Watery Grave

by Bruce Alexander

  “Jeremy, there is one more thing you probably should know.”

  “What is that, sir?”

  “The admiral who came up from Portsmouth to serve upon the court-martial board brought with him promotion papers for Lieutenant Hartsell. He is hereafter to be known as Captain Hartsell.”

  “But what does that mean, sir? That is, coming at such a time as this?”

  “Indeed, what does it mean? Why, among much else it means that throughout tomorrow’s proceedings he will be referred to and addressed as ‘Captain.’ Any reminder that during the action covered by the court-martial the accuser and the accused were of the same rank will be erased. It means that all of Hartsell’s decisions are certified as justifiable and right in retrospect. It means that by the means of this promotion the proceedings have been weighted hopelessly in favor of the prosecution. It means that Lieutenant Landon has not a chance in this world. It means they intend to hang him. That has been foreordained. ‘

  All this was said in a quiet voice, as if explaining to me one of his rules of court. Tears welled in my eyes. I dabbed at them, glad that Sir John could not see.

  “How can they do that, sir? That is not justice.”

  “He’ll get no justice from the Navy.” He sighed deeply, then gestured toward the door.” But on your way, Jeremy. We’ll talk of all this sometime in the future.”

  And indeed I went on my way, though my heart felt quite as heavy as my feet on that long walk to Tower Hill. As must surely be evident to you, reader. Sir John Fielding was to me at the age I was then something more than a hero and little less than a god. To see him despair so, to see him defeated, made me near as sad as to contemplate the fate of Lieutenant William Landon. That he be distressed and angry as he had been yesterday seemed far better than to see him in this state. Surely something could be done, would be done, by him.

  To arrive at the Navy Board thus in such a sad and listless state in no wise prepared me for the reception I received there. I found, first of all, that without so great a personage as Sir John by my side I was made to feel not near so welcome as before. When the boatswain at the door heard I had a letter for the admiral, he demanded it from me. Yet I would not give it. It seemed so likely that he, a large man, would grab me by the scruff of the neck and take the letter from me that I retreated quickly some steps away from the door.

  “Here, you, boy, come back here with that letter. Give it me.”

  “I was instructed by him who sent it to put it in the hands of Admiral Redmond, and in his hands only.”

  “And who is that who sent it?”

  “Sir John Fielding, Magistrate of the Bow Street Court.”

  Whether it was the name, the title, or the office that impressed him or the concatenation of the three —whatever it may have been —the boatswain relented and, leaving the door open, tempted me inside with a promise to send me upstairs with a seaman to the admiral’s office. He was as good as his word and appointed one of the three lounging about as my guardian to the floor above. Once at the admiral’s door, there took place agam that strange ceremony of knocking and shouting back and forth through the door. When at last it opened, the lieutenant was there, frowning at me most critically.

  “What is it you want, boy?”

  I had anticipated a wrangle with Mr. Byner over possession of the letter, yet in the event, it lasted longer than I could have expected, certainly longer than was necessary. And all this was carried on at the very threshold of the office; I was not invited inside nor did my guardian leave me there. All the while, too, I heard a hum and hubbub of voices inside raised in jovial discussion behind the closed door that led to the admiral’s private office.

  At last the lieutenant saw he could neither bully nor wheedle the letter from me; and so, signaling to the seaman that I was to remain where I stood, he left me and went to knock lightly upon the admiral’s door. A moment later Sir Robert Redmond appeared, listened to his lieutenant, looked at me, and nodded. Yet in that moment, with the door briefly open, I heard something that quite chilled me.

  The admiral came forward to me. Between the time he had first made his appearance and his arrival at the threshold, his face had gone quite somber.

  “I believe you have a letter for me from Sir John.”

  “Yes sir, I do. And here it is.”

  So saying, I pulled out the letter from my pocket and laid it in his open hand. With a nod, I stepped back and showed my intent to go.

  “Wereyou not told to wait for a reply?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Well, though I have not read his letter, I have one for him nevertheless. Tell him for me that I deeply regret losing his friendship over this matter, but duty dictates, and I must obey.” He looked at me most severely.” Do you have that?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You may go.”

  And indeed I went, quite distancing my assigned companion on the stairs and running out the door to the street. I did not even pause to shake the dust of the Navy Board from my shoes, though I thought to do it, for what I had heard when the door to the admiral’s office was opened still sounded in my ears. The words did not matter, for they were a mere fragment of a sentence — “… though some may find it so” — followed by laughter from others. It was the voice in which they were spoken that gave me such upset: a nasal drawl it was. and unmistakably that of Lieutenant, now Captain. Hartsell. His promotion was cause for celebration, of course; the toasts were drunk in the admiral’s office.

  When I reached Number 4 Bow Street. I was glad to discover Sir John away, gone out once again on one of his mysterious errands, this time in the company of Mr. Fuller. I had no sh to add to his burden by telling him what I had learned. And by the time I did see him at dinner that evening I had decided to say nothing of it at all. I merely delivered the message the admiral had given me for him. He listened. An ironic smile played upon his lips.

  “Duty dictates, eh?” said he.” No doubt in the voice of some lord — an earl, a baron, perhaps the Lord High Admiral himself.”

  We all sat round the table in the kitchen. Tom’s eyes met mine. His mother’s rested uneasily upon Sir John. For her part, Annie seemed happily oblivious of the nature of the silence that hung over the rest of us, or perhaps she wished only to divert us.

  “I used something new for flavor in the chicken stew,” she announced in a spritely manner.” They call it papricker, or papricka, or some such. Walked down to the spicemonger’s on the docks for it. I saw your ship there, Tom. Twas pointed out to me. Looked ever so big.”

  “It is big, Annie,” said he, “though many are bigger.”

  “The chicken is quite wonderful, Annie,” said Sir John.” Nothing helps so much as good toed to raise the spirits when they are low.”

  “Thank you, sir.

  “Jeremy?”

  “Yes, Sir John?”

  “I shall need you with me a good part of the day tomorrow. That letter you delivered to Sir Robert was a request to be given permission to attend the court-martial. Though it is certainly not a trial open to the public, he will not deny me in this — notwithstanding the finding of that message he had you deliver to me. Oh, I am sure he will find room for us there.

  In truth, reader. I had no wish to attend and could not suppose why he had decided to do so. If it was as certain that Lieutenant Landon would be found guilty- as Sir John had said, then why be witness to such a miscarriage of justice? Why be present to see him wrongfully disgraced? Yet of course I had no choice in the matter. If I was needed, of course I would go.

  “Certainly, sir, I shall be ready whenever you wish.”

  Silence reigned once again at the table. Annie’s chicken stew may have raised Sir John’s spirits, but it did nothing to uplift mine. I dipped a bit of bread in the sauce and chewed it idly, tasting it not at all.

  Tom cleared his throat in a manner most tentative. Then said he: “I reckon that Sir Robert will not be of much help now in getting me an appointment as midshi
pman.”

  “No, Tom, I would say we can count on little from him now in that regard.”

  “But Jack, “wailed Lady Fielding, stricken of a sudden by the import of what he had just said, “that is terrible! Does that mean Tom must return to the ship with that man as captain?”

  “All that is uncertain now, Kate. You must leave it that I will do all that I can to help the situation.”

  “All that you can? You have done all you can to help that lieutenant, and you now say it is likely — even sure — that he will be found guilty.”

  “Kate, I will do all I can for Tom. More I cannot promise.”

  “That isn’t good enough, Jack. That man will learn Tom’s relation to you —if he doesn’t know that already. He will punish him for it. He may have him killed. He may —”

  At that point she broke off, rose from the table, and threw down her napkin. She was quite near tears.

  “No, Jack, that isn’t good enough.”

  She left the room then, marching up the stairs to their bedroom. Sir John heard her go. He shook his head sadly as if at a loss as to what he might say.

  Then: “Tom, go up and see what you can do to comfort your mother, will you?”

  “I will, yes sir.”

  There were but three of us at table after Tom had left. Annie and I exchanged looks; she rolled her eyes in such a way to express alarm.

  “Would anyone like more chicken?” she asked.” There’s ever so much left.”

  The trial by court-martial of Lieutenant William Landon for the murder of Captain Josiah Markham, both of His Majesty’s Ship Adventure, commenced promptly at nine o’clock at a hearing room known to Sir John in Whitehall.

  Besides Vice-Admiral Sir Robert Redmond, the panel of judges consisted of Rear Admiral Charles Semloe, on permanent duty in Portsmouth Naval Stores, and Captain Thomas Bender, of the H.M.S. Brutal, a ship of the line recently anchored at Portsmouth. An unidentified lieutenant, who looked quite young, assisted the judges by reading aloud what had to be read, and keeping a record of the proceedings in shorthand at a small desk off to one side.

  The accused was present of course, as was his counsel, Lieutenant Richard Byner. The accuser was also present, in the company of Midshipman Boone. So, too, were a small number of observers and interested parties seated there. Apart from Sir John and myself, all but one were junior officers in uniform —“sent by their superiors,” Sir John muttered to me; he who was in plain dress—well clothed, properly be-wigged, and in age about fifty — may have been a civilian member of the Navy Board, again according to Sir John. These, except for the trio of marines who had two days before brought Lieutenant Landon from the Tower to Sir Robert’s office, were all who were present in that room in Whitehall. Yet they filled it, for it was not large — no more than twenty-five feet by fifteen — and as that July morning wore on, the place became close and exceedingly warm.

  Vice-Admiral Sir Robert Redmond called the proceedings to order and introduced the other two judges. Then, at a nod from him, the anonymous young lieutenant stepped forward and read the statement of charges against Lieutenant William Landon. It was quite remarkable. The crudely written indictment of no more than a paragraph in length that had been framed nearly a year before in Bombay by then-Lieutenant Hartsell had grown in length so that it covered ten foolscap pages and took near a quarter of an hour to read aloud. Yet in substance it said the same thing: that in the course of a storm of unusual proportions Mr. Landon had pushed Captain Josiah Markham overboard into the waters of the raging sea, where he had thus, necessarily and inevitably, suffered death by drowning.

  Sir Robert then directed Lieutenant Landon to stand.

  “Have you heard the charges?”

  “I have, sir.”

  “And how plead you, guilty or not guilty?”

  “I plead absolute innocence in this matter.”

  “Guilty or not guilty?” repeated the admiral.

  Lieutenant Landon hesitated; then said he in a voice so quiet it struck us in the back row as nearly inaudible: “Not guilty.”

  Then was Captain James Hartsell called. He stood from his chair and strode in a confident manner to the table whereat the three judges sat. Clasping his hands behind him, he stood lacing them, his back to us. After identifying himself as “the present captain of His Majesty’s ShipAdventure,” he launched into the tale he had told that day aboard the Adventure, yet told it with an ease that suggested repeated rehearsal and told it, as well, without the challenging interruptions Sir John had earlier made. (Quite unintentionally, Sir John had strengthened Hartsell’s account, for where he had found inconsistencies previously, these had been artfully covered over so that as delivered to the panel of judges, there was a smoothness to it as to a report of established fact.) Thus, so polished was Hartsell’s performance that the body of his testimony lasted a comparatively short time —compared, that is, to the statement of charges, which was longer in the reading than his was in the telling. He concluded with a curt nod of his head but remained standing in the same posture, available to the judges for whatever questions that they might have.

  Captain Bender of H.M.S. Bristol whispered something to Sir Robert and received what seemed obviously an affirmative reply. Then said he in a most commanding voice: “Captain Hartsell, you mentioned in your account of these events that upon seeing Captain Markham go overboard in those high seas, you put a boat over the side to seek his rescue. Was that wise? Could he have been saved?”

  Hartsell remained silent, head bowed for a moment, as if carefully considering his reply.” Probably it was unwise on my part, ” said he, “for it resulted in the loss of four men and a boat. Could he have been saved? I know not the answer to that, nor can I be certain that I even considered it when I gave the order to drop the boat, for my only hope at that moment was to rescue one of the finest officers and grandest men it has been my privilege to serve under. I knew him but a short time, yet I profited greatly by his wisdom. At that awful moment when I saw Captain Markham pushed into the sea, I simply refused to accept his loss.”

  “I quite understand, Captain Hartsell, ” said the questioner.” Thank you for your frank reply.”

  And Sir John, beside me, gave a great “Hrrrumph! ‘ causing a number of heads to turn our way. Let them gape, thought I, but if they only knew all which that man who addressed the court had done, they would recognize that such rank hypocrisy as he now mouthed was the least of his sins.

  “I have a question for you, Captain,” said Sir Robert.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “There is a considerable discrepancy between the date upon which you have said these events took place and the date upon which you wrote the letter reporting him. Further, I have searched carefully through the ship’s log, which is here before me in evidence for the examination of the others on this panel —I have searched carefully through it, I say, and find no mention of the captain’s loss as homicide, neither on the date which it took place, nor any time thereafter. How do you account for a delay of months in reporting so grave a matter? And why was no mention made of it in the log of the Adventure?”

  I give Sir Robert Redmond credit. It was a proper question, one that demanded answer in any proper trial procedure. Hartsell had dismissed it earlier when it was put to him by Sir John, saying that he had to be certain in his own mind of what he had witnessed. That, I was sure, would seem a weak answer to put before any court, even this one, yet I could not have conceived of the mendacious manner in which it would be given support.

  Far from causing evident difficulty to him who was asked it, the question seemed almost to give him pleasure, for Hartsell had a ready reply. Said he: “To answer first the question of the ship’s log, it seemed not a fitting place to record more than the loss of Captain Markham, which I did enter there. The ship’s log is not secure and cannot be kept secure. The other officers, and at that time there were three besides myself, had occasion to consult it and occasionally as deck officers make
entries. Had I kept a diary —and kept it under lock and key — I would have noted it there, but such has never been my habit.

  “Now,” said he, continuing, “as to the greater question of delay in reporting the matter, I brooded over what I had seen for quite some time, asking myself if I had truly witnessed what my eyes told me I had. As has been pointed out to me, a swift movement to pull the captain in could be seen as a swift movement to push him overboard. I considered this possibility and for a period I would say that my feelings in the matter amounted to more than suspicion and less than absolute certainty. What was prominently missing was any reason why Mr. Landon might so want the captain dead that he would attend to the matter himself. I could think of none. But then I was approached by one of the midshipmen. He told me that —”

  “I must interrupt you, Captain Hartsell,” said Sir Robert.” Was that midshipman who approached you Midshipman Albert Boone?”

  “It was, sir.”

  “And is he here to testify?”

  “He is, sir.”

  “Then let us hear from him what he told you. We shall call him as the next witness. I take it that what he communicated to you gave you a greater sense of certainty in the matter?”

  “It did, sir.”

  “Well and good. Then we shall hear it and better understand, ourselves.” Sir Robert seemed about to dismiss Hartsell when apparently struck by something suddenly remembered.” Ah!” said he.” I believe this is the time that I ask the counsel for the defense if he has questions for Captain Hartsell.”

  Sir Robert looked up and about the room.” Mr. Byner?”

  “5uh!”

  “Have you questions?”

  “Suh?”

  “For Captain Hartsell?”

  “Oh no sir, none, sir.”

  “Very well, then. Captain Hartsell, you are dismissed. Will Midshipman Albert Boone come forward?”

  He did come, a slight swagger to his walk. He seemed inordinately proud to have a part in matters as serious as these. He looked about the room almost arrogantly as he made his way forward, seeming to falter only when his eye caught that of Lieutenant Landon. Boone looked away quickly. Mr. Landon continued to follow him, staring openly at him even after the midshipman had assumed the place of Captain Hartsell before the panel of judges.