He must take it pretty seriously, though. He’s given him the run of the club whilst we’re gone, so he can see how it works.” He shook his head in a gesture of disapproval. ”I’ll tell you, Jeremy, there’s a lot going on that I don’t understand, but I’ve got the feeling that there’s some big changes coming.” He looked distinctly unhappy.
Neither of us knew his future, and that put a pall upon the present. Even though it was great fun to see London and its eastern villages scattered out along the riverbanks, it did not seem enough to raise our spirits. Yet we entertained ourselves by pointing out each to the other various oddities and curiosities viewed along the way. Thus we passed our time during the comparatively short voyage downriver to Gravesend. There the great river had widened and deepened to the extent that it was possible for Mr. Bilbo, who served as helmsman, to steer in close to shore and drop anchor. Bunkins was called upon to oversee this, and I realized what should have been clear to me yesterday: that he had picked up a good deal of maritime lore and practice and would probably learn more on this voyage and on others like it.
Along the riverbank I caught sight of a hackney coach thundering up the riverside road to meet us. The coach-or perhaps the team of horses-looked familiar to me, as indeed they should have. Yet I could only be sure of who was inside when it stopped and Mick Crawly climbed down to assist Sir John from the interior of the coach. The magistrate jumped down, as he usually did, but Mick was on hand to steady him and made sure he did not fall.
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