A Question of Duty

by Martin McDowell

  “Good morning Sir. I am Captain Argent. I am here early, as requested, to make my Logbook available prior to the hearing.”

  He held the book out in the Officer’s direction and the officer returned a stern, disapproving look, before taking the Log offered.

  “Thank you, Captain. The Court is all here, bar Captain Cinch. The Judge Advocate will be grateful for your prompt obedience.”

  He turned to look at Sampson.

  “And this gentleman is?”

  “Permit me to introduce Christopher Sampson, Sir. My Lawyer.”

  A hint of shock crossed the Captain’s face, but he soon recovered.

  “I am Commodore Makeworthy. I serve as Clerk to the Court.”

  Sampson spoke up, brightly and pertly.

  -1. “Your servant, Sir. But may I point out that the defendant here, my client, has not received his entitlement as a defendant, namely, a copy of the charge sheet, a list of the witnesses that the prosecutor intends to call, accompanied by copies of their statements, and, finally, a list of the exhibits intended to be used in evidence.”

  -1. Makeworthy listened to the pert, almost disrespectful words, noted the tone in which they were spoken, then he paused to consider his answer.

  -1. “The last two, I can answer now, if it will serve, that there will be no prosecution witnesses, save the Captain himself, here, and the only exhibit is the Logbook itself, here, which I now hold.”

  -1. “Who is conducting the prosecution?”

  -1. “A Captain Cheveley.”

  -1. Sampson looked at Argent, but saw no reaction, however, it was Makeworthy who spoke next.

  -1. “If there is nothing else?”

  -1. Sampson answered.

  -1. “Well, I’m afraid there is. The charge sheet. It should have been lodged with the Captain here some days ago.”

  -1. Argent winced. He saw no point in being overly aggressive and spoke to mollify Makeworthy.

  -1. “Can I assume, Sir, that the charge is worded the same as in the original letter I received last week?”

  -1. Makeworthy nodded.

  -1. “Then that will perfectly suffice. Thank you for your time.”

  -1. Makeworthy nodded and left for the door in the corner, the Log under his arm. Argent turned to Sampson.

  -1. “Right nothing to do until 2.00 pm. Time to kill.”

  -1. “Right. And I know how to kill it. Would there be a room we could use, here, do you know?”

  -1. “I don’t know, but do I know someone who does.”

  -1. They left the main hall, now fully arranged once again as a Court, and they returned to the entrance hall. Argent knocked on a side door and heard a familiar voice shout for them to enter. Argent opened the door to see the familiar face and uniform of Marine Captain Baker. Dispensing with salutes they both shook hands, each genuinely pleased to see the other.

  -1. “Captain Baker, may I present my Lawyer, Christopher Sampson?”

  -1. Sampson’s face soon matched the good cheer of both Argent and Baker as he shook the Marine’s hand.

  -1. “Your servant, Sir.”

  -1. Argent maintained the bonhomie.

  -1. “How’s the choir?”

  -1. “Oh most excellent, everything in perfect harmony, if you get my drift?”

  -1. “I believe I do, and I’m pleased to hear it. I expect an invitation, if her parents will countenance such as yourself as a son-in-law and I’m not in some prison hulk.”

  -1. The last lowered the atmosphere somewhat and changed Baker to his businesslike self.

  -1. “How can I help, Sir?”

  -1. “Do you have a room we could use, to wait, until this thing begins?”

  -1. “We do. One upstairs and I’ll lay on some refreshment. How many are you.”

  -1. “Five.”

  -1. “Right. I’ll take you there now.”

  -1. They left the office and mounted the stairs, where Baker spoke first.

  -1. “You know who you’re against?”

  -1. “Yes. What’s the word?”

  -1. “The word on the dinner circuit is that Cheveley can’t lose. That’s what he’s saying and so are many others.”

  -1. Argent nodded, but Baker continued.

  -1. “Cheveley’s relishing this opportunity, you know.”

  -1. “Yes, I can imagine.”

  -1. “Any thoughts, Sir?”

  -1. “If it were not him, it would be someone else. I’m up against it, no matter what. Have you seen who’s on the Board! But, whatever, we can do no more than play it out.”

  -1. They reached the room and all entered. There was some furniture, three chairs and a table and Sampson looked around and pronounced his opinion.

  -1. “Perfect.”

  -1. “For what?”

  -1. “Rehearsal. I’ll set it up, if you could go and fetch the others? If you’d be so good.”

  -1. Argent nodded and he and Baker left, leaving Sampson to move furniture. They both descended the staircase.

  -1. “I wish you good luck, Sir, but it looks bad.”

  -1. Argent smiled wanly.

  -1. “Yes. But I’ve had a few good months!”

  -1. Baker chuckled.

  -1. “I’ll say. Dishing it out to the French, putting Broke’s and Cheveley’s noses thoroughly out of joint, making Ariadne the toast of the country! I’ll say. Ariadne’s the most favoured girls name, for newborns, as we speak. Did you know?”

  -1. Argent looked down and gave a short laugh himself.

  -1. “Poor things! Named after a ship.”

  -1. Baker continued, more sombrely.

  -1. “But do watch out, Sir, they’ll hit you as hard as they can. They’re out to finish you.”

  -1. “I suspected no less, but thank you for your good wishes. And the warning.”

  -1. They had reached the entrance hall and Argent returned to the coach where the three had been patiently waiting.

  -1. “The thing starts at two, so we’ve some time. Sampson wants to spend it in rehearsal, as he calls it, and we’ve a room. Captain Baker laid it on. So, up we go.”

  -1. On entering the room, all could see immediately that Sampson had arranged the table and chair to resemble the Court downstairs. He looked at all four.

  -1. “Right. Seaman Reece, we’ll start with you.”

  -1. Sampson took himself behind the table.

  -1. “Able Seaman Reece. Come forward.”

  -1. Reece took three paces forward, came to the attention and saluted. Sampson looked at Argent.

  -1. “Will they allow him to stand at ease, as you call it?”

  -1. “Probably not.”

  -1. “Hmmm. Well, I’m entitled to tell him to stand at ease. So, Reece, stand at ease.”

  -1. Reece’s shoulders dropped an inch and his feet moved to eighteen inches apart, but he remained statue straight, staring over Sampson’s left shoulder.

  -1. “Hmmm. Reece, I want you to feel at ease, not just stand as such. Stand to make yourself comfortable.”

  -1. Reece thought, then crossed his left hand to hold his right wrist. Sampson nodded.

  -1. “Excellent. Now, when Captain Cheveley comes to ask you questions, you don’t move a muscle from that. We’re hoisting him up, or lifting his anchor; whatever the nautical term is. Anything that disturbs his mind will be to our good and I’ll try to do my bit in that direction, too. Now, relate the conversation you had with Captain Argent here, on the quarterdeck, after you had passed Quessant.”

  -1. For the intervening hours he rehearsed the four; their stance, speech, tone and testimony, asking each a stream of awkward questions. Food came and was welcome, then, after another hour of intense coaching, came the knock on the door. Argent opened it to reveal Captain Baker.

  -1. “They’re about to assemble, Sir.”

  -1. Argent stood up and looked instead at Fentiman, who immediately came forward, extending his hand, but his words were formal.

  -1. “My best wishes, Sir. />
  -1. Reece did the same, but his concern was more evident on his face.

  -1. “Good luck from me, Sir, if I may make so bold?”

  -1. Argent took his hand and nodded his thanks. McArdle was already stood, and, looking as if all the Angels of the Heavenly Host were at his shoulder and lending him their spiritual power, he simply shook Argent’s hand, but the look in his eyes and the grip of his hand conveyed his full sentiment. Argent followed Baker out of the room and onto the landing but at the top of the stairs the whole scene below erupted into a cacophony of shouts at his appearance. The noisiest and most visible, because of their placards, could only be the Society for the Mitigation and Gradual Abolition of Slavery, at least 40 strong, waving their signs and shouting encouragement. Charlotte Willoughby was prominent amongst them, as she would be in any crowd, smiling encouragement upwards at him. Before them were at least a dozen gentlemen of the press all shouting their questions and, behind them, he saw his sisters Enid and Emily furiously waving. It was a bedlam that Argent descended into, but before he reached the crowd Reece and McArdle were before him, forcing a way through. However, he managed to reach out to touch Emily’s hand extended to him from a distance. One journalist managed to get close enough to shout a question into Argent’s face.

  -1. “Captain, how do you feel about being Court Martialled?”

  -1. Argent grinned and gave a quick reply before moving on at their best speed.

  -1. “As would any other Naval Officer!”

  -1. A second question was lost in the noise and jostle behind him, but Reece and McArdle had made a way to the main hall, the door guarded by Marine sentries. They opened the doors and Argent entered, to find it empty, save Makeworthy stood before the Court table. There were three other tables between the one for the Court and the audience seats, one in the centre and one on each side. Makeworthy gestured Argent towards that in the centre, before the place of the Judge Advocate, whilst Sampson went straight to the table on Argent’s right and began to arrange his papers. Immediately upon taking his seat, Argent knew, from the bustle and talk that came to him, that the crowd had spilled in behind and were filling the hall.

  -1. His pulse was racing. He took three deep breaths and exhaled each slowly. He clasped his hands together and allowed his forearms to fall onto the table, then he looked up at the ancient paintings that himself and Fentiman had examined during the St. Malo enquiry. He flung away the thought that each showed some kind of disaster which presaged his own shipwreck, at which point he noticed Makeworthy stood to his left, looking angry but appearing helpless. Argent turned around to discover the cause of Makeworthy’s agitation and quickly saw why. The worthy anti-slavery Society were all ranged at the back, standing, with placards erect, and Argent took the time to read some of them, but they were mostly along the line of “He who frees a slave, frees Christ” and “Freeing the work of God is the finest work of Man”. He noticed Charlotte stood amongst them and she waved when she saw him turned towards her and he smiled and gave a small wave in reply. Fentiman occupied himself by twisting front and back in his chair, studying both.

  -1. Cheveley arrived at the table on Argent’s left and so, following Sampson’s strategy of “winding up” their opponent, Argent applied his most insolent grin.

  -1. “Afternoon, Cheveley.”

  -1. Cheveley turned his face just enough to display a mouth twisted somewhere between a sneer and that caused by a bad smell. Argent chuckled and turned away, then Makeworthy drew himself up to his full height and shout above the general hubbub.

  -1. “All rise!”

  -1. All rose and silence descended. Argent looked to the door that was the entrance for the occasion’s notaries and they came forth, three he knew from the previous enquiry; Holdsworth, Grant and Broke, but he could not stop himself from an examination, necessarily brief, of the remaining three. The youngest he took to be Blackwood and he judged him favourably, full faced, fair-haired and with a pleasant demeanour. The figure more fearsome even than Holdsworth he took to be the Adjutant General, dressed in immaculate and sober civilian clothes, the only colour being provided by his sash of office. He walked on with effortless pomp and dignity, which was far more than could be said for the final figure who could only be Cinch. Argent had no way of precisely dating the last time Cinch wore his Captain’s uniform, but it must have been a long time before he had settled into very easy living. It was now far too small and many buttons were in grave danger of giving way, and plainly constricting his breathing, now under strain from even the short walk, and only achieved in shallow pants, causing his face to appear unhealthily scarlet. Under any other circumstances Argent would have laughed, but the sight of Holdsworth again and the monumental presence of the Adjutant General, Charles Manners-Sutton, choked any humour at birth. The six claimed their places in the order they had entered and five sat, giving all there gathered a signal that they should sit also, but many stopped in mid descent. Manners-Sutton had remained standing and stood with a gaze plainly fixed on the back of the hall where were ranged the placards and standing members of the Society for the Mitigation and Gradual Abolition of Slavery. The Adjutant General was plainly more that a little concerned at this threat to the due dignity of the proceedings about to take place.

  -1. “I have to warn the audience that, whilst Court Martials are open to the public, it is within my power to clear the Court if I feel that good order is in any way prejudiced by unseemly and disturbing behaviour. I expect that the proceedings about to take place will be heard in the silence necessary for a due and balanced judgement.”

  -1. His reply was silence, bar one or two placards being hoisted up and down. Seemingly satisfied he took his place, as did all others who had halted the lowering of themselves onto their own seats. Once sat, Manners-Sutton clasped his hands, lay his arms on the desk and lifted his heavy head, finally lifting his heavier eyebrows.

  -1. “My name is Charles Manners-Sutton. I am the Adjutant General of the Royal Navy. My role in this Court Martial is to ensure that all is conducted in the proper manner and that all proceedings adhere to the requirements as laid down in His Majesty’s Regulations as they apply to Court Martials.”

  -1. He paused to enable his next words to gather weight from the sepulchral silence.

  -1. “I do not sit in judgment. My fellow members of the Bench will undertake that role. So, if I may name them from my right; Vice Admiral Broke, Vice Admiral Grant, and Rear Admiral Holdsworth, who is the President of the Court.”

  -1. He dropped his right hand and raised his left.

  -1. “Captain Blackwood and Captain Cinch.”

  -1. At that point, the worst, at the sound if his name, one of Cinch’s buttons finally gave way and he rapidly covered the resultant gap with his arm.

  -1. “I will now hand over to the President of the Court.”

  -1. He looked at Holdsworth who took his cue and looked at Argent.

  -1. “Captain Argent.”

  -1. Argent felt the need to stand and did so. Holdsworth adjusted his pince-nez and carefully read from the charge sheet.

  -1. “The charge against you is that on or about the 10th October 1809 you did willfully disobey your orders. Namely, that, having been ordered to proceed with all possible haste to the port of Figuiera da Foz to deliver a dispatch from His Majesty’s Government, you did, alternatively, use your vessel to pursue an action of your own ambition and choosing, namely to seek and take a slaver pirate. To this end you diverted from your best course and took time to take the slaver pirate when you did find him, thus risking your own ship, the communication itself and inevitably causing further delay.”

  -1. Holdsworth looked over the frames of the aids to his near eyesight.

  -1. “How do you plead, Captain?”

  -1. “Not guilty, Sir.”

  -1. “Please surrender your sword.”

  -1. Argent had suspected the possibility, but he had been uncertain. Now he was relieved that he had chosen to wear it,
but the formal words, so significant for any Officers, hit heavily upon him. He unclipped the two slings, walked around the desk and handed it, with both hands, to Holdsworth. He took it and laid the battered and workaday object lengthways along the desk before him. Argent returned to sitting, but the silence was broken by a female sob, which he hoped was not one of his sisters but strongly suspected that it was. Holdsworth gave the sword but the briefest glance before nodding towards Makeworthy.

  -1. “You will now be sworn in.”

  -1. The Commodore approached with a Bible in his hand and Argent stood again and was duly sworn to “tell the truth and nothing but the truth, so help him God!” Holdsworth resumed.

  -1. “Captain.”

  -1. Argent stood, pulse again racing, but he deliberately relaxed his face to deadpan.

  -1. “You deny the charge and so, presumably, you have your own story to justify the actions you took.”

  -1. “Yes Sir,”

  -1. “Now is your opportunity to make this known to the Court. At this stage please confine your statement to the question of your chosen course. We will deal with your closing with the slaver later in the proceedings.”

  -1. Argent took a deep breath and relayed the story. He had read his Logbook so many times that he could quote from it practically word for word, which was just as well, for Holdsworth was following, matching Argent’s words against those in the Log, looking for any discrepancy. He stopped after describing the change of wind direction off La Rochelle, saying that it had been a perfect wind for Cape Finisterre. Holdsworth looked at Sampson.

  -1. “Mr. Sampson. Do you have any questions?”

  -1. “Yes Sir. If I may.”

  -1. Holdsworth sounded impatient.

  -1. “Yes Sir, you may! Now is your time.”