Watery Grave

by Bruce Alexander

  “Here, you, “said he to me, “get down where you belong. Such as you is not allowed up here unless summoned — as you should well know.”

  Not merely his words but his manner, as well, were most arrogant. I sought to explain just who I was and why I should be allowed to join those I had come with. He gave no ear whatever to what I said, but simply thrust out his chin and continued bullying at me in a low and threatening tone of voice:

  “A landsman, are you? Just pressed into service? Call me Mr. Boone and be sure that I shall make life aboard ship hell for you if you do not get belovvdecks damned quick.”

  “But you do not understand” said I.” I am not one of your crew. If you would but listen to —”

  “Must I thrash you on the spot? I’ll have you cobbed. I’ll … I’ll…”

  Then he signaled his intent by setting his jaw and raising his two open hands before him. Just as he leaped at me across the three feet that separated us, I jumped neatly to m’ left, leaving an empty spot where I had been and a free passage down the narrow stairs—which he took, headfirst, then heels over head, tumbling quite uncontrollably to the bottom, where he lay in a moaning heap.

  Though I found it difficult to feel great sympathy for him, since he had clearly intended to put me down on the deck in a similar state, I did regret the incident and hoped blame would not be put to me. However, I was quite unprepared for the response of the crewmen. They gathered round silently. Then, as he attempted weakly to rise, there were a few giggles from the crowd, one right hearty guffaw, then suddenly all joined in and the ship rang with laughter at Mr. Boone’s misery. They came from belowdecks to see, and then these, too, became quite panicked with hilarity to see the boy struggling painfully to his feet. None moved to help him. I could only surmise that young Mr. Boone was not much loved by the crew.

  “What is this? What has happened here? ‘

  I looked up and tound, standing beside me, that officer I took to be the acting captain—which is to say, the author of that statement of charges which Sir Robert had read aloud to us. He was, as the admiral, of a rubicund complexion but appeared to be in a high emotional state, as if choleric by nature. Tall he was, as well, with a loud, commanding voice.

  “He seems to have fallen down the stairs, sir,” said I, all innocent.

  He gave me a sharp look but made no reply to me. Instead, he addressed himself to the crew: “You men, leave off that laughing. It is goddamned unseemly is what it is. ‘

  The merriment ended more sudden, even, than it had begun.

  “Now, tAA’o of you—you and you— ” He pointed them out of the crowd.” Help Mr. Boone down to the surgeon.”

  “No longer with us, sir,” spoke up one of the designated helpers.

  “Then take him to the surgeon’s mate, you fool!”

  “Aye-aye, sir!”—with a salute.

  And then, suddenly solicitous, the two seamen gently brought Mr. Boone erect, and he hobbled off between them toward belowdecks.

  With that, the acting captain turned abruptly on his heel and in a few long strides returned to Sir John and the admiral. I trailed along after him and quietly took a place next Sir John. I felt his hand grip me strong upon the shoulder. I was certain I should have some explaining to do.

  “I suggest,” said the acting captain, “that we continue our discussion in my cabin —that is if you are agreeable.”

  Sir Robert murmured his assent.

  “Mr. Grimsby,” said—yes, his name was Hartsell, as I remembered at last —“send down for one of the other midshipmen to take Mr. Boone’s place, will you?”

  At that request, a young officer stepped forward, whom I had not before noticed. He seemed to have stood apart from the rest, as if to distance himself from the discussion.

  “I’ll attend to it, Mr. Hartsell,” said he.

  “Gentlemen?”

  All moved forward as Lieutenant Hartsell showed us the way, Sir John and I bringing up the rear. As another, even narrower stairway presented itself, my blind companion kept his hand firmly upon my shoulder. Just as we were about to descend, he held me back a bit.

  “Hadyou anything to do with that?” he whispered sharply.” Didyou push that midshipman down the ladder?”

  “Sir John,” said I, “I give you my word most solemnly that I did not touch the fellow.”

  He hesitated but a moment. Then: “I accept that, Jerem”

  Then a pat on the shoulder and we began our descent.

  “Careful here, sir, it is quite tight.”

  “You need not tell me,” said he.” At your age I had walked many a ladder such as this one. I allow, though, I was closeryour size then than mine today.”

  We were brought into a cabin, the first of a few along a very narrow corridor, which by shipboard standards was most spacious. It was the captain’s cabin, which. Lieutenant Hartsell explained, he had occupied since the death of Captain Markham. There were chairs enough for all, but out of respect to Sir John, I chose, rather, to stand beside him, as if in attendance.

  “Now that we are seated here in the privacy of your cabin, Mr. Hartsell, ” said Sir Robert, “I wish you to repeat the story as you told it to me the day past.”

  “Must I?” He sighed.” It is all put plain in the Statement of Charges.”

  “Nevertheless.”

  “Ah, well, as you will. We were hit by a gale a day out oi Cape Town so that our position was direct south of the Cape of Good Hope. And-”

  “If I may interrupt you at this point,” said Sir John.” I noted when Sir Robert read your Statement of Charges against Lieutenant Landon, while it was specific in most particulars, it was curiously vague as to your exact compass position at the time of this lamentable occurrence. In fact, none at all was given. Why was that?”

  “Indeed you have interrupted me,” said Lieutenant Hartsell most coldly.” I will allow the interruption and answer your question if you will tell me on whose authority you ask it. You were introduced to me. Sir John Fielding, as the Magistrate of the Bow Street Court. Since these events occurred many thousands of miles from London, I cannot, for the life of me, understand what interest you should have in them.”

  With that, the acting captain of the H.M.S. Ai’entiire folded his arms and waited for a reply. For his part, Sir John sat with a tolerant smile upon his face and waited also for the reply, for he knew that indeed it must come from one other than himself.

  Vice-Admiral Sir Robert Redmond cleared his throat a bit senten-tiously. At last he spoke up: “Sir John is here on my invitation,” said he, “and you may accept it that he speaks upon my authority. He is an experienced investigator in criminal matters.”

  “But this is a matter for a naval court.”

  “And the matter is murder, which is most certainly an act criminal in nature — I’m sure you agree. So please answer the question, Lieutenant Hartsell. I am curious about it myself, now that it has been raised.”

  “Very well then. A compass reading was taken at the beginning of the day, April 12, 1767, and recorded in the ship’s log. As the day went on, the storm increased in intensity until it reached full gale condition sometime in the afternoon. The waters off the Cape of Good Hope run high even in the best weather, as you know. Sir Robert, and we were fighting waves of near ninety feet. The Adventure laid along so perilously on that fateful day that we were moving horizontal port and starboard through most of the worst of it. We were taking on water. There was no opportunity to take a second reading to mark the event under such conditions — though I allow it should have been done. There was no reading taken, in fact, until next day when the storm had abated. We had made virtually no progress on our course, for most oi the time we were simply riding out the storm.”

  “Quite understandable,” said Sir John.” But tell me, Lieutenant Hartsell, was the captain on deck during all this —that is, during the worst of the gale?”

  “No, he was not.” The reply came in a somewhat guarded manner.

 
“And where was he?”

  “In his cabin —in thu cabin. Captain Markham was ill. In fact, he had been ill through most of the voyage. I acted in his stead a good bit of the time. He trusted me to do so. I held the rank of captain myself during the last two years of the French War.”

  “Oh?”

  “Reduced in rank in order to remain in the service,” said Sir Robert.” Only the best were kept. Lieutenant Hartsell was captain of a frigate at twenty-six. He, better than most, could wait out such a reduction. His record during the war and after has been exemplar)’.”

  “I’m sure it has,” said Sir John.” But I am curious about Captain Markham’s belated appearance. When did he make it? Why did he make it?”

  “I sent for him. It seemed to me we were about to lose our foremast. I wanted his judgment as to whether we should take it down. I was reluctant to make such a decision on my own. In the event, it held — though it showed splintering. We replaced it in Bombay.”

  “Was that what Captain Markham counseled?”

  “I had not the chance to talk to him before he —before he was pushed overboard.”

  “How was he summoned?”

  “I sent Lieutenant Landon for him.”

  “Mmmm. Interesting. And he returned with him?”

  Lieutenant Hartsell had begun to show signs of exasperation at Sir John’s close questioning. I had little doubt he would show more as this line continued. Sir Robert, though he had little to say, seemed quite upset by all that passed between them.

  “Yes, after some delay they made their appearance. That was when —”

  “Beg pardon if I interrupt again, but at what hour was this?”

  “Him’ .ihoulc I kmnv? Good God, I had my hands full just keeping the Adventure afloat. I had a foremast I feared might not last the blow. I had a hundred separate causes for concern. The least of them, you may beHeve me, was at what precise hour and minute the captain made his appearance on the poop and was pushed into the sea by Lieutenant Landon!” This was deHvered in such a state of agitation that Hartsell was near panting by the time he got it out. But, recovering his composure, he added: “Put it in the afternoon, midafternoon, whatever that might be in shore time.”

  Sir John nodded thoughtfully.” Very well,” said he, “put it at that. Yet what concerns me is just how, when you were in the distracted state you have just described, you could be so certain of the actyou saw Lieutenant Landon commit.”

  “Well, Sir John Fielding, let me tell you what I saw.”

  “No, I think not,” said Sir John.” It would be far better iyouj/yowec) us. With your permission. Sir Robert, I should like us all to return to the poop deck that we might see a demonstration.”

  “What? Well, I … ‘ Caught off guard somewhat, the admiral fumbled a bit before agreeing that it seemed quite a good idea to him.” No time like the present I always say, eh?”

  And so we returned the way we had come —Sir Robert leading the way this time, we following, and Lieutenant Hartsell bringing up the rear. Once on the poop deck, the other two looked to Sir John for directions.

  “Now,” said he to Hartsell, “willyou fix as near as possible the place you occupied on the poop when you observed Lieutenant Landon commit the alleged act?”

  “I was not on the poop. I had been, but I went below to the quarterdeck.”

  “Oh? Then you were not verv near.”

  “I was near enough.”

  “Well and good. Let us go down to the quarterdeck. Find your position there then. Jeremy, you stay here, and play the role of Lieutenant Landon. But who can play Captain Markman? There is another officer here on deck, I believe?”

  The officer detailed earlier by Hartsell stepped forward.

  “Yes, sir. Lieutenant Grimsby —at your service.”

  Sir John turned in his direction with a smile of welcome.” Ah yes. Lieutenant, would you be willing to take part in our little charade?”

  “Of course, sir.”

  “Verv good. If you will then remain here on the poop with my young assistant, Jeremy Proctor, we three vvill descend to the quarterdeck.

  and Lieutenant Hartsell will place you two according to his memory. Does that satisfy all here?”

  Although Hartsell offered no disagreement, his objection to this exercise was writ plain upon his face. Nevertheless, he brought them down and after a false try or two, chose a place for himself on the right (“starboard”) side of the deck up close to a cannon.

  As this action took place, the crew left off its banter with the bum-boats on the river below and quietened down. They looked on at a distance, evidently mindful of the meaning of all this shifting and moving about there on the quarterdeck. Mr. Grimsby and I watched, as well, ready to play our roles as we were directed. That came soon enough.

  “Now, Mr. Hartsell, if you will tell our two actors where to go?”

  “Over here, close,” said Hartsell, “at the corner of the poop nearest the starboard ladder.”

  We moved to the place he had appointed. Mr. Grimsby knew precisely what was meant.

  “Next the taffrail,” added Hartsell.

  We stood then close to the polished rail that rose as a barrier and ran all around what they called the poop deck. I noted that the starboard ladder just to my left was the one where I had met Mr. Midshipman Boone and down which he had tumbled.

  In level distance, Hartsell was no more than ten feet away, perhaps less. Yet standing on the poop deck, we were elevated a good six feet above him.

  “In which direction were you facing, Mr. Hartsell?” asked Sir John.

  “Why, towards them, of course.” Yet he stopped and considered.” I see your point,” he added.” No, as they approached the point where they now stand, I was facing for’d. But, wondering at their dela3’, I turned, and that was when I saw them just as they are now.”

  “Just as they are now?”

  “No, no, of course not. Captain Markham had his back to the taff, and as I looked. Lieutenant Landon thrust out with both hands and sent him straight into the sea.”

  “Amazing,” said Sir John.” But the taffrail presents a considerable barrier, does it not? It would not be easy now for Jeremy to push Mr. Grimsby into the Thames.”

  “Yes, but we had laid hard along to starboard. The two were near horizontal at that moment.”

  “As you were, too.”

  “Certainly, as I was, too. I had grasped onto this eighteen-pounder to hold myself steady.”

  “Tell me, Mr. Hartsell, as you mentioned before, the approximate time all this happened was midafternoon —that being the case, what were the conditions as to light? I take it the sun was not shining?”

  Hartsell threw a wild look at the admiral, as if questioning Sir John’s sanity.” With all due respect, sir, have you ever been in a full gale on the sea before?”

  “As it happens, yes, I have.”

  “Then you must know how deep dark it gets. It was almost as night in the daytime.”

  “And it was raining?”

  “Yes, dammit, it was raining.”

  Sir John remained silent for a good long moment, and when at last he spoke, he did so in a deep, resonant tone that could be heard by all: “Then, sir, I question that you could see anything at all as clearly as you say. Let me remind you of what you have said. It was near as dark as night. Rain was coming down. And you viewed the poop at an angle so queer that you yourself were holding on to a gun to keep from going over the side yourself. How can you be so sure?”

  Hartsell hesitated not a moment, but spoke out clear that all might hear him too: “I saw what I saw.”

  “Jeremy!” the magistrate called to me.” Are you still up there with Mr. Grimsby?”

  “I am, sir,” said I.

  “Extend your hands against him, as if to push him overboard. But leave them so, in that position.”

  I did as he told me. Perhaps carried away by the moment, I landed with a mite too much force against Mr. Grimsby.

 
He let out an “Ugh!” and whispered, “I do believe you coulpush. me into the river, boy. Ease off a bit.”

  That I did and whispered my apology, though keeping my open palms against his chest.

  “Is it done so?” Sir John inquired.

  “Just so,” said I.

  “There then,” said he to Hartsell, “look upon that, if you will. That must approximate what you say you saw, sir. Could Lieutenant Landon not have been reaching out to Captain Markham to pull him back? Could his mtention not have been, rather, to save him?”

  To that Hartsell did no more than repeat: “I saw what I saw.”

  An angry murmur started among the crew. Sir Robert heeded it, frowning, and murmured something in Sir John’s ear. In response, Sir John did naught but shrug.

  “That will be the extent of our questions, ” said the admiral to Hartsell.

  “I should hope so. Will you require anything more of me?”

  “As it happens, yes, ” said Sir Robert.” In these extreme circumstances, I must request that you hand over the ship’s log.”

  “That will be put in your hands ere you leave the A(henture. Am I dismissed then? I wish to return to my cabin. This has, as you may suppose, been most trying.”

  “You are dismissed with my thanks, Lieutenant Hartsell.”

  Saying nothing to Sir John, Hartsell saluted the admiral smartly and made for the poop deck, avoiding Mr. Grimsby and myself by choosing to ascend the port ladder.

  “Jeremy? ” Sir John called out.” Would you come down here a moment? And Mr. Grimsby, if you vill remain where you are.”

  And so it was. Mr. Grimsby, a friendly sort by any measure, gave me a pat on the back and a “Good fortune for you, ” as I left down the ladder. Sir John awaited me, somewhat apart from the admiral. I went to him, and he pulled me close.

  “Jeremy,” said he to me, “I wishyou to position yourself behind the helm and tell me if you can see all or any part of iMr. Grimsby.”

  “The helm, sir?”