Ram; being the tale of one Ramillies Anstruther, 1704-55 ..

by Taylor, Winchcombe

  "Sick from wounds. They've taken the wrong man. I was waylaid. I killed one, I think. Who're you and why are you here?"

  The other grinned, showing rotten teeth. " 'Ilary Brahwn, that's me, and I'm the wrong cove too. Said I prigged a gent's ticker—me.' Nah, I arsk yer! 'Tis rare 'ow they trample the rights o' free-born Englishmen. But OF Tupper's easy. 'E won't commit nobody wivout witnesses to the felony. 'E's the Justice of St. Giles' Parish."

  Having incautiously stretched his leg. Ram groaned.

  "Wot's wrong?" Brown bent over him again,

  "My leg—sword thrust." Ram wished he'd leave him alone.

  " 'Ere, roll over; that's the ticket. Cor, pinked yer proper! Let's git yer breeks dahn an' 'ave a look. Wish I'd a kerchief or a bit o' shirt-tail, but I ain't got neither. 'Ow abaht you?"

  To please the fellow. Ram unbuckled his sword belt and his empty scabbard and gingerly drew down his breeches, not without curses as the cloth pulled free of the wounds.

  With surprisingly gentle hands. Brown bandaged the leg with a strip from Ram's own shirt-tail, then pulled up the breeches again. " 'Ow's that? Best git some sleep. Nothin' we can do till they tikes us up afore the beak. Gord, wot I'd give for a swig of 'ot geneva nah!" He crawled back to his place.

  Ram closed his eyes. The rogue was right. If a surgeon wasn't coming, he'd better rest his leg. As for his scalp, the hair had stopped the bleeding, though his head ached monstrously. He dozed.

  During the night he was vaguely aware of someone urinating against the wall near him, of the door being unlocked and a woman, spouting filth, being brought in and chained somewhere.

  Only half awake, the jangling of his manacles made him imagine he was back in the Ahmedpur cell with Baja. God, his head ached!

  "Now then, Captain, we ain't got all day. Up with yer." The red-faced constable was regarding him impatiently. Still barely under-

  standing, he tried to gain his feet, but his now-numbed leg failed

  him.

  " 'E's 'urt," Brown contributed. " 'E's got an ole in 'is stump yer

  could put yer finger fru. Sword frust, 'e said."

  "Serves him right. Murderin' a gent in a public square! Now, Captain, up. His Worship will want to take a look at you."

  With his help, Ram managed to stand. Memory flooded back. "Send for my butler. He'll bring a dozen gentlemen to identify me."

  "All in good time, cocksbody. P'raps he can, but I'll lay you're a notorious bridle-cull, with a price on yer head." The constable unlocked the waistband, but not the manacles. "Come on, and you too. Brown. Aye, and you, Doll."

  Leaning on Brown, Ram could limp and they emerged from their stinking quarters into the anteroom, into which tipstaves were herding more captives from other parts of the roundhouse: two tattered beggars, a still-drunk seaman, a toothless hag who kept threatening to " 'Ave the lor on ye," and two immature street walkers.

  "You come with me, Captain," the constable ordered.

  Feeling now returning to his leg, Ram limped after the officer into the rain-washed day. He hobbled down the steps of the tun-shaped building and across to a harnessed dray.

  "Have a look at your handiwork, Captain." The constable lifted a canvas and exposed a still face. "Know him?"

  Rale!

  "God!" Ram realized his peril. So it was he who'd led the attack!

  "Yes," Perhaps it was the rain that made him shiver. "I asked you last night to send to Mr. Morgan. He knew him too."

  "We sent. Nobody home. House locked up."

  Ram was bewildered. Had he made a mistake, had Annie meant him to go to the lodgings? Yet, if so, her servants would still be in the house. A trap was closing about him.

  The other prisoners were shepherded out by the tipstaves and formed in a file of twos. A crowd gathered to watch.

  "I can't walk on this leg." Ram rebelled at the prospect of being paraded through the streets. "Pray call a coach."

  "Ho, yes? Your lordship thinks I got special lackeys to go with you and leave all these other coves alone? Git into line!"

  "Get coaches for all! I'll pay!" Ram worked a manacled hand into

  his fob. His purse was gone. He tried other pockets. His watch was there, but nothing else. Robbed!

  The constable grinned sourly. "So you'll pay, hey? What with?"

  "This!" Ram showed the watch. It had cost him fifty guineas. "Get coaches and it's yours."

  The man's eyes gleamed, then grew cold. "Stolen property! No, me fine bird. I ain't havin' any. You'll walk," He shoved him next to Brown, where he was chained to the slattern Doll in front and the seaman behind.

  As the sorry party started, the mob followed, hooting ribaldries. Ram's superior dress drew special comment and he was alluded to as "A Notorious 'ighwayman," "The Dasher 'imself," and so on. His head still ached and his leg kept giving under him. His breeches were stiff with blood, as was the side of his face.

  "Coo, they got yer dead ter rights," Brown commented. "Tike a look at 'is nibs be'ind. 'E's carryin' the bloody hevidence."

  Ram glanced back. A tipstaff carried the two bared swords and Ram's gold-headed cane. The dray lumbered in the rear with Rale's bodv. Why didn't they send for Joseph? He'd get Deane, Holton, even Wade.

  "Cheer up," Brown grinned. "Newgit ain't so bad, if yer got the gelt."

  "Newgate? Are they taking us there?"

  "Nah. We're up afore Ol' Tupper, the Beak of Bow Street, like I told yer. 'E's a good cove if yer treats 'im perlite. Only I don't know abart murder. 'E'll 'ave ter commit yer. You ain't no rum cove, cully, I can see that. You don't 'ave the lingo nor nuffink."

  "How do you know about Newgate? Have you been imprisoned there?"

  "Bom there. That's 'ow I gits me nime. Me dad got inter a bit o' trouble, see? So me muvver went in wiv 'im. I was born the day 'e was sentenced—in the 'Ilary Term, wiv an haitch. 'E was topped orf, so there I was, a pore bleedin' little innercent, wivart a farver."

  Ram smiled. Hilary Brown, "wiv an haitch," had clearly not remained innocent long, though his soft brown eyes must have got him out of many a scrape. Soak the terrible sour smell off him and dress him decently and he might be almost human.

  " 'Ere we are, Bow Street," he croaked irrepressibly. "Doll, 'Is

  Worship won't 'arf sling it at you! Bridewell for a month an' twenty lashes, me girl. 'E knows yer. Publick 'ore, that's wot 'e'll call yer. Nah, if you was a bit o' fancy stuff, wiv yer kerridge an' pair, 'e'd dismiss the charges—an' be ahrand to see yer ternight."

  The dolorous line shambled into a building and halted in an anteroom, where the connecting chains were removed. Benches allowed the prisoners to sit. The constable rapped importantly on an inner door with his staff, then went inside.

  Ram felt his head gingerly. There was a puffy swelling around the cut and it felt hot. A surgeon and Joseph; then a lawyer. God damn yellow-hearted Rale! It was all too clear. Smarting under his humiliation at Wade's, he'd stooped to assassination. How to prove it? Who were the knaves with him? Could they be found?

  He became aware that a thin little man in black, with birdlike eyes, was speaking to Brown. Idly he watched them, saw money pass from Hilary to the fellow, who nodded. A few more words with the cockney, and he came over to Ram.

  "Ambrose Kelton, attorney-at-law, at your service," he began in a dry voice. "I hear serious charges are against ye. If you've no lawyer to plead before His Worship, permit me the honor. Your name is?"

  After Ram told him everything, his thin lips pursed. "They'll have to commit ye, Captain. But with money, we can prove you innocent. Know ye a trial barrister? No? Then I advise the very best. I can serve only as attorney. Now, further details."

  "Send for my butler. I need money, a surgeon and clean clothes. I'll give him a draft on Hoare's Bank and you'll have your fee. And find what happened to Mr. Morgan and his lady. They may have been murdered in their bed. Rale also knew Morgan in Hindustan." No need to say Fred had returned to Wales. But this should reveal about Annie.
>
  "At once, sir. But I've other clients here, poor souls. My heart bleeds for the unfortunate, Captain, and I strive to preserve them from their fate. About the rest of your attackers, sir. You think only Major Rale had a sword? Then they were doubtless hired footpads. There's ways of having the stews combed to learn if any rogues have engaged in such a venture. But there'll be a cost."

  "One of the sods relieved me of my purse, else I'd fee you now. But get Joseph here and I'll place a hundred guineas in your hand."

  Kelton's eyes had gone blank when Ram spoke of being robbed,

  but sparkled at mention of the hundred. Used to dragging in an odd shilhng from whores and pickpockets, this was beyond dreams. He didn't ask why the robber had taken Ram's purse and left his watch. Why should he, when some of its guineas were already in his pocket? A quick-fingered lad, Hilary. He'd go far—as far as Tyburn in the end.

  The constable emerged and came straight to Ram. "You," he said crisply. "Murder comes first on the calendar of crime."

  "I represent Captain Anstruther," Kelton stated in his dry voice.

  "Oh, it's you! Think he's a real captain, hey?"

  "I know it, and so would you if you'd eyes. Highway captains don't patronize the town's best tailors and have Hoare's for bankers."

  "Maybe. But he's still killed a man." Yet the constable was less truculent as he took Ram into a room that was presided over by an elderly man in a tie wig. The constable recited the evidence. Ram was questioned; agreed he'd stabbed one of his attackers, though in the darkness he was unaware which. He admitted viewing the body and recognizing it as Rale's.

  Justice Tupper frowned judiciously. "Though you state you were attacked while upon your lawful occasions, I've no option but to commit you to await trial for murder. Even could I do otherwise, there are too many circumstances you don't explain. Why didn't Mr. Morgan answer your knock? Why did your assailants attack you outside that particular house? Why is it now unoccupied? These, sir, are matters to explain when you come before His Majesty's judges."

  An hour later Ram was on his way to Newgate. But he rode in a coach, without handcuffs, though with a tipstaff on either side of him.

  Led into the lodge, he was met by an unsavory crew of two turnkeys and the Four Partners. One turnkey read the warrant of commitment, muttered, "Murder, hey?" and scanned Ram's fine clothes.

  "Master felon," he decided. And to his assistants: "Orl right, me lads, bring 'im to the Stone Hold."

  Ram was taken through a big hall, in the center of which stood a large stone. Prisoners walked or loitered, the chains of their gyves fastened to another chain around their waists. A few turned to watch him, and one very dextrously slipped in among the guards and slid a hand in his pocket.

  "Damn your soul!" His bottled-up resentment exploded as he

  seized the man's throat. The would-be thief gurgled, his eyes protruding. The guards tore Ram away and the victim collapsed, gasping.

  "Savage are ye, me fine cocksparrow?" the older turnkey growled. "We don't permit such goings-on 'ere. Live and let live, that's the motter of this 'ere college. That is, till yer name's on the report an' Jack Ketch sets yer dancin' on air. Come on."

  Ram was shoved into the small Hold giving off the Stone Hall and confronted by walls hung with handcuffs and fetters of all weights and sizes.

  Flint, the senior turnkey, closed the door. "Now, old cock, garnish if you please! Garnish," he repeated, when Ram looked blank, "otherwise chummage. Don't yer unnerstand the King's English? Pay up."

  "I've no money on me. I was robbed last night."

  "Nark it, nark it! Rules is yer pay yer whack—garnish and fees. Also easement of fetters, if ye don't want ter go around with an 'undredweight of old iron."

  "I tell you I have nothing till my butler brings me some."

  The idea of a felon having a butler drew jeers from the Four. "Orl right, if yer won't play fair," Flint growled. "Anson, bring dahn them sixty-pounders and the darbies ter match. It's Middle Ward for 'im. Common felon. An' me thinkin' 'e was a beau 'oo'd want the best!"

  The door was flung open by Joseph and Young Joe. "Captain!" the veteran panted, whipping off his hat. "I didn't have time to collect much, but I've over a hundred and fifty guineas for your honor's use." He glared at the turnkeys. "I take it, sirs, you'll escort Captain Anstruther to the governor at once. He'll require the best accommodation till this miserable mistake's corrected."

  "Ho!" Flint gaped. "Anson, the /ive-pounders an' no darbies! Capting, I'll 'ave to fit yer so's ye can wear 'em at the trial, but not now."

  "Joseph, pay all charges." Ram began to enjoy himself. "No doubt I can be put in a cell by myself and—"

  "Cell?" Flint looked hurt. "Not you, Capting. A room, sir, light an' airy. Let's see." He reread the warrant. "Immediate trial. Sessions is on, so ye won't need a room more'n a week—well, three at most if—er, if things don't go quite to yer likin'. Thirty guineas a week

  an' all found. Luxury, sir, 'pon honor. You military gen'men deserve the best, I alius says."

  "Pay him thirty guineas, Joseph," Ram said. "I hope you've got a surgeon. I need—"

  "Surgeon?" Flint interposed. "You don't need one from outside, Capting. Skinner, away an' bring the surgeon to Ward Three this instant." And again to Ram. "Now, sir, be kind enough to see if these 'ere luvly light fetters fit yer snug an' comf'table."

  They did, but were left behind with the Partners—actually only trusted prisoners—when Flint escorted Ram and his servants up to the second floor, where he unlocked a door and ushered them into a passable room, with fireplace and ample furniture.

  "I'll 'ave a female felon come in an' do fer you, Capting. She can bring yer food an' drink, and I'll pick one wot's clean an' younglike." Flint departed.

  Ram eased himself onto the bed and only then did his people realize how much he'd been hurt. They reacted differently: old soldier Joseph estimated the amount of blood lost and decided no great harm had been done, but Young Joe paled.

  "Your honor's hurt bad!" he gulped. "Oh, lud, where's the surgeon?"

  "Silence!" his father growled, "Give me the portmanteau, then go bring hot water in quantity. Away!" As the lad scurried out, he opened the bag, took out fresh linen and a complete suit and said quietly, "Now, sir, let me help you out of those foul things."

  Ram told him the full story. "So, I fear the Company will do their best to hang me," he concluded. "Without witnesses, who's to prove I didn't lie in wait for Major Rale, instead of him for me?"

  "The chairmen!" Bland exclaimed. "Peg-Leg, sir, he engaged 'em outside our very door. Perchance they're regulars to the square."

  Kelton arrived, ushering an elegant young beau, and he was followed by a man with a black bag.

  "I've labored hard for ye. Captain," the attorney panted. "Permit me to present a brilliant member of the bar who's consented to accept your brief. Captain Anstruther, Mr. William Murray."

  "Ye've a good Scots name." Murray bowed, being from Perth himself.

  "Yorkshire, sir." Ram was furious. The barrister looked younger

  than himself. How could he know enough law to defend a man's life?

  "I expect to serve you as junior counsel only. Captain," Murray explained. "I'd suggest we get Sir Joel Lark. A brilliant orator, sir, and tigerish in pouncing on his opponents' errors. But let me stand aside while this person attends you." He signed to the surgeon.

  "Tobias Snellgrew, sir, late Surgeon's Mate in His Majesty's Navy," the latter bowed. "Ah, penetration of the right thigh, I perceive. We'll have to cauterize it. Most dangerous else."

  Mr. Pitt, the governor, now arrived, and with him the prison's surgeon, a rubicund little man named Kane, also carrying a bag. The two bone-sawyers bristled at each other like terriers.

  Mr. Pitt was honored to have Ram as a "guest." Why not, when thirty guineas a week was as high as he'd received since '16, when the Scottish rebel leaders were lodged in Newgate? "I'm yours to command, sir," he glowed upon leaving, where
upon Young Joe led in some odoriferous prisoners, carrying a large tub and jugs of hot water.

  Kelton was urging Murray to get Ram's trial deferred. "He's wounded," he pointed out. "And we must have time to find witnesses who'll prove our client's innocence." Also, delay would raise his fees.

  Yawning delicately, the barrister said Sir Joel must first be consulted. "If he accepts the case, 'tis as good as won." He lowered his voice. "Is it sure Mr. Anstruther can retain counsel such as Sir Joel and—uh, me? A laced coat often hides empty pockets."

  Kelton was shocked. "Sir, I was at the Nabob's great house in St. James's Square not two hours since. Besides"—he produced paper, quill and inkhorn—"he's ready to draw bills for us at once."

  Murray winced at being joined by "us" to this seedy fellow but, reassured, wondered if there had been any friendly witnesses; whereupon Kelton rejoined that for a few guineas there were dozens who'd swear to the Captain's innocence.

  At the moment the "Captain" was screeching. Surgeon Kane maintained the gluteus medius had been penetrated, his Navy colleague insisted it was the tensor fascaie latae; so, to decide, they thrust a probe excruciatingly through his wound. Though neither surrendered his conviction, they stopped the new bleeding and combined to deal with his scalp wound. At last they had done and, fortified by neat

  brandy, he fee'd them and could turn his attention to his legal advisers.

  Kelton undertook to have the stews and dens scoured for Rale's henchmen. "If they've not fled, we'll find 'em. I —er, I've ways."

  " 'Tis Morgan and his lady," Murray declared. "Find them, and if their testimony's favorable, the Crown's case goes down in defeat. Captain, d'ye know reason for their absence? Didn't they expect you?"

  Ram dared not mention Annie's note and when asked where Fred's new mansion was, he could only say it was somewhere in Flintshire.

  "There'll be as many Morgans there as Campbells in Argyle."

  "Not Morgans lately back from India," Ram reminded. He wrote an order for 300 guineas for Murray, 100 for Kelton and 500 for himself. What use was money unless it could save him from hanging?