The Evangeline (13 page)

‘No, Mr Trevelyn,’ said Darnell in a stern, unforgiving voice. ‘I blame you for a good deal more than that. The boy, among other things.Why don’t we start with him? You testified that he was sick and that was the reason he was chosen. Is that still your story, now that your memory seems to have in some measure been restored?’

‘Sick? He was dying. Anyone could see that. He didn’t have more than a few days left.’

‘He became sick, or rather it became obvious he was dying, some ten days or two weeks after the
Evangeline
sank?’

‘Somewhere around that time, yes.’

‘I take it, then, that in the first few days at least, he did not appear to be any worse off than any of the others?’

‘I suppose that’s true.’

‘And just so we can all be certain about this, this boy we are talking about was not some eighteen or nineteen-year-old, but a young boy—thirteen, fourteen … something like that?’

‘No more than fourteen at the outside. And not very big for his age, either,’ Trevelyn volunteered.

‘So when you describe what happened right after the lifeboats got away as a brutal fight for survival, as “everyone fighting to get in, trying to force the others out” that was just a turn of phrase, a mere expression that you did not mean to be taken literally?’

‘But I did mean what I said. That’s what happened, everyone trying to save themselves,’ insisted Trevelyn.

‘Even the boy, even Billy? This young boy, fourteen, if that, small for his age, fighting off the others in the hope of survival?’

Trevelyn’s face grew hot. He slapped his palm on the arm of the chair.‘No, of course not. He couldn’t have done anything but hang on.’

‘And what about the women? What of Samantha Wilcox, what of Cynthia Grimes—two of the survivors? But there were more than two women at the beginning, weren’t there, Mr Trevelyn? Or did that fact slip your mind as well? There were four women, Mr Trevelyn. What about them? Are they to be included in that struggle to the death? Is that how they ended up in that lifeboat, because like you they fought with all the strength they had to keep the others out?’

The eyes of Aaron Trevelyn became a vacant stare. The silence in the courtroom became hot and oppressive, the air thick with blind anger and nameless fear.

‘So the boy had not harmed anyone, had not saved his life at the cost of another’s—and yet he was the first to be chosen, the first to be sacrificed so that others could live. But this was your idea, wasn’t it, Mr Trevelyn? You were the first to say that it had to be done, that the only way any of you could survive was if someone else died.’

‘No, I didn’t do it! He killed him, not me!’ Trevelyn exclaimed, bolting forward to point at Marlowe.‘If it was my idea, why would he have done it?’

Darnell nodded, paused, then nodded again.‘Yes, you’re right, Mr Trevelyn,’ he said in a quiet, thoughtful voice.‘You did not kill him; you did not put a knife in his heart.Were you surprised when it happened, surprised at what the boy did?’

Trevelyn was confused. ‘I’m not sure…’

‘Surprised that he did not resist?’

Trevelyn tried to dismiss it. ‘He was dying.’

‘That was not my question. The boy did not resist, did he?’

‘No.’

‘Which reminds me … You did see it happen, didn’t you?’

‘Yes. I said—’

‘And you did nothing to stop it? Of course, why would you? You were as hungry as the others were. He did not resist,’ Darnell went on, raising his voice over Trevelyn’s attempt to protest.‘He did not resist because Marlowe spoke to the boy, told him what was going to happen, and why it had to be him. Isn’t that what Marlowe did?’

‘I would not know,’ replied Trevelyn with a cold-eyed stare.

‘And isn’t that why Marlowe covered the boy’s mouth and nose—not to stop him crying out, but to do what he could to ease his passing?’

Chapter Twelve

T
HE PROSECUTION HAD KEPT AARON TREVELYN on the stand for a day and a half; the defence kept him there for two.Working entirely from memory,William Darnell quoted back at the witness answers he had given to Roberts and dared him to try to explain their inconsistency. Even more powerful in its effect was the way Darnell could make the things Trevelyn had not said seem more important, and more damaging, than what he had.

‘When you were asked by Mr Roberts about the first person to die after the boy, you said that she was “stabbed in the throat?”’

‘Yes.’

Darnell placed his hand inside his suit jacket, adjusting his tie. ‘That was Helena Green, the actress—isn’t that what you said?’

‘That’s right.’

‘And that was Marlowe’s decision?’

‘He made all the decisions.’

‘And Marlowe killed her. “He shoved the knife into her jugular” is how, I think, you put it. Is this still your testimony, that Vincent Marlowe killed Helena Green and that it was his decision to do so?’

Trevelyn tried his hand at logic.‘If he killed her, he must have decided to do it.’

Ever so slightly, Darnell raised his chin. ‘Yes, because you also said,“Not that it was ever put to a vote, or anything like that.” Is that what you meant? That no one else had a hand in that decision, or in any of the other decisions?’

‘Marlowe was in charge.’

‘Yes, I remember you said that too. “Marlowe made all the decisions. He was in charge.” Very good.’ Darnell stood next to Marlowe and put his hand on the other man’s shoulder.‘Marlowe was in charge. Marlowe made all the decisions. Still, there were discussions, were there not, about what should be done?’

‘None that I remember.’ Trevelyn lowered his eyes and began to fidget with his hands. ‘None that would have counted.’

‘Because Marlowe was in charge? Because Marlowe made all the decisions?’

‘That’s right, he did.’

‘But you also said—when Mr Roberts asked whether the reason Helena Green was chosen was because, like the boy, she was sick—that you were
all
dying.You said, and I think in exactly these words, “The only question was whether we would all die together, or die one at a time so that the ones left could live a little longer.” Isn’t that what you said?’

‘If you say so.’

Darnell let go of Marlowe’s shoulder and moved away from the counsel table until he was almost directly in front of the witness. ‘I do say so, Mr Trevelyn. I remember it quite distinctly because it struck me as being in such utter conflict with your insistence that it was Marlowe, and only Marlowe, who was in charge.’

Trevelyn’s only response was a look of blank incomprehension.

‘There were fourteen people when that lifeboat started out, correct?’ asked Darnell with a show of impatience.

‘Including me.’

‘Ten days, perhaps as much as two weeks, passed before someone decided the boy had to die?’

‘Marlowe decided!’ Trevelyn exclaimed with great force.

Darnell held his ground.‘Ten days, perhaps two weeks—is that correct?’

‘That’s what I said.’

‘Ah!’ Darnell sighed in relief. ‘You do remember! I’m sure we’re all quite thankful!’

‘Your Honour!’ protested Roberts, rising with a much-put-upon expression on his face. ‘Counsel’s sarcasm wears a bit thin.’

‘The selective fantasies the witness calls his memory wear a bit heavy,’ Darnell shot back.

‘That will be enough, Mr Darnell,’ said Homer Maitland, not amused.

‘My apologies, your Honour,’ said Darnell, who immediately turned back to the witness.‘Where was I? Oh, yes—out there ten days, two weeks; dreadful weather, worse conditions; no more food, no more water. There must have been conversations, some discussion, about what you were all to do. Or is it your testimony that thirteen of you, crowded together so close there was no room to lie down, simply waited, mute and uninterested, to hear what Marlowe might decide? You’re out on the high seas,’ Darnell went on, working himself to a fever pitch, ‘and every one of you decided that you would not decide anything, that whatever Marlowe said, that would be all right?’

‘I didn’t say no one talked about it,’ replied Trevelyn.

Darnell seized on his words as if they proved everything he wanted. ‘That’s right, you never said that. In fact, what you said was something really quite different.You said, and correct me if you think I have it wrong, “There were one or two who said we shouldn’t do it”—you were referring to the killing of the boy— “that it was better to die than live like that.” And then you added—immediately afterwards, if I remember right—“but most didn’t see it that way.”’

Darnell cocked his head, a grim, doubtful smile on his lips. ‘How did most of the others see it, Mr Trevelyn? Tell us that.’

‘They thought there wasn’t any choice, that it was the only way to survive.’

‘Yes, exactly. Though when you were answering Mr Roberts’s questions, the way you put it, I believe, was that “They wanted to live. Nothing else mattered.”Now, the question I have for you, Mr Trevelyn, is which side were you on? Were you one of the “one or two” who thought it was better to die, or were you part of what appears to be the great majority who thought it better to live, no matter what harsh measures that might require?’

Under Darnell’s relentless stare, Trevelyn looked down at his hands.

‘I take it from your silence, Mr Trevelyn, that you were not among the dissenters,’ said Darnell, as he turned away and began to pace back and forth, gathering his thoughts. ‘In other words, Mr Trevelyn, there
were
discussions about what should be done, and everyone still alive was involved in them. Isn’t that correct?’

‘There was talk, yes, but—’

‘But it was “never put to a vote”—is that what you were about to say?’

‘We didn’t vote on anything.’

‘But vote is exactly what you did. No, I understand; there was no show of hands, there were no ballots. There was no need. Everyone knew what was necessary, what had to be done if any of you were to survive, and all but one or two of you agreed to do it. Isn’t that what happened, Mr Trevelyn? Was there not an agreement among you that someone had to die so that the others could live?’

‘Yes, we all understood that,’ admitted Trevelyn with a wrathful look. ‘But that wasn’t the same thing as deciding
who
should die—or who should kill them!’

‘Because Marlowe was in charge?’

‘Yes, that’s what I keep saying!’

‘You were the only other member of the crew?’

‘If you don’t count the boy.’

‘Yes, the boy,’ said Darnell. He bent his head at a thoughtful angle. ‘The first one who died; the first one Marlowe killed.’ He turned away from the witness and looked straight at the jury.‘The one Marlowe killed in full agreement with you and all the others.’

‘Marlowe chose! Marlowe decided!’

Darnell wheeled around, his eyes blazing.‘That isn’t what you said a minute ago: you said that there “were one or two who said we shouldn’t do it”.We, Mr Trevelyn—that “
we
shouldn’t do it”. Not Marlowe shouldn’t do it—we!’

‘I said the boy was dying; I said he didn’t have more than a day or two left. He was going to die anyway, no one could save him— but he could save us.’

‘And that was what most of the others thought should be done? It wasn’t just you?’

‘I told you from the beginning. It wasn’t me.’

‘Because it was what everyone, or almost everyone, had decided had to be done?’

‘Yes, that’s the way it was. That was the only choice, that or death.’

Darnell scratched his head, and then shoved his hands deep into his pockets and stared intently at the floor. ‘I want to make absolutely certain that I understand what you are telling us.You had been out there in those dreadful conditions, starving, nearly dead, the boy worse off than the others.You know that you—and by that I mean all of you—can’t last another day.You know that there is only one thing you can do, and everyone, or almost everyone, agrees that it has to be done, and that someone has to do it. It was not just your idea; it was everyone’s idea. Everyone was in agreement. I’m not trying to put words in your mouth. Is that what happened?’

‘Yes, it’s what I’ve said.’

‘So it wasn’t Marlowe’s idea to kill the boy? At least, not his idea alone?’

‘I never said it was.’

Darnell smiled as if they were in complete agreement. He lowered his eyes to watch, as if it were the mirror image of the way his mind worked, one shoe slide slightly ahead of the other. ‘Marlowe, then, was doing what the others wanted?’ he asked, his eyes still fixed on the floor, the smile—shrewd, canny—still on his face.

Trevelyn rubbed his leg as if he were trying to restore circulation to a part of him that no longer existed.‘There wasn’t any choice—that’s what I said,’ he replied, with a vituperative glance out of the corner of his eye.

Darnell pushed his foot another half inch forward. The smile grew faint, then fell away. He raised his eyes and squared his shoulders. ‘There was an agreement,’ he said in the loud, clear voice that announces a fact.‘The agreement, made among you all, was that someone had to die; an agreement binding on all of you, however you may have felt. That’s true, is it not?’

With a show of impatience, Trevelyn shrugged his shoulders and threw up his hands. ‘I don’t know what you’re getting at. I told you we all knew there wasn’t any choice, that—’

‘Yes, but you also said there were “one or two who said we shouldn’t do it, that it was better to die than live like that”. But they didn’t die, did they? At least not then. I see you’re still confused. Let me ask the same thing a different way.You’ve already testified that after the boy was killed the rest of you survived on his blood and flesh, correct?’

‘Yes, I admit it.We did.’

‘All of you—including the “one or two” who had been of the opinion that the boy should not be killed?’

Trevelyn understood. ‘All of us.’

‘In other words, Mr Trevelyn, and the point I’m trying to make is really quite simple, there was a discussion—perhaps not all at once, perhaps spread over days—and then, when things were truly desperate, a decision on the question. Not everyone was in agreement, but almost everyone was, and what the majority decided, the others—the “one or two” who had been against the killing—accepted. They went along with what the others wanted, as evidenced by what they did after the killing. Isn’t that what happened?’