The Earl of Hampton
By
Linda Balsamo
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2009 by Linda Balsamo
Also available in paperback.
Chapter 1
1856
Bridgeport, CT
LIEUTENANT ROBERT Grimes patrolled the train yard of the Housatonic Rail Road next to the Warf, just as he had done almost daily for the last sixteen years. The sky was overcast and a chill ran down his spine, despite the well-worn, woolen waistcoat he donned as part of his uniform. He could smell the odor of the morning’s catch wafting in the air from the harbor. Lieutenant Grimes had grown used to the smell and wondered if the whole country smelled like salted fish. His ability to grasp the expanse of the country was limited by his small frame of reference. He had never traveled beyond Hartford, a mere fifty-five miles from his home located on the west edge of Bridgeport. By horse, he could make the trip in five days if he pushed his ride hard. The trip was just long enough for him to justify in his mind that any place farther away would not be much different than where he had already been. Sure, there was always the train, but such a luxury was beyond his means. His brother had tried to talk him into heading west, but Lieutenant Grimes did not want to put his family through such an arduous ordeal. The stories of endless days and nights riding through a dustbowl, fighting off Indian tribes too numerous to name, only to then face deadly mountains that only the luckiest survived passage through…no, that wasn’t for him. Besides, he liked living in Bridgeport. It was bustling with activity and he could not understand what the West had to offer that Bridgeport did not.
The morning had been relatively quiet except for a fight on the pier. A couple of drunken dockhands got into an argument over a woman; it was always over a woman. One of the men slipped off the side of the pier and ended up in the frigid water, sobering him up rather quickly. The other was brought into the station to sleep off his bottle-induced indiscretions. Other than the fight, Lieutenant Grimes felt his day was turning out to be mundane.
Lieutenant Grimes stopped in the roundhouse at the train yard. John was inside feverishly rifling through everything within reach. Having already tossed around the contents behind the counter, he was in the process of opening and closing every drawer in the credenza along the wall.
“Bloody thieves!” John exclaimed, not knowing Lieutenant Grimes was in the doorway.
Lieutenant Grimes cleared his throat in an effort to get John’s attention. He could see there was a problem but he did not wish to startle John. He interjected in a calm voice, “Problem, John?”
“You bet there’s a problem,” John replied as he continued to pick through the contents of the drawer he had opened. His Irish face was red with fury and small beads of sweat were beginning to form between his ample eyebrows. John labored in his breath as he continued, “I had a shipment of burgundy drapes for the Long Island.” He knew the drapes would not be in the drawer. Why would they be? He turned back to the counter and slammed his fist down. Between his gritted teeth, he continued, “right on this counter and now it’s gone!”
Lieutenant Grimes was startled by John’s burst of rage. He was normally a very jovial man. “Hmm. Maybe they’ve been hung?” Lieutenant Grimes offered as he stepped closer to the countertop. His nonchalant manner seemed to have a calming effect on John.
“Na…they just came in on the stage last night. I hardly had time to open the crate to make sure they were the correct color and length before closing down.”
“Is that all that is missing?” Lieutenant Grimes knew that once someone got it in their mind that a place was a mark, they usually did not stop at stealing one item.
John took another look around. His face changed from a look of anger to a look of deep concentration. Then his eyes narrowed and his nose seemed to share in the investigation much like a bloodhound would sniff out its prey. “Come to think of it, yes. Nothing major. I had a milk jug turn up missing the other day…and also a poker from the stove. Everything else seems to be here.”
Lieutenant Grimes surmised that they had a vagrant on their hands. He had seen this situation happen all too often. When the weather turned cold, people on the street began to take shelter in the boxcars. “When was the last time you did a yard sweep?”
“Oh, I haven’t had time lately.” John replied, embarrassed by the implication that he might be shirking his duty. He immediately added, “Guess now’s about a good of time as any.” They both exited the roundhouse and walked toward the rear of the train yard. Like so many times before, they began with the boxcars in front and moved their way back looking for signs that someone had taken up residence. They both knew it was unlikely to actually find anybody at this time of day, but they could at least pinpoint which boxcar was being used.
As John opened each door, Lieutenant Grimes held his nightstick firmly in hand just in case they came across an unruly guest. Generally though, the interlopers were mellow. Once caught, they tended to quickly move on to another location. The inconvenience of finding a new place to stay was overshadowed by the prospect of being sent to an almshouse. For these unfortunate people, the confinement of an almshouse was not an option they wished to consider. The conditions were rumored to be deplorable and often more harsh than living on the streets. Tales of rat and flee-infested living quarters and poor food were rampant. Dysentery and abuse were common complaints among those who were unlucky enough to find themselves guests of these establishments. Among the homeless, the streets were more preferable to the almshouses, despite the promise of biting winter weather right around the corner.
As Lieutenant Grimes and John approached the back of the train yard they came across a dark red boxcar that was in great need of repair. It had a hole in the side due to an unfortunate incident with a raging bull, which was on his way to the slaughter yard and probably sensed his fate. John opened the door as he had done to the twenty boxcars prior to this one.
Lieutenant Grimes immediately noticed a burgundy bundle crumpled up in the dark corner of the boxcar. The overcast day contrasted dramatically through the splintered wood along the side wall lending an additional source of light to the otherwise shadowy space. As a precaution, Lieutenant Grimes rapped his nightstick on the side of the car and announced in a stern voice, “Police, come on out!” When he saw no movement, he gingerly hopped onto the car to investigate. The sudden weight of his body in the doorway caused the boxcar to shift. Lieutenant Grimes thought he saw the bundle move. As he used his nightstick to lift the burgundy drapes from the corner, a blonde head popped up looking as startled as Lieutenant Grimes felt. Lieutenant Grimes stepped back quickly and caught is breath. The boy could not have been more than eight years old. His skin was fair and he had big blue eyes that would penetrate the soul of anyone who gazed into them. “Mary, Mother of God, you gave me a start!”
The boy did not respond. He merely grunted and shuffled his way back into the corner of the boxcar, pulling the drapes close as if they would shield him from harm. His eyes were full of fear and distrust. The light from the doorway of the boxcar silhouetted Lieutenant Grimes and John, leaving the boy with little to see other than two large, ominous figures. He hugged his knees close to his body, never taking his eyes off the two imposing intruders.
There was something about the boy that seemed strange, but Lieutenant Grimes could not figure out what that was. He was dirty, but that was not unexpected. Lieutenant Grimes relaxed the grip on his nightstick and moved closer to the boy. The fear in the boy’s eyes reminded Lieutenant Grimes that he must move slowly. He tried to grab hold of the drapes, but the boy would not let go, hugging them close to his chest. Lieutenant Grimes got a good enough look at the boy’s clothes to discern that he could not possibly be homeless. At least he had not been up until a day or two ago. The boy’s clothes were of good quality with little wear other than what appeared to be a few days worth of dirt. The buttons on his coat were made out of mother-of-pearl and encircled in gold. In the middle was a crest of some sort. His ankle-length boots were dusty, but seemed relatively new. Lieutenant Grimes surmised from the large white collar trimmed with lace and knee-length pants that the boy must have come from a wealthy family.
“What’s your name, lad?” Lieutenant Grimes asked. The boy did not respond. As Lieutenant Grimes leaned in to grab him by the arm, the boy scurried into the other corner, grabbed the poker and swung it around trying to gain access to the door of the boxcar.
John was blocking the way, so the boy attempted a retreat through the generous hole left by the bull. John caught the boy by his ankle and began yelling, “What did you do to my drapes, you hooligan?” John pulled the boy out of the boxcar and settled him on his feet; this was not a hard task given how little the boy weighed.
As John raised his hand to slap the boy, Lieutenant Grimes jumped from the boxcar and caught John by the wrist. The boy tried to take a swing at John, but Lieutenant Grimes was too quick, snatching the poker from his hand. The boy began to grunt and move his free hand quickly in gestures neither of the men understood. Lieutenant Grimes pulled him away from John who was obviously intent on doing the boy harm.
“I’m sure the drapes can be washed,” Lieutenant Grimes stated calmly.
“Surely, you jest! Do you know how much that is going to cost me? Besides, they are supposed to be hung today before the Long Island pulls out.”
“And if they aren’t, will the world come to an end? Let the hoity-toity ladies sit behind the old drapes for one more holiday. They probably won’t even notice.”
Lieutenant Grimes brought the boy back to the station house. He still had not been able to get a word out of him and wondered if he spoke any English.
“Is Celia still serving supper?” Lieutenant Grimes asked the deputy sitting behind the front desk. The deputy had his legs propped up and was chewing on a piece of tobacco with his hands cupped behind his head. Lieutenant Grimes did not like the image his deputy was portraying to their new guest. He knocked the booted feet to the floor, causing the deputy to struggle for his balance before tipping backwards on the chair and sending it and his body crashing to the floor.
“Hey! What was that for?” the deputy asked as he struggled to right himself.
“Do I need to spell it out for you?”
The deputy grunted and replied with a stiff back and high head that would have made his mother proud, “Yeah, she’s serving. But only for a few more minutes.”
“Good. Run over and get this boy something to eat.”
“Me…why me? It’s almost quittin’ time,” the deputy protested. Lieutenant Grimes glared at him. The deputy glared at the boy and moseyed towards the door. He grabbed his hat off the hall tree, hit the spittoon with a wad of tobacco and walked across the street for the requested meal.
Lieutenant Grimes sat the boy by the stove hoping he would not try to make a run for the door. The boy seemed to be too tired and cold. Lieutenant Grimes found a blanket for the boy and before the food was returned, he was fast asleep in the chair. Lieutenant Grimes wondered where the boy had come from. He wondered where the boy’s parents were and why no one had come looking for him. Lieutenant Grimes was positive the boy came from a family of means. No one he knew wore a suit like the one the boy was wearing. Lieutenant Grimes thought about his own children; he would move heaven and earth to find them if they went missing.
“Why isn’t anybody looking for you?” he asked, shaking his head.
The deputy returned with some goulash and biscuits for the boy. Lieutenant Grimes set it aside. The hearty meal would probably keep until the boy woke up, he thought.
“What’s his story?” the deputy asked.
Lieutenant Grimes walked back to his desk to see if any notes had been made in the log regarding a missing child. Nothing had been reported recently in the area. “Don’t know exactly. The boy’s not talking.”
“Probably a vagrant or orphan,” the deputy replied.
“I don’t think so,” said Lieutenant Grimes. “There’s something about him…I’m guessing he’s either a runaway or he’s been abandoned. He’s got some pretty fancy clothes on and his boots aren’t worn.” He paused to take another look at the sleeping boy who seemed at peace lying back in the chair. He sighed and continued, “Na…something’s up with this one. I can feel it in my bones.”
“He could ‘a stole the clothes,” the deputy offered.
“Doubtful,” Lieutenant Grimes said, resenting how often he had to explain even simple evidence to the deputy. “The clothes fit him perfectly. His hair has been recently trimmed and besides surface dirt, he’s relatively clean. No lice, his fingernails are clean and polished…no, this one’s different. And he won’t talk.” Or can’t, Lieutenant Grimes thought. “Anyway, I’m going to send a telegram out to see if we have any reports of missing children. He’ll probably sleep while I’m gone. But just in case, stay with him.”
The deputy was about to object, but then thought better of it. He nodded his head. “Sure. No problem, boss.”
Lieutenant Grimes did not trust the cavalier response. The telegraph office was just down the street but to be certain he replied, “I mean it. Not even to pee. I’ll have your badge if you leave him or even so much as touch him. Let him sleep. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” With that warning, he left the child in the care of the deputy.
The boy awoke a few hours later and casually looked around the room as he raised his head. At first he did not recognize where he was. His breathing quickly became heavy as his blue eyes darted around the strange place. Lieutenant Grimes heard the boy stir and rushed over to the chair, positioning himself between the boy and the door. Despite the more comfortable surroundings, the boy might still try to make a run for it, Lieutenant Grimes thought. Smiling, he said, “It’s okay, son. You’re safe. We’re at a police station…relax. Look,” he continued as he snatched the plate of food off the desk. It was cold, but Lieutenant Grimes assumed it was better than what the boy had been eating over the last few days. “Look. Food. Would you like some? Are you hungry?”
The boy looked at the plate of goulash. He looked at Lieutenant Grimes as if asking if the food were for him to eat. Lieutenant Grimes handed him the plate. The boy smelled the food and wrinkled his nose at it. For a moment, Lieutenant Grimes thought he would reject the offering. Instead, the child set the plate down on the chair and kneeled in front of it. Then he gingerly picked up a biscuit, tore a small piece and gently dipped it into the gravy. Lieutenant Grimes watched his every move. The boy ate ravenously, but unlike most of the hooligans Lieutenant Grimes came across, the boy seemed to have very good table manners. His movements were quick which was understandable given how hungry he must be. But he had a refinement about him that could not be obscured by the hastiness in his manner. Lieutenant Grimes noticed that when the boy dripped a bit of gravy from the side of his plate he looked around as if searching for a napkin to wipe up the gravy. Not only that, the boy cut the bits of beef on the plate with his fork. Lieutenant Grimes chuckled at this eccentricity. The chunks of beef were small enough for the boy to eat whole, yet he chose to cut them into smaller pieces. Lieutenant Grimes had never seen anyone cut a chunk of beef with a fork; he wondered if the boy would have used a knife if he had been provided one. This boy was definitely not a child of the streets.
Lieutenant Grimes received permission from his Captain to let the boy sleep in one of the jail cells. Aside from the drunken man arrested earlier in the day, the station house was currently void of temporary residents. There would be little, if any, illicit influence on the boy. And since there was someone always on duty, the boy would not be left alone during the night.
Usually if a child had been lost, their parents showed up within a day or two to see if the child had been picked up off the street by a police officer. But situations like this were rare. Bridgeport was not generally considered an immigration port. Boats came into the harbor, but the big steam ships that crossed the ocean docked over a hundred miles away in New York. Trains came in all the time, so there was a possibility that the child had been separated from his parents at the train station. This possibility might also explain why the boy was found in the boxcar. But if the boy was lost, why had his parents not come looking for him? He had already been on the street a few days when he was found. Surely if he were lost, he would have been claimed by now. It was all very puzzling. And since the boy did not appear to speak English, there was little Lieutenant Grimes could do other than to keep him safe, warm and fed for a few days. If nobody claimed the boy, he would have to go before the Magistrate. At that point, the boy would most likely be transferred to Hartford.
The Captain allowed Lieutenant Grimes to take the boy home with him after the first night in the cell. The hearing before the Magistrate regarding the boy was set for the following Tuesday. No one had claimed the boy and his prospects looked grim. Lieutenant Grimes was apprehensive about placing the boy in the State’s custody. But he had no choice. A jail cell was no place for a child to live. And the Captain was growing weary of the boy’s constant examination of every move he made.
Lieutenant Grimes was responsible for making sure the boy received a bath and that his suit was clean. He wanted to make sure the boy was presented to the Magistrate in the best possible light. Lieutenant Grimes tried again to elicit some information from the boy, but he would not speak. However, Lieutenant Grimes was relieved that he had lost the perpetual look of fear that seemed to be etched in his eyes when they first met.
When Lieutenant Grimes arrived home with the boy, his wife Mary said, “I’ll bet he’ll clean up right nicely. It’s a shame no one has come for him.”
Lieutenant Grimes’ youngest son peeked around the doorframe wondering what the little boy was doing in his house.
“He’s been a perfect gentleman at the station,” Lieutenant Grimes offered.
“Has he talked yet?” she asked as she led the boy to the table and set a tin cup of water before him.
“Not a word. But what can I do. He’ll have a terrible time at Hartford if he cannot speak his own mind. But you know the rules, Mary. He’s gotta go and I gotta take him.”
Mary put her arms around her husband and gave him a squeeze. Part of her wanted to keep the boy, but she knew she could not take in every stray child that came along. After a moment she said, “You’ll do the right thing and he’ll manage fine. Besides, he must be pretty tough if he managed to evade Lieutenant Grimes for a few days in the train yard.” She winked at her husband and gave him another hug.
Lieutenant Grimes hugged her back and sighed. He caught a glimpse of two feet poking out from behind the doorway. He reached into his pocket and pulled something out. Leaving Mary for a moment he walked to the doorway and returned with his son, Richard, holding his hand. Richard’s cheek gave away the secret stash of candy he had been given. The offering seemed to reaffirm his status in the house and Richard was now willing to investigate the newcomer. Both sat at the table and young Richard handed the boy a piece of candy. The boy looked at the candy and then back at Lieutenant Grimes, as if seeking some kind of approval. He smelled the candy. It seemed as if something did not register in the boy’s mind. It was as if he had never seen or tasted candy before. He smelled it again. Richard stuck out his tongue with the candy resting gingerly on top. His tongue was the color of a cherry and his mouth emitted a strong odor that was very sweet and pleasant. The boy took a whiff of the air in front of him and tentatively licked the candy. He looked up in amazement. He licked it again and immediately put it in his mouth. A huge grin spread across his face.
Mary had a stack of her older son’s clothing waiting for the boy. She was charged with trying to clean the grime off the otherwise fine clothing. She carried the trousers, shirt, underwear and stockings to the boy and handed him the pile. He took the pile with a look of bewilderment. Then he handed them back to her with a smile. Confused, Mary took the pile back with a deep breath and a sighed. She took the boy’s hand and kissed the back of it as she led him to the bathtub. As soon as he saw the tub, the boy began undressing himself. Mary was amazed at how quickly he had jumped into the tub. Richard always gave her fits of complaints whenever she insisted upon a bath. This was a refreshing change of pace and she was glad he did not put up a struggle. He seemed very anxious to wash away the remnants of the last few days. Mary took away the dirty clothes and left the clean ones on the sideboard next to a towel. When the boy finished bathing, he looked around the room for his clothing. When he did not see them, he whaled and screeched. He jumped out of the bathtub and ran about the room without a stitch of clothing on, tossing and turning everything in sight looking for his clothes. Mary tried to hand him the clean clothes again, but he slapped them out of her hands to the floor. With a look of fury in his eyes, he made a few gestures and grunts, which suggested to Mary that he wanted his grimy clothes back. Oh, what to do, she wondered.
Mary covered the boy with the towel and gestured back to him to wait one moment. She got up to leave the room and the boy followed so closely on her heals, she nearly tripped. This made her giggle; she could not believe the predicament she was in. Mary brought the boy to the washstand. With the fingers of one hand pinching her nose and adding a grimace on her face, she picked up his jacket between two fingers on her other hand and shook her head. She hoped he would understand. For added effect, she showed him the soap and gestured as if she were scrubbing the clothes. Slowly the boy seemed to understand. He ran back to the bathtub and picked up the clean clothes that were strewn across the floor. He hastily put them on and returned to Mary’s side. He looked into the washstand and then back up at Mary. She had not planned to wash the clothes right away. Other more pressing chores needed to be done. She looked at the eager face on the boy and resolved to get the task done immediately. She surveyed the clothes and took note of the delicate buttons with the crest. She checked all the pockets to ensure that they were empty. She brought fresh water in from the well and added the boiling pot of water from the fireplace. She let the lye soap sit in the hot water for a few minutes before she began washing. The fabric that composed the jacket appeared to be of fine, silk velvet. She feared she would ruin it if she scrubbed too hard so she let it soak for a while in a separate pot of cold water. The trousers were made of good wool and were relatively easy to clean. The boy’s underwear was of good quality and she ventured a guess that they probably kept him from freezing during the cold, dark night. All in all, she found the clothing to be of remarkable quality. Once all the items were washed, she hung them to dry. As the minutes passed, the boy watched her work as he scratched at the clothing he had reluctantly agreed to wear. While the clothes dried, Mary’s older son Matthew arrived home from school. The boy’s face brightened as he came over the threshold.
“Hello, Mother,” Matthew said as he dropped his books next to the hearth. He gave his mother a kiss on the cheek, making sure the boy noticed as he did so.
“Hello, Matthew. How was school today?”
“Good,” he replied. “Jimmy got in trouble for poking fun at Fran’s new dress.”
Of course, Mary knew that Fran’s new dress was probably not new. It was a hand-me-down and probably rather worn as most of Fran’s clothes were. Fran was the baby of a long line of siblings and her parents were relatively poor by most standards. “Well, Jimmy should know better than to poke fun of how someone looks. It’s what’s on the inside that counts,” she replied, not missing the chance to instill a lesson on her son.
“Teacher made him stand in the corner all afternoon. But Fran got all red in the face and began to cry. All the kids started laughing…even though it wasn’t at all funny,” Matthew quickly corrected himself.
“And what did you do?” Mary asked.
“Well…” he said and then paused. “Well, I didn’t laugh, but I didn’t do anything else either.”
Mary thought about it for a minute and replied, “Well, that’s a good start. I’m proud of you for not laughing at someone else’s misfortune. Jimmy’s punishment seems just and I hope the rest of the children will learn from it as well.” She hugged her son and encouraged him to sit at the table for a snack. “Say hello to our guest.”
Matthew looked at the boy and slightly waved his hand to greet the boy. He took a seat across from him and settled in for a serving of baked apples. He never tired of baked apples, although they seemed to be a common treat lately. Apples were in season and his mother spent a great deal of time preserving them for the winter. The boy also enjoyed a baked apple. He seemed to expend much energy cutting the treat into small pieces before eating it. Matthew found this behavior curious. He had no patience for knives and thought that there was much utility in larger bites. The faster one ate, the warmer the food remained and the quicker he could be excused from the table. But these little bites were tedious and he wondered how the boy managed to accomplish anything before his next meal.
The next few days passed relatively quickly. As Tuesday approached, the whole household became a bit more anxious. That is, everyone except the boy. He had no idea what to expect, nor did Lieutenant Grimes have a way of letting him know that his fate was about to be decided by a stranger. The Grimes family had all grown fond of the boy and Matthew treated him like a brother. They had become inseparable and spent all their waking hours together when Matthew was not at school. It broke Mary’s heart having to face the prospect of saying goodbye.
Mary cleaned and pressed the boy’s clothes one more time and made sure he had another bath. On Tuesday morning, she packed a satchel of food for him and her husband. They both suspected what would happen and they had to be ready. Still, part of her was hopeful that someone would be there for the boy at the courthouse. Someone would surely claim him as their own child. She could not bear the thought of anyone abandoning him. He was so agreeable, despite his difficulties.
“He’s got to have some family somewhere,” she said as she scrubbed an already clean table.
Lieutenant Grimes put on his boots. He chipped off the dry mud that had found a home in front of his heels.
Mary sprang on him like a leopard in a feeding frenzy. “For heaven’s sake! Take those outside and clean them off. I just washed this floor and here you go messin’ it all up again. God help me. What kind of person have I married?”
“Whoa, little lady! Hold on there,” Lieutenant Grimes exclaimed as he rose to his feet. He let out a little giggle that he knew right away should have been kept to himself. Mary glared at him. Lieutenant Grimes grabbed his wife around the waist and pulled her close. She protested with a push back but eventually relented. “What’s this all about?” he asked as he hugged her and stroked her long dishwater blonde hair. He guessed correctly that she was nervous about the boy’s fate and none of her anger was really directed at him. However, he wanted to be sure. Sometimes his wife could be difficult to figure out, he thought, and he got himself in plenty of trouble second-guessing what she really meant. He learned a long time ago that the direct approach was best. So he simply asked.
Mary remained silent for a little while. She hated the prospect of having her husband gone for any length of time. But she knew that traveling came with the job. And she was happy that he would be the one to accompany the boy to Hartford after the meeting with the Magistrate. She felt her husband would take better care of the child while they were on the road than anyone else. Still, what would happen after he dropped the boy off left her feeling uneasy. “I’m sorry, honey. I just…well, you know what I mean,” she replied.
Yes he did. Lieutenant Grimes held her for a while promising to take good care of the boy and to return as soon as he could. Mary quickly wiped the tears from her eyes. But not before her husband noticed. He took care not to upset her any more than she already was.
When it was time to leave, Mary tucked a few pieces of candy in the boy’s pockets. She normally did not condone candy for her own sons, but she made an exception for the boy’s sake. He hugged her tight around the neck until she could hardly breathe. Then to her surprise, he kissed her tenderly on the cheek and shook her hand. The gestures were more than she could bear. She covered her face with her apron and quickly turned and ran for the cover of the front door.
Matthew lingered with his hands shoved in his pockets, kicking up dust with his feet. “Dad?” he said as he looked at the small mound of grass that desperately tried to hold onto the dirt that anchored it to the ground. He kicked it again and again.
“Yes, son,” Lieutenant Grimes replied.
“What’s going to happen to him?”
Lieutenant Grimes thought for a moment. “Well, son, most likely he’ll go up to Hartford to live until someone comes for him. I reckon he’ll probably go to an orphanage or something like that.”
“What’s it like at an orphanage?”
Lieutenant Grimes did not want to answer this question. He cringed at the thought of his own child ending up in an orphanage. He had no direct experience with the living conditions in such a place but he had heard they were less than ideal. Still, he had to answer, so he replied, “Well, there are lots of other kids to play with. He’ll have a roof over his head and two or three meals a day. It’s really not so bad,” he lied to his son. He finished tightening the saddle on his horse and grabbed the reins.
The boy stood next to him with a worried look on his face. He wondered where he was going, but trusted the man to keep him safe as he had done during the last week.
Lieutenant Grimes climbed onto the horse and pulled the boy up behind him. “Don’t worry son, he’ll be fine. He’s lucky to have a friend like you lookin’ out for him.”
This last comment made Matthew blush. He felt better knowing that someone was watching over his new friend. He trusted his father to do right by him.
Lieutenant Grimes knew better though. He knew the boy’s prospects were not very good. Without the benefit of spoken English, the boy was at the mercy of the Court. He knew the boy would be sent to Hartford and he knew that he would be the officer assigned to take him there. The trip would take about a week and a half, there and back. Just long enough to get to know the boy so well that his heart would break even more when it came time to leave him in the care of the State of Connecticut.
They arrived at the courthouse about an hour later. The Magistrate was scheduled to be in before noon that day, as he was on every Tuesday, to resolve any legal issues that had come up during the previous week. The corridor Lieutenant Grimes and the boy seated themselves in was dark and dingy. A small ray of light shined through the rectangle window at the top of the wall that anchored the corridor. The light highlighted the dust in the air and served as a constant reminder of the oppression felt by everyone who was forced to endure the condition of the space. A musty smell permeated the air and threatened to choke the life out of anyone who moved too quickly. The wooden bench they found themselves on was uncomfortable and offered plenty of splinters to its weary patrons if they ventured to slide too quickly on its rough surface.
As Lieutenant Grimes and the boy waited, they witnessed a steady stream of unsavory-looking characters coming and going. Some appeared to be harmless vagrants waiting to be released back into polite society, even if temporarily. Familiar with the process of law, these individuals needed little in the form of guidance as they moved from place to place. Others had a look about them that suggested a lifestyle that would eventually end with a sentence from the Magistrate that would include prison time. The minutes seemed to pass like hours and the hours, days. As time went on, the boy became more and more agitated. Lieutenant Grimes did his best to calm the boy down. He knew that if they went into the courtroom and the boy did not behave, things would not go well for him. The Magistrate was known for having a very low tolerance for poor behavior. He was highly respected by the community and a fair man but was by no means lenient, despite any extenuating circumstances that might exist. The law was the law and there were no shades of gray when it came to interpreting the statutes. A bailiff came through the large mahogany doors leading to the courtroom. A welcome burst of color streamed into the corridor from the stained glass windows inside. Finally, it was their turn.
As they approached the front of the room, Lieutenant Grimes noticed all the people watching them. He had been in this room so many times before, but he never noticed the spectators. He usually went about his business, received orders from the Magistrate and then carried them out, never once taking note of anyone else in the courtroom. But this time was different. His charge was different. There was something about this boy that caused the spectators to whisper amongst themselves. The walk from the courtroom doors to the Magistrate’s bench seemed to take an eternity.
“Order in the court!” exclaimed the clerk.
The Magistrate sat high on the bench donning the requisite black robe and a white powdered wig reminiscent of the English courts. He appeared to be almost bored with his duties as he casually sifted through the papers before him. Without looking up, the Magistrate asked, “What is the matter before the court?”
Lieutenant Grimes cleared his throat before replying. He could not get a read on the Magistrate’s mood so he decided that the prudent thing to do would be to present the case expeditiously. “Your Honor, I am Lieutenant Grimes of the Bridgeport police station. This boy was found abandoned in the Housatonic train yard. He does not appear to speak any English and no one has come to claim him over the last week.”
The boy gazed around the courtroom. He had never been around so many people and most of them made him suspicious. The man in the dark robe sitting at the front of the room appeared to be in charge. Just then, he noticed the leather satchel sitting on the floor next to the large desk. It looked just like the one his mother’s friend carried when he visited her. Suddenly, his heart began to race and perspiration streamed from his upper lip. His breathing quickened and he began to feel faint. Something did not feel right and he knew he was in danger. Something bad was going to happen if he stayed. He did not know what to do. Instinct took over and he yanked his hand from Lieutenant Grimes’ loose grip. He made a run for the door at the back of the room. But before he could make his escape, a guard blocked the door.
Lieutenant Grimes rushed to the back of the court room as quickly as he could, all the while lamenting the child’s unruly behavior. With a mixture of dread and pity, Lieutenant Grimes grabbed the boy around the waist. “Hold it there, son,” Lieutenant Grimes said, lifting the boy from the floor as he kicked and flailed his arms. As much as the boy struggled and moaned, his captor’s grip was too tight. “Your Honor, I apologize on behalf of the boy,” Lieutenant Grimes said as he wrestled with the boy back to the bench. “He’s just scared, and…” Then unexpectedly, the boy bit Lieutenant Grimes on the arm. “Ouch! Why you little…” he said, all the while trying to settle the boy down. Lieutenant Grimes knew this display of aggression by the boy would be his undoing. He feared the worst as he set the boy down. He grabbed the boy’s ear and twisted it, keeping him at arm’s length. The pain inflicted brought immediate obedience from the boy.
“May we continue, Lieutenant Grimes?” the Magistrate asked impatiently.
“Yes, your Honor. I am sorry. He’s not usually like this. He must be scared out of his mind. As I said, he doesn’t speak any English and…”
“Hmm. Out of his mind is right,” the Magistrate interrupted. He made some notes on the paper in front of him. Then he motioned for the clerk and after a few whispers were exchanged back and forth said, “I’m going to send him to the Connecticut State Hospital for the Insane, Deformed and Feeble Minded.”
“Is that really necessary, your Honor? I mean, with all due respect, wouldn’t he be better off in an Almshouse or maybe…maybe an orphanage?” Lieutenant Grimes pleaded. This was the worst thing that he feared for the boy. He tried to think of something that would be a better alternative, but he came up with nothing.
“Based on his behavior here today, I would say not. You can pick up the order from the clerk. Dismissed!” the Magistrate replied as he rapped his gavel.
The decision weighed heavily on Lieutenant Grimes’ mind. He loosened his grip on the boy’s ear and held him close while he waited for the clerk to write up the court order. He regretted not offering to take the boy home with him. He was sure Mary would not mind if he had. But it was too late. He had never known anyone personally who had been committed to the State Hospital, but he had heard that you could hear screams coming from all directions. He tried to imagine that the screams were not the result of bodily harm but from the monsters created in the patients’ minds. But this did not console him. He knew this was not a good place for the boy. In fact, it was a terrible place for him.
Lieutenant Grimes waited outside the courtroom for the court clerk to come out of the proceedings. He knew in his gut that the orders from the Magistrate represented a grave injustice. He felt he owed it to the boy to try anything to get the orders changed. After twenty minutes, the clerk finally emerged. Lieutenant Grimes rushed to catch up to the clerk, keeping the boy held closely behind him. “Excuse me, sir…I was wondering if I might have a word with the Magistrate?”
The clerk looked up from the papers he was trying desperately to organize for the next case. He took a moment to push his spectacles back up his nose and replied, “And you are?”
“Sir, I’m Lieutenant Grimes…I was just up before the court regarding the boy found in the train yard.”
“Train yard, oh yes. Boy seems to be quite ruthless in his behavior. Needs help, yes.”
“Yes, he needs help, but not from the State Hospital. He needs a warm home and people to care for him, not a lunatic asylum. That’s no place for such a young child.”
The clerk seemed to consider this for a moment. “Lieutenant, I do sympathize with you, but the orphanage is over capacity right now. Even if the Magistrate had ordered the boy sent there, there would be no room for him. I’m afraid the Magistrate had no choice in this matter. If you want a roof over this boy’s head, it’s going to have to be at the State Hospital.”
“But sir, if I could at least speak with the Magistrate, perhaps we could figure something else out.”
The man looked forlornly at the boy. The system did not favor representation of the lost children of the world. He knew it, but he had to live within the framework that was there. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant. There is nothing I can do for you. Good day.” He turned abruptly and scurried off down the crowded hallway.
Lieutenant Grimes took a deep breath. He knelt down in front of the boy and explained what had happened, hoping some of the information would register. When it was clear nothing was getting through to the boy, Lieutenant Grimes pulled him in close and hugged him gently. The boy hugged him back, tugging at Lieutenant Grimes’ heart. Letting go would have been easier than reinforcing the connection he had made with the boy since they met. Tears welled up in the lieutenant’s eyes, so he held on to the boy until he could blink them away.
Their horse was already packed for the journey. Mary had seen to that. They traveled in tandem on the single saddle. It made for an uncomfortable ride, but the prospect of bringing another horse back with him did not please Lieutenant Grimes. This would be faster in the end. The sooner he returned home, the better. Lieutenant Grimes thought it was fortunate that the boy did not seem to know where he was going. It was more advantageous that he enjoyed his freedom while it lasted. If the weather held out, they would reach Hartford by Saturday afternoon. Part of him wanted to let the boy escape into the trees in the hopes that someone would find and care for him. But he knew this would be futile. With the weather getting colder, the boy would not survive very long out in the countryside. Besides, Lieutenant Grimes was not convinced that the boy could fend for himself given his conviction regarding the boy’s upbringing. If the boy did come from a wealthy family, he would certainly not have the survival skills needed to remain alive long enough to find a comfortable place to stay. Then again, he did manage to do pretty well in the train yard, Lieutenant Grimes thought. He was smart enough to steal the curtains and milk and put a roof over his head. But all of that did not matter. Even if he did manage to survive, there was no guarantee he would not end up with the same fate eventually.
Their journey started out in silence. After a while, Lieutenant Grimes began to talk to the boy out of boredom. He could not tell if the boy understood. If he looked into the boy’s face while he spoke, the boy would nod and smile as if he understood, but Lieutenant Grimes knew that these were just polite reactions. There was no comprehension on the boy’s face. Still, the journey was long and the one-sided conversation helped pass the time.
“Nice day today, don’t you think?” The boy looked up and smiled. “This road,” he said as he pointed, “follows the river and goes clear up to Boston.” Still there was no response, just a nod. After a moment of silence passed, he continued, “I’ve made this trip…oh, must be fifty times. I never get tired of it. Nope. The countryside is beautiful this time of year. Gets pretty cold here in a month or so, though. Before you know it, snow will be everywhere. I wouldn’t want to make this trip in the dead of winter, no sir.” Lieutenant Grimes continued to talk simply to pass the time. They rode slowly down the road, stopping briefly to give the horse a rest and to eat. He knew he had to head straight for Hartford, but in truth, he was not in a hurry. What waited for the boy was nothing short of depressing. Lieutenant Grimes was in no rush to bring the boy face to face with his fate.
As dusk approached, they stopped at a roadside tavern for a warm meal and a place to sleep for the night. They entered the establishment with the boy clinging to Lieutenant Grimes’ overcoat and his face buried deep into the fabric, only steeling a peek from behind the coat when a woman showed them to a table.
“Son,” Lieutenant Grimes said, trying to unravel the boy. “Son, you’re going to have to let go of me so I can get us something to eat. Lieutenant Grimes eventually convinced the boy to let go and have a seat at the table. The room was musty but clean. The light from the windows was fading quickly, yet none of the lamps had been lit. A quick glance around the room revealed five other patrons, all seated at the bar. Supper for these men looked like it would come out of a bottle.
“What’ll it be, gentlemen?” the woman asked. “Tonight we have pot roast and meatloaf. Take your pick.” After the small dry road rations they had been forced to eat mid-day, both dishes sounded good. And if they were not, at least the food would be warm.
“We’ll both take the pot roast,” Lieutenant Grimes replied. “And will you bring us some water, Ma’am?”
“Comes with the meal, sir,” she replied and turned to walk away. Before he could say another word, she was gone. They were quickly served their meal. The portion was modest and it did not take long for Lieutenant Grimes to finish everything on his plate. The boy, on the other hand, seemed to savor every bite. He cut chunks of his meat with his fork and chewed the tiny bits as if it were his last meal. Lieutenant Grimes’ first instinct was to hurry the boy up. Then he remembered they were in no rush. What harm could a leisurely supper cause?
While the boy ate, Lieutenant Grimes walked over to the bartender to inquire about a room for the night. No sooner had he sat on a stool when a fight broke out between two of the other patrons. Punches were being thrown and it appeared to Lieutenant Grimes as if the situation was going to turn ugly. Two others joined in as bottles were thrown and chairs were aimed at the head of anyone within striking distance. Lieutenant Grimes resisted the urge to show his badge. He had a job to do and the responsibility for these types of things was best left to the local authorities. Throughout the mayhem and noise, Lieutenant Grimes tried to make his way back to the boy whose back was turned to the bar. He dodged flying glass and ducked behind tables. Eventually, he was able to circle to room by stepping over broken furniture and at least one moaning body. When he saw the young boy, Lieutenant Grimes was immediately dumbstruck by his demeanor. He did not seem to notice what was going on behind him. He continued to eat as if all were well with the world. He even smiled when he noticed Lieutenant Grimes standing in front of him. Then something occurred to Lieutenant Grimes. He walked around the table to one stationed just behind the boy and as hard as he could, he clapped his hands together just at the boy’s ear level. No reaction. He realized at that moment that the boy must be deaf.
Chapter 2
KNOWING THAT THE BOY was deaf made all the difference in the world to Lieutenant Grimes when he tried to communicate with him. The intelligence he saw in the boy’s eyes was as real as the general confusion he saw when people tried to speak to him. Some people assumed the boy was dumb just because he could not hear. But Lieutenant Grimes knew differently. The boy had just been dealt a raw deal in life. It did not seem fair, but life was rarely fair. He wondered if knowing that the boy was deaf would have made a difference in the courtroom.
Instead of trying to speak to the boy, Lieutenant Grimes used gestures to represent what he was trying to communicate. The boy responded with his own gestures, most of which Lieutenant Grimes did not understand. Still, as they rode, the frustration of finding a shared meaning began to dissolve. Those small morsels of communication strengthened Lieutenant Grimes’ hope for the boy’s future. But this new-found hope was a double-edged sword. It would have been easier to leave the boy at the hospital if he had not formed a bond with him. But the damage was done. They would have to part ways and Lieutenant Grimes knew it would break his heart.
As they rode up to the hitching post in front of the State Hospital, Lieutenant Grimes noticed how quiet and serene everything seemed. It was such a contrast to what they were about to encounter that he could hardly move his feet. Lieutenant Grimes knew what he must do as an officer of the law. He had his orders. His oath to serve and protect kept going through his mind. Was he serving and protecting this boy or was he sending him to endure what could only be assumed to be cruel existence? He closed his eyes for a moment to clear the thoughts from his head.
They walked through the large front doors that eerily creaked as they opened. Once inside, they stepped into a small foyer lighted by gas lanterns. As they proceeded towards the admitting desk, Lieutenant Grimes could feel the grip of the boy’s hand grow tighter. He also seemed to hang back a bit as they approached the nurse sitting behind the desk.
Lieutenant Grimes took a deep breath as he handed the court order to the nurse. He waited while she read the order. After a few minutes, he meekly added, “Ma’am, just so you know, I think the boy’s deaf. It’s not that he doesn’t understand you, he just, well he just can’t hear you. He’s really a wonderful child, really he is. Well-behaved, well-mannered and all… It’s just that, well, if you could keep an eye on him and make sure he’s okay…”
The nurse looked at Lieutenant Grimes and then smiled to the boy hiding behind the officer’s hip. Through her teeth, she said, “We treat all our patients very well, I assure you. He’ll be fine here.” Then she came from around the desk, all the while continuing her eye contact and smile toward the boy. The boy seemed to understand that he was to go with the woman. He looked up at Lieutenant Grimes as if to say thank you, hugged him, shook his hand and took the nurse’s hand. As she led him through the double doors, the boy looked back one last time and waved goodbye to the police officer. Lieutenant Grimes could not dismiss the lump in his throat. He turned before the tears that welled up in his eyes could fall. He left the State Hospital, bringing his heavy heart with him. Once outside, he wiped the tears from his eyes with his sleeve and mounted his horse. This would be the longest journey home from Hartford he had ever endured.
As the nurse and the boy entered the ward, the smell of urine lingered in the air like a cloud. The comfort and serenity of the wood paneled foyer gave way to a white hallway that upon closer inspection was actually gray. Iron bars decorated the windows that ran the length of the corridor. In the distance, the uneasy sound of primal screams could be heard by most, but not the boy. The sounds made most patients uneasy. Despite his inability to hear anything, the boy grew tense, just the same. His apprehensiveness increased with every step they took. By the time they reached the locked doors at the end of the hallway, the boy knew he did not want to be here.
The nurse knocked on one of the doors. After a moment, they entered the room. She led the boy to a chair and motioned for him to sit down. She handed the doctor the court papers and left the room. In front of the boy sat Dr. Reed. The doctor was the director of the State Hospital and was responsible for all the psychiatric care of the patients who resided there. He fancied himself a Renaissance man, especially when it came to patient care and rehabilitation. He believed that the cruelty of the standard care given to patients even just a decade ago should be reserved for only the most severe cases. Since he began experimenting with allowing his patients more freedom, Dr. Reed’s cure rate went up substantially. He also had fewer patients returning to the State Hospital with relapses.
Dr. Reed read the papers as he smoked his pipe. When he finished, he said, “Another child. Why do they keep sending them here?” He asked himself. Resigned to accepting the court order, he asked, “Well, what’s your name young man?”
The boy was busy taking in every inch of the room. Unaware that the man was speaking to him, he continued his survey.
This type of behavior with psychiatric patients was not at all unusual, so Dr. Reed assumed the boy was non-communicative. When the boy saw the man looking at him, he smiled and gave him his full attention. “Hmm…well, in the absence of a name, we’ll call you Jonathan. I’ve always liked that name.” He made a note in a file. He went on to describe what was expected of all the patients on the ward. When he finished, the boy now called Jonathan smiled at him and nodded, not understanding a word Dr. Reed had said to him.
Dr. Reed led the boy out to the floor nurse, gently guiding him by the shoulder.
“Nurse Mayfield, we’ll call this boy Jonathan. Upon initial evaluation, I’m guessing he’s harmless, although he does not seem to understand English. As a ward of the State, I think he’ll be fine among our less severe patients, but do keep an eye on him for a few days. There’s a note in his file about assaulting a police officer, but no reference was given as to the circumstances.”
“How am I supposed to speak to the boy?” she asked impatiently.
“I’m sure you’ll figure out a way.” He replied as he patted her on the shoulder. “Besides, without a firm diagnosis of mental defect, there isn’t much we can do with him anyway except keep him fed and clothed. As long as he behaves himself, he shouldn’t require much attention from the staff. Perhaps someone will eventually claim the boy and take him out of our care.”
Nurse Mayfield looked at the boy and sighed. “Come along,” she said to him as she led him by the arm to his sleeping quarters. They proceeded down the hall to a dormitory filled with boys varying in age from ten to sixteen years. Some were lying in beds while others milled about the room.