The Evangeline (2 page)

‘Objection, your Honour,’ cried William Darnell, lifting himself halfway out of his chair.

It was unmistakable, that voice. It came clothed in the indefatigable cheerfulness of a man who had lived long enough to know that every day might be his last, and who found in that otherwise depressing fact one more reason to love each day he was alive.

‘If I still have any memory left, I could swear I heard the prosecution call Mr Whitfield as a witness. I’m pretty sure I didn’t call him.Which leaves me—and perhaps the court as well—a little confused about why my good friend Mr Roberts has decided to subject him to cross-examination?’

Homer Maitland lifted one of his iron-grey eyebrows. ‘Mr Roberts? He is your witness, isn’t he?’

‘Yes, your Honour,’ said Roberts without expression. ‘Sorry, Mr Whitfield. That was unfair of me. But to get back to your testimony: you hired the defendant, Vincent Marlowe, as the captain because you wanted to spend time with your friends?’

‘Yes. As I say, Marlowe is a very experienced sailor.’

Whitfield darted a glance past Roberts to the defendant, who was sitting next to Darnell.

‘But something happened, and this trip, this voyage around Africa, went on without you.What happened? Why didn’t you go?’

Benjamin Whitfield began to rub his hands together as he leaned forward. He was looking straight at Roberts, but staring at something only he could see. ‘Would it have made any difference if I had gone? I keep wondering what I would have done—what anyone could have done…’

Roberts clutched the hard, varnished railing of the jury box with his right hand and shoved his left hand into his pocket.‘Why didn’t you go?’ he asked.

The question brought Whitfield out of the strange reverie into which he had fallen. He shook his head. ‘My father had a heart attack. I had to get home.’

‘I’m very sorry. And did your father…?’

‘The doctors could not save him. He died in the hospital a few days later.’

‘But you were able to spend some time with him? You had the chance to say your last goodbyes. And he died surrounded by his family. He—’

‘Your Honour?’ objected Darnell.‘We’re all very sorry for Mr Whitfield’s loss, but I’m not quite certain that I see the connection between the manner of his father’s death and the charges brought against my client.’

Judge Maitland gave Roberts a cautionary glance. Roberts returned a brief, formal nod and, without moving from his place next to the jury box, went on to his next question.

‘Mr Whitfield, there were nineteen passengers and eight crew members on board. What precautions had been taken for their safety? Let’s begin with the question of life preservers, or, as I think they are sometimes called, vests?’

‘There were dozens of them on board—more than adequate.’

‘Their number may have been adequate, but were they immediately accessible?’ Roberts stared down at the tips of his shoes as he moved one foot slightly in front of the other. There was no reply to his question. His eyes came up first, followed by his head. ‘Mr Whitfield?’

‘Sorry. Yes, I assume so. They were stored in all the normal places; everything was done according to the standard regulations.’

‘The life vests—these were the inflatable kind? You put it on, pull a cord, and it inflates itself?’

‘Yes, exactly. Everyone knew how to do it. That’s one of the first things the crew would have done—shown everyone where the vests were, how to put them on, how to use them. And, you have to remember,’ said Whitfield, looking towards the jury, ‘all those people—every one of them—had been on boats before…’

‘But always as passengers, never as members of the crew,’ said Roberts.

‘Yes, that’s right; but they were familiar with life vests.’

Roberts moved his foot another inch forward.

‘Now tell us, if you would, about the lifeboats that were available in case of emergency.’

‘There were several inflatable rafts, and two Zodiacs, which are also inflatable but have outboard motors fixed to a wooden board in back.’

‘And each one could accommodate how many passengers?What I mean to say,’ Roberts added quickly,‘is safely accommodate?’

‘The inflatable rafts could probably each handle six or seven; the Zodiacs could carry perhaps as many as nine or ten.’

‘Certainly enough capacity for the nineteen passengers and eight crew members of the
Evangeline
,’ said Roberts with a glance at the jury that was dark and full of meaning.

Darnell bounced up from his chair. An eager smile darted across his mouth. ‘I’m afraid it’s my dreadful memory again, your Honour. I know, of course, that Mr Roberts has now become a witness; it’s just that I can’t remember him being sworn!’

Homer Maitland drew in his cheeks, forcing his lips forward: the wily expression of a judge who knew the subtle art by which the legendary William Darnell had captivated juries for the better part of half a century.

‘Perhaps the clerk had better put you both under oath,’ he remarked as he studied Darnell through half-closed eyes.‘Do you have a question, Mr Roberts? Because if you do, this might be a good time to ask it.’

‘Yes, your Honour,’ replied Roberts in a voice that had no humour in it.‘Mr Whitfield, what other precautions were taken for the safety of the passengers and crew? Were the lifeboats adequately provisioned?’

‘Yes. I mean, I think so. I mean, the captain, Mr Marlowe … I’m sure that before they were ever lowered away, he would—the crew would have…’

‘What about the communications equipment? There was a radio; there was…?’

‘A radio was the least of it. Computers, wireless Internet communication, global positioning, cell phones—the most advanced electronic equipment in the world was on that boat. The
Evangeline
was one of the most technologically advanced sailing vessels ever built.’

Roberts walked back to the counsel table and started to pull out his chair. He stopped and looked again at Whitfield.

‘The most advanced equipment in the world—and none of it worked! How do you explain that, Mr Whitfield? That with all this technology, the
Evangeline
went down in a storm at sea and for forty days no one knew where she was or what had happened to her?’

With a grim, haunted look, Benjamin Whitfield shook his head.

‘How do you explain that, Mr Whitfield?’ Roberts asked insistently.

With an anguished stare, Whitfield shook his head one last time. ‘They say she went down in less than two minutes. No one on her would have had a chance to do anything.’

Chapter Two

W
HEN HE WAS NOT ON HIS FEET OBJECTING, William Darnell sat in his chair, his arms hanging limp over the sides, staring at the ceiling as if he were either bored by every word the witness said or had fallen asleep with his eyes wide open. He had done it often enough before, taken advantage of the longwinded testimony of a witness for the other side to catch up on his sleep. He had done it at least once in every one of the hundreds of trials in which he had appeared for the defence. And when he had not actually done it, he had made certain to pretend that he had. It was part of the legend that had grown up around him: the brilliant eccentric who, if he slept at all during a trial, slept not at home in bed but in his office, fully dressed, able to make up for what he had missed with a short nap in court.

The prosecution had finished with its first witness. The judge had inquired whether the defence wished to cross-examine. Darnell had not opened his eyes. His small head was tilted back, his mouth hung slightly open. Homer Maitland bent forward, about to rouse him with a louder voice.

‘And so you planned this trip around Africa as a way of spending more time with a few of your favourite friends!’ Darnell’s eyes were still closed, his head still thrown back. He might have been talking in his sleep. ‘But then your father, who, if I’m not mistaken, had a long history of heart failure—this wasn’t his first heart attack, was it?—was put in hospital, and for that reason you flew home and the others went ahead without you?’

Darnell’s eyes flew open. In a single, fluid motion, he spun out of his chair and moved to the precise spot in front of the jury box from which Michael Roberts had conducted the majority of his direct examination.‘May I inquire, Mr Whitfield, why you did not simply postpone the trip? You had been planning it for some time, isn’t that true? You testified, if I remember correctly, that the boat had been built to your rather exacting specifications; that it had completed all its trials; that it was a quite wonderful two-master, capable of sailing anywhere in the world. And her maiden voyage— the one you had planned for, the one you had dreamed about, the one on which, at an expense some might think exorbitant, you were bringing nineteen of your friends—’

‘Your Honour!’ Roberts objected.‘I seem to recall something about a witness testifying without first being sworn?’

Homer Maitland drew in his cheeks the same way he had before. A look of sly amusement danced in his eyes as he waited for Darnell’s reply. But Darnell stared down at the floor and, with his small hands clasped behind his back, rose up on the balls of his feet and rocked slowly back and forth. The jurors close to him could see, if they were looking sharply, a smile at the corners of his mouth. Then, suddenly, it was gone. His head jolted up and he staggered forward, planted his feet firmly on the floor, and fixed the witness with a piercing stare.

‘Question:You had been planning this trip for some time— correct?’

Startled,Whitfield scratched his head.

‘Planning it for some time?’ Darnell repeated as he took a step forward.

‘Yes.’

‘Question: The
Evangeline
was built to your specifications?’ He took another step.

‘Yes.’

‘Question: It had completed all its trials?’

‘Yes.’

‘Question: It was capable of sailing—of sailing safely— anywhere in the world?’

‘Yes, it was. I just testified that it had all the newest, best equipment, the—’

‘Question: You had dreamed about making this voyage, planned it for years, isn’t that correct?’

‘Yes—but not just this voyage.We were going to go everywhere, see everything. There was no limit to what we could do with her.’

Darnell had taken another step forward and was now close enough to touch Whitfield. At this last answer, he stood straight up and looked back at the jury. Then, with a puzzled expression, he moved across to the counsel table. Both hands on the back of his empty chair, he fell into a long, thoughtful silence.

‘She was that good, the
Evangeline
? There were no limits to what she could do?’

‘Yes, that’s right,’ said Whitfield eagerly. ‘She was perfect. She could … No, I see what you mean. There was a limit, wasn’t there? She sank, so there must have been a limit—even for her.’

Darnell motioned to the clerk, a plump young woman with a pleasant face. ‘Would you please hand the witness what has been marked Defence exhibit 17? Would the witness be kind enough to identify the document he has just been handed?’

Whitfield glanced at the cover sheet of a thirty-page document. ‘ This is the report of the sea trials of the
Evangeline
.’

‘Yes, yes,’ said Darnell, flapping his hand as he turned to face the jury.‘Would you please turn to page six? Now, would you read the second paragraph from the top? Just the highlighted portion, if you would.’

‘“During the sea trials, after one day of heavy weather, water began to leak through the aluminium hull. A crack was discovered below the waterline.’”

‘Yes, thank you, Mr Whitfield. That’s enough. Now, let me confess to you,’ he said as he wheeled around and looked at him directly,‘I have seldom ventured out in a sailboat anywhere except here on the San Francisco bay. I know very little about them and nothing at all about their construction. I have, however, been told by people whose business it is to know these things, that if that happens—if there is a crack in the aluminium hull, and if the aluminium plates begin to pull apart—and especially if it happens in the kind of dreadful storm in which the
Evangeline
suddenly found herself—the only question is how quickly she is going to sink. In your considered opinion, is that a fair statement of the case?’

‘Yes, but that problem was dealt with.’

‘Dealt with? Yes, I remember; the shipyard investigated. One of the welding rods was used improperly. Isn’t that what they found? Something about a welding rod that should have been used to weld a stainless-steel fitting on the rudder was used instead on the aluminium plates of the hull?’

‘The problem was identified and fixed. It was just one worker, just one weld. The crack was fixed,’ replied Whitfield.

‘Yes, the crack was fixed—the one you knew about—but did anyone bother to check if there were other, similar failures? Wouldn’t the safest thing have been to X-ray all the seams, make sure that all of them had been properly welded?’

‘There was no need for that,’ insisted Whitfield.

‘No need?’ Darnell’s eyes narrowed into a penetrating stare. ‘You can say that now, after she went down like that, after all those lives were lost?’

‘They found the crack; they determined the cause! The people who built her were convinced that everything was perfect!’

‘But the question, Mr Whitfield—the question that I have been asking myself ever since I first read that report—is why, if they thought it was “perfect”, did they also offer to check every weld and every seam?’ He looked at Whitfield almost apologetically. ‘The only point I wish to make is that the shipyard was prepared to conduct a thorough investigation into the safety of every part of that aluminium hull, but the decision was made not to do so. Isn’t that correct?

‘Yes, I have to admit that it is.’

‘We are still left with the question, though: why, when you found out that your father was ill, when you found out that you had to fly back home, you didn’t simply put off the maiden voyage of the
Evangeline
?’

Perhaps not even William Darnell himself could have said whether he had deliberately begun his cross-examination as if he were an enemy, calling the witness a liar, so he could convince Whitfield now, when it counted, that he was—if not a friend, at least sympathetic—willing and able to understand that none of the things that had happened later were his fault.‘The reason you did not postpone the date of departure for the
Evangeline
is because none of your guests could have waited. Isn’t that the reason, Mr Whitfield? The people you invited to go with you on this voyage were not the kind who could be asked to wait a week or even a few days. Isn’t that true, Mr Whitfield?’