Watery Grave

by Bruce Alexander

  The former, after a judicious bite or two, pronounced it “a good piece of English beef,” adding, “It is near impossible to spoil such a good piece of meat. You chose it, did you not, Jeremy?”

  “I did, yes, sir.”

  “Well done, boy, well chosen.”

  And as for Tom, he seemed quite in a transport of delight.” I had near forgotten how beef in its natural state tasted,” said he, most enthusiastic, “so long have I endured salt beef. Jeremy, do please cut me another, a thick one, eh?”

  Indeed he had finished the first in no time at all. I jumped to my task and cut a whole joint for him.

  “Kate, dear girl, do these boys have wine to wash it down?”

  “Enough, I’m sure, ” said she.

  “Well … fill their glasses. What can it hurt?”

  Resigned, she did as he bade.

  “Let me assure you, Tom Durham, I recall the taste of salt beef— and its texture, as well,” said Sir John.

  “Hard as a rock!”

  And the two laughed heartily together, as if sharing a great joke.

  “Then you, Sir John, ” said Tom, “you’ve been to sea?”

  “Indeed I have!”

  “His Majesty’s Navy?”

  “H.M.S. Resolute, seventy guns, no longer in service.”

  “But tell us about it, sir. When was that?”

  Sir John waved his hand, dismissing the matter.” All too long ago to remember,” said he.” I would far rather know a bit of your experiences. The (/z///Y was detached to protect East India shipping, was it not?”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “But the East Indiamen are armed—well armed —are they not? Can they not protect themselves?”

  “The East India Company asked for help. The Adventure gave it,” Tom declared proudly, “privateers, pirates, frigates, sloops, grabs. What we could not take as prizes, we left sinking, sir.”

  “That sounds a proper report. You must give it me in detail now. But tell me first, Tom, what in the name of God is a ‘grab’?”

  “Ah, well, that will take a bit of explaining, and then a tale to tell.”

  “Then explain and tell your tale.”

  Sir John leaned forward in anticipation, drained his glass of wine, and lifted it toward Lady Fielding for refilling.

  “A grab, ” said Tom, “is a sort of galley — oars and sails —small and lightly armed, much favored by Angrian pirates. Now in itself it is nothing, a few small swivel guns, less than fifty men aboard. Yet they operate in fleets of five or six, sometimes more, along the iVlalabar Coast. They come in alongside under your guns and make to board. They’ve taken two East Indiamen just so. Now to the tale …”

  “By all means the tale!”

  “We were sailing just out from the coastline, at dusk it was —and I not much older than Jeremy here. We rounded a point of land protecting a cove, or a small bay —and we found them waiting for us. Of a sudden there came a swarm of these grabs about us, trom either side, six at least. In no time they were under our guns —only our own swivel guns were of any use at all then.”

  “What, then, did you do?”

  Sir John felt about and found his wineglass. He took a great gulp of claret as Tom held him for a moment in suspense.

  “We fought them, by God, we fought them! ‘

  What followed was a swiftly told narrative of the battle in which bits and details came forth as on a huge canvas which may seem in whole to be all ajumble. Tom gesticulated wildly over his joint of beef with his knife and fork. He cut the air with them, this way and that. He became quite carried away with the telHng of it —the steady musket fire kept up by the marines, the heavy cutlasses handed out quickly to the crew, pistol fire, resolute determination, desperate bravery. Though I had read such tales, I had never heard one told. I was all alive with the excitement of each moment he described. Sir John, too, listened close, held in fascination to the glorious end of it, in which all that had managed to board the Acrenture had been killed or captured. And the grabs from which they had come were burning and adrift in the night — though one or two had got away —and the British ensign flew yet high above.

  Nevertheless, sometime during Tom’s recital I happened to glance at his mother. She was neither excited by the tale nor fascinated by his telling of it. Her jaw was set. Her lips were pursed. Her face expressed an attitude of stern disapproval.

  Thus it was that when at last it was quite concluded, I was not entirely surprised, as Tom and Sir John seemed to be, when Lady Fielding rose to her feet and announced that she was for bed.

  “I’m afraid the powerful sentiment of this day has exhausted me,” said she.” Jeremy, you’ll clear the table? ‘

  I promised and declared I would do the washing up, as well.

  “Good night then, Jack, Tom. Stay up as long as you like. I can see you have much to talk about.”

  We three stood as she departed. Tom stepped to her, bestowed a kiss on her cheek, and whispered a few words to her just as she made her exit from the dining room.

  Resuming our places, we sat in silence for many moments until at last Tom Durham spoke up.

  “I fear I was the cause of that,” said he.

  “Your story?” ventured Sir John.” I thought it a good one.”

  “Oh, the story, I suppose—yet even more, my refusal to listen to her pleas for me to remain here ashore. I mean to ship out again on the A()i’entiire. She thinks she can hold me here by persuasion, and that you, Sir John, will make it right with the Navy. Aline was a seven-year enlistment—and lucky I was to get it. I haven’t thanked you properly for that — I never can. But obligation or no, I would return to the sea. It is the life for me.”

  “Your mother spoke to me of this whilst you and Jeremy went forth after the doctor.”

  “You understand my feelings perhaps better than she.”

  “Oh, I understand very well, ” said Sir John.

  “Your own time at sea, of course,” said Tom.

  “Indeed,” said the magistrate.” Those years were happiest in my memory. But tell me, what has happened to that other lad who shipped out with you on the Adventure? I believe his name was Jonah Falkirk.”

  “It was, yes. I regret to say he fell in the very battle with the Angrians I described. He caught a ball in the throat. Though I was separated from him in the fight, I’m told he comported himself well.” Tom hesitated but a moment; then he added, “I thought it best not to include that in my account with my mother present.”

  “You thought well,” said Sir John.” But hear me, Tom Durham, I’ve a plan to put before you. First, let me ask you, did you return a landsman?”

  “No sir, I was made ordinary seaman shortly after the battle with the grabs. Toward the end, with much of our crew Lascars, I was made a foretopman.”

  “A foretopman, is it? Well, indeed! I think that excellent, Tom. I commend your progress. And it is specifically that I wished to address—your progress. I may have it in my power to beg for you an appointment as midshipman. What would you say to that, lad?”

  Tom Durham was quite overwhelmed.” I know not what to say,” he blurted, then fell silent as he considered the matter.

  “You would then,” said Sir John, “have an officer’s career ahead of you. You would have the advantage of your age, your maturity, and your experience as a seaman on a frigate. But I would not seek tor you a midshipman’s berth until I were to hear from you that you wanted it.”

  “Oh, sir, I want it certain sure, ” said Tom Durham.” You may have no doubt of that. My only concern is this: If indeed you were to win for me a midshipman’s berth, I would not wish to return as such to HM.S. Adventure.”

  “Tom, I understand entirely, and I think your attitude commendable. You would not want to be in a position of modest command above your former mates belowdecks —indeed commendable.”

  “But do you think they would take me as a midshipman with my — with my history?”

  “That is my prob
lem, is it not? Remember, I said I may have it in my power. I make no promises. I had to know, first, however, if you would accept such a boon if it were offered you.”

  “I would, sir, with great thanks.”

  “Then with that step done, I may proceed. I believe, by the by, that it would ease your mother’s mind considerable if you were a midshipman. She no doubt has the mistaken notion that an officer —even the most junior of officers —is safer aboardship and in particular in battle than are ordinary members of the crew.”

  Tom Durham smiled then with knowledge I did not have —and indeed would never have.” No doubt she does, Sir John.”

  “It would ease her mind some — and make her proud of you.” Then, with an emphatic nod: “I shall see what can be done. But again, I have a question, or perhaps more than one, to ask of you.”

  “I shall answer as well as I can.”

  “I am sure you will.”

  He tapped the table, as if deciding from which angle to attack the problem. Whilst he was thus engaged, Tom gave me an inquiring look, which I answered with a reassuring nod of my head. Then at last Sir John began again at the point where he had left us:

  “It is not a usual thing for a ship such as the Adventure to return from near three years in the Orient and dock at Tower Wharf. Do you know why you have come to London and not to Portsmouth?”

  “But a day ago,” said Tom, “I would have said no. Yet last night a most astonishing bit of news ran through the forecastle —near unbelievable, it was. To wit, sir, that one of our officers. Lieutenant Landon, had been confined to quarters and would stand before a court-martial.”

  “What is the charge against him?”

  “Murder — murder of the captain of the Adventure.”

  Sir John seemed somewhat taken aback at this.” Murder, is it?” said he.” And when did this supposed murder take place?”

  “That is a thing that struck us all as most peculiar, sir. The captain was washed overboard in a Fierce storm more than two years ago. It had gone down as an accidental death until now.”

  “And why not now? What has changed?”

  “Little that we know, except that Lieutenant Hartsell has lodged charges against Lieutenant Landon, an officer well loved by all, a decent man.”

  “And who is Lieutenant Hartsell?”

  “Oh, yes, of course, sorry, sir. He is the first officer o( the Arenture and has been our acting captain.”

  “He is not so well loved by the crew?”

  “Lieutenant Hartsell is not so popular,” said Tom, leaving the impression that he could have said more.

  “I see. Jeremy has told me that upon landing at Tower Wharf, the leave party was addressed by an officer of considerable rank.”

  “That was Admiral Sir Robert Redmond, sir.”

  “And he asked that any who know of this matter might step forward. None did, said Jeremy.”

  “For the good reason, sir, that none of us knows anything of it —or so I believe. There were no rumors at the time of the captain’s death, no sly suspicions whispered. This came to us as if from the blue.”

  Sir John said nothing, merely pushed his glass forward to be filled from the bottle of wine which stood nearest me. I obliged him. He sipped at the glass and waited, almost as if he hoped to hear more from Tom. Yet the young seaman apparently had nothing more to tell.

  “It may interest you, Tom,” said the magistrate at long last, “to know that Sir Robert has written me regarding this matter, asking my opinion in it. Yet he was very parsimonious of details. I find, for instance, talking to you, that a charge of murder is involved here. He alluded simply to a troublesome matter aboard the H.M.S. Adventure that would likely result in a court-martial at which he must preside. He and I are old friends. We were shipmates on the Resolute. As I said, he has asked tor my help. What this will entail I cannot guess, yet as a friend I am bound to give it. Jeremy and I will see him tomorrow afternoon at Tower Hill.”

  “We will, Sir John?” said I, quite amazed.

  “Indeed we will,” said he.” I had neglected to mention it to you, I fear. But you are willing to come?”

  “Certainly, sir —oh, most certainly.”

  Not long afterward, whilst their talk continued I made to clear the table, knowing that if I did not attend to it soon, I should be unable to keep my promise to Lady Fielding. The little wine I had drunk had gone to my head, and while it had not made me drunk, it had made me powerful drowsy.

  I shuffled the dishes out, as well as the near-consumed roast, leaving only the wineglasses before Tom and Sir John. As I made my last trip from the table, the young seaman was uncorking one of the bottles of claret held in reserve as he narrated the taking of a privateer along the dangerous coast of Coromandel. He told the tale with the same keen spirit he had shown in telling of the battle with the grabs.

  Somehow I managed to do the washing up, or most of it, for I left some for the morning. And as I dragged past the dining room, I heard them talking still, Sir John joining his voice with Tom’s to question him on some matter of armament, or other such. These were stories Sir John was eager to hear. I had never known him to be so completely in the thrall of another as listener.

  At this distance in time, near thirty years it is as I write this, it seems strange to consider that a matter which caused greater controversy and contention than any of Sir John Fielding’s inquiries should have begun thus, with domestic matters and family considerations — a dinner in celebration and welcome. But it is so that we can none of us tell when or how the great events in our lives will begin, nor if, once they have transpired, they will affect us for good or ill. There can be no doubt but that Sir John himself was deeply touched by the series of happenings that began that day so modestly. He spoke of them ever afterward with great bitterness. Yet in my view, if he lost something, he gained much, as well, for we must always count it a gain when we are given the chance to look upon our lives, take stock, and consider what of our past we should put aside.

  TWO

  In which friendships

  are renewed and

  tested

  I know not the time Tom Durham retired, yet when I woke next morning, I found him my bedmate. Having no need to waken him, I sHpped quietly from beneath the quih, dressed hurriedly, and silently left the room, leaving the door ajar behind me. In all probability I need not have been so careful, for my bed companion slept as sound as any man slept this side the grave.

  Yet I continued quiet down the stairs, shoes in hand, making my way on tiptoe. Most days I was the first up and about. It was my regular duty to set the oven fire for Mrs. Gredge. Due to her sudden incapacity, which was confirmed by the sounds of labored breathing that issued from her room, I had decided that morning to cook breakfast for the household in her stead. Yet who should I find in command of the kitchen but Lady Fielding? She scurried about most efficient, doing all that needed be done in the cause of breakfast. From her progress, it seemed to me she must have been at work near an hour.

  “Am I so tardy rising?” I asked, as I stood before her, rubbing my eyes.” What is the hour?”

  “No, no,” said she, “nothing of the kind. I was early awake and thought to make myself useful, merely —as you did last night.”

  “Ma’am?”

  “The washing up, I mean.”

  “Oh, well, that,” said I, with a shrug.” I do that always for Mrs. Gredge.”

  “I, for one, was most grateful to find the job done. ‘ Then she clapped her hands in her manner of command: “But sit, Jeremy. Eat your porridge. Have a cup of tea. Then, if you will, you may take a tray to our ailing cook.”

  So sit I did and ate my fill, as well. She Fed me bread and porridge, with a dollop of butter for each. And when she put a cup of tea before me, she poured another for herself and sat down at the table to watch me eat. It seemed a curious thing to do. Though it caused me some slight embarrassment, it clearly gave her pleasure.

  “This porridge is ever so go
od,” said I, thinking to flatter her labors.

  “Oh, come now, Jeremy. Porridge is but porridge. You may butter it and salt it, both of which I have done —but there is little more that can be done to lend it savor.” Yet then she added, relenting, “But I vow it is a pleasure to see you eat it with such relish. It was just so that my young Tom used to do not so long ago.” She sighed.” He is not my young Tom now.”

  “Is he so much changed?”

  She bobbed her head most decisively.” Indeed he is,” said she.” Not so much for the worse or better — simply altered so that I scarce know him. I believe that Jack understands him now better than I —and I, after all, am Tom’s mother. You, Jeremy!”

  She gestured broadly at me — pointing.

  What did she mean? What had I done? “Yes, ma’am?”

  “You probably also understand him.”

  “In vhat way?”

  “Well, ” said she, “you must tell me. Can you understand why he is so eager to return to that … that vessel?”

  “The H.M.S. Ai’entarer

  “Call it what you like. Why does he wish to go back?”

  “If I have it aright from what he said, ” I began, “it is not so much the ship that attracts him, nor those aboard, it is rather the life upon the sea that moves him so.”

  “But ii’/py?”

  “Well, ma’am, the physical rigors, the dangers, the chance to prove himself a man.”

  “As a man!” She gave a most joyless laugh at that.” He is but a boy. I do not comprehend, nor have I ever, this pell-mell rush to manhood, this love of danger. It may be,” said she, musing upon the matter, “that Tom nor any other has much control upon it; that at some appointed hour in each boy there is an alarum that sends him off in pursuit of who knows what folly whose achievement marks manhood, be it martial, intellectual, or car — ” She broke off, as if just having come to a realization of some sort.” Jeremy?”

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “I wonder would you do me a special service?”