Free Watery Grave by Bruce Alexander Page A

meant.
    “Next the taffrail,” added Hartsell.
    We stood then close to the polished rail that rose as a barrier and ran all around what they called the poop deck. I noted that the starboard ladder just to my left was the one where I had met Mr. Midshipman Boone and down which he had tumbled.
    In level distance, Hartsell was no more than ten feet away, perhaps less. Yet standing on the poop deck, we were elevated a good six feet above him.
    “In which direction were you facing, Mr. Hartsell?” asked Sir John.
    “Why, towards them, of course.” Yet he stopped and considered.” I see your point,” he added.” No, as they approached the point where they now stand, I was facing for’d. But, wondering at their dela3’, I turned, and that was when I saw them just as they are now.”
    “Just as they are now?”
    “No, no, of course not. Captain Markham had his back to the taff, and as I looked. Lieutenant Landon thrust out with both hands and sent him straight into the sea.”
    “Amazing,” said Sir John.” But the taffrail presents a considerable barrier, does it not? It would not be easy now for Jeremy to push Mr. Grimsby into the Thames.”
    “Yes, but we had laid hard along to starboard. The two were near horizontal at that moment.”
    “As you were, too.”
    “Certainly, as I was, too. I had grasped onto this eighteen-pounder to hold myself steady.”
    “Tell me, Mr. Hartsell, as you mentioned before, the approximate time all this happened was midafternoon —that being the case, what were the conditions as to light? I take it the sun was not shining?”
    Hartsell threw a wild look at the admiral, as if questioning Sir John’s sanity.” With all due respect, sir, have you ever been in a full gale on the sea before?”
    “As it happens, yes, I have.”
    “Then you must know how deep dark it gets. It was almost as night in the daytime.”
    “And it was raining?”
    “Yes, dammit, it was raining.”
    Sir John remained silent for a good long moment, and when at last he spoke, he did so in a deep, resonant tone that could be heard by all: “Then, sir, I question that you could see anything at all as clearly as you say. Let me remind you of what you have said. It was near as dark as night. Rain was coming down. And you viewed the poop at an angle so queer that you yourself were holding on to a gun to keep from going over the side yourself. How can you be so sure?”
    Hartsell hesitated not a moment, but spoke out clear that all might hear him too: “I saw what I saw.”
    “Jeremy!” the magistrate called to me.” Are you still up there with Mr. Grimsby?”
    “I am, sir,” said I.
    “Extend your hands against him, as if to push him overboard. But leave them so, in that position.”
    I did as he told me. Perhaps carried away by the moment, I landed with a mite too much force against Mr. Grimsby.
    He let out an “Ugh!” and whispered, “I do believe you coulpush. me into the river, boy. Ease off a bit.”
    That I did and whispered my apology, though keeping my open palms against his chest.
    “Is it done so?” Sir John inquired.
    “Just so,” said I.
    “There then,” said he to Hartsell, “look upon that, if you will. That must approximate what you say you saw, sir. Could Lieutenant Landon not have been reaching out to Captain Markham to pull him back? Could his mtention not have been, rather, to save him?”
    To that Hartsell did no more than repeat: “I saw what I saw.”
    An angry murmur started among the crew. Sir Robert heeded it, frowning, and murmured something in Sir John’s ear. In response, Sir John did naught but shrug.
    “That will be the extent of our questions, ” said the admiral to Hartsell.
    “I should hope so. Will you require anything more of me?”
    “As it happens, yes, ” said Sir Robert.” In these extreme circumstances, I must request that you hand over the ship’s log.”
    “That will be put in your hands ere you leave the A(henture. Am I dismissed then? I wish