Ramage's Trial (40 page)

“Madam, do you subscribe to–”

“I belong to the Established Church,” she said quietly, and took the proffered Bible in her right hand, holding it up.

Jenkins, more used to dealing with truculent, deliberately obstructive or stupid seamen, smiled encouragingly.

“Are you Miss Alexis Aureelia Yorke?”

“I am Alexis Aurelia Yorke,” she said, quietly correcting the pronunciation of her second name.

“A spinster living at Bexley in Kent?”

“I am a spinster,” Alexis agreed. Ramage could see she was puzzled over the address, since she and her brother owned homes in Barbados, Jamaica and London as well as Bexley.

“I have a home in Bexley,” she said finally, “but I travel a good deal.”

The point of the answer was lost on Jenkins, who took a deep breath and said: “Do you swear upon the Holy Evangelist that the evidence you shall give before the court, respecting the charge against the prisoner, shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

“Oh indeed!” exclaimed a startled Alexis. “I mean, yes, it will.''

Jenkins took back the Bible and returned to his seat while a smiling Goddard invited Alexis to be seated again.

Ramage was ready for Goddard's next move.

“Miss Yorke, as president of the court it is usual for me to ask questions of the witness, so my first question is if you know anything of the circumstances of the charges made against the prisoner?”

“The prisoner? No, I don't think I know anything about the prisoner.”

Goddard gave Ramage a triumphant smirk. “Then, madam, would you mind telling the court why you are here?”

“Oh yes, that is quite simple. I am here to give evidence about Captain Lord Ramage – the gentleman sitting there.”

Goddard swallowed hard, for a moment put about by the sudden use of Ramage's title, which would be normal enough in private life, but he failed to keep a sneer from his voice and a smile from his face: “But he
is
the prisoner.”

“My goodness,” Alexis said, “such a brave officer made a prisoner. Tell me, Admiral, have you ever read any of the
London Gazettes
when they print some of his despatches?”

Goddard's smile was trying to bolt, but he held on to it as best he could. “Madam,” he said with icy politeness, “this is a court of law, and I have to ask
you
the questions.”

“Oh, of course! Please do.”

“I have to ask you what you know about the circumstances of the charges against the prisoner.” Goddard now had the smirk fixed firmly in place: that question, he clearly thought, would dispose of this witness. It did not occur to him that he was dealing with an extremely intelligent young woman who was enjoying baiting him.

“Forgive me, Admiral, and it is probably against
all
your rules, but may I ask you a question?”

Goddard gave a slight bow; an inclination of head and shoulders which, accompanied by a smile, was intended to show this extremely elegant woman that admirals were indeed human and only too willing to attend to any feminine fads and quirks. “Of course, madam: feel free to ask.”

“Well, you said – or, rather, I understood you to ask me – what did I know of the circumstances of the charges against the prisoner.”

“Yes, that was the burden of my question.”

“But how can I talk about ‘the circumstances' when I don't know what ‘the charges' are?”

Ramage kept a straight face. Goddard had walked straight into that trap, and Alexis had sprung it with perfect timing.

Red-faced and beginning to perspire freely, Goddard was obviously thinking of the tedium of reading aloud several Articles of War and, more to the point, could guess some of the questions Alexis would ask about them.

“We will put that question aside for a moment, madam,” Goddard said, and went on with the question he thought should finish her business in short order.

“First would you tell the court all you know about the
Calypso
's encounter with the
Jason
, and the voyage of the two ships back to Plymouth.”

“That would take all night,” Alexis said, “and anyway you can't really ask me any relevant questions about it because you weren't there. I am very anxious to help the court, but please, admiral–” she smiled sweetly, “–remember that I am but a woman.”

Ramage knew that not a man in the court could forget that, and the six captains who usually sat facing the sternlights, their backs to the witness and the accused, were now twisted round in their chairs, watching Alexis.

“Why would it take all night to tell us?” Goddard asked patiently. “All the members of the court are experienced naval officers.”

“Yes, I am sure they are,” Alexis agreed, “but what Captain Shirley did is beyond the experiences of naval officers, or indeed any sane people.”

Ramage had heard of the expression “a silence you could cut with a knife”, but he had never experienced it before. Goddard was one of the last to pull himself together and, red-faced, mopping his brow with a handkerchief, he said: “Madam, you must not say things like that. The deputy judge advocate, as you can see, has to write down everything that is said. I regret that I must order him to delete that whole section.”

“But why?” demanded Alexis. “Just look at him.” By now she was standing and she gestured to where Shirley sat in his chair, still staring at the deck. “There you see a madman, a man who orders his own ship to fire a whole broadside at an unsuspecting
British
ship – no, don't you
dare
tell me to be silent,” she told Goddard. “You weren't there and I was. I saw it all happen. That great puff of smoke was caused by all the
Jason
's guns firing into the
Calypso
, which was only sailing up to exchange greetings.
What
did you say?” she said quietly to Goddard. “You'll have me removed from the court?” She twirled her parasol. “Come, Admiral, this could be very amusing.”

Captain Swinford leaned forward and, first glancing at Goddard to make it clear that he was going to speak to the witness no matter what the admiral might decide, said: “Madam, I am sure the president was speaking metaphorically: no violence will be offered you in this court. Would you please clear up one question which is puzzling myself and my fellow captains gathered round this table, which is how you were there?”

“Thank you for your reassurance, Captain,” Alexis said softly, as though speaking only to Swinford and the captains, her face turned away from an officer who certainly was not a gentleman and who bullied women, “and I am only too pleased to explain.

“My brother owns a number of merchant ships – thirty-three, unless the French have captured another one recently. From time to time he decides to sail in one of the ships – usually to the West Indies. Occasionally I accompany him – I must admit,” she said with a conspiratorial smile, “that I find London society rather boring: the attention of callow young men whether in uniform or not can become extremely tedious, although not as bad perhaps as the clumsy gallantries of politicians which, together with their uncommonly boring talk – always of politics – is rather like overhearing a den of thieves and murderers exchanging gossip about their latest crimes.”

Ramage could see that Goddard could hardly restrain himself from interrupting but Swinford and the other captains were enchanted by this young woman who was giving them a fascinating glimpse of London society and saying with such insouciance what they wanted to hear about politicians.

“Please go on, madam,” Swinford said. “You were telling us about your voyages.”

“Ah yes, my brother Sidney–” she glanced at Goddard and saw that he had at last realized who she was, “–persuaded me to go on this last voyage to the West Indies because we wanted to make sure that our houses in Jamaica and Barbados were not being completely eaten by termites. They are a terrible nuisance, you know, and the houses are old, belonging to – oh, I forget how many ‘greats' but to one of our ancestors. My rather strange second name–” she smiled at Jenkins, who bobbed his head, “–comes from the wife of that forebear – he was the leader of the Buccaneers, you know. He had a special rank but I can't remember…”

“That would be Edward Yorke, the Admiral of the Brethren of the Coast,” Swinford said.

“That's him – how clever of you to know,” she said delightedly. “He's always referred to as ‘Grandpa Ned' in the family, although he's about fifth ‘great', perhaps more. Anyway, Sidney persuaded me to go with him in the
Emerald
and that is how we came to be in the convoy.”

“Could you describe where in the convoy the
Emerald
was sailing?” Swinford asked, expecting an answer full of feminine vagueness.

“Oh yes, we were leading the starboard column. You see, Captain Ramage–” she looked coolly at Goddard, “–perhaps I should say ‘the prisoner' wanted a really reliable ship in that position, because the whole structure of the convoy depended on her, as you know. He knew my brother and he knew the master my brother employed. So we were leading the starboard column when the
Jason
approached on the starboard quarter to windward of all of us.”

Swinford stood up and bowed. “Thank you, madam. Clearly you have a considerable knowledge of sea life!”

Alexis gave Swinford a warm smile before turning to Goddard as she remarked: “I have crossed the Atlantic half a dozen times, the first when I was about ten years old – which means all in wartime – but this is the first time I have seen a captain in the Royal Navy go mad.”

Only Alexis could have lulled them (or Goddard, anyway) like that, with a stream of what seemed innocent chatter, amusing them and almost flirting with them, and intriguing them with the fact she knew about the sea and had made several Atlantic voyages. Then, having established herself as a knowledgeable and credible witness, she once again hammered home that vital point: Shirley was mad.

Goddard looked up warily, like a ferret emerging from a rabbit's burrow, and seemed to sniff the wind. The last time he had told Jenkins to strike out part of Miss Yorke's evidence he had unwittingly caught his head in the snare and nearly wrenched it off. Instead of saying anything he made a small scribbling gesture to Jenkins.

“To whom are you waving, Admiral?” Alexis inquired icily. “That seems to be more like an obscene gesture made by a street urchin…”

“No, no, I assure you, madam, it was quite routine.”

“Then why is that clerk crossing out what I have just said?”

“Madam, I am sure–”

“Don't argue, Admiral, just go down and look at – what do you call them, the minutes – for yourself.”

“Well, madam, I am afraid–”

“And well you might be,” Alexis said scathingly. “You are censoring my evidence.” She held up her hand as he went to speak. “Admiral, I know nothing of court procedure, and therefore nothing of court-martial procedure but I recognize censorship when I see it. That is the second time you have censored my evidence. No, be quiet, and listen. There are things going on in this trial which I do not understand and I do not like.” She looked across at Swinford and Royce. “I do not think I am alone in my doubts. However, I do not depend upon your favour for promotion; if the Board of Admiralty is used only for ironing clothes or chopped up for kindling I do not care. But justice is a different matter. I am no Portia but don't forget Grandpa Ned, Admiral. He was establishing Jamaica when your forebears, judging from your behaviour here, were still poaching conies and making breeches out of moleskins. Please call a boat: I am leaving this ship.”

Magnificent, Ramage murmured, and he heard Lieutenant Hill sitting behind him give a sigh of admiration. Both Swinford and Royce were standing and within a few moments the other ten captains were on their feet, a bewildered Goddard still sitting, his head cradled in his arms. Suddenly he was aware of the scraping of chairs and looked up to find everyone else in the great cabin on their feet, with even the Marine sentry at the door standing firmly to attention.

“Good day to you gentlemen,” Alexis said to the court and swept out of the cabin, making an exit, Ramage was sure, which might have been equalled at St James's Palace but never surpassed.

The captains then sat down and Ramage realized that they were all looking at Swinford, who coughed to attract Goddard's attention.

“Sir,” he said respectfully, “I have to request that you clear the court because there are certain points that some members would like to discuss.”

“Ah yes, indeed, Captain Swinford. But it is late in the day and I have a statement which I have to make in open court, so I'll do that first. Tomorrow is the anniversary of the Coronation, and the day after both you Captain Swinford, and you Captain Royce, have to take your ships to the dockyard. On Friday, two other ships are to be drydocked. With two different captains absent on successive days, I propose adjourning the court until the usual time next Monday morning. Having made that announcement, I now formally adjourn the court, except that the court will continue in closed session.

“Provost Marshal,” he said sourly and unnecessarily, “remove the prisoner. He can remain a prisoner at large on board his own ship.”

 

Ramage sat at his desk with Southwick as usual in the armchair beside it (in deference to his age, not his rank, since he was only a warrant officer among commission officers) and Aitken and Wagstaffe on the settee.

They had returned from the
Salvador del Mundo
an hour earlier, had a brief meal after removing their swords and changing into older uniforms, and then met in the cabin to talk about the trial.