Governor Ramage R. N. (45 page)

Goddard gestured to Hobson, who was holding several sheets of paper in his hand.

“The first questions are written down.”

Goddard and his cronies seemed to have prepared the case well. If the prosecutor had the questions written on slips of paper which were passed to the deputy judge advocate to read aloud, the accused had to answer at once. If the prosecutor spoke the question so the deputy judge advocate could write it down and then address it to the accused, it gave the prisoner time to think about his answer. With the question already written down, the deputy judge advocate need only number it, make a note of the number in his minute of the trial, and ask the question at once.

Hobson went over to stand by Syme, handing him a page with the first question. Before the deputy judge advocate had time to read it, Captain Napier said: “Has the accused all his witnesses available?”

“No, I have only those immediately available.”

Ramage had already thought through the probable sequence of question and answer, and now that the court was sitting there was little Goddard could do even if he suspected that there was some sort of a trap behind Ramage's carefully chosen words.

“What do you mean by ‘immediately available?'” Napier asked.

“Only those that could attend the court when it opened, sir.” Syme jammed his spectacles back on his nose. “All those on the list you gave me are present,” he said angrily.

“Quite,” Ramage said.

“What do you mean by that?” Napier asked.

“In view of the gravity of the charges I face, sir—all of them are capital—and my present lack of witnesses, I hope that the court will be indulgent should any other witnesses become available.”

Would Napier just leave it at that or demand more details? Ramage tried to look nonchalant.

“Very well. Carry on, Mr Syme.”

“I haven't noted all that down yet,” Syme said sourly, and Ramage guessed that the deputy judge advocate had been so absorbed in what was being said that he had forgotten to write.

Hobson handed him the first page.

“Were you,” he asked Croucher, “commanding the
Lion
on the eighteenth day of July last when, during an attack upon a ship of the convoy, His Majesty's ship
Triton
did—”

“Stop!” Napier snapped. “Strike that from the record.” He looked directly at the Admiral. “The prosecution is no doubt aware of the meaning of the phrase ‘leading question?'”

When Goddard said nothing, Napier said quietly: “The court requires an answer. First,” he said to Syme, “note my question in the minutes.”

When he saw Syme had written it, he motioned to Goddard. “The prosecution understands,” the Admiral said grudgingly. “Very well. The deputy judge advocate will read written questions carefully before speaking them aloud. Carry on.”

For a moment or two Ramage wondered why Napier was on his side and then realized that he was not. He was just conducting the trial impartially. Ramage's only previous experience of a court martial was the one staged—and “staged” was the right word—by Croucher, in Bastia. There the President had used his position to twist everything in favour of the prosecution.

Goddard decided to abandon the written questions, frame new ones, and speak them aloud.

“What were you doing on the eighteenth day of July?”

“I was commanding His Majesty's ship
Lion.
”

“What were your duties?”

“Flying the flag of the Rear-Admiral and escorting a convoy from Barbados to Jamaica.”

“Was there any unusual occurrence that night?”

“Yes, a French privateer attacked one of the ships.”

“What was that ship's position in the convoy?”

“Leading the starboard column.”

“Where was the
Lion
at this time?”

“In her proper position ahead of the centre column of the convoy.”

“Which of the King's ships was closest to the merchantman that was attacked?”

“The
Triton
brig.”

“Who commanded the
Triton
?”

“The accused.”

“How was the attack made on the merchant ship, and what was the merchantman's name?”

“The ship was the
Topaz.
The privateer came up from astern, following the line of ships, and went alongside the
Topaz
and attacked her.”

“Was there any chance,” Goddard asked, “of the privateer being seen from the
Lion?
”

“None,” Croucher said. “It was a dark night and she was a mile or so away, and hidden against all the ships on the northern side of the convoy.”

“Was a ship responsible for that section of the convoy?”

“Yes, the
Triton.
”

“Did she prevent the attempt?”

“She eventually fired from a distance.”

“At what distance, and from what bearing?”

“From perhaps a mile. From the starboard bow of the convoy.”

Ramage wondered if he would remember all the discrepancies.

“For how long did the
Triton
engage the privateer—or, at least, fire on her?”

“For perhaps a quarter of an hour.”

Napier said: “Can you be more precise.”

“For a quarter of an hour.”

“Did the privateer capture the
Topaz?
” Goddard asked.

“No, the
Topaz
drove her off with her own guns, and the
Greyhound
frigate came up and captured her.”

“What, to the best of your knowledge and belief, would you have expected the
Triton
to have done?”

“Hauled her wind and come up to the privateer before she reached the
Topaz.
”

Captain Robinson raised his hand.

“Are you aware of any reason why she did not do so?” he asked.

“None. Nor did the prisoner subsequently give any.”

“Answer only the question you are asked,” Napier said. “Strike the last part of that answer from the minutes.”

Goddard wriggled impatiently and, at a gesture from Napier, continued the questioning.

“From your long experience as an officer and from your knowledge of the circumstances, did the action of the prisoner lead you to any conclusions?”

Hmm, thought Ramage, very neat. It's probably phrased illegally but none of us knows enough of the law to challenge it. Napier is frowning but obviously not sure of his ground.

“Yes,” Croucher said, almost whispering, “he fell under the tenth, twelfth and seventeenth Articles of War.”

“Can you be more specific?”

Croucher shifted from one foot to the other as though Goddard was forcing him to give the required answers.

“He kept back from the fight; he did not engage the ship he should have engaged; he did not do his utmost. He did not defend the ships of the convoy.”

Captain Innes, sitting nearest to Ramage, turned to Croucher. “You have deposed that the
Triton
did open fire.”

“Yes,” Croucher said.

Goddard asked: “In the time available—from the time of sighting the privateer—could she have closed the range?”

“Stop!” Napier said crisply. “Strike out that question.” Ramage stood up. “With respect, sir, I don't object to it.”

“Good heavens!” Napier exclaimed. “Very well, carry on.” Croucher said: “Yes, she could have closed the range.”

“No more questions,” Goddard said.

“The court has some questions before the prisoner examines the witness. You said the
Lion
was a mile ahead of the convoy?”

“About a mile, to the best of my knowledge.”

“And ahead of the centre?”

“Yes.”

“How many columns of ships were there in the convoy, and how far apart?”

“Seven, and two cables apart.”

“So the front of the convoy extended 2,400 yards?”

“That is correct.”

“And the
Triton
was ‘perhaps a mile' on the starboard bow of the convoy?”

“That is correct.”

“Thank you,” Napier said.

Napier's spotted a discrepancy, Ramage thought, cursing his mathematics. As Syme began reading back the evidence, Ramage pencilled a right-angled triangle on a piece of paper, wrote in
“Lion”
at the apex, “centre ship” at the right angle, and
“Topaz”
at the other end of the base line. One mile from the
Lion
to the centre ship; 1,200 yards from the centre ship to the
Topaz.
The hypotenuse would be the distance from the
Lion
to the
Topaz.

He drew a second triangle, substituting the
Triton
for the
Topaz,
so the base was the distance from the centre ship to the
Triton.

The hypotenuse was the distance from the
Lion
to the
Triton.
Bully for Pythagoras. A mile and a quarter from the
Lion
to the
Topaz;
roughly two miles to the
Triton.
Two? He checked his figures again. A few yards short of two.

“The prisoner may examine the witness,” Napier said. Ramage stood up.

“Could you tell the court the position assigned to the
Triton
?”

“Abreast the
Topaz
and two cables off.”

“If the
Triton
was as far out of position as a mile off, why did you not make a signal to her?”

“I could not see her in the darkness!”

“So you did not know she was there?”

“No,” Croucher said indignantly, not noticing the infuriated look on Goddard's face.

“But you have already told the court where the
Triton
was. How did you see her and estimate the distance?”

“From the flash of the guns when she opened fire.”

“Would you agree that the distances,” Ramage asked, glancing at his notes, “were from the
Lion
to the
Topaz
roughly a mile and a quarter, and from the
Lion
to the
Triton,
about two miles?”

“Without pencil and paper, I cannot.”

Napier said: “If the witness will accept the court's mathematics, those distances agree approximately with the evidence the witness has already given.”

“I'm grateful,” Croucher said.

“When the
Triton
opened fire on the privateer, what was her rate of fire?”

“Slow and sporadic,” Croucher said uncertainly. “Single guns.”

“How slow, would you estimate?”

“Two or three guns a minute. Less, perhaps.”

“But you saw the flashes and you knew they were the
Triton
's guns?”

“Of course.”

“Can you, under oath,” Ramage said deliberately, emphasizing each word, “explain how you estimated the distance of two miles in the dark with such certainty when you only had ‘slow and sporadic' flashes to go by?”

“Experience, of course. I have served at sea for many years,” Croucher said stiffly.

“Would you care to describe your previous experience in estimating distances under such circumstances, and what proof you subsequently had that such estimates were correct?”

Goddard leapt to his feet.

“Impertinence,” he shouted. “Sheer damn'd impertinence. The accused is impugning the honour of one of the most experienced—”

“Order!” Napier snapped. “You will not make further interruptions of that nature. The question is perfectly in order. It is a very important point, and the court is trying to get at the truth of this matter.”

The seven captains round the table looked at Croucher. “One can never subsequently check one's estimates; that's absurd. But after being in action many times …”

Ramage waited, but when Croucher said no more he knew there was no need to labour the point.

“You referred to a privateer,” he said. “Could you tell the court the nature of this vessel?”

Once again Goddard was on his feet. “This is absurd! She was full of Frenchmen and—”

Napier rapped the table and Goddard broke off.

“This is the second time the court has had to warn the prosecution …”

Goddard sat down like a sulky schoolboy, and Napier continued: “The witness will answer the question.”

“She was a fairly large ship. She came up from astern—”

“What was the position you had assigned to her in the convoy?” Ramage interrupted quietly, and saw the heads of all seven captains jerk up in surprise.

“She was the eighth ship in the starboard column.”

“The last ship in the column led by the
Topaz?
”

“Yes.”

“When did the ship join the convoy?”

“I ought to explain that—”

Napier rapped the table. “Please just answer the question; you are not allowed to make statements.”

“I can't be forced to incriminate …” Croucher began unhappily. He broke off as Goddard stared at him coldly. Slowly, as though they were the guns of a broadside, the seven captains turned to look at Goddard, those sitting with their backs to him swivelling round in their chairs.

“Do you wish the court to be cleared while this point is decided?” Napier asked Goddard.

“I don't know what the witness is talking about,” Goddard said.

“Very well,” Napier said crisply, and turned back to Croucher. “You will answer the question.”

Croucher took a deep breath. “She joined the convoy in Barbados.”

“A British ship?”

“No. Yes, I mean …”

Robinson held up his hand.

“The court understood you to say she was a French privateer.”

“Well, she was!”

“But you have just said she was a British ship.”

“We thought she was,” Croucher said desperately. “She had all the correct papers. Her master claimed she was a runner and wanted to join the convoy to Jamaica. He said the route to Jamaica was thick with privateers!”