Smuggler's Moon

“Where has he gone?” I shouted. ”Where is he?”

“Where do you suppose? Now go away!” The latter part of this rude response was shouted through the door.

I stood there upon the steps, listening to myself sputter with indignation as I fantasized some wild scheme of revenge. Yet gradually my temper cooled, and I realized the foolishness of such efforts. I put my mind on the far more important matter of finding Lord Mansfield. What was it that the hateful butler had said? I had asked him where his master had gone, and he responded, ”Where do you suppose?” Well, I had not to think long upon that to realize that, of course, he had gone to court. He was, after all, a judge, was he not? The Old Bailey was, so to speak, his place of business. Though the hour was an early one at which to begin, it could well be that his docket for the day was so crowded that an early start was demanded of him. I turned about and hastened off in the direction of Old Bailey.

Perhaps the most objectionable thing about the Old Bailey was-and is-its nearness to Newgate Gaol. Only a street separates them, and there is a smell which emanates from Newgate, about equal parts sewer odors and the stink of human misery, which seems to penetrate the walls of the courts, as well. Once in Old Bailey, one could not forget that Newgate was near, nor that Tyburn Hill was not too far distant.

Indeed I was correct in supposing that the press of cases to be tried was such that Lord Mansfield had been forced to begin early. When I at last was admitted to the main courtroom where he presided, I heard from my seat companion, a richly dressed woman of near forty years, that three had already been tried that morning.

“With what result?” I asked.

”You dare joke with me, do you?”

“No, no, I assure you that-”

“-me, who’s come for one last glimpse of my son, Billy, before they hang him?” She spoke over me, interrupting, ignoring my attempts to apologize, determined to have her say: ”There’s none who comes as far as this can escape the rope-or so I’m told. The least I could do was come down and bring all my girls to see the darling boy off. An’t that so?”

“I…I suppose so,” said I, a bit uncertainly.

Her reference to ”her girls” intrigued me. I leaned forward a bit and saw, to my surprise, that our pew was crowded with a bevy of gaudily dressed and generously berouged young women of uncertain virtue; there must have been seven or eight of them visible to my eye; two of them returned my gaze rather boldly, and one of them winked.

“Are all these young ladies truly your daughters?” I asked the older woman next me (somewhat disingenuously, I confess).

“La, young sir, they might as well be, but they an’t. My womb an’t near so generous. Billy’s my only.” She was, in her own way, a proper mother come to mourn, though her child still breathed.

Needless to say, our conversation took place ”between cases,” as one might say, whilst Lord Mansfield sat resplendent in his scarlet robes, conversing idly with his clerk, awaiting the next defendant to be called. That next defendant, as it happened, was William Neely. Thus I found that the woman beside me was the notorious brothelkeeper, Mother Neely. He was summoned loudly and appeared but a moment later in the dock. He was in chains, though otherwise quite presentable; his coat was of velvet, and his shirt was apparently of silk and newly washed. At a sign from Mother Neely, our entire row burst into a great fit of sobs and boo-hoos; kerchiefs were waved; a few of the boldest of ”her girls” called out to him. This demonstration, which caused quite a commotion in the courtroom, brought an immediate call to order, complete with threats of expulsion, et cetera. For my own part, I sought to dissociate myself from my pewfellows by shrinking down and away from them. And as for the prisoner, he seemed to take great pleasure in all the noise made in his honor; he smiled broadly and nodded two or three times; and had his hands not been manacled, I feel sure he would have waved in response.

The indictment, when read out in court by the prosecution, did shock me-and I, working for years with Sir John, was not easily shocked. It told of how William Neely had bound and tortured the members of a diamond merchant’s family, that he might learn where gemstones were hid about the house. When he was satisfied he had them all, he murdered the entire family-or thought he had. One, a daughter, survived her stab wounds and was able to identify Neely as thief and killer from the witness box. Asked if he could say anything in his own defense, the accused shrugged and said that if they’d been a bit more helpful, it wouldn’t have been necessary to be so nasty.

“Then you admit the crime?” asked the Lord Chief Justice.

“Might as well,” said Neely, with another shrug.

“Answer yes or no.”

“Awright then, yes-yass, yass, yass!”

“Then,” said Lord Mansfield, ”it will not be necessary for the jury to adjourn, confer, and vote guilty or not guilty.”

So saying, the judge donned the black cap and pronounced the death sentence. Then did he add with no more than routine piety his wish that God might have mercy upon the soul of William Neely. And having said it, he banged thrice with his gavel and called a recess to the court session. When the prisoner was led away, I expected a repetition of the earlier performance of the ladies, complete with crocodile tears, yet there was no such. Mrs. Neely stood, and her companions with her as I, too, made ready to leave the courtroom. I knew not what to say, and so I simply held my tongue, bowing silently and politely as they left.

“He weren’t really so bad,” said Madame Neely to me. ”It was just that he was tryin’ to prove he could make his own way. Boys is like that. They got to prove that they’re grown up-when they really an’t.”

And saying no more, she led her bevy out and up the aisle. She who had winked at me winked at me again and said, ”Come see us sometime. We’re in Tavistock Street. So easy to find.” Then she, like the rest, followed their leader out the door.

I, too, hastened to go, yet I left by a side exit, one which I knew would bring me nearer to the judges’ chambers. Yet there I found my way barred by a court guard.

“Where you goin’, young sir?”

“I have a letter for Lord Mansfield from Sir John Fielding which must be delivered. It is a most urgent matter.”

“Give me the letter, and I shall present it to him.”

“Much as I should like to do so, sir, I cannot. Sir John forbade me to let the letter out of my keeping, except it be to Lord Mansfield.”

“Hmmm,” said the court guard who, bless him, did truly seem concerned. ”Well, I must say you look like a responsible lad.”

“I am Sir John’s assistant.”

“Ah, indeed? You don’t say! Well then, I shall take a risk with you. If you take my place at this door and turn away all who seek exit through here, I shall go to the chambers of the Lord Chief Justice and ask him if he wishes your visit.” He gave me a sharp look. ”Do you accept this offer? It is the best I can do.”

“I accept it gladly.”

”Well and good.” And with that he departed, leaving me in charge.

I took my assignment seriously and turned back two or three during the few minutes he was absent. When he returned with a smile upon his face, I took heart that all was well with regard to my visit-as indeed it was.

“The Lord Chief Justice will see you,” said the fellow, ”for he assumes you would not trouble him were it not an urgent and important matter. You’ll find him third door on your left.”

I thanked him and ran to the door he had designated, beat upon it, and threw it open the moment I heard the invitation to enter.

“Ah, you, is it?” said Lord Mansfield, wearing his scarlet and regarding me in his usual skeptical way. ”I thought it would be. What have you for me?”

“A letter explaining the situation in Deal, my lord.”

“Well then, let’s have it.”

He took it from me, broke the seal, and read. As he did so, his expression changed from mild displeasure (which was his usual) to sudden concern, and on to absolute outrage. By the time he finished Sir John’s letter, he was breathing fire and snorting smoke (I mean that figuratively, of course). He then asked me a number of