Under Enemy Colors (49 page)

The next morning, very early, Hayden received a note from Landry, saying that Captain Hart was sending his barrister, Sir Hubert Chatham, K.C., to the ship to advise the officers on the coming court-martial.

At ten o’clock sharp Sir Hubert came aboard, Hayden meeting him at the rail. He led the man down to the captain’s cabin, where he had gathered the officers, young gentlemen, and warrant officers. Introductions were made, through which Sir Hubert stood grave and impatient. Hayden thought he had never met a man so intent upon a single purpose. One had the notion that Sir Hubert never smiled, made a jest, or thought of anything but the business immediately at hand. True to this impression, he began to speak the instant Hayden had completed introductions.

“I have been engaged by your captain, Sir Josiah Hart,” he said, inspiring looks of surprise and then consternation all around, “to advise him on the pending court-martial. As you are no doubt aware, you can be advised but not represented by counsel and must speak in your own defence, answering any and all questions put to you by the captains of the panel. The purpose of the court-martial is to enquire into the ‘causes and circumstances’ of the mutiny. The circumstances are clear enough, and I’m sure all of you are in agreement as much as any men can be who might have witnessed the events from different parts of the ship or in different ways. If, however, your accounts differ significantly, one to the other, the captains who sit in judgement will have no choice but to ask many questions. It is for this reason that you must be certain that you are all in agreement on the salient points: the time and place; who was involved; what was done, by whom and to whom; how you came to be put in the boats. Your accounts need not concern themselves with your subsequent rescue or the events that followed. That is not the business of the court-martial.” He paused here, looking quickly around the circle of faces. “Upon one point it is most important that you all agree, for if you do not, questions will ensue that will make many of you most uncomfortable. You must all state that you had no warning whatsoever of the mutiny. There is a very good reason for this. If you had warning, the captains of the court-martial will want to know why measures were not taken to avoid the occurrence of the mutiny. I cannot caution you strongly enough in this regard. I have made this point repeatedly to Sir Josiah: you must all agree that you had no warning of the mutiny, no suspicions of mutinous conduct or language among the crew. To do otherwise will lead to many questions that will aid no one in their future careers in the Navy, and will accomplish nothing, for certainly this mutiny was a surprise to everyone aboard. Am I not correct?”

A moment of awkward silence, and then a few present nodded their heads, some muttered agreement. But a few only gazed darkly at the barrister.

Sir Hubert Chatham did not linger to discuss the case further, but took up his hat and was quickly gone. As the door closed to the captain’s cabin, the men seated round the table looked from one to the other.

“Sir Josiah bloody Hart,” Barthe spat out to muttered imprecations and much shaking of heads.

“I, for one, am not aware of any hints that our crew were mutinous,” Franks stated firmly. “I’m sure you agree, Mr Hawthorne? For if we had any suspicions you might have placed more guards. The arms chest might have been moved to the captain’s cabin, or any number of things that we did not do because we were taken by surprise.”

Hawthorne nodded, his face dark and unhappy. “As much as I mislike to uphold Hart in even the smallest thing, I fear this barrister is right—we were all set adrift in the same boat and if we do not all pull together we shall go down.”

“It will certainly be convenient for Captain Hart if we all agree,” Barthe said bitterly. “For he does not want his part in all of this to come out, that is certain.”

“I don’t know if you comprehended Sir Hubert’s entire meaning, Mr Barthe, if I may say so.” The doctor fixed the sailing master with a very sober gaze. “If Hart is brought to ruin by this court-martial—and God knows he should be—he will endeavour to bring down all of his officers with him. Mr Archer, Hawthorne, perhaps even Mr Hayden, and certainly he shall not spare you, Mr Barthe. Do not misjudge the vindictiveness of Captain Hart. If you take it upon yourself to expose his failings be aware of what it will mean to you and to your messmates.”

“Mr Hayden?” The scrubbed face of Midshipman Hobson appeared in the just-opened door.

The first lieutenant sat at the gunroom table, reading over the accounts of the mutiny written by the crew, or rather, dictated by the foremast hands, most of whom could not write.

Archer’s brother, who had arrived from London the previous day, had taken on the defence of the officers, and offered much advice to aid them in writing their accounts. Having been privy to much of this, Hayden had put this valuable information to use in aiding the poor Jacks, most of whom were less able to defend themselves. Aldrich and young Perse had also transcribed numerous accounts.

“They have fired a gun from the admiral’s ship, sir.”

“I shall be with you momentarily.” Hayden gathered up all the papers, arranging them carefully. Perse wrapped them in an oilskin to protect them from wet. Taking up his hat, Hayden went on deck, where he found the other officers of the
Themis
, all in their best uniforms, neck-cloths tied just so. A few tried to smile at him, but failed miserably, and their attempts to reassure one another seemed terribly forced. Hayden had not seen them so distressed, even before an action.

They took their places in the boats, which bore them quickly over to the seventy-four-gun ship that would act as their courthouse for the next few days. Despite having not been named in the charges, due to his good fortune of being aboard the prize, Hayden still felt a great deal of apprehension. The entire business was a sordid shame, and he could not help but fear his own fortunes would be brought low by what was about to transpire.

Hart had sent out a note the previous evening, asking that his barge be dispatched for him a quarter of an hour before the court-martial was to begin, and Hayden spotted him now: the stiff, unhappy faces of his oarsmen as they bent silently to work, Hart and Landry seated in the stern-sheets with Sir Hubert Chatham.

“Slack off a little, Mr Childers,” Hayden said to the coxswain, who had begged not to be sent for Hart. “Let the captain go aboard before us.”

They hung back while Hart went up the side, painfully slowly.

“How has he healed, do you think?” Hayden asked Griffiths, but the doctor shook his head.

“Better than Aldrich, whose health has been ruined, I fear.”

A moment later they went up the side of the ship, where all the officers but Hayden and Wickham were placed in the custody of the provost-marshal.

“Good luck,” Hayden wished the men, as he and Wickham—not named in the court-martial directly—were spectators only and were separated from the men charged.

A few moments later the rest of the crew—those who had been put off from the
Themis
in the boats—came aboard, for every man would be required to account for his actions during the mutiny. If the officers appeared daunted, the crewmen looked positively despairing, and Hayden went over and offered them what cheer he could, telling them that they had nothing to fear. Many of these men had been wounded or otherwise injured in defence of the ship, and still wore dressings or had visible wounds, a fact that Hayden thought could not be ignored by the court.

The captain’s cabin had been cleared of its bulkheads, and three tables, the centre one hardly larger than a desk, set before the stern gallery. A rarefied autumn light streamed in the windows that day, reflections off the water sending brilliant ribbons rippling across the white deckhead. The twelve captains who would make up the judicial panel took their places at the tables, and at the centre, in place of the port admiral, sat Admiral Frederick Duncan, the senior admiral at that time present. Opposite Admiral Duncan, and facing the windows, stood a desk placed for the judge-advocate. Off to one side, at the sufferance of the court, was a small writing-table where the legal advisors of the accused could easily speak to their clients.

The spectators were to either side in neat rows of chairs, and separated from the court by ropes covered in green baize. The crew of the
Themis
arranged themselves behind the judge-advocate, officers and young gentlemen to the fore, warrant officers behind, and then the crew. They would be allowed to hear each other’s testimony, a consideration that would certainly not be extended to the mutineers, who would face their own court-martial in the coming days.

Before the court-martial was called to order, Muhlhauser appeared, and took up a seat beside Hayden, with a whispered greeting. He still had one arm in a conspicuous sling, but otherwise appeared hale.

The captains were first sworn in, and Hayden found himself a little intimidated by the presence of these men, all but one of whom were high up on the captains’ list and commanded ships of the line—seventy-fours and larger. They had about them, to a man, a sense of near-majesty, an aura of intimidating, almost frightening, authority. They were well used to giving orders that would see men’s lives end, or would put into danger a ship’s entire company. They would not hesitate to order an execution if they thought it justified.

The judge-advocate rose and stated the purpose of the court-martial: “…to enquire into the causes and circumstances of the seizure of His Majesty’s Ship
Themis
, commanded by Captain Sir Josiah Hart, and try the said Captain Hart and such officers and crew as were present for their conduct on that occasion.”

The first man called to be examined was Hart and as he took his place, standing to the left of the judge-advocate, the onlookers fell completely silent, everyone leaning forward just a little. Hart appeared pale and aged, Hayden thought, his skin dull and flaccid. He leaned upon a walking stick in apparent pain.

“Can we not have a chair for Sir Josiah?” one of the captains on the panel asked. “The good captain’s health is yet fragile.”

This was granted without discussion, and Hart lowered his substantial bulk into the seat, though conspicuously mindful not to let his injured person contact the chair back.

“If it pleases the court,” he began in a thin voice, “due to my recent mistreatment and trials, I should ask that my written statement be read for me by my advisor, Sir Hubert Chatham.”

This too was granted and Sir Hubert stepped forward. He began by thanking the judges for their indulgence, and then in a warm, refined voice read Hart’s account, which Hayden guessed had been largely composed by Sir Hubert, for he recognized little of the tone of Captain Hart in the words, and not merely because no eyes were damned throughout the entire document.

“‘Mr President, gentlemen, I most recently had the honour of commanding His Majesty’s Ship
Themis
, a thirty-two-gun frigate sent by the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty to harass the enemy upon her Atlantic coast and to assess the strength of the French fleet in as many of her harbours as we could look into. We had begun our cruise on the twenty-third day of September, leaving Plymouth in a south-east gale, and taking shelter in Torbay. Upon the cessation of foul weather we proceeded to the coast of France, where, in the entrance to Brest harbour, we had the good fortune to seize an enemy transport while in the process of assessing the fleet strength.

“‘As we proceeded south, on the fifth day of October, we made common purpose with Captain Bourne of the
Tenacious
, a gentleman with whose reputation I am certain Your Lordships are well familiar. My ship then participated in cutting out the French frigate
Dragoon
, anchored beneath the batteries of Belle Île. My first lieutenant was given command of the prize and ordered to sail said ship to Plymouth, by which circumstance he and a number of other men were not aboard the
Themis
at the time of the mutiny. Upon the sixth day of October, at about seven bells of the middle watch, I was wakened by the sound of my cabin door being stealthily opened. Three men, one bearing a lantern, and the other two under arms, entered my cabin and ordered me, upon pain of death, to rouse from my cot and heed their every order. Clad only in my night-shirt, I was allowed first to pull on my breeches, before I was bound and made to lie on the floor of my cabin under guard. At that time a general cry went up and the sound of small arms was heard from diverse places about the ship. Very shortly I could hear, from the gunroom directly below my cabin, a very lively skirmish had been engaged, and the same from overhead on the quarterdeck. My spirits rose at this sound and I tried to reason with the two men guarding me, Dundas and Clark, saying that if they set me free I should see that no charges would be laid against them, but though they looked very concerned they told me only to hold my tongue or they should cut it out.

“‘I heard the last shots fired in the gunroom, and soon after firing ceased upon the deck as well, but it was some minutes before I knew the outcome of these battles. Much shouting and cursing could be heard from about the ship and after a time of silence, I know not how long, a man appeared at my door and ordered me brought from my cabin. I was led up onto the deck, where I found my officers and many of our people had been gathered in the waist, a number of them bleeding and much injured from the recent fight. At first, I was put among my officers, where I received much abuse from the men who had joined in the mutiny. I was cuffed and kicked and struck with the flat of many a cutlass. I was not alone in being so treated, as many a private score was settled at that time, and I am sorry to say that two men who had been loyal to me were killed before my eyes. Before the hour was out, another departed this life, done in by the wounds he had received.