Watery Grave

by Bruce Alexander

  “You’d best ride up top, Jeremy,” said Mr. Perkins, “ft may be a bit rough inside.”

  Then he, too, ascended into the coach and slammed the door after him.

  The footman, quite unknown to me, gave me a hand up and made room on the seat. The coachman urged the four horses into motion and we were off—I knew not where.

  A small crowd had gathered to gape at our departure.

  TWELVE

  In which an end is

  at last put

  to the matter

  The coach, I was quite amazed to learn, was Black Jack Bilbo’s. Four horses pulled it. The compartment below contained seven at that moment—though perhaps not in great comfort. My seat above, praise be, was equipped with a strong handle that I might grasp to keep myself from flying high and wide off the seat and onto the cobblestones, for the driver hurried the horses on to Mr. Bilbo’s residence.

  All this I learned from the footman who rode beside me. He was a jolly sort, all “begod ” and “bejesus, ” as he shouted out to me all the preparations that had been made by the “cove of the ken.” Quite proud he was of their part in the successful abduction of Hartsell and Boone.

  The driver reined up the horses before the great house.

  “Down you go, lad, ” said the footman.

  I started my descent, feeling with careful feet for each rung below.

  “We’ll be right here a-waitin’.”

  By the time I reached the pavement, half our company was inside. Mr. Bailey pushing Hartsell forward with no difficulty, and Mr. Perkins followed close behind, gripping Boone by the collar. It was remarkable how swiftly the two culprits had taken on the appearance of common street criminals now that they were in the hands of the law: Hartsell had lost his tricorn in the coach, and his wig was askew; Boone was whining and squealing as loudly as any seven-year-old might.

  Sir John paid them no mind. Assembling the rest of us, he moved forward with my help through the open door. Black Emma and the innkeeper from the Green Man close behind. Mr. Bilbo was there at the door and slammed it shut once all were within.

  “Right down at the end of the hall, Sir John,” said he.” I believe you know the way.”

  “I do indeed, sir. Come all, and follow me.”

  He led our procession, sure enough, wishing no guidance from me, running his stick along the wall on the left until he came to the open door.

  In the room, the constables waited with their prisoners, so Mr. Marsden also waited upon Sir John’s arrival. A sufficient number of chairs had been ranged about facing the large desk. In one of them sat a familiar figure, puffing on a pipe; Old Isaac it was, and beside him, arms folded and a frown upon his face, sat Constable Cowley.

  Mr. Marsden hastened to Sir John’s side and moved him up to the place that had been prepared for him at the desk. The two sat down side by side and conferred.

  “Come, Jeremy, take this chair next me, and we shall see this through together.”

  It was Mr. Bilbo pounding the chair beside him; I took it, and looked about to see if others of his household had come to witness these proceedings. There were none. The door to the hall had been shut tight.

  “If you’re searching for Bunkins, you’ll not find him, ” said Mr. Bilbo.” I sent him off on an errand that should keep him the rest of the morning. The rest I told to keep away. Sir John wanted this kept private.”

  “Secret?”

  “Private, was what I said.”

  Sir John Fielding beat thrice loudly on the top of the desk with the flat of his hand. What whispering there was in the room ceased.

  “The Bow Street Court will come to order,” said he in a proper, solemn tone.” We meet here in special session on this day, the twenty-fifth of July, 1769, at Number Twelve St. James Street for to hear testimony on a single matter. That which is before us now is the murder of Tobias Trindle, able seaman late of the H.M.S. Adventure, just after midnight two days past. The acting captain of the Adventure, formerly Lieutenant and now Captain James Hartsell, has been detained in this matter. Will he come forward now?”

  Hartsell remained seated, grasping tight to the arms of his chair.

  “Captain Hartsell, come forward,” repeated Sir John.

  Mr. Bailey, beside the prisoner, rose and ripped him bodily from his place as easily as he might a bird from his perch. He marched him up to Sir John at the desk and held him there.

  “Captain Hartsell, you will save us considerable trouble if you now admit your guilt in this matter. So tell us now, prisoner, how do you plead? Guilty or not guilty?”

  Now somewhat recovered and thus emboldened, Hartsell declared: “I do not plead neither, for I do not recognize this court. I am an officer in His Majesty’s Navy and can only be tried in a naval court-martial.”

  “Captain Hartsell, you may not recognize this court, but this court recognizes you, for the crime for which you have been detained was committed within its jurisdiction and be you admiral or general, it is all the same. One who is accused of a crime committed in Ivondon will be tried by a London court. I will explain, however, that this court will not try you for the said crime of murder. It will but weigh testimony and evidence to determine if they be sufficient for you to be bound over for trial in the felony court at Old Bailey. So now I put it to you again: How do you plead? Guilty or not guilty?”

  Hartsell remained most belligerently silent.

  “Mr. Marsden, put it down that the prisoner refuses to plead, but we shall continue as if we had heard a not-guilty plea from him. Return, Captain Hartsell, and Midshipman Albert Boone, come forward.”

  Boone did not resist. He came hopping eagerly to the desk.

  “Not guilty,” cried he, impatient to be asked.” I only done what he told me to, sir, and he’s my captain, so I had to do it, sir.”

  “Not quite so impetuous, Mr. Boone. Let me inform you of the charge on which you have been detained and explain it to you.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You are supposed to have aided and abetted Captain Hartsell in the murder of Tobias Trindle, to have acted as his accomplice in it. Now, to have been so involved in a capital crime is itself a capital crime — that is, punishable by death. Now, having heard, how do you plead? Guilty or not guilty? ‘

  “Not guilty, sir, not guilty, for as I said, I only done what he told me.”

  “Return to your place. Now, Mr. Marsden, call the first witness.”

  The clerk called Isaac Tenker —Old Isaac, as I knew him —and the weathered seaman approached Sir John somewhat less than confidently. The story that he told confirmed Tom Durham’s suspicions. He admitted a bit shame-faced to Sir John that after he had told me in general where we might look to find Tobias Trindle, and with whom, he had been visited in the Fleet Prison by Midshipman Boone, to whom he had given the same information.

  “Exactly the same?”

  “Not exactly, no. I told him as how ol’ Tobias said something about lookin’ for the black woman at a place downriver called the Green Man. I would we told your boy the same, except I only remembered that part after I talked to him.”

  “Such a pit” said Sir John.” Mr. Trindle might be alive today, had you remembered. But tell me, Mr. Tenker, why did you tell Midshipman Boone anything at all? Had you special fondness for him?”

  “Uh … no sir. It was just, y’see, he said he had come on the authority of the captain, and he was speakin’ for the captain, and a man can’t go against his captain, now can he?”

  “I find no need to answer your question,” said Sir John, “and so I shall ask you to return to your place. Mr. Marsden, call the next.”

  Call him he did, loud and clear: “Seth Tarkin, come forvvard.”

  The name was unfamiliar to me. Yet I was not surprised to see the innkeeper of the Green Man rise and take the place before the desk vacated by Old Isaac. His part in it I knew already, for Constable Perkins had threatened it out of him in my presence. He told willingly to Sir John what he had done: t
hat for a bribe of a guinea (twentv’-one pieces of silver, not even thirt)) he had told “that man there” (Hartsell) not only where to find Black Emma’s lodging house, but the exact location of her lodgings, as well (“top floor, last on the left”).

  Sir John did not discuss with him the propriety of his act. He simply asked him if Captain Hartsell was alone when he entered the Green Alan to glean this information from him.

  “No, sir, he weren’t alone. That boy there was with him.”

  And with that, the innkeeper turned and pointed direct at Midshipman Boone.

  “That will be all. Mr. Marsden, call the next witness, please.”

  “Constable Oliver Perkins.”

  Constable Perkins came up and explained that he had, with me, toured a great number of inns and gin-houses in the district, and on information given him by another innkeeper, returned to the Green Man.” I persuaded Mr. Tarkin to tell me the same that he had told the earlier visitor. He also told me that there /pac) been an earlier visitor, only a few minutes past. Young Mr. Proctor and I hurried to the location. I instructed Mr. Proctor to go to the back, whilst I would enter through the front.”

  “Alay I ask, Mr. Perkins,” said Sir John, “what was Mr. Proctor to do to stop the … visitor should he have made an exit through the rear— which, as I recall, he did.”

  “Nothing at all, sir. I told him merely to call out to me, should he come. I told him to stay hid. It was a very dark night, sir.”

  “I see. Continue.”

  “Well, sir, when I was halfway up the stairs and running, I heard what was a pistol shot, most certain. I hurried on my way, my pistol out, then saw a figure leap through the door I was headed for and out the back. He must’ve got a surprise there because there was no stairs in the back — they’s rotted away. With me behind him, he had no choice but to jump. When I appeared, he took a shot at me, and I fired back at the flash.”

  “Thus accounting for the three shots heard by the inmates of that lodging house.”

  “Yes sir. Well, he ran. I jumped down and ran after him, first instructing young Mr. Proctor to go to the room of that woman to see what had been done and to secure it.”

  “Those in the lodging house said the boy who had come down the hall ordering them back into their rooms wielded a pistol.”

  “Ah, yes sir, before I sent him into the lodging house, I gave him the pistol I had fired —empty, of course.”

  “Of course. It would not do to give a loaded firearm to a lad so young. Go on, Mr. Perkins.”

  “Well, Sir John, I gave chase, though there was no sound of steps to follow. There was two ways to take, and I must’ve took the wrong one, for I lost the trail.”

  “I see. And where would the other way have taken you?”

  “Toward the river and the Tower.”

  “Well and good, Mr. Perkins: I believe I shall have Mr. Proctor take up the story at this point.”

  Just as I was making to stand up, Mr. Bilbo grasped my arm and whispered in my ear, “I believe we’re off the hook, lad. My thanks to Mr. Perkins.”

  I returned his wink as Mr. Marsden called out my name.

  “Now, tell me, Mr. Proctor,” said Sir John to me, rather severely, “after you rampaged through that lodging house threatening its residents with an empty pistol, what did you find when at last you entered the room at the end of the hall?”

  Thus I told him what I have already told you, reader, and no need to repeat it now. My testimony was brief, and Sir John did not ask me to enlarge on any part of it. I described the condition of the body of Tobias Trindle. I described the condition of the room. He ended my part of the tale at the appearance of Black Emma.

  “Call her, Mr. Marsden,” said Sir John.

  “Emma Black, come forward now.”

  She rose but remained reluctantly where she stood.

  “That ain’t my name,” said she most firmly.

  He looked down at the paper in his hand and back up at her.

  “It is not your name?” said he.” Well, what is?”

  “Black Emma,” said she.” It’s the only one I ever had.”

  He frowned at that, leaned over, and entered into a whispered discussion with Sir John. Then, with a nod to him, he returned to her.

  “Would you care to choose a surname now? ” asked the clerk.

  “You mean a name like Smith, or Jones, or Tatersby? ‘

  “That’s right.”

  “Well, I ain’t sure.” She thought upon it for a moment.” Say my name like you said it before.”

  “Emma Black! ” Though he did not shout it, he let it ring out a bit.

  “I like that well enough. Leave it so.”

  “Then come forward, please.”

  That she did, and if Hartsell had previously held some hope that the weight of testimony against him was not so great (for neither Mr. Perkins nor I had claimed to see the face of the man who had fled), then it was dashed utterly by the recital of Emma Black. From her perch on the chamber pot, she had seen a man enter the room, pistol in hand. He stepped over to the bed where Tobias Trindle slept and, putting the barrel of the pistol close to his forehead, pulled the trigger. She heard the loud report of the shot. She saw Trindle s body jump convulsively and sprawl across the bed. She saw his murderer then turn toward her hiding place and pull out another pistol. But, hearing the approach of another, he turned away and ran swiftly out the door.

  “How was the man dressed?” Sir John asked her.

  “It were not easy to tell, sir, ” said she.” He had on a black cloak that covered him, shoulder to boots. But when he pulled out that other pistol, I did see the flash of something could’ve been a brass button.”

  “I see. Then there was light in the room?”

  “One candle was burning, my side of the bed.”

  “Could you, by the light of that single candle, see his features clearly?”

  “I could, sir, for when he bent over Toby to do his nasty act, the light from the candle showed his face clear.”

  “So you then saw him well enough to identify him now?”

  “Oh yes, sir, indeed I can.”

  “Is that man here in the room now?”

  “He is, sir. He is sittin’ right there.”

  And turning, Emma Black pointed directly at Captain James Hartsell.

  “Thank you, Miss Black, that will be all.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  With that, she curtseyed, after her fashion, and returned to her chair.

  “Prisoners, come forward again,” Mr. iMarsden called out.

  And forward they came, Boone quite willingly, and Hartsell somewhat reluctantly though not forced; they were accompanied by Mr. Bailey and Mr. Perkins. Sir John was most solemn in mien and demeanor as he waited upon them and then addressed them once again.

  “Captain Hartsell and Midshipman Boone,” said he, “as you have heard, there is more than sufficient testimony to bind you over for trial in felony court. Have you now ani:hing to say? Mr. Boone?”

  “Just what I said before. I only done what he told me.”

  Hartsell turned and gave Boone a withering, contemptuous look. Yet Boone was not withered; he returned a defiant look of his own.

  Sir John, who was quite naturally oblivious of this unspoken exchange, simply inclined his head in the direction of Captain Hartsell and asked if he now had anything to say.

  “I have nothing to say,” responded the captain, “for the reason that I do not recognize you or the authorit3. of your court over me.”

  “We have already discussed that. You are obviously not averse to repeating yourself. I, however, am. The governor and warders of New-gate jail will now have authorit)’ over you until the time of your trial — and, no doubt, for a short time afterward. You may argue your position with them, if you like. Do not expect them to be sympathetic to it.

  “Midshipman Boone, since you seem to feel yourself a victim of the captain and apparently w4sh to end your association with him,
I shall help you make a first step in that direction by sending you to the Fleet Prison, rather than Newgate. It is principally a prison for debtors, and they may treat a lad of your years more gently than would the hardened criminals who make up the better part of Newgate’s population.”

  “Oh, thank you, sir, thank you,” wailed Boone.

  “Don’t mention it,” said Sir John, in an expression of generosity somewhat tinged with irony.” Now, Mr. Bailey and Mr. Perkins, you will accompany Captain Hartsell to Newgate forthwith. Mr. Cowley and Mr. Proctor will see Midshipman Boone to the Fleet and return Isaac Tenker there, as well — but not until a bit later, for I have matters to discuss further with the midshipman. The rest of you may now go with my thanks. Mr. Marsden will provide you with a shilling each for your return to your lodgings in a hackney carriage. Yet please remember that you will be called upon to testify when the date of the trial is set at Old Bailey.”

  By the time Sir John Fielding had done with Midshipman Albert Boone he not only had from him an agreement to testify against his captain, which he gladly gave in exchange for Sir John’s promise to recommend transportation for him, rather than hanging; he had also secured his signature on two copies of a document written out by Mr. Marsden in which he freely admitted that he had given perjured testimony in the trial by court-martial of Lieutenant William Landon.

  The trip to the Fleet Prison in Mr. Bilbo’s coach-and-four was quite uneventful, save for Constable Cowley’s frequent yawns, which put me in fear that he might doze off and the two prisoners might take it in mind to scarper; since he was armed and I was not, there was little I could have done to prevent them. Yet Mr. Cowley, in spite of the fact that he had spent the night patrolling the streets of Westminster, managed to keep awake the length of the drive. And in truth, neither Old Isaac nor Boone showed any inclination toward bold action. The seaman grumbled sullenly on and on that he would now be held as a material witness after his chums had been let go; while the midshipman said ne’er a word, so plunged into gloom was he by the contemplation of his future.

  The transfer of the prisoners to the warders at the gate of the Fleet was managed without incident. As instructed, I told them that Sir John had specified that Boone be kept separate from the other prisoners from the H.M.S. Ac)ventiire; and I was assured that his wish would be respected. There was left naught for Mr. Cowley and me then but to be returned in great style to Number 4 Bow Street. He had to be shaken there from a deep slumber, for he had given in to sleep the moment he had reentered the coach and settled again upon its soft cushions. But upon our arrival he came awake and staggered down. We called our thanks to the driver and footman. Constable Cowley parted from me there to labor back on wobbly legs to his lodgings nearby.