I entered at Number 4 to find the place all topsy-turvy. Papers werescattered about ahead. I saw Constable Fuller’s keys upon the floor. I heard a hubbub of shouting back and forth in unfamiliar voices. Had I better sense, I should have turned round at that moment and made my way out softly at the door where I had come in. But driven on quite irresistibly by curiosity, I went cautiously forward.
Just as I was approaching the empty strong room and reconsidering my decision, a marine stepped out from whence I least expected him and leveled his musket at me. There was a bayonet Fixed at the end of the thing.
“Corporal,” he yelled, T got one here.”
Indeed he had. I stood rooted, more fearful of the bayonet than the musket to which it was fixed. I doubted he would shoot me, but he might stumble and stab me by mistake. He looked a clumsy fellow.
From out of Mr. Marsden’s alcove came the corporal, followed by another marine who, like the fellow who held me at bay, hauled with him a musket with a bayonet affixed. They shuffled over through a great litter of paper which had been emptied onto the floor from Mr. Marsden’s desk and storage boxes. The corporal scrutinized me and turned away in disappointment.
“He ain’t nothin’ but a boy, ” said he.” Put him over with the other one and tell the lieutenant.”
Thus I was marched over to Mr. Marsden’s alcove where I joined Mr. Fuller, who, with a forlorn expression upon his face, greeted me in a voice that suited his face. There was a guard for us both.
“Hullo, Jer’my. I could do nothin’. They come runnin’ in here with bayonets fixed before I could grab a pistol and challenge them.”
“No one could blame you, ” said I.” They surprised me, as well.” Not quite true, but it seemed the decent thing to say.
“I feel quite disgraced.”
“For no reason. But how many of them are there?”
“Five or six —six, counting the corporal —and a Navy lieutenant in charge. They thought to find Sir John here with his court in session, but I told them, I did, that he went off to a court-martial. That made the lieutenant quite furious, it did. He kept shouting at me, ‘Where is Sir John then? And where is Captain Hartsell?’ Jeremy, who is Captain Hartsell?”
I heard and recognized the lieutenant some moments before I saw him. He came thundering at us in that sergeant major’s voice of his which could be heard from some distance away. Lieutenant Byner did indeed sound angry.
“I believe I know that boy,” he bellowed.” Take me to him.”
And then he confronted me, hands on hips. He stamped his foot once, presumably to gain my attention, which of course he had already.
“Yes, it is you, isn’t it?”
That struck me as a singularly unanswerable question, yet I tried my best: “Yes sir, it is.”
“I have some questions (or you.”
“Well, I shall try my best to answer them.”
“First of all, why are there no papers in Sir John’s chambers? No records —and no memoranda on present inquiries. By God, there must be memoranda. In the Navy, we keep memoranda on everything!”
“Sir John keeps no memoranda, sir, no records of any sort.”
“No diary?”
“None, sir.”
“No records? I found every drawer in his desk quite empty. How do his investigations proceed?”
“He keeps it all in his head, sir. I should think it would be obvious why you found no papers.”
“Oh? How so?”
“He cannot read.”
“Cannot read? And he a magistrate?”
“No, sir, he cannot read because he is blind.”
“Oh.” The lieutenant put hand to chin and thought upon that for a moment or two.” Strange,” said he, “but one never thinks of him quite so.”
“Will that be all, sir?” I moved as if to go.
“By no means! Where is Captain Hartsell?”
“Why, I suppose he might be aboard his ship.” And of course he might not be. Actually, it seemed a very slim possibility, considering what Sir John had said and that the captain had left Mr. Bilbo’s in the company of two armed constables.
“He was seen to leave under duress in a coach. We believe that Sir John Fielding was in that coach, and that he has abducted him to hold him prisoner on some technical charge.”
“Oh, well, there I might be able to help you, Lieutenant Byner. Sir John left before the verdict was handed down.”
“I know. I saw him leave with you —then you returned.”
“Yes sir, he asked me to report the verdict to him when he returned.”
“Returned from where, damn you, boy.”
“From the Lord Chief Justice, sir. He said that the Lord Chief Justice was sending his coach for him, and that he would wait there at the entrance for it.”
“You mean to say that was the coach of the Lord Chief Justice into which the captain was forced?”
“That is certainly a possibility, sir —even a probability. ‘
Again he stroked his chin.” Hmmm, well, the Lord Chief Justice, is it? I don’t like the sound of that. Perhaps I’d best go back and …”
“The Lord Chief Justice lives in Bloomsbury Square, ” said I, “at Number Seven. You might find Sir John there now. Or perhaps you and your marines might wish to wait for him here?”
“No … uh, no …” He looked about and found his man. “Corporal!” said he in the voice of command.” Assemble your party and make ready to go.”
“Aye-aye, sir,” said the corporal, and gave a smart salute.
There was a good deal of shouting from the corporal as he formed the five into a single file.
“Yes, well,” said Lieutenant Byner to me, “thank you for the information. Very interesting it was, very interesting. Well, carry on. Sorry for the mess.”
To me he gave a vague sort of wave then.
“Corporal! Take them out!”
Commands. And soon the marines were marching tovard the door, muskets on their shoulders, bayonets now removed and tucked away. Even so, I doubted they would get through the door with their muskets so high—yet somehow they managed. Mr. Byner followed them out and shut the door behind him.
I looked at Mr. Fuller. He seemed quite overcome by the experience— not shaken as by fear but rather downcast by shame. He sighed.
“There was little I could do when they come down the hall as they did — nothin’ at all, really.”
“Nothing at all, Mr. Fuller,” I agreed.
“And when they went upstairs, I —”
“Upstairs!”
I had not thought they would dare, yet —
Assuring Mr. Fuller I would be back to help him clean up the litter on the floor, I ran to the stairs and up them. I burst through the door and into the kitchen — and narrowly missed a braining by Annie as she swung a heavy iron skillet at my head.
“Jeremy!” she screamed. “I could’ve hurt you!”
“You could’ve killed me!”
“But I thought you were one of them come back. I fought two off with this well enough, they took my word there was none here but me.”
“I’m sure you did quite well with that. You—”
A great commotion of voices from below interrupted me. Mr. Marsden, usually the calmest of men, was quite beside himself, hooting his indignation at the top of his voice. I heard Sir John’s low rumble and Mr. Fuller’s keening tenor join in.
“Come along, Annie,” said I.” You may as well see what they did downstairs and give your report to Sir John.”
By the time we had descended, Sir John had stilled them all and was listening to Mr. Fuller’s doleful tale. Mr. Marsden wandered about, picking up odd sheets of paper and shaking his head sadly. Sir John bolstered the constable with a few words of commendation; then, with undisguised amusement, he heard Annie tell of her battle in the kitchen, and her he commended, as well. Yet when it came my turn, he seemed to treat me somewhat more severely, reminding me early on that the prudent thing would
have been to depart when I heard strange voices. Yet I made no excuses and continued, identifying the leader of the group as Lieutenant Byner (this brought a grunt from Sir John). I then told him that I had told Mr. Byner a lie in hopes of getting rid of him and his party of marines.
“Oh? A lie? What sort of lie?”
“I’m afraid that I led him to believe that the coach in which Captain Hartsell departed belonged to the Lord Chief Justice. He seemed sure you were inside it, as well.”
He considered for a moment. “And how did the lieutenant react to that?”
“It seemed a bit more than he expected, sir.”
“He left right swift. Sir John,” said Mr. Fuller, “him and his marines. The corporal formed them up, and out they marched. They wanted naught to do with the Lord Chief Justice.”
“Well, Jeremy, sometimes —though not often — a lie told in a good cause can do better than the truth. Yours has put me in mind of a plan. Mr. Fuller, those papers you have collected from the floor already, I wish you to throw them back as you found them. You say your keys were there, too? Throw them also on the floor, just as they were. Mr. Marsden, though it may pain you, we shall leave all as it was for a bit, for you and I are off to visit the Lord Chief Justice. He must see this.”
When, in less than an hour, the two returned, they had in tow William Murray, the Earl of Mansfield, Lord Chief Justice of the King’s Bench. That august personage seldom deigned to visit the Bow Street Court, and when he did, it was usually with some complaint to nettle Sir John. Sympathy was quite the last thing one expected from him, yet sympathy he gave in abundance to Mr. Marsden; and to Sir John he gave a pledge that the felony court would in no wise give way to the Navy on this Hartsell matter.
“You say you have a chain of witnesses to give testimony that includes one who viewed the act and an accomplice who is willing to testify against him?”
“I have, my Lord, ” said Sir John.
“Then, captain or no, he shall be tried like any common criminal. We cannot have one law for the Navy and another for the rest of us.”
“No, indeed we cannot.”
“Yet why would they cause such havoc? What were they looking for?”
“For the most part,” said Sir John, “I believe it was ordered done in a fit of pique by the officer in charge of the invading party. He expected to find me or Captain Hartsell, or both of us. And finding neither of us, he ordered the marines to create this disorder.”
“Reprehensible! Intolerable!”
“My young assistant also informs me that they were searching for notes, memoranda, anything pertinent to recent investigations. In my view, they were after the names of our witnesses against Captain Hartsell.”
“Indeed! Well, they shall not have them. If must be, then those witnesses will have the protection of the court.”
Thus began one of the greatest and truly earnest games of tug that London has ever seen. Vice-Admiral Sir Robert Redmond wanted Captain Hartsell. The Lord of the Admiralty wanted him. It seemed that the whole of His Majesty’s Navy wanted him. Against them all stood the Lord Chief Justice. It was generally agreed of William Murray, the Earl of Mansfield, that by nature he had one outstanding characteristic, and that was stubbornness. By others it was judged either a failing or a virtue, depending upon whichever side of the Lord Chief Justice they might find themselves in any particular disagreement. Yet he was one who would hold firm on what he judged to be a question of principle, no matter what the cost and no matter what forces were ranged against him.
The Lord of the Admiralty came calling upon him and came away cursing him for a pigheaded fool. The Prime Minister invited him for a visit that they might discuss the Hartsell question; the Lord Chief Justice wrote him that there was no reason to make such a visit, for there was nothing to discuss. It was said that even the King had made discreet inquiries into the circumstances, then quite sensibly decided to allow the two warring parties to battle it out, each with the other. As by rumor and titbits dropped in the columns of two of the newssheets the matter became known to the public, it also became widely discussed; the opinion of the public was staunchly with the Lord Chief Justice. I doubt, however, that he knew this, nor knowing, would he have cared a farthing. What mattered to him was that he had set the date of the trial at Old Bailey for the thirtieth of July, just five days following the indictment handed down by Sir John Fielding at that special session of the Bow Street Court; and that he, as chief judge, would preside. That was all that concerned him.
Though in all the furor, it might have seemed that the cause of Lieutenant William Landon was lost and forgotten, this was not so: Sir John had not forgotten him, nor did he deem the cause lost. I know this to be so, for on the day following that one of great excitement whereon the lieutenant was convicted, I was summoned to take a letter dictated by the magistrate, then sent to deliver it to Vice-Admiral Sir Robert Redmond. Because Sir John had not been specific as to what matter he wished to discuss, the recipient must have supposed it was what concerned him most: the question of Captain Hartsell. So enlivened was he by what he judged an opportunity for conciliation that he made ready to leave immediately for Bow Street. He called for his coach to be brought round and, as a gesture of his optimistic good feeling, invited me to come along. (It is worth mentioning at this point that his order was conveyed to an unfamiliar younger lieutenant; Mr. Byner was conspicuous by his absence that day.) But because as we waited for the coach, the admiral questioned me without success on Sir John’s state of mind, I was made to ride up top next his murderous footman. Nevertheless, I was glad to ride that long walk back from Tower Hill —and glad, too, to ride it in silence.
The arrival of Sir Robert was well noted by Mr. Fuller, who may have expected an even larger detachment of marines to enter behind him, and by Mr. Marsden, who interrupted his continuing work of sorting and filing to stare at him resentfully as he passed by. Sir Robert ignored them, as admirals will, and asked me simply which was Sir John’s door. I pointed it out to him and offered to announce him, but he waved me aside and charged on, straight through the door, leaving it open.
I will not say that it was my intention to eavesdrop, curious though I may have been. Nevertheless, reader, as it was my habit to sit upon the bench outside the door to Sir John’s chambers that I should be at hand for whatever errands or tasks he might have for me, I saw no reason to break that habit. And, taking my usual place beside the open door, I happened to hear every word that passed between them.
“Jack, Jack,” said Sir Robert, in a most effusive manner, “I was so happy to receive your invitation that I rushed here immediate. I was about to write you and ask that I might come, hat in hand, to present my apology.”
“I concede that one is due me,” said Sir John.
“A terrible mistake was made yesterday. Lieutenant Byner far exceeded his brief. I understand that he left this place in a terrible state. For that you have my sincerest and most profound apology. It was an insult to you, and for that I am most deeply sorry.”
“I accept your apology. ‘
“He has been relieved of his duties. He will be disciplined in some way, probably sent off to sea. Would you believe it? The fellow has not had sea duty since he was a midshipman.”
“Yes, I would believe that,” said Sir John. “But Bobbie, the fact remains that he was sent to the Bow Street Court with a party of marines, and I can only suppose that their purpose was to free a prisoner — namely. Captain James Hartsell —by force, if necessary. Was that not why they were sent?”
“Well … yes, Jack, it was.”
“That, you may believe me, was a greater insult to my court and to the entire body of law upon which this nation is founded than you will ever know.”
“But you must realize our position. Captain Hartsell is a naval officer, and therefore he must be tried by a naval court-martial. We will deal with him, believe me. You will see how sternly and swiftly naval justice can work.”
“I hav
e seen naval justice, Bobbie, and I was not favorably impressed.”
“Ah, Jack, that unfortunate business —let us put it behind us. Believe me, I did what I could to save that boy.” (This, reader, in a most plaintive voice.) “I did, truly.”
“I give you credit,” said Sir John.” I believe that within the limits you had set for yourself you did the best that you could. You questioned Hartsell closely and, I thought, well on the matter of his tardy accusation. You sought to expose Midshipman Boone’s story for the preposterous tale that it was. I am sure, too, that in deliberation with the other two judges you argued for acquittal, yet gave in to them when the vote was cast.”
“I did! I did!”
“Yet it was not enough to save him.”
“No,” said Sir Robert bleakly, “it was not.”
There was a pause. I heard a drawer open and shut.
“I believe, however, that this will be.”
“What is this?”
“It is a document witnessed by me and my court clerk and signed by Midshipman Albert Boone wherein he admits giving perjured testimony in the trial by court-martial of Lieutenant William Landon, and of having done so at the instigation of Captain —then Lieutenant — James Hartsell.”
Silence. Sir Robert cleared his throat. Then further silence. “I must give this some study.”
“Indeed, you may have it. I have another copy, equally valid — worded exactly as this one is, witnessed, and signed in the same way. I want you to take it, and use it as the basis to declare the trial by court-martial invalid and drop all charges against Lieutenant Landon,”
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