Watery Grave

by Bruce Alexander

  The man who stood in the midst of this vast picture was of course the same who had addressed the seamen on Tower Wharf. Yet he did not stand long, but rather shuffled quickly around his wide desk and came out to greet Sir John. They managed to shake hands, embrace, and pound one another on the back all at once —no easy feat, as it seemed to me then. And all the while, they kept up a steady chaunt of friendship, braying enthusiastically at one another of the great length of time it had been since they had last been together; delighting in this opportunity to renew their relation; in short, saying all those things that grown men will when reunited aher a long separation.

  “Yet Jack, who is this lad?” asked Sir Robert.” Is he your son?”

  “No, but he will do until such time as nature provides one. His name is Jeremy Proctor, and he aids me in every way possible.”

  I was so overcome at Sir John’s eulogistic presentation of my humble self that I scarce knew what to say— nor do. I stared so long at him that I near missed Sir Robert’s outstretched hand as it was offered. Yet not completely, for at last I grasped and shook it enthusiastically, if perhaps a bit tardily.

  “I noticed, ‘ said Sir Robert, “that you were quite taken with our view of the Thames, Master Jeremy.’

  “Yes sir, indeed.”

  “Well, just to the right there, the largest ship in sight, is the H.M.S. Adventure, just returned from duty in India. Do you see it?”

  “I do, sir,” said I.” Yes, I do.”

  “Well, that, Jeremy, and that, my dear friend, Jack, is the cause of my problems. But here, sit down, both of you. and I shall make all this plain.”

  He gestured in a rather lordly manner toward a couch which stood against one wall. With a touch at Sir John’s elbow, I assisted him back toward it. We took our places just as Sir Robert began. He proved in the minutes that followed a talker much given to perambulation, pleased to move around and about the grand space provided him as he told his tale. It struck me later that this habit of restless pacing must have been developed on shipboard; this office seemed to serve him as his quarterdeck.

  “1 was much dismayed, ” said he, “when I discovered that my promotion to admiral meant the end of my career on the sea. What I liked most about the Navy was life on shipboard, and now that was all over. I was put in charge of Naval Stores at Portsmouth, made certain changes in accounting and inventory that were helpful, all of which led to my nomination to the Navy Board and my arrival here in London. Now, I am greatly in favor of a strong representation of Navy men on the Navy Board. Matters of acquisitions, supplies, and stores are far too important to be left in the hands of politicians and clerks. Don’t you agree. Jack?”

  “What? Oh? Oh, yes, of course I do.”

  Which was said by Sir John in such a way that I half suspected he had not been paying close attention. That, of course, surprised me no little.

  “Yet when I arrived to begin my duties less than a month ago I was asked —nay, ordered, for I could not refuse —to serve as chief judge on what I was assured would be those rare courts-martial that come to be held in London, rather than Portsmouth, since they deal with capital offenses — piracy, mutiny, and of course, murder.

  “Well, indeed it turns out that such courts-martial may not be all that rare, for what do I find waiting for me but a letter that has been passed from hand to hand and office to office for a year or more. When I read it, I quite understood why none had wished to take responsibility in the matter.”

  At this point the admiral paused, halting his restless feet at one and the same moment. From the way he peered at Sir John he seemed to be soliciting a comment or a question. Yet the magistrate would grant him only a nod.

  “May I read it to you. Jack?”

  “By all means, Bobbie. Is it so difficult a matter?”

  “Sticky, rather, damned sticky. There are so many irregularities, so many questions suggested by what is said that I for one would like to know what is not being said. If you follow?”

  “I may,” said Sir John, “but I cannot be truly certain about that until you read me the letter in question, can I?”

  “What? Oh … oh no, I suppose not. I have it here somewhere. If I may … just a moment.”

  He turned his back to us then and rummaged hastily through the papers piled on his desk. He found the letter in question after a brief search and turned back to us, a pair of spectacles perched upon his nose.

  “It is addressed,” said Sir Robert, ” ‘To him who is judge in His iMaj-esty’s Navy’s courts,’ and it proceeds thusly: ‘Let the Following stand as a formal statement of charges against William Landon, Lieutenant, R.N., who did, upon the evening of April 12, 1767, off the Cape of Good Hope and during a fierce storm, push and propel Captain Josiah iMark-ham, R.N., over the taffrail and into the ocean waters where he did drown himself, such act constituting murder and homicide of Lieutenant Landon’s superior officer. This act was witnessed personal bv the eye of the undersigned, to which he swears by almighty God.’ And it is signed, ‘Lieutenant James Hartsell, R.N., acting captain, H.Al.S. Adventure.’ “

  “Well,” said Sir John, after a moment had elapsed, “it is not ver)’ gracefully writ, but he has got the important points in. If you want my opinion on the matter, it will stand as an indictment.”

  “Except, Jack, for the date attached, which is 25 November, 1767 — near seven months after the event it describes.”

  “And -where was this Lieutenant Landon all that while?”

  (It seemed to me, reader, as it must seem to you, that Sir John was asking questions to which he knew the answers. He must have decided to say nothing of what he had learned of the matter the night before from Tom Durham.)

  “You would suppose, would you not,” said Sir Robert, “that he would have been clapped in irons aboard ship, or cast into some Indian prison for keeping until such time as a court-martial could be assembled there in India —would you not?”

  “Something of the sort, yes.”

  “Well then, you would be wrong —as 1, too, was wrong, for that also was my supposition. This Lieutenant Hartsell kept Landon on as his acting first officer for the Adventure‘?, entire tour of duty. Landon was not notified of the charges against him until the ship was to anchor oft Tower Wharf. Only then was he confined to his cabin.”

  “Most unusual,” said Sir John.” But why, specifically, did this Hartsell make no effort to have the fellow tried earlier in India?”

  “Since shortly after the French War the Royal Navy has had no regular presence in India. The East India CompanN has taken it upon itsell to arm its ships heavily that they might protect themselves and their precious cargoes. Perhaps you were unaware.”

  “And so now those greedy bankers on Leadenhall Street have their own navy, as well? ‘

  “You might say so, yes. But the Admiralty’ was quite willing to let them have their way. We are, as you must know, cutting back our naval force in near every way possible. Not my wish, nor that of my fellow officers, but the politicians have overruled us. However, having lost one or two of their precious merchantmen to pirates, the barons of the East India Company called upon the Admiralty to send a frigate to seek out those sea-robbers and destroy them. The H.M..S. Adventure was the frigate sent. All told, I understand the mission was carried out rather well.”

  “So what you say, Bobbie, is that there could be no proper court-martial in India for want of Royal Navy officers, captain or above?”

  “Exactly so. I did rather lose the point there, didn’t I?”

  “According to the old Articles of War,” said Sir John, “this fellow Hartsell could have tried Landon on the spot, served him up in canvas, and had him tossed overboard — he, after all, being both judge and chief witness for the prosecution. He would not have doubted his own testimony, I daresay.”

  “I daresay. Yet he must have feared others might, for he told me that he felt he had not the power to proceed in such a way, since he was not captain —only acting captain.
”

  “Soyou have talked to him already?”

  “Indeed I have.”

  “And to Landon, as well?”

  “To him, as well.”

  “Well, what do you think, Bobbie?”

  “What do I think? I think it is, as I said at the start, a damned sticky business. I think that Hartsell’s conduct of the matter — the late charges, the fact that he did not immediately relieve Landon of his duties and confine him in some way— leaves him open to question and the charges open to doubt.”

  “And what does Landon have to say in his own behalf?”

  “Very, very little beyond simple denial. But then …”

  Vice-Admiral Sir Robert Redmond trailed off glumly at that point, quite unable to continue.

  “What is the trouble, old friend? Do speak up, please.”

  “The trouble,” said Sir Robert, “is my own inadequacy in this matter, Jack. I know damned little of the law and even less of questioning witnesses, weighing testimony, and so on. I am wholly unprepared for this burden, and I wish profoundly that it had not been placed upon me. Jack, could you —” Again he broke off, but immediately resumed: “As I wrote you in my letter I need help. Could you see your way clear to giving me a hand in this?”

  “In what way?”

  “Well, I have no art in questioning. I know not how to draw a man out, to trip him up, if need be. To you, I’m sure, this must all be second nature. I had intended to go back to the Adventure today to interrogate both men, since I got so little from them yesterday. Would you accompany me—you and the boy? Put questions of your own to them. You know far better than I how it is done.”

  “Bobbie, it is many years indeed since I was on shipboard.”

  “Is that ayes or a no?”

  “A very strong affirmative.”

  THREE

  In which accuser and

  accused each has

  his say

  The same eight-oared pinnace that had conducted the crewmen of the H.M.S. Adventure to shore awaited us there at the deserted Tower Wharf. A petty officer attended us there and snapped sharply in salute at the admiral’s approach. Sir Robert returned it carelessly in the weaiy fashion of high authority.

  “At your command, suh!”

  “There are three in my party.”

  “Right this way, suh!”

  “Jack,” said Sir Robert, “canyou manage the ladder?”

  “I did It earlier often enough,” said Sir John, “and if memory serves me aright, it was done more by feel than by sight.”

  “As you say. Perhaps the lad can precede you and I position you so.”

  “That should work well enough. Jeremy?”

  He placed his hand upon my shoulder, and I led him to the point indicated by the pett)’ officer. It looked like any other spot in sight but for the two ropes spiked down into the timbers of the wharf. I leaned forward right careful and looked down. Sure enough, there was a good-sized boat there bobbing below in the Thames at the foot of the ladder. But it looked to me well filled already with its eight oarsmen — and good God, it did seem a great distance down! Would the ladder hold me? Would it hold Sir John’s considerable weight, as well? It did seem so flimsy—and what if the boat should move away just as I had reached the bottom of the ladder? Perhaps I should tell them I had never learned to swim. Perhaps I should be excused from this perilous exercise altogether!

  “Jeremy?” prompted Sir John.

  “Uh … yes sir?”

  “You simply turn about and find the first rung with your foot,” said

  he quietly.” Then hold on to the ropes with your two hands and go down rung by rung. The men in the boat will pull you in.”

  “Yes, Sir John,” said I, but hesitated still.

  “Turn about now and take my two hands. I shall hold you until you are on your way.”

  And so held by the blind man, I clambered down, feeling my way with my right foot on one of the wooden rungs, then my left. The strength in his hands gave me courage. He knelt, still holding tight, then released me as I sought the ropes with my hands. With my four extremities engaged, I found it all went much smoother.

  I was near down when the ladder suddenly stiffened with added weight. I looked up and found Sir John had begun his descent. There was naught to do but put my faith in the flimsy thing that now supported us both. I scrambled down quick as I could and found myself taken into the brown arms of one of the oarsmen. He said nothing but pointed to a spot forward in the boat where I was to put myself. Somehow, though the rocking of the boat unbalanced me with each step, I managed to find my way to my designated perch betwixt two of the dark crew.

  These, I told myself, must be the Lascars of whom Tom Durham had spoken. The fellow to my right, who seemed not much older than myself and no larger, nodded and smiled broadly, revealing a row of teeth of the brightest white. Nodding, I returned his smile, though I’m sure a bit less certainly.

  Then, a moment later. Sir John took his place behind me, and moments after that Sir Robert and the petty officer descended into the boat. We cast off and were on our way. Though all eight oars were manned by Lascars, and not many were larger than the fellow beside me, we made swift progress toward the Adventure. And as we approached, I saw what I had not before noticed: A flotilla of four or five small boats had preceded us —simple rowboats they were, heavy laden with goods and …yes, women. What could women want aboard a warship? What could a warship want with women?

  Puzzled, I watched as first one and then another of them ascended a ladder tossed over the side, skirts aflutter yet moving with surprising nimbleness.

  “Ahoy, the bumboat!” shouted the petty officer from his place at the tiller.” Pull away from the ladder!”

  “I will,” shouted back the boater, “soon as I’m paid for hauling the bawds.”

  “Pull away, or we’ll ram you proper!”

  Since ours was much the bigger craft, and since we were bearing down straight upon him, he had no choice but to obey the petty officer’s command. That he did, letting flow a stream of curses as he went. For some reason this occasioned great hilarity among the other boatmen and their female passengers. He could but glower in response to their guffaws and giggles.

  The Lascars paid them no heed but pulled up hard against the H.M.S. Adventure in the space occupied a bare minute before by the rowboat. This time I felt not so intimidated by the ladder that hung down and, in any case, wished to get the ordeal over with. I started to rise, but was caught in midmotion by Sir John.

  “Sir Robert precedes us, ” he whispered in my ear.

  Then bellowed forth the petty officer: “Boatswain, pipe the admiral aboard!”

  We waited but a moment until one of those queer tunes was played on a whistle up above us on the ship. And as the last notes died down, I felt the boat shift slightly. Casting a glance over my shoulder, I saw Sir Robert moving up the ladder with admirable agility. Still I was restrained by the hand that remained upon my shoulder. I understood the reason when, after another brief pause, a miniature band of fife and drum started up a martial ditty There would be a deal more of strutting and saluting on deck ere we were allowed aboard.

  “The Nayv’ does love its customs and ceremonies, does it not, Sir John? ” — this in a whisper over my shoulder.

  “All too much,” said he to me.

  At last things quietened above. The petty officer came forward and whispered in Sir John’s ear, who allowed himself then to be led to the ladder. I followed. The next bump of the pinnace against the ship, he was handed the ladder, fixed his foot on a rung as in a stirrup, and started upward. He proceeded confidently, his stick tucked through one of the large buttonholes of his coat. And when he was near the top, the petty officer beckoned me over. He grabbed at the ladder and held it tor me as I mounted —then up I went.

  Though I had farther to go to reach the top, I found it not near so hard going up as it had been coming down. Life on the deck above seemed to have returned to n
ormal. Seamen crowded the rail and called out in rowdy style to those in the little boats that circled behind me beyond the pinnace —from which they were answered in kind:

  “Hey, you, Jolly Jack Tar, I’ve enough spirits to keep you drunk a week, or a month, or aear! ” Another voice: “Rum or gin or beer!”

  “And a woman to share it with,” piped a husky soprano, “who’ll bring you good cheer!”

  “Just look at these bubs, ” cried a fourth.” You’ll hold them ever so dear!”

  Thus they rhymed their pitches and were answered rudely from the deck with catcalls and whistles. It was Covent Garden on the Thames! Indeed, I had no notion of the commerce carried on around and about the great ships anchored in the river. (It continues thus, or so I am told, unto this day, reader.)

  When at last I reached the rail, there was none to help me over, so intent was that gang of seamen on the hucksters below. Yet I threw a leg over and came down light upon the deck with what I reckoned to be good shipboard style.

  There were sounds of music from a lively fiddle, raucous singing, and the clop-clop-clop of dancing from below. Through a large open space in the deck I spied men and women carrying on in most outlandish fashion, cutting figures among the tethered cannon. In no wise had I expected such merriment aboard a warship. The admiral had done nothing to dampen their fun.

  Where was he? Where was Sir John? Not below, surely. I surveyed the level whereon I had dropped and saw no trace of them there, none but common seamen and a few marines. Yet there was a deck above this one to the rear of the ship — “aft, ‘ as I was to learn soon enough was how one said it rightly. There was a narrow stair (“ladder “) leading upward. I hied over to it at good speed and hopped up to the top. My way was barred at that point by another whom I would have called a boy, though he may have been ayear older than me. He wore a uniform that was certainly not seaman’s dress, yet was not quite that of an officer’s. I was not sure, in other words, just who he was, nor what authority he had. However, I was sure that Sir John, Sir Robert, and another whom I took to be the acting captain stood together only a bit beyond him. I wanted past this bothersome boy.