The Barrister and the Letter of Marque

by Todd M Johnson

“Is it a certainty he will take Captain Tuttle’s case?”

  “Unknown. You’ll recall that, after I learned a Lady Jameson, the captain’s cousin, had visited the Inns of Court, I arranged for delivery of a message to dissuade her from retaining any barrister at all. I didn’t know at the time that Snopes was the barrister with whom she spoke. If she persists with legal representation regardless, I can’t say what Barrister Snopes’s inclinations will be.”

  “Yet this recent publication would seem to indicate he’s accepted the representation or is likely to do so.”

  Mandy grew silent.

  “You’ve reassured me repeatedly, Mr. Bristol, that our arrangement regarding the Padget would never come to light.”

  “This is a brief complication, Lord Brummell. Nothing more.”

  “Yet I’m also informed that the discussions between Captain Tuttle and the Crown’s prosecuting barrister, Sir Barnabas, are failing to reach their intended conclusion.”

  “Is that so, sir?”

  “Yes, it is so. Enough of this waste of breath. I want you to speak with Sir Barnabas yourself and ensure that he speaks with Mr. Snopes directly. I want Sir Barnabas to determine if Mr. Snopes is now representing Captain Tuttle. If so, learn whether Snopes will attempt to convince the captain to accept our proposed resolution of the Padget problem. If all that still proves unsuccessful, the Crown will have no choice but to proceed to prosecute the piracy charge.”

  “As you wish. Sir Barnabas will, of course, have to reveal the captain’s location to Barrister Snopes then, my lord.”

  “Certainly. It’s time to do so anyway, before the captain’s disappearance gets out and creates its own rumors.”

  “I’ll see to it, my lord.”

  “Good. Oh, and I want you to prepare stories for our contacts at the newspapers to counter these street books. Degrade this Snopes fellow personally. Paint him as a drunkard—or worse, a traitor to Crown and country. I also want stories running this Padget aground as a traitorous scow full of brigands and thieves. And find some dirt on this Jameson clan as well. Hold on releasing anything, though, until we see the outcome of Sir Barnabas’s meeting with Snopes.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Lord Brummell’s eyes grew flinty. “Mr. Bristol, do you fully appreciate the continued need for secrecy as to the role that I and my partner play in these matters? And how critical it is that we continue to enjoy anonymity from whomever you employ to assist you in your dealings with this Lady Jameson and her counsel?”

  More scolding. Let me get out of this inquisition chamber and about your business. “Of course, my lord.”

  “I hope you do. Now leave me.” Lord Brummell picked up the paper-backed book once more. “I hadn’t quite finished this thing. This Snopes begins to vex me. But if this is indeed his writing, he has a certain flair with words.”

  13

  GRAY’S INN

  THE INNS OF COURT

  LONDON

  Edmund entered William’s office, shutting the door to the foyer behind him. “There’s someone here to see you,” he said. “A barrister.” He set a card on William’s desk.

  William raised it to the light. “Do you know whom we have the pleasure of meeting this morning, Edmund?”

  “I didn’t look closely at the card.”

  “Our visitor is Sir Barnabas Fletcher. King’s Counsel.”

  Edmund’s eyes betrayed his surprise. “He’s a KC?”

  “That’s right. One of the king’s own, appointed to serve His Majesty when called. Do you know how many KCs there are in the entirety of the English bar? Thirteen. Eight of those legal lions are hopelessly past their prime. Sir Barnabas is in the midst of his prime, and I’ve seen him at work in the courtroom. He’s very good.”

  “As KC, he can’t represent any interests against the Crown, correct, sir? So he must be here as either private counsel or on behalf of the Crown.”

  “Yes, Edmund. They’re free to do private work—simply not against the Crown. I can think of no matter we’re handling that would attract the interest of an exalted KC other than the Crown’s prosecution of Captain Tuttle, which means we’ve driven them out of the tall grasses. Bring him in. And leave the sparring to me for now. Don’t speak unless I ask you a direct question.”

  Edmund was nervous, which surprised William. He usually seemed unimpressed or openly hostile to all nobility or those near it.

  Perhaps it was because this nobility consisted of a higher rank in his own profession. The highest, in fact.

  Sir Barnabas followed Edmund into William’s office. Likely in his fifties, he was square-jawed and closely shaved, cheeks pink with the vitality of a younger man. Sir Barnabas greeted William before taking a seat.

  “Mr. Snopes,” Sir Barnabas began, “we haven’t had the pleasure of meeting in a courtroom, have we?”

  “I’m sure that I would remember the experience.” William smiled. “To what do we owe the honor of this meeting?”

  “I’ve learned only today that you may represent Lord and Lady Jameson in the matter of the pirate ship the Padget.”

  William nodded. Where would he have gained that knowledge? Mandy Bristol? Edmund’s visit to Newgate? Each had its own implications.

  “We don’t acknowledge acts of piracy,” William said. “But, at least preliminarily, we’re seeing to the Jamesons’ interests—as well as those of Captain Tuttle.”

  “And this is your junior?” Sir Barnabas gestured to Edmund.

  “Correct again. Edmund Shaw, Esquire.”

  “I understand you’ve recently passed the bar,” Sir Barnabas said to Edmund. “My congratulations.”

  Edmund nodded stiffly.

  “Well then,” Sir Barnabas declared, “to business. I’ve been retained by the Crown to pursue a piracy prosecution of Captain Tuttle and his crew.”

  “I see. Has there been a formal indictment of Captain Tuttle?”

  “Yes. Though piracy cases are ordinarily heard by the Admiralty Court, due to the unique circumstances in this case, the Admiralty Court has waived jurisdiction in favor of the Central Criminal Court, which issued the indictment. You would have been informed earlier except that no one was aware you were serving Captain Tuttle’s interests as counsel. In fact, Captain Tuttle was indicted two days past.”

  You didn’t know of our involvement because the man has been hidden from us, William wanted to say, but withheld. He flashed Edmund a sidelong glance to do so as well.

  “Now that we know of your role, I’ve been granted authority by the Crown for a proposition we hope you will convey to Captain Tuttle.”

  “Which is?”

  “That Captain Tuttle admit his guilt. In exchange, we’ll seek court approval of punishment that avoids the gallows.”

  “What punishment would that be?”

  “Transportation to Tasmania.”

  William looked at Edmund, who was barely stifling a response.

  “And the crew?”

  “They’d be freed, under the presumption they were following Captain Tuttle’s orders. So long as they remain silent about the whole affair, they won’t be prosecuted. If any breathes a word, they’ll all be fully prosecuted, without the good fortune of the option of transportation. I’m confident the court would approve this proposition.”

  William nodded. “Sir Barnabas, are you aware that Captain Tuttle claims he operated under a Letter of Marque from the Crown itself?”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  “Do you acknowledge that, if true, Captain Tuttle and his crew are innocent under the law?”

  Sir Barnabas shrugged. “I acknowledge nothing. If there was any truth to Captain Tuttle’s claimed Letter of Marque endorsed by the Crown, do you think I’d have been retained by that very Crown to prosecute him now? The Letter of Marque is a fiction, and one which does not concern us.”

  “Um-hmm. If that fiction doesn’t concern you, why are you offering an arrangement at all?”

  “Mr. Snopes, the trut
h is that the prosecution would be a messy affair.”

  “Because of the Letter of Marque?”

  “No. Because of the prospect of twenty-one bodies, captain and crew, displayed on the gallows. Guilty or not, that would not be a favorable image for the ruling regent. I’m informed that it would also present a challenge to the Crown Pardon Council, discerning upon whom and how many—if any—to bestow the Crown’s mercy of a reprieve.”

  “Don’t forget the practical difficulty of so many hangings at once now that Tyburn scaffold is no more,” William said matter-of-factly. “I know for a fact that it could accommodate twenty-four, Sir Barnabas.”

  The barrister stared as though trying to confirm if William was being humorous or insulting.

  “Yes, of course,” Sir Barnabas answered at last. “And there is also the matter of the nature of the crime. I happen to represent the Crown and its servants in many cases. This case impacts England’s relationship with France. I’m informed that our regent and his counselors have been able to keep King Louis and the French government mollified and mum about Captain Tuttle’s taking of a French merchantman in a time of peace, but only on the promise that the Crown will prosecute him and his crew. However, with the recent publication of a fictional work about the Padget, a penny dreadful, both the French king and our regent are losing latitude to compromise. Once the details of the piracy reach the streets of Paris—particularly a piracy claimed to have been sanctioned by our own Crown—it will ignite an outcry among the French citizenry, forcing King Louis to action. Perhaps even to war.”

  “Hence the silence in the London papers about the seizure of the Padget?” William asked. “Our good regent’s doing or yours?”

  “I’m not privy to the Crown’s relationship with the press,” Sir Barnabas said with a shrug. “Nor have I lowered myself to speak to the clamoring gossips who’ve titled themselves journalists. Anyway, that’s irrelevant. What is relevant is that higher considerations dictate against fully punishing Captain Tuttle and his crew. Hence my offer and, I’m informed, the willingness of the court to support the offer.”

  Edmund stiffened. William leaned forward to enforce his junior’s silence.

  “In order to consider your offer, you do realize we’d need access to our client,” he said to Sir Barnabas.

  Sir Barnabas’s eyebrows rose. “Access? Have you had a problem meeting with Captain Tuttle?”

  If he was lying, he was much better at it than Mandy Bristol.

  “Sir Barnabas, in the nearly three weeks since the ship’s taking, we haven’t even been informed of the captain’s whereabouts.”

  “Come, Mr. Snopes! That’s no secret. He’s in Newgate Prison.”

  Edmund’s face was on fire now. William felt his own growing hot as well.

  “That’s good to know,” William somehow managed to say calmly. “I do hope that we’ll have no further trouble meeting with him.”

  “I will ensure that you will not, although I confess I’ve already put this proposition to Captain Tuttle myself. If only I’d known of your representation earlier, I would never have spoken to him directly. Do forgive me.”

  “Of course,” William replied evenly, knowing further protest was useless. “Tell me: have you been in touch with the other investors?”

  “Other investors? Whatever do you mean?”

  “It’s my understanding that the Jamesons were not the only investors in the Padget’s voyage. I’m informed a portion of the ship’s profit was to go to a corporation owned by two investors.”

  Sir Barnabas shrugged. “So?”

  “As I asked: have you been in touch with them?”

  “No. Unless you’ve proof that your investors sanctioned your captain’s illegal actions, I’m not interested in commercial squabbles. The prosecution of blatant acts of piracy is my concern.”

  “Then what are your intentions for the Padget—if Captain Tuttle agrees to your terms?”

  “It will be sold to pay damages to the French, of course.”

  “The ship and cargo?”

  “Certainly.”

  “You’d need Lord and Lady Jameson’s approval for that. As the ship’s owners.”

  “Yes. I should hope they’d readily agree. You know that we could try them for piracy as well, since they hired this Tuttle to captain their ship. They should be very grateful there’s been no suggestion of prosecuting them—so far.”

  Edmund took a step forward. William raised a hand to halt him.

  “I must add, Mr. Snopes,” Sir Barnabas went on, “that we will require your clients’ response within two days.”

  William blinked. “Two days? Why?”

  “Because, if I’m unable to achieve a settlement within that period, I’ve been instructed we must proceed to trial, and very soon.”

  “That’s impossible!” Edmund finally burst. “We haven’t had an opportunity to interview witnesses! To prepare!”

  Sir Barnabas glanced at Edmund, unfazed. “That’s what I’ve been informed by Magistrate Raleigh.”

  “Raleigh? At The Old Bailey?” William straightened. “You’re sure he’s been assigned as judge in the matter?”

  “Yes. As with Captain Tuttle’s location, I’d assumed you’d heard.”

  “How could we?” Edmund nearly shouted. “We weren’t even permitted access to our client!”

  Frustrated, William raised a hand once more to silence Edmund. His junior mercifully obeyed.

  “We’ll be requesting a few months to prepare,” William said with an even tone. “Until May at the earliest.”

  “You may certainly seek it. But I believe the judge thinks this matter should be resolved . . . as soon as possible. He appears sensitive to the difficulties this has caused the Crown vis-à-vis the French. He also wishes to quell defamatory beliefs that the public might adopt from the penny dreadful I mentioned. Have you heard of it, by the way?”

  “In fact, I have. A marvelous bit of writing, I’m told.” William stood. “This has been most interesting. But it appears we have some work to do.”

  Sir Barnabas stood and nodded his good day with a light smile.

  When the outer doors had closed shut, Edmund turned to William, livid.

  “An accelerated trial? Curse whoever’s behind this.”

  Still reeling himself, William resisted the urge to admonish Edmund for his outbursts in front of the barrister.

  “That’s not our greatest problem,” he replied instead. “Old Judge Raleigh made his reputation as a hard-nosed barrister in the western counties. Since he’s been appointed a magistrate to The Old Bailey, he’s become a hanging judge of the first order. We’ll get no quarter from him.”

  “This is outrageous! Little chance to prepare. Little chance even to speak with our client. And a KC on the case! You said he’s good?”

  “He’s very good. Works hard and is persuasive. Especially to judges, who wield so much power over the proceedings. I wonder if Mandy had some role in Sir Barnabas’s retention.”

  “But your Mr. Bristol represents the investors,” Edmund said. “Why would he support a prosecution? I can’t even understand why these supposed investors are staying hidden at all. You’d think they’d join in defending the Padget and her captain and crew, if only to protect their profits. If they’d come forward and acknowledge providing Captain Tuttle with a Letter of Marque, then the captain and the lady’s problems would be over.”

  “Agreed,” William said. “But they haven’t. And not yet knowing the investors’ identities, we’re left to explore other avenues of defense. I’m going to start by testing Sir Barnabas’s assurance that we can actually speak with Captain Tuttle.”

  “Mr. Snopes,” Edmund said warily, “you know of my distaste for this case. Still, you’re not seriously going to suggest that Captain Tuttle agree to their terms, are you? You know as well as I that the Tasmanian colony is the worst for transported prisoners—assuming he even reaches there alive. He may be trading one form of execution for an
other. If he’s innocent, that’s a terrible bargain.”

  William nodded. “That will be up to Captain Tuttle. And in making that decision, he must know that he also bears the burden of the risk to his crew if he refuses.”

  “Maybe so. Still, I hope he turns it down.”

  “His choice,” William emphasized again. “I’ll find out when I meet with him.”

  Though in his heart, he hoped precisely the same.

  14

  NEWGATE PRISON

  Standing before the clerk, William refused to acknowledge the chill in the prison entryway. Even his oversized coat couldn’t protect him against it. He stared down at the seated man fitting Edmund’s description, young yet cold as a cod and with a similar complexion. At least he hadn’t denied knowledge of Captain Tuttle this time.

  “Follow me,” the clerk said, standing and motioning.

  They walked down a passageway through locked doors, each manned by a guard, then into the heart of Newgate Prison itself. Striding along dank, stinking corridors between barred cells, William observed whole families—prisoners joined by wives and children—with the walls about them ascending to tiny apertures of sunlight, their only source of illumination besides torches and small coal fires for warmth. Farther along were separate quarters for single men or women, many clothed humiliatingly in rags or worse. The healthy were barely separated from the ill and had little chance of remaining healthy due to the lack of heat. It was, William thought in disgust, the rankest symbol of England’s slow march toward modernity.

  They reached a staircase that descended beyond the reach of sunlight. William turned to the clerk with alarm. “The captain’s in the isolation cells?”

  “Yes.”

  “What violence has he committed?”

  “I’m not the warden.”

  Shaken, William followed the clerk down, their footfalls echoing into darkness ahead, rounding until they reached a subterranean hallway where torches threw shadows across a long row of cells. The clerk led William to a spot only a few cells from the end.

  “This one,” the clerk said and pointed, but he made no motion to unlock the door.