Watery Grave Read Free Page A

seemed to me that there was very little could be done about that.
    Yet Mrs. Gredge was barely mentioned when, as was my wont, I visited him that day of Tom’s arrival in his chambers after his court session. In answer to my knock he called me to enter. I found him as he was usually at such times, waistcoat unbuttoned, wig off and placed upon the table before him, and both feet up on a chair nearby.
    “Well, Jeremy,” said he, “is it you who come, looking for tasks?”
    “It is, sir, and I am.”
    “You are quit with Mrs. Gredge for the day?”
    “Oh, indeed,” said I.” She chased me from the kitchen, so taken up is she with preparations for dinner.”
    “So soon? We’ll not eat, surely, for three or four hours.”
    “It seems she has much baking to do before she even thinks of cooking the meal. Or so she said before she pushed me out.”
    “Ah,” said Sir John, “the mjsteries of the kitchen. And what of mother and son? Their reunion goes well?”
    “Oh, yes, they are deep in discussion in the sitting room.”
    “And things went well at Tower Wharf?”
    “Oh, yes sir. A band played, and a speech of welcome was made by one who must have been an admiral, at very least. Oh, a grand ceremony it was, in truth.”
    “And what was this admiral’s name, Jeremy?”
    “That I could not say, sir. He did not give it.”
    Sir John laughed at that.” No, I suppose he did not. But tell me, boy, did he have anything to say that struck you as odd or unusual?”
    How could he have known that?
    “Well… yes, or it struck me as odd at the time. There was something that was known to him and to the crew —but not to the rest of us. He spoke of dissension in the upper ranks and a violent attack. He asked any who had information on this to step forward. When none did, he told them that his office would be open to them and … and that anything said to him in private would be kept in confidence.”
    “Until the court-martial, of course.” He said it as if to himself.
    “How was that, Sir John?”
    “Oh … nothing.” Sitting in silence for a moment, he turned neither right nor left but lifted down his feet and seemed to lean slightly to the front, where I stood before him. Then: “You used a certain phrase a moment or two ago that struck me as having some particular meaning. You said that Kate and her son were ‘deep in discussion.’ Have you anv idea as to the nature of that discussion?”
    “But Sir John, the sitting room door was closed. I would not eavesdrop.”
    “Of course not. I would not havejou do so. But was anything said, let us say, prior to the time the door was closed, said openly in your presence, that might give indication of what was discussed?”
    “Well…”
    I was made a bit uncomfortable by this. It seemed like spying to me — or the thing next to it.
    “What you tell me in private will be held in confidence,” said he.
    “Until the court-martial?” I asked, perhaps somewhat impudently.
    At that he laughed again.” Oh ho! You did hear what I muttered, did you? Well, I assure you, Jeremy, there will be no court-martial. I have good and sufficient reason to ask. It is not base curiosity that prompts me in this.”
    I accepted what he said, of course. And so, not unwillingly but without much enthusiasm, I told him of a conversation that had taken place in the hackney coach during our return to Bow Street: of Lady Fielding’s offer to buy Tom a proper suit of clothes and his firm negative response. I quoted Tom —“A seaman is what I am and proud to be ” — and told Sir John that Lady Fielding had ended things by telling her son that they would talk about it later.
    Sir John took all this as he might have in court, with no noticeable change in expression and with a moment of reflection after I had ended. Then he slammed down the palm of his hand on the table with such force that his periwig was made to jump.
    “Hah!” he crowed.” Just as I thought! I told Kate, told her again and