A Place Called Freedom (1995)

He put on a show of bravado. “What are you doing here, Lennox? I didn’t know you were a Wilkesite.”

“John Wilkes can go to the devil,” Lennox replied. “I’ve come about the hundred and fifty pounds you lost at Lord Archer’s faro game.”

Jay blanched at the reminder of the amount. His father gave him thirty pounds a month, but it was never enough, and he did not know when he could lay his hands on a hundred and fifty. The thought that his father might find out he had lost more money gambling made his legs feel weak. He would do anything to avoid that. “I may have to ask you to wait a little longer,” he said with a feeble attempt at an air of superior indifference.

Lennox did not reply directly. “I believe you know a man called Mack McAsh.”

“Unfortunately I do.”

“He’s started his own coal heaving gang, with the help of Caspar Gordonson. The two of them are causing a lot of trouble.”

“It doesn’t surprise me. He was a damned nuisance in my father’s coal mine.”

“The problem is not just McAsh,” Lennox went on. “His two cronies, Dermot Riley and Charlie Smith, have gangs of their own now, and there’ll be more by the end of the week.”

“That will cost you undertakers a fortune.”

“It will ruin the trade unless it’s stopped.”

“All the same, it’s not my problem.”

“But you could help me with it.”

“I doubt it.” Jay did not want to get involved with Lennox’s business.

“It would be worth money to me.”

“How much?” Jay said warily.

“A hundred and fifty pounds.”

Jay’s heart leaped. The prospect of wiping out his debt was a godsend.

But Lennox would not readily give away so much. He must want a heavyweight favor. “What would I have to do?” Jay said suspiciously.

“I want the ship owners to refuse to hire McAsh’s gangs. Now, some of the coal shippers are undertakers themselves, so they will cooperate. But most are independent. The biggest owner in London is your father. If he gave a lead, the others would follow.”

“But why should he? He doesn’t care about undertakers and coal heavers.”

“He’s alderman of Wapping, and the undertakers have a lot of votes. He ought to defend our interests. Besides, the coal heavers are a troublesome crowd, and we keep them under control.”

Jay frowned. It was a tall order. He had no influence at all with his father. Few people did: Sir George could not be influenced into coming in out of the rain. But Jay had to try.

A roar from the crowd signaled that Wilkes was coming out Jay mounted his horse hastily. “I’ll see what I can do,” he called to Lennox as he trotted away.

Jay found Chip Marlborough and said: “What’s happening?”

“Wilkes has been refused bail and committed to the King’s Bench Prison.”

The colonel was mustering his officers. He said to Jay: “Pass the word—no one is to fire unless Sir John gives the order. Tell your men.”

Jay suppressed an anxious protest. How were soldiers to control the mob if their hands were tied? But he rode around and relayed the instruction.

A carriage emerged from the gateway. The crowd gave a bloodcurdling roar, and Jay felt a stab of fear. The soldiers made a path for the carriage by beating the mob with their muskets. Wilkes’s supporters ran across Westminster Bridge, and Jay realized that the carriage would have to cross the river into Surrey to get to the prison. He spurred his horse toward the bridge, but Colonel Cranbrough waved him down. “Don’t cross the bridge,” he commanded. “Our orders are to keep the peace here, outside the court.”

Jay reined in. Surrey was a separate district, and the Surrey magistrates had not asked for army support. This was ridiculous. He watched, helpless, as the carriage crossed the river Thames. Before it reached the Surrey side the crowd stopped it and detached the horses.

Sir John Fielding was in the heart of the throng, following the carriage with two assistants to guide him and tell him what was happening. As Jay watched, a dozen strong men got between the traces and began to pull the carriage themselves. They turned it around and headed back toward Westminster, and the mob roared its approval.

Jay’s heart beat faster. What would happen when the mob reached Palace Yard? Colonel Cranbrough was holding up a cautionary hand, indicating that they should do nothing.

Jay said to Chip: “Do you think we could take the carriage away from the mob?”

“The magistrates don’t want any bloodshed,” Chip said.

One of Sir John’s clerks darted through the crowd and conferred with Cranbrough.

Once across the bridge the mob turned the carriage east. Cranbrough shouted to his men: “Follow at a distance—don’t take action!”

The detachment of guards fell in behind the mob. Jay ground his teeth. This was humiliating. A few rounds of musket fire would disperse the crowd in a minute. He could see that Wilkes would make political capital out of being fired on by the troops, but so what?