Smuggler's Moon

“Oh yes, it’s just that I’d never thought of him quite so.”

“Tell me about him,” said she. ”I want to know all about him.”

“What is it you want to know?”

“Everything. He tell me little stories, funny stories, but not who he is, what he does. I think he must be famous in England. Such a man should be famous.”

“Famous in London, perhaps,” said I, ”but not in all of England.”

And so at her invitation we stood with Marie-Hélène at the taffrail and told her all that we knew of John Bilbo, and of his gambling den, which was established from the proceeds of his long career as a privateer, et cetera. She found it difficult to make the distinction between privateer and pirate (as many do), and I settled it to my satisfaction by explaining that a privateer was a sort of legal pirate. Hearing that, she laughed sweetly and said, ”Oh la! You English!”

For her part, she told us all about herself, as well, and the more she told, the better Clarissa and I understood her evident indifference to her husband’s fate. She was offered to him by her father simply to seal the agreement made between them: the Casales family as suppliers and Sir Simon as the English buyer.

“You were a mere pawn!” cried Clarissa in shocked sympathy.

“Exactement! You play échecs?”

”Chess? Why, yes I do.” Then, leaning forward and speaking confidentially: ”Did he treat you badly?”

“He did not treat me at all. He was so busy with his assassinations and the hunting of the poor fox that he has no time to be my husband. He is a stranger to me, a stranger who is my father’s partner. The only pleasure I have from this is that I am the capitaine of the little ship that goes back and forth to Deal. I learn all about this from my brothers and my uncle.”

On and on they talked. I was as much intrigued and entertained by Marie-Hélène as was Clarissa. Nevertheless, I could not but wonder what would become of her when we reached London. As I listened, my eyes wandered across the deck, and I saw Mr. Bilbo deep in serious conversation with Sir John. Could it be regarding the fate of Marie-Hélène? As I considered this, I saw that further preparations were being made for our return to London. The swivel gun on the foredeck was lifted from its mount and taken away to be stored. One by one, the six guns either side the gun deck were pulled back from their gun ports, secured, and hid beneath the canvas. The prisoners were brought up two at a time from the hold by Mr. Bailey and Mr. Patley. (Mr. Perkins had remained behind in Deal, so as to help Constable Trotter, now recovered, to police the streets of the town.)

As Clarissa prattled on to her, I happened to catch Marie-Hélène’s eyes as she looked down at the assembly of prisoners. For the first time since we had begun talking, she seemed unsure of herself, perhaps even afrighted. And it helped little when Mr. Bilbo appeared upon the poop deck and asked Marie- Hélène to accompany him. For the first time in her presence he did not smile. Once they had gone, Clarissa and I looked fearfully at each other, half-expecting her to appear on the main deck with the other prisoners. I saw Sir Simon look round him, no doubt for her, yet she was nowhere about. We saw no more of her then.

As we passed Tower Wharf, a Royal Navy longboat joined us, escorting us to a place opposite the Wapping dry-dock. There, we dropped anchor and it pulled alongside; a ladder was tossed down to it. The transfer of the prisoners to the shore began. And once begun, all was accomplished in a few short trips. That done, the rest of us descended the rope ladder-not easy for Molly and Clarissa-and were taken to the little wharf to the side of the dry-dock. By the time we arrived, the prisoners were gone, conveyed to Newgate in two large, barred wagons, specially made to transport large numbers of prisoners.

I watched the watermen make preparations to tow La Belle Voyageuse into dry- dock, but only for a moment or two, for Sir John called me over to him and instructed me to go out upon Wapping Dock and see if it were possible to find a hackney coach to carry the six of us back to Number 4 Bow Street. I had not far to look, for there, pulled over to the side of Wapping Dock, was a coach-and-four that had by then become quite familiar to me-that of William Murray, the Earl of Mansfield, the Lord Chief Justice. It seemed that he desired to see Sir John at the latter’s earliest possible convenience. He had sent his coach to ensure his compliance. There seemed in that an implicit threat.

“But how can you be so sure that Sir Simon killed this fellow-what was his name? — Sarton, yes, Sarton. How do you know that?”

“I didn’t say he pulled the trigger. I said he ordered Mr. Sarton killed.”

“There! You see? He wasn’t actually the direct cause of his death, was he? Perhaps there was some misunderstanding between Sir Simon and the fellow who actually did the deed. Perhaps he said, ‘Oh, I wish that man were dead,’ meaning it in a figurative way-not literally dead, you understand. And taking that as an order, the killer went out and shot the man dead. It could have happened just so-now, couldn’t it?”

“Hardly. Sir Simon was present at the scene. He was literally but a few feet away when the magistrate was shot down. He could have stopped it with a word.”

“But how do you know that?”

“I know that because I have a witness.”

Lord Mansfield had begun roaring the moment Sir John appeared before him. He was louder and more unbridled in his anger than I had ever seen him before-or for that matter, since. For his part, Sir John responded with remarkable restraint, knowing that if he were to speak as he was spoken to, then the interview would have collapsed into an intemperate duel of shouting and stomping.

Though I had no suspicion of what awaited us when we boarded Lord Mansfield’s coach, I am nearly certain that Sir John did. That must have been why he insisted that the driver take us first to Bow Street that Clarissa and Molly might go to our living quarters there, and constables Bailey and Patley might continue from there to their rooms.

Yet even Sir John must have been taken aback at the vehemence and lack of reason exhibited in the arguments put forth by the Lord Chief Justice. Had the latter heard such in Old Bailey, he would have dismissed them in an instant. Lord Mansfield must, in any case, have reconsidered his position to some extent, for he paused and remained silent for a bit, and when he began again, he spoke in a more controlled manner.

“Who is this witness of yours?” he asked. ”Is he the man who did pull the trigger?”

“By no means,” said Sir John. ”That man was killed when he offered fire during our first battle with the smugglers there on the road to London.”

“Who then? Who was it? What part had he in this alleged assassination?”

“Ah! Alleged, is it? Well, his name is Edward Potter, and he was as near to an innocent observer as one could have been. He simply held Sir Simon’s horse as he tapped upon the window to Mr. Sarton’s study and asked to be admitted that he might talk with him on a confidential matter. When the magistrate opened the door, rather than Sir Simon’s confidence, he was given a bullet in the head.”

“Is that how it was done? Is that what your man Potter told you?”

“That is as I earlier reasoned it,” said Sir John, ”and that is also what Potter told me.”

“You led him so?”

“Nothing of the kind. His testimony merely confirmed what I had supposed. I did not prompt him. I would not.”

“And what did you promise him for this testimony so freely given?”

“I promised him nothing. That is not my way. I hope that by now you know that of me. The most I have ever done is to tell a prospective witness that I would recommend leniency of some kind-transportation in capital crimes and a reduced sentence in the rest.”

Sir John hesitated; he faltered a bit for the first time. ”In this case,” he continued, ”I … I did tell him that I would recommend a reduced sentence.”

“And did you say that your recommendations are always followed?”

“I did say that they have been, yes.”

“Well, you may tell him for me that in his case your recommendation will not be honored. Let us see then just how readily he comes forward to testify against his former master. I am not bound by your recommendations, as I’m sure you know.”