There were several pages of it, written in a straggling, ill-educated scrawl—but friendly, sympathetic, practical. He finished and I sat for a moment staring at that ridiculous ring. The red and white stones sparkled as though with devilish laughter. I suddenly picked up the bauble in a fury. I don’t know what I was going to do with it. I only knew I wanted to be rid of it. I think I was going to throw it through the barred window. But instead I turned to Bert. “Will you do something for me?” I asked.
“’Course,” he said. “Wot is it, mate?”
“I want you to send this ring to your missis, Bert,” I said. “Tell her—no, don’t tell her anything. Say you picked it up. Say anything you like about it. But send it to her. Here—catch!”
The stones twinkled. He caught it and stared down at the glittering stones as they lay in his dirty, wrinkled palm. “’Ere, wot’s the idea?” His tone was offended, suspicious.
“I don’t want it, Bert,” I said. “I’d like your missis to have it.”
“But—look ’ere, mate,” he said. “I can’t do that. Wouldn’t be right. Worf quite a bit these days. An’ wot’d she do wiv it? She ain’t never ’ad nothing like this before.”
“That’s why I’d like her to have it,” I said.
“’Ere, take it,” he said. His voice seemed almost scared. “I don’t want it. I ain’t never taken nuffink from nobody.”
I flared up angrily. “Can’t you understand?” I cried. “I don’t want it. I never want to see that wretched ring again. But I can’t just throw it out of the window.” The outburst was over. “I’d like her to have it, Bert,” I said quietly. “Please send it to her. Tell her to sell it. It’ll help pay her rail fare to come down and see you. I’d like to meet your wife, Bert. I think—I think she must be a lovely person.
Bert suddenly laughed. “Blimey! I’ll tell ’er that. It’ll tickle ’er no end.” He looked down at the ring. “As fer this, we’ll talk ab’at that later,” he said and slipped it into a little notecase in which he kept photographs of his wife and kids.
That afternoon my family came over. It was an awkward meeting, I was their only child. The people they knew were mostly connected with the Navy. My father had been in the Diplomatic Service before he returned to Falmouth to take over the management of the family’s quarry business at his father’s death. Mutiny was a charge more startling to them than murder. They were kind. But I saw that all their hopes, which had been centred on me, were shattered.
After that time drifted by slowly, timelessly. I had written to Jenny, just to warn her that I might have to call on her as a witness for the defence. She filled my thoughts more and more. But the days drifted by and no word came. Our routine was easy. Bert and I helped the medical fellow clean out the guardroom in the mornings. We had half an hour’s exercise each day. Otherwise we were left to ourselves. There were two smaller cell rooms attached to the guardroom. The assault case was moved into one of these. I persuaded them to leave Bert and I together. Bert’s companionship became more and more my only hold on life. I persuaded him after long arguments to send the ring to his wife. I still have the letter she wrote me. The hours of thought it had taken her to compose it were painfully obvious in every line. And yet through it, I got a glimpse of a woman whose bitter struggle through life had given her a wonderful sense of sympathy. She said she wouldn’t accept it, but she’d keep it until I had recovered from the blow and she could hand it back without upsetting me.
When we had been in the guardroom a week, a summary of evidence was taken. A Lieutenant Soames took it. The delay had been caused by the necessity of waiting for statements to arrive supporting the charges. He read me a statement by Rankin and another by Captain Halsey. They were quite correct in their facts. In my statement I explained all the cumulation of little things that had gone to build up my sense of uneasiness. I stressed the discovery of the loose planks in Number Two boat, Rankin’s refusal to report the matter to the Captain that night and Captain Halsey’s inexplicable attitude over the clearing of the raft after Rankin had reported to him the reason we had refused to enter the boat. The lieutenant wrote it all down laboriously in longhand. I read it through and signed it.
The taking of the summary of evidence took all morning and part of the afternoon. We returned to our quarters shortly after three.
“Reck’n they’ll send us for Court-Martial?” Bert asked.
“They’ve no alternative,” I said. “There’s a clear case against us. But somehow we’ve got to convince the Court-Martial that we were justified.”
“Fat chance we got o’ doing that,” Bert said. “I know a bit aba’t Court-Martials. There ain’t no such thing as justicification. You either obeyed the order or you didn’t. If yer didn’t, then Gawd ’elp yer. Didn’t a bloke write a poem once, somefink aba’t ‘There’s not ter reason why—there’s but ter do an’ die.’ No amount of explaining will get us a’t o’ this. Oh, well, wot’s it matter? Six munfs—a year; better’ll being dead, like Sills.”
That’s how I felt. Our situation was hopeless.
Next morning we heard the guard outside clatter raggedly to attention. “Bit early for the orderly awficer, ain’t it?” Bert said. Boots sounded on the bare boards of the corridor outside. Then the door was flung open and the sergeant’s voice bawled out, “Prisoners! Prisoners, shun!” We sprang to attention and a captain came in.
“All right,” he said. “Sit down, both of you.” We relaxed. He seated himself on the table and took off his hat. He had dark hair and a blue, determined chin. His voice was sharp, precise, but not unfriendly. “I’ve come to tell you,” he said, “that the Camp Commandant, Colonel Ellison, has decided, on the summary of evidence taken, that your case be remanded for trial by Field General Court-Martial. You will be formally remanded by him later to-day. In the meantime there is the question of your defence. You can brief a professional lawyer. Or you can have any particular officer you wish to defend you, provided he is available. Alternatively, I am willing to act as Defending Officer. My name is Captain Jennings. I’m a solicitor in civilian life.” He looked quickly from one to the other of us. “Perhaps you’d like to think it over?”
I hesitated. I liked the look of him. His quick, precise manner of speech inspired confidence. To get a lawyer would mean calling on my family for finances. The only officer I would really have liked—a barrister who had been sailing with us several times—was overseas. “As far as I’m concerned, sir,” I said, “I’d be glad if you’d act for me.”
He glanced across at Bert. “An’ I’d be glad if yer’d do the same fer me, sir.”
“That’s fine,” he said. “We can get down to business right away.” The tone in which he said this suggested a man mentally rolling up his sleeves. It was almost as though he were really interested in the case. Indeed, I never had any cause to regret that our case was in his hands. “I’ve had a look at the summary of evidence,”’ he said. “In it you both admit your guilt. What we have to decide now is the line we are going to take for your defence. Vardy, suppose you tell me exactly what happened and why you took the action you did. Just go through the whole thing as you remember it. I want to know what your thoughts were from the time you boarded the Trikkala to the time she was mined. Just relax and give me a chance to understand the thing from your point of view.”
There was not much I could add to what I had said in the statement to Lieutenant Soames. But I went through it all, explaining my growing uneasiness, the discovery that the planks were loose. I tried to make him understand why we had taken the action we did.
At the end, he turned to Bert. “Have you anything to add to that, Cook?”
Bert shook his head. “It’s just as the Corporal said,” he replied. “We was quite pally yer see, an’ we talked things over. I didn’t ’ave no ’esitation in followin’ ’is line of action.”
“Just one point,” said Captain Jennings. “Did you actually test the planks yourself or did you merely take the Corporal’s
word for it?”
“No,” Bert replied. “I felt ’em meself. It was Sills wot discovered they was loose. I was on guard at the time. But ’e told me all aba’t it and when the Corporal relieved me I got ’im ter take me for’ard to ’ave a look for meself. Well, we couldn’t see ’em, of course. But I put me ’and up underneath the boat an’ as I recollect there was five of ’em loose. They didn’t move much. But enough ter make me doubt wevver the boat was seaworthy. Yer could move ’em aba’t a quarter of an inch.”
“I see.” He sat for a moment, swinging his leg. “Interesting case.” He spoke more to himself than to us. Then he looked at me. “It amounts to this, Corporal; you both intend to stick to the statements you have already made?”
“Well, it’s the truth, sir,” I said. “I acted hastily—but what else could I do?”
“H’m. It makes it very difficult,” he murmured. Then in a coldly matter-of-fact voice, “You see, a Court-Martial always has the question of discipline at the back of its mind. You refused to obey an order. Not only that, but you took upon yourself a decision that only the Captain had a right to make, and when ordered to stop cutting the raft clear, you threatened those who tried to stop you with your rifle. To clear yourselves of such a serious charge of mutiny, you would have to prove that the boat was, in fact, unseaworthy and that, knowing this, the Captain was deliberately trying to prevent the men being given the added safety of a raft. In other words, you would have to convince the Court that the Captain had some sinister motive and was deliberately sending the boat away in an unseaworthy condition, which is clearly fantastic. We needn’t bring it up, but you yourself admit that the second officer, Cousins, was convinced the boat was seaworthy having recently inspected it himself. It’s going to be difficult, you know,” he added. “And I must warn you right away that there’s not much chance of getting an acquittal. About all I can hope to do is get you off with light sentences by emphasising your previous good record and pleading that whether you were, in fact, justified or not, you were acting in good faith in that you felt justified at the time. I’m not sure it wouldn’t be best for you to plead guilty. Would you be prepared to plead guilty, Corporal?”
“Yes,” I said, “if it would look better that way. I certainly am guilty of the charges. But,” I added, “I’m convinced I was justified in what I did. I know it doesn’t sound like that from a disciplinary point of view. But the more I think about it, the more convinced I am that there was something wrong somewhere. My uneasiness wasn’t all just imagination. I’m sure of that. But I can’t prove anything. I can’t even say what I suspect. I don’t know. But I’m still convinced there was something wrong.”
He looked at me for a moment probingly. I could see he was trying to make up his mind whether, he should believe what I had said. At length he said, “You made a statement on board the Bravado presumably?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you refer to your suspicions in that?”
“No, sir. You see, when I heard we were the only survivors I thought my suspicions had been groundless.”
He nodded. “Pity,” he said. “A Board of Trade enquiry might have helped your case a lot. And now that you know there were other survivors your suspicion have been revived.”
“Yes, sir.” And then I asked, “Just who was picked up, sir? Have you a list of survivors?”
“Yes,” he said. “I know who the survivors are.” Again that searching look. “Who would you expect to be amongst the survivors?”
My answer was prompt. “Captain Halesy,” I said, “Hendrik, the first officer, Warrant Officer Rankin, Jukes and Evans.”
“Anyone else?” he asked.
“No,” I said.
“In other words all those who were left on board after the two boats had got away?”
I nodded.
After a moment he put another question to me. “Who exactly did you know to be on board after the main body had abandoned ship? Who did you actually see on board? Rankin and Halsey, of course. Hendrik, who got the raft alongside. Jukes who hit you. What about Evans—did you actually see him?”
“No,” I said.
“But you think he would be one of the men to go with the Captain in his boat?”
“Yes, sir.”
“It’s extraordinary,” he said. “You’re quite right, Vardy. The list of survivors is exactly as you said—Halsey, Hendrik, Rankin, Jukes and Evans. They were picked up by a minesweeper not far from the Faroes on the 26th of March—twenty-one days after the Trikkala went down.”
He sat there swinging his leg for a long time. At length he slid his body off the table and picked up his hat. “Well,” he said, “I’ll go and sleep on it. I’ll come and see you both to-morrow evening and we’ll have another talk about it. In the meantine, go over the whole thing again and see if there isn’t something you’ve missed that we could bring out. The refusal of the Warrant Officer to pass on that report of yours about the state of the boat—that’s the sort of point that tells.”
He left then.
“Seems a decent sort,” Bert said as the guard was brought to attention in the guardroom.
“Yes,” I said. “But that won’t get us out of this jam.”
Boots sounded in the corridor. The door was thrown open. “Corporal Vardy!” It was the sergeant.
“Yes?” I said.
“There’s a young lady here. Been waiting nearly an hour. She had a word with the Orderly Officer and he said she could see you.”
“A young lady?” I exclaimed.
“Yeah. Good looker too.” He gave a wink. He was a friendly sort. “I’ll send her in, shall I?”
I was a little dazed. Surely Betty hadn’t changed her mind? A great hope surged through me. “Yes,” I said. “Yes, send her in, would you?”
“Fings is lookin’ up,” Bert said with a grin. “Reck’n she’s come ter get ’er ring back.” He began whistling Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do through his gums.
The sergeant’s footsteps returned. Beside his heavy boots I heard the quick patter of a girl’s shoes. Then the door opened and Jenny entered.
I was so amazed I just sat there, gaping, as she crossed the room towards me and the sergeant closed the door behind her. I just couldn’t believe my eyes. And she seemed so different. Instead of the shapeless khaki greatcoat, she was wearing a smart tailor-made, and the beret had been replaced by some ridiculous little bit of nonsense that gave her a gay, jaunty appearance. She looked gay and sparkling and bright—and very lovely—in that drab room. I stumbled awkwardly to my feet. She took both my hands in hers. Her eyes were looking straight into mine. I felt such a surge of desperate joy that I nearly kissed her. “Jenny!” I cried. “Whatever brought you here? I thought you were in Scotland.”
She let go of my hands then and sat herself on the table. “So I was. But I got your letter and—well, here I am. And how’s my Bert?” she asked.
“All right, thanks, Miss,” Bert replied with a shy grin.
“But—whatever made you come all the way down here?” I asked.
“Curiosity,” she said, laughing. “I wanted to find out what all this business about being arrested for mutiny was. I also wanted to see you both. And—well, I came as soon as I could.”
“But you shouldn’t have come all this way, Jenny,” I said. “I mean, you’ve only just got home and your father——”
“Don’t be silly, Jim,” she interrupted me. “Of course, I came. And Daddy expected me to. After all the travelling I’ve done through Europe in the last few months, Oban to Falmouth wasn’t such a very long trip. Now,” she said, “what is all this nonsense?”
“It’s not nonsense, I’m afraid,” I told her.
Bert began edging his way to the door. “Look, chum,” he said, “I’ll slip a’t an’ ’ave a chat wiv the boys in the guardroom.”
“Don’t be silly,” I said. I don’t know why, but I didn’t want him to go.
“What’s the idea, Bert?” Jenny asked
. “Come and sit over here. I want to hear all about this business.”
“Orl right, miss,” Bert had the door open now. “I’ll be back in a jiffy. But I got an idea there’s some char comin’ up. Usually does ab’at this time. Bet you could do wiv a cup, couldn’t you?” And with that he went out, closing the door behind him.
Jenny suddenly laughed. It was a happy, carefree laugh. “Jim,” she said, “the way Bert’s behaving you’d think he regarded us as lovers, or something.”
“I—I don’t know,” I said. “I think he just thought we’d like to talk alone for a bit.”
She looked up at me and then looked quickly away. There was a moment’s silence. And then she said, “He’s a pet anyway. I’m glad you’ve got him for company. He’s such a—friendly person.” She looked at me then. “How’s your fiancée taken this?” she asked. “Have you heard yet?”
I’d told her all about Betty and how she’d forced me to go for a commission.
“Yes,” I said. “I’ve heard.”
“Well?” she said. She wasn’t looking at me. She was staring down at the neatly shod little foot she was swinging to and fro.
“It’s finished,” I said.
“Finished?” She looked up at me incredulously.
“Yes,” I said. “She wrote to me and enclosed my ring.”
“Didn’t she even come to see you?”
I shook my head. “I—I thought for a moment when the sergeant said there was a lady to see me that—well, that it might be her.”
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