Ramage's Trial (39 page)

Ramage looked at Goddard and the man's weak, sagging face made him angry. So did the thought of Shirley, and the
Jason
's lieutenants, who were behaving like sycophantic poltroons.

“Yes, sir, I am ready to present my case,” he heard himself saying. “Could the first witness on my list be called?”

The first witness was Aitken, who strode into the cabin to be reminded by Jenkins that he was still on oath and therefore need not be sworn again.

The deputy judge advocate looked questioningly at Ramage, who shook his head. “I do not have my questions written out.”

“In that case,” Goddard said quickly, having seen that Ramage was not holding any sheets of paper, “you will write them out and ask them through me.”

Oh no, Ramage decided: he had put up with enough in the trial so far and he was making a defence only because Goddard, Shirley and the wretched lieutenants had irritated him. “If you'll pardon me, sir, that is not required in the court-martial statutes; writing down questions has simply become a habit in some courts to save time.”

“Nevertheless, you'll write down each question and pass it to me to ask.”

Ramage took a deep breath and stared straight at Goddard. “In that case, sir, I have no defence to offer, and I insist that this dialogue be recorded in the minutes.”

“You can't insist on anything,” Goddard sneered. “You are the prisoner on trial for your life.”

Swinford said unexpectedly: “Sir, as the senior of the captains forming this court – of which you are president – I must insist that Captain Ramage's request be granted. He has decided not to offer a defence because you insist on examining his interrogatories and asking them yourself. Your decision and his are both part of the trial and must be recorded. And if you'll forgive me, sir, Captain Ramage is correct about the court-martial statutes. This business of written interrogatories started to help deputy judge advocates write the minutes. In fact, it is bad because it gives a dishonest witness plenty of time to think of a way to prevaricate. We must remember the courts were set up to administer justice, not the comfort and convenience of deputy judge advocates.”

Goddard was quick enough to know he was beaten on that point, and with a defensive half-smile at all the captains he said: “Of course, of course. I was simply trying to speed up the proceedings: we are now in our second day and only just beginning the defence.” He turned to Ramage, his smile twisted and artificial, like the powder daubed on the face of a raddled old trull.

“Mr Aitken,” Ramage said, “you have already deposed that during July last you were the last lieutenant of the
Calypso
, and now I want you to tell the court what you consider to be the beginning of the series of circumstances which has led to you appearing here as a witness in my trial.”

Ramage looked round at Goddard. He had worked very carefully on that question because basically it asked an officer for his professional opinion on a relevant subject. Goddard could not object that the question had nothing to do with the charge or witness. But Ramage could see that as Jenkins wrote down the question, while he waited for the answer Goddard was trying to see what hidden significance might lie behind it.

Aitken saw Jenkins' pen stop moving and said: “Sighting a sail to windward which afterwards proved to be the
Jason
, sir.”

“What in your view was the situation of the
Calypso
, with a strange sail sighted to windward?”

“Because the
Calypso
was escorting a large West Indian convoy, sir, she had to take immediate steps to be ready to defend the ships if necessary.”

Goddard interrupted. “Pray tell me what has all this to do with the charges against you, Mr Ramage?”

“Only this, sir,” Ramage said, not troubling to hide the sarcasm in his voice, “I am charged over matters concerning the
Jason
frigate and Captain Shirley. It seems relevant to my defence to introduce both of them.”

Both Captain Swinford and, sitting opposite him, Captain Huggins, simultaneously coughed. Goddard glanced at each of them and then nodded to Ramage. “Carry on, then.”

“Mr Aitken, what steps were taken that immediately concerned you, or which you initiated yourself?”

“Acting on your orders, I had the drummer beat to quarters. I then asked you for the day's challenge, and as soon as you gave it to me, I had the appropriate flags hoisted, along with our pendant numbers.”

“You did not order any alteration of course or sail trimming?”

“No, sir. While I was attending to my duties, the master gave the orders which started us stretching up to windward.”

So far, so good, Ramage thought. Goddard has at last woken up to the fact that some of the members of the court are concerned that the trial should be conducted according to the court-martial statutes. That did not mean they were on his side, but at least it hinted that they would listen to evidence fairly and give a verdict based on it. Yet, yet, yet…Would Goddard suddenly change his aim? No, there was no chance of that.

“What did you do after that?”

“I was concerned first with identifying the strange sail, and having done that, taking the appropriate steps to meet her.”

“How did you identify her, and what steps did you take?”

Ramage saw that Goddard was looking worried. There was no way he could rule the questions out of order, in the light of Swinford's and Huggins' discreet coughs, providing Ramage was careful. But let Goddard object to one question and the flood would start…

“As we approached we (the officers and several seamen) recognized her as a British-built frigate, and her sails had an English cut. Then we saw she had a challenge hoisted, and read her pendant numbers.”

Ramage waited until Jenkins indicated he had copied the answer down and then asked Aitken casually: “It was, of course, the correct challenge?”

“No, sir.”

“What,” demanded Goddard, “has this to do with the charges?”

“In my view, sir, it has a vital bearing on
all
the charges.”

“In the court's view it has none. Strike it out, Mr Jenkins. Carry on, Mr Ramage.”

“Having inspected the flags of the
Jason
's challenge,” Ramage asked, watching Goddard and ready with his protest should the admiral interrupt, “what did you then do?”

“I looked up her pendant numbers in the signal book and saw she was the
Jason
. As there was no need for the men to remain at quarters, I gave them the orders for them to secure the guns.”

“What did you observe about the
Jason
at this time?”

“She was steering directly for us and I concluded she was going to pass within hail.”

Ramage saw that Goddard was now tense, his eyes flickering from Ramage to Aitken and back. He knew that the time was fast approaching when Ramage would be asking about one of the critical parts of the case, the broadside, and knew he had to stifle the questions without being too obvious.

“Did she pass within hail?” Ramage asked again casually.

“No, sir, within gunshot, though.”

“Wait,” shouted Goddard. “Mr Jenkins, do not write that down. What has this to do with the charge?”

“I was just establishing a distance, sir. Pistol shot, musket shot, gunshot – these are all very well known distances and immediately recognized by seamen.”

Goddard glanced at Captain Swinford before nodding: “Very well, carry on.”

At once Ramage asked: “How do you know she was within gunshot of the
Calypso
?”

“She fired a raking broadside at us, sir.”

“Stop! Silence, I say!” Goddard shouted. “Strike that out, both question and answer.”

“Sir,” Ramage said quietly, “if that question and that answer are struck out, clearly the court is being prevented from hearing this witness' evidence, and there is no point in me asking further questions. I request it be recorded in the minutes.”

“If you choose to ask no more questions that is
your
affair,” Goddard said bluntly. “As president of the court it is
my
affair that the proceedings be conducted as laid down in the court-martial statutes.”

Ramage stared at him open-mouthed. The man's hypocrisy was unbelievable. “In view of that, I have no more questions to ask this witness,” he said.

Aitken signed the minutes and Goddard said in a friendly voice: “You may stay in the court now you are not required again as a witness.”

Aitken gave a deep bow. “You are too kind, sir,” he said ironically, and walked over to the row of chairs.

“Call the next witness,” Goddard said, as though to maintain some sort of initiative, and Jenkins called for Wagstaffe, who had been kept on board overnight in custody.

Ramage asked him preliminary questions establishing his role on board the
Calypso
up to the time she went alongside the
Jason
. Goddard did not object to any of the routine questions, then Ramage asked: “When you boarded the
Jason
with me, what opposition did you meet?”

“Wait!” snapped Goddard, but Ramage immediately interrupted.

“Sir, may I suggest you hear the witness' answer before objecting?”

Realizing that he was leaving himself open by not agreeing, Goddard nodded, but slewed his body round so that he could stare at Wagstaffe.

The young lieutenant said: “There was no opposition at all.”

“Where were the officers?”

“I did not see–”

“Stop,” Goddard said. “There is no opposition so any further question on that point is irrelevant.”

“I want it noted in the minutes that I am not allowed to question this witness properly – sir.”

Goddard shrugged. “If you can't frame your questions properly, that's your affair. It might have helped had you first written them down.”

That none of the officers were on deck, that all the guns' crews were crouched beside their guns, that Shirley was standing there in a long black coat – Ramage knew there was no hope of getting any evidence about this past Goddard, yet that (and what he saw for the rest of the voyage to England) was what made Wagstaffe's evidence vital. Vital but impossible to have recorded in the minutes of the trial.

Ramage said no more, so that his last request still stood, although Goddard appeared to be ignoring it, impatiently gesturing to Wagstaffe to sign the minutes, having asked Shirley if he had any questions and receiving a dismissive reply.

Southwick was the next witness, but like Aitken he was prevented from giving any evidence about the broadside: Goddard was ready with several objections. Like Wagstaffe, the master was stopped from describing the absence of officers from the
Jason
's deck. Finally Ramage said: “I have no more questions to ask this witness that would be permitted by the president of the court.”

“My dear fellow,” Goddard said blandly, “ask what questions you wish; just make sure that, as laid down in the court-martial statutes, they are relevant to the charges – after all, there are enough charges…”

There was no more point, Ramage decided as Southwick signed the minutes. All the evidence allowed would, like Goddard's manner whenever challenged, be bland. The other lieutenants, Paolo, Jackson, Stafford – whatever they said about the broadside would be disallowed so there was no point in calling them. In fact, that was the end of the defence. There remained only for him to make his defence statement.

Yet, he suddenly remembered, there was one witness who would be very offended if not called to give evidence.

Ramage said: “I wish to change my list of witnesses. May I be allowed to amend it?”

Goddard nodded and Ramage walked down to the end of the table. Jenkins gave him the list and handed him the pen. Ramage scored all through the names except one, added a few letters to it, and returned to his chair.

“Are you ready?” Goddard inquired, and when Ramage nodded he told Jenkins impatiently: “Call the next witness.”

 

Jenkins hesitated for several moments, reading his list a second time, and Goddard tapped the table impatiently with his signet ring. “Mr Jenkins, next witness!”

The deputy judge advocate turned towards the door, where the Marine sentry waited to repeat the name. “Call Miss Alexis Yorke,” he said.

Goddard swung round to Ramage. “Who is this woman? What on earth has she got to do with this case?”

“She is a defence witness, sir,” Ramage said, “and it would be quite improper for me to anticipate her evidence.”

“Very well, have her sworn.”

So, Ramage realized, Goddard did not remember the family name, and he was glad she and Sidney had sat apart. Nor did Goddard remember Sidney from Port Royal, Jamaica, and of course he had never seen or heard of Alexis before.

When Alexis walked into the great cabin, Ramage realized that most if not all of the court had previously only seen her at a distance across the cabin, sitting down in the rows of chairs for spectators, and then when she left the cabin. None of them – at least, not Goddard and presumably not the captains – had realized why Alexis was in the cabin. He guessed that they had assumed that she was the wife (a fiancée would need a chaperone) or mistress of someone interested in the trial. The thought of Alexis as a mistress was – he brushed the picture aside and watched her.

Goddard was impressed: he was already standing, a reassuring smile on his face. He gestured towards the chair which had been pushed to one side by the preceding witnesses. “If Miss Yorke will be seated there,” he said. “We have one or two formalities to go through first.”

Jenkins bustled round holding both the Bible and a Crucifix, and then had to scuttle back to collect the card on which the oath was written. Then obviously he decided to use one of the alternative forms, which did not require the witness to recite, and then remembered that he had not read all the details of the accused's list of witnesses. Finally he walked round to Alexis, who saw what he was carrying and stood up.