“It was a breach of the Articles of War, sir.”
“Indeed it was. Which pamphlets of Mr Paine’s did you seize from Mr Aldrich?”
“None, sir.”
“None?”
“That is correct.”
“On what evidence did you flog Mr Aldrich?”
“The verbal account of Mr Landry.”
“Had Mr Landry heard the pamphlets being read by this man Aldrich?”
“I don’t believe so.”
“Then I confess I am confused. You had a man flogged, but you did not first assure yourself that there was in fact some evidence that he had contravened the Articles of War. After all, aboard a ship of war there is often antipathy between men of different temperament and I have seen cases where one has accused another of some offence out of spite or malice.”
“I asked Aldrich if he had been reading the pamphlets of Thomas Paine to the hands and he admitted that he had.”
This stopped even the able Gardner for a moment. “He admitted this freely?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Mutineers are not commonly so forthcoming, in my experience, Captain Hart. Be that as it may, certainly you had some reason to suspect unrest among your crew. If you flogged Mr Aldrich for mutinous language, then surely the men to whom he read were guilty of mutinous assembly. Did you flog them?”
Hart was looking both angry and embarrassed by this line of questioning. “I did not,” he answered peevishly.
“And why was that?”
“It seemed he had read the pamphlets to most, if not all of the crew, by his own admission.”
Several of the captains stifled laughter.
“It would appear, Captain Hart,” Gardner said, “that you did indeed have cause to believe elements of your crew were mutinous, yet, despite this knowledge, you did nothing to ensure the safety of your ship.”
“I believe much is being made of a single incident,” Bainsbridge said forcefully, “an incident so common aboard ship that if we doubled a ship’s guard every time mutinous language were heard we should have to carry thrice the number of marines to manage it.”
“Has anyone else a question for Captain Hart?” the admiral asked, but there were none.
“You are released for now, Captain Hart, but might be required to answer more questions at a later time. You shall also be given an opportunity to address any evidence given against you, should that be required.”
Sir Hubert rose quickly and assisted Hart up from his chair. By the look on Hart’s face, Hayden believed this was no act—he was in considerable pain—but he felt no pity for it. The man had just blackened his reputation before the court. His already precarious career was now in serious danger of being sunk altogether.
“Let us speak with each officer in turn,” Admiral Duncan directed.
The judge-advocate called, “Lieutenant Herald Landry.”
“Should we not speak with the first lieutenant?” Bainsbridge asked. “Captain Hart has said most emphatically that the discontentment of his crew began when the first lieutenant had charge of the ship.”
“He had command of the prize at the time of the mutiny, Captain Bainsbridge,” the judge-advocate reminded the captain.
“So I understand, but it was he who first learned of Tom Paine’s pamphlets. I should like to hear how he discovered this, and why he did not report it to Captain Hart, among other things.”
“Aldrich admitted himself that he possessed and read the pamphlets to the crew,” one of the captains observed. “We do not need the first lieutenant to verify what has already been admitted.”
“Perhaps not, but I for one should like to know what the first lieutenant thought about the state of the ship. Was he suspicious that the men harboured mutinous designs? He was, after all, on the ship until a few hours before the mutiny.”
“Is the first lieutenant even present?” the admiral asked.
“I am, sir,” Hayden answered, feeling his heart begin to beat heavily.
“You are under no obligation here, Lieutenant …” Duncan glanced at a sheet of paper, “… Hayden. No charges have been laid against you and if you would prefer not to speak I will not require it—unless you are called to give evidence by one of the accused.”
“I shall be happy to answer any questions, Admiral Duncan,” Hayden heard himself say. He was not going to stand by meekly and let Hart shift the blame to him.
Way was made for Hayden and he was, in a moment, let through the ropes into the centre of the great cabin. He took his place, standing where Hart had been allowed to sit. There was no doubt in his mind that not only was Gardner a confederate of Philip Stephens, but he had also been privy to Hayden’s secret account of the voyage. His questions, though cleverly disguised, seemed too astute to Hayden, otherwise. Hayden also remembered that Stephens had shown little confidence that he could influence the membership of the panel enough for it to matter.
“Lieutenant Hayden, will you tell how long you had been aboard the Themis?” Duncan began.
“I came aboard on the twenty-third day of July, sir.”
“I realize you have had no time to prepare, or look into your own journal, but without being too specific as to dates and times, can you tell us how you came to be aware that Aldrich had been reading pamphlets to the hands?”
“I was not aware that he had been reading them to the crew, sir, but I can tell you how I came to be aware that he had read them himself.”
“If you please, Mr Hayden.”
“One of the midshipmen, Arthur Wickham, came to my cabin in the gunroom one evening. He carried with him several books that had just been returned to him by Aldrich.” This caused a response in itself. “Among the books he found two pamphlets, both written by Thomas Paine.”
“Do you remember the titles of these pamphlets?”
“Common Sense, and The Rights of Man.”
“Go on.”
“Mr Wickham was not sure if possession of these pamphlets contravened any regulations and asked my opinion of the matter. I took possession of the pamphlets and told Mr Wickham that I would speak with Aldrich, aware then that we did not know how the pamphlets came to be among the books. I might bring it to the attention of this court that all of the midshipmen had read the pamphlets, and a number of the other officers had read, if not these particular copies, both Common Sense and The Rights of Man, as had I. I only mention this to demonstrate that one can read these pamphlets out of general interest, without having mutinous intent.
“I caused Aldrich to be brought before me and showed him the pamphlets, saying that they had been among the books he had returned to Mr Wickham. I believe what I said at the time was that I did not want to know how the pamphlets had come to be among the books or even if they were his, but only if he was party to any mutinous designs upon the ship or her people. He assured me most decisively that he was not. Because Aldrich was the most skilled seaman aboard, esteemed by officers and hands, and I believed him to be perfectly honest, which is borne out by his answer to Captain Hart when asked if he had read the pamphlets, I decided to say nothing more of it. I did not then and do not now believe that Aldrich had any mutinous intentions, nor do I believe that he was in any way part of the mutiny. He came up from the sick-berth because he had learned that the captain was being flogged and it was being said that it was on his account, and he would not have that. Because of the great regard the crew held for him they ceased the floggings when he asked them to. He then fell in a swoon, and was carried back to the sick-berth. It is true that later Bill Stuckey would not allow Aldrich to be taken into the boats, saying something like ‘He’s one of us,’ but this was only his opinion. We do not know what Aldrich would have chosen, because he was never asked. I would venture with great certainty that he would not have stayed among the mutineers.”
“These events you are describing were not witnessed by you, Lieutenant?” one of the captains asked.
“I was not present at the time of the mutiny, sir, but relate the e
vents as they were described to me by my fellow officers, all of whom were in agreement on the facts as I have just stated them.”
“I come back to your decision not to inform Captain Hart about your conversation with Aldrich,” Bainsbridge said. “Captain Hart has said you were remiss. Did you not think it was the captain’s place to make his own judgement of Aldrich’s culpability, and not yours?”
“Certainly a first lieutenant is given some leeway in what he reports to his captain; after all, one must exercise judgement or otherwise all conversations would have to be reported. I was satisfied that Aldrich’s interest in the pamphlets was merely a general curiosity, as it had been with the midshipmen, who read Mr Paine so that they might debate the merits and demerits of his argument. I did not feel any need to report the midshipmen’s debating club, either.”
“Yes, but certainly the reading of these pamphlets to the crew might have contributed to the discontent, as Captain Hart has suggested.”
“That is true, sir, and at the time I warned Aldrich, who conceded that he should be more circumspect in the future, but it was too late to stop the reading of the pamphlets to the crew.”
Bainsbridge was not about to let this point go. “Did you ask this man Aldrich if he were aware of crewmen who did harbour mutinous designs, or who talked mutiny openly?”
“I did not, sir.”
“And why did you not?”
“I had too much respect for Aldrich to ask him to inform on his fellows, sir. It also seemed to me that no mutineer would be likely to take Aldrich into his confidence. He was the precise opposite of a malcontent—a man who carried out his duties with zeal and great skill. Not the kind of seaman that a mutineer would likely try to recruit.”
“But you did not ask him?”
“No, sir.”
“It would seem, Mr Hayden, that you were remiss, and very much mistaken,” Bainsbridge said forcefully. “You did not report this man Aldrich for mutinous language and a mutiny resulted.”
Hayden was taken aback by this assertion. “If I may say so, sir, Aldrich’s pamphlets were brought to the attention of the captain, Aldrich was punished, and the mutiny occurred all the same. I would conclude from this that if I had reported the incident to the captain he would have taken the same action with the same result. I might add that the flogging of Aldrich engendered a great deal of resentment among the hands.”
Bainsbridge’s countenance grew dark. “It does not excuse your lapse in judgement, sir. And if this impertinence is an example of how you habitually addressed your captain it is no wonder that he was dissatisfied with you.”
“It was never my intention to appear impertinent, sir, only to defend my actions, which is what we have been brought before the court to do.”
Bainsbridge was interrupted before he could say more.
“Mr Hayden,” Gardner cut in, “what did the second lieutenant say when you brought up Aldrich and his pamphlets?”
“I did not discuss it with Mr Landry, sir.”
“Then how did he learn of it?”
“I do not know, sir, but he did not hear of it from me.”
“What I believe we would all like to know,” Bainsbridge said, making no attempt to hide his apparent dislike of Hayden, “is how it was that you took command of what Sir Josiah assures us was a perfectly harmonious crew and in a few short weeks turned them into mutineers?”
Hayden drew a long breath that did not have the calming effect he had hoped for. “The disaffection of the Themis’ crew preceded me by several months, Captain Bainsbridge. A man was murdered on the previous cruise and one of Captain Hart’s crew hanged for it. The very day I arrived aboard ship, a foretop-man named Tawney was found beaten near to death. It came out much later that both were involved in the circulation of a petition and had appealed to the men to refuse to sail until the terms of the petition were met. When first I came aboard I found, I regret to say, a great deal of discord and a shocking lack of discipline among the ship’s people. To attribute this to me is completely unjust.”
This caused a moment of silence among the captains, who had heard nothing of a petition until now. Certainly it had not been mentioned in Hart’s journal. But every man in the cabin could guess what the petition demanded. A few members of the panel glanced over to Hart as though seeing him for the first time.
“Do you recall any incidents that would indicate a mutinous tendency among Captain Hart’s crew?” McLeod asked Hayden. “Were there floggings of men that, in hindsight, should have indicated to you that there was a problem aboard the ship?”
Hayden recalled the warning of Hart’s barrister, but in the face of Hart’s accusations, Hayden realized, he had little choice but to defend himself.
“When we sailed from Plymouth the men were very nearly insubordinate; they did not refuse to obey the officers’ orders but were very reticent to carry them out.”
“And how did Captain Hart manage this?” Gardner enquired very naturally.
“The captain was, at the time, too ill to take the deck. The other officers and I dealt with it by calling the men by name and telling them that if they refused a direct order it would be noted in any future court-martial.”
“And were these men among the mutineers, Lieutenant?”
“Oddly, many were not. Many resisted the mutiny—and some, who later led the mutiny, pressed the crew at Plymouth to take their places in weighing anchor, by which I conclude that the mutineers did not want the petition to succeed.”
This caused an unsettled silence as people present realized what this implied.
“Certainly you reported this to Captain Hart?”
“I did, sir. He told me that if he had been on the deck the men would have jumped to their places with a will, and that it was only the weeks that he had been away and the ship under the command of junior officers that had allowed this fractious attitude.”
“He blamed it on you?” McLeod asked.
“Apparently, sir.”
“That was the only incident of malcontent before the actual mutiny that you can recall?” Gardner prompted.
“There was another, sir, when we took the transport in the mouth of Brest Harbour. The gun crews began to argue among themselves and would not answer to the ship’s officers. I was forced to muster the marines to send the gun crews back to their stations at musket point.”
“You were forced?” Gardner said. “What of Captain Hart? What did he order?”
“He was under the doctor’s care at the time, sir, and did not take the deck until we were about to board the transport.”
The captains all looked one to the other.
“Was the Themis in a state of mutiny, Mr Hayden?” another asked.
“I cannot say, sir. I went away in the boats to board the enemy vessel and left Mr Landry and the marines to ensure the men remained at their guns. Afterward, the marine lieutenant, Mr Hawthorne, said that he could not be certain the whole incident was not merely one group of men who greatly disliked another, for they argued among themselves, and there was a good deal of pushing and cursing, I was told.”
“And what was the result of this? What did Captain Hart do? Were the men punished?”
“Men were flogged, sir, but I was not aboard when it happened, as I was on the prize at the time.”
“You have been most fortunate in your absences, Mr Hayden,” Bainsbridge commented. “What you are telling us, sir, is that at the time of both the incidents you have just mentioned, the Themis was under your command.”
“No, sir. Captain Hart was in command; I merely performed my duties as first lieutenant.”
“You are making a very fine distinction, I believe. Captain Hart was incapacitated and you were, in all but title, in command of the ship.” Bainsbridge turned to Duncan. “I have heard all I need to hear from this man.”
There was a moment’s pause. “If there are no questions at this time,” Admiral Duncan then said, “I shall have Mr Hayden stand down … ?”
A general shaking of heads.
“Thank you, Mr Hayden; you may resume your place.”
The judge-advocate looked up from his papers. “Shall I enter Mr Hayden’s name among the officers being tried for the loss of HMS Themis, sir?”
The admiral was caught off guard by this question, and for a moment looked bewildered.
“Certainly he should take his place among the men being tried here,” Bainsbridge said forcefully. “The man had command of the ship for almost three months before the mutiny took place and was only by the greatest stroke of good fortune not aboard when the crew rose up against their officers. Justice demands he take his share of responsibility for these events.”
“It is, I believe, without precedent to try a man who was not aboard a ship when a mutiny took place,” Gardner countered, squaring off against Bainsbridge. “And I have no doubt it would be a dangerous precedent to set. Shall we have officers trying to shift the responsibility for events to some poor soul who had command of the ship in the past? It is clear from Lieutenant Hayden’s account that there was disaffection aboard the Themis before he was given his commission—men murdered and beaten near to death are not signs of harmony, we all must admit.”
This set off a heated debate, but Admiral Duncan raised his voice above all others and restored order to the cabin. “I shall take this recommendation—that we include Lieutenant Hayden among the men being tried—under consideration, for as Captain Gardner has rightly stated, such a decision should not be undertaken lightly. However, if, in the course of this court-martial, more evidence comes to light proving Lieutenant Hayden contributed greatly to the discord among the Themis’ crew, I will be forced to place Mr Hayden among the officers being tried.” Duncan nodded to the judge-advocate. “Let us proceed, Mr Sheridan.”
Hayden was allowed to resume his place between Wickham and Muhlhauser. There was a brief pause in the proceedings, and Mr Muhlhauser leaned near. “Well said, Mr Hayden,” he whispered.
Landry was next called, and the little lieutenant took his place, his account of the mutiny held in a faintly trembling hand.
“Mr President and gentlemen,” he began, his voice as quavery as his fingers. “On the evening of October sixth I was asleep in my cabin when midshipman Hobson burst into the gunroom and hollered that the crew was in a state of mutiny. I leapt from my cot and stumbled out to question Hobson when I heard the report of a musket, followed by another. Mr Hawthorne, the lieutenant of marines, woke at the same time, and finding a pistol and cutlass in his cabin, rushed out of the gunroom. The midshipmen all came into the gunroom then, and I sent one of them to rummage all the officers’ cabins to look for arms. A pair of pistols were brought from the cabin of Third Lieutenant Archer, and a marine joined us then with his musket. Almost immediately we were beset by mutineers, who began firing muskets at us. We piled all the furniture and bedding before the gunroom door and before the bulkhead, which had been constructed only of thin dealboard. Bashing holes in the bulkhead, we returned fire as long as our powder lasted, at which point the mutineers, who had gathered in numbers, charged and after a skirmish succeeded in forcing their way into the gunroom. We fought with cutlasses and clubs made of furniture legs, but were soon subdued, many of us wounded and two killed—midshipman Albert Williams, and the marine corporal David son. We were then much beaten and kicked before being forced onto the deck. Many of the crew had been made to lie on the gangways, where they suffered much at the hands of the mutineers, whose blood was up from the recent fight, and much revenge was taken on us for our resistance and for killing their comrades. An argument ensued between the mutineers as to what was to be done now that they had taken the ship. As this went on, Bill Stuckey and several others seized the captain to a grating and proceeded to flog him without mercy. They had just laid their hands upon my person, and were about to treat me the same, when Able Seaman Peter Aldrich came on deck and ordered them to stop. We were, soon afterward, put into the boats and cast adrift.”
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