They had each received an official notification the day before, and for some reason each had brought it with him, folded or rolled. After a while Babbington and Ricketts took to changing all the words they could into obscenities, secretly in a corner, while Mowett wrote and scratched out on the back of his, counting syllables on his fingers and silently mouthing. Lucock stared straight ahead of him into vacancy. Stephen intently watched the busy unsatisfied questing of a shining dark-red rat-flea on the chequered sailcloth floor. –
The door opened. Jack returned abruptly to this world, picked up his laced hat and walked into the great cabin, ducking his head as he came in, with his officers filing in behind him.
He came to a halt in the middle of the room, tucked his hat under his arm and made his bow to the court, first to the president, then to the captains to the right of him, then to the captains to the left of him. The president gave
a slight inclination of his head and desired Captain Aubrey and his officers to sit down. A marine placed a chair for Jack a few paces in front of the rest, and there he sat, his hand going to hitch forward his non-existent sword, while the judge advocate read the document authorizing the court to assemble.
This took a considerable time, and Stephen looked steadily about him, examining the cabin from side to side: it was like a larger version of the Desaix’s stateroom (how glad he was the Desaix was safe) and it, too, was singularly beautiful and full of light – the same range of curved stern-windows, the same inward-leaning side-walls (the ship’s tumblehome, in fact) and the same close, massive white-painted beams overhead in extraordinarily long pure curves right across from one side to another: a room in which
common domestic geometry had no say. At the far end from the door, parallel with the windows, ran a long table; and between the table
–
and the light sat the members of the court, the president in the middle, the black-coated judge-advocate at a desk in front and three post-captains on either side. There was a clerk at a small table on the left, and to the left again a roped-off space for bystanders.
The atmosphere was austere: all the heads above the blue and gold uniforms on the far side of the shining table were grave. The last trial and the sentence had been quite shockingly painful. – –
It was these heads, these faces, that had all Jack’s attention. With the light behind them it was difficult to make them out exactly; but they were mostly overcast, and all were withdrawn. Keats, Hood, Brenton, Grenville he knew:
was Grenville winking at him with his one eye, or was it an involuntary blink? Of course it was a blink: any signal would be grossly indecent. The president looked twenty years younger since the victory, but still his face was impassive and there was no distinguishing the expression of his eyes, behind those drooping lids. The other captains he knew only by name. One, a left-handed man, was drawing
– scribbling. Jack’s eyes grew dark with anger.
The judge-advocate’s voice droned on. ‘His Majesty’s late Sloop Sophie having been ordered to proceed
and whereas it is represented that in or about 40’W 370 40’ N, Cape Roig bearing. . . ‘he said, amidst universal indifference.
‘That man loves his-trade,’ thought Stephen. ‘But what a wretched voice. It is almost impossible to be understood. Gabble, a professional deformation in lawyers.’ And he was reflecting on industrial disease, on the corrosive effects of righteousness in judges, when he noticed that Jack had relaxed from his first rigid posture: and as the formalities went on and on this relaxation became more evident. He was looking sullen, oddly still and dangerous; the slight lowering of his head and the dogged way in which he stuck out his feet made a singular contrast with the perfection of his uniform, and Stephen had a strong premonition that disaster might be very close at hand. – The judge advocate had now reached ‘. . . to enquire
into the conduct of John Aubrey, commander of His Majesty’s late sloop the Sophie -and her officers and company for the loss of the said sloop by being captured on the third instant by a French squadron under the command of Admiral Linois’, and Jack’s head was lower still. ‘How far is one entitled to manipulate one’s friends?’ asked Stephen, writing Nothing would give H greater pleasure than an outburst of indignation on your part at this moment on a corner of his paper: he passed it to the master, pointing to Jack. Marshall passed it on, by way of Daiziel. Jack read it, turned a lowering, grim face without much apparent understanding in it towards Stephen and gave a jerk of his head.
Almost immediately afterwards Charles Stirling, the senior captain and president of the court-martial, cleared his throat and said, ‘Captain Aubrey, pray relate the circumstances of the loss of His Majesty’s late sloop the Sophie.’
Jack rose to his feet, looked sharply along the line of his judges, drew his breath, and speaking in a much stronger voice than usual, the words coming fast, with odd intervals and an unnatural intonation – a harsh, God-damn-you voice, as though he were addressing a most inimical body of men – he said, ‘About six o’clock in the morning of the third, to the eastward and in sight of Cape Roig, we saw three large ships apparently French, and a frigate, who
soon after gave chase to the Sophie: the Sophie was between the shore and the ships that chased her, and to windward of the French vessels: we endeavoured by making all sail and were pulling with sweeps – as the wind was very light
to keep to windward of the enemy; but having found notwithstanding all our endeavours to keep to the wind, that the French ships gained very fast, and having separated on different tacks one or the other gained upon each shift of wind, and finding it impracticable to escape by the wind, about nine o’clock the guns and other things on deck were thrown overboard; and having watched an opportunity, when the nearest French ship was on our quarter, we bore
up and set the studdingsails; but again found the French
ships outsailed us though their studdingsails were not set:
when the nearest ship had approached within musket-shot, -I ordered the colours to be hauled down about eleven o’clock
a.m., the wind being to the eastward and having received several broadsides from the enemy which carried away the maintopgallantmast and foretopsail yard and cut several of the ropes.’ –
Then, though he was conscious of the singular ineptitude of this speech, he shut his mouth tight and stood looking straight ahead of him, while the clerk’s pen squeaked nimbly after his words, writing ‘and cut several of the ropes’. Here there was a slight pause, in which the president glanced left and right and coughed again before speaking. The clerk drew a quick flourish after ropes and hurried on:
Question by the court Captain Aubrey, have you
any reason to find fault with any of your officers or ship’s company?
Answer No. The utmost endeavour was used by every person on board.
Question by the court Officers and ship’s company of the Sophie, have any of you reason to find fault with the conduct of your captain?
Answer No. –
‘Let all the evidence withdraw except Lieutenant Alexander Dalziel,’ said the judge-advocate, and presently the midshipmen, the master and Stephen found themselves in the dining-cabin again, sitting perfectly mute in odd corners, while from the one side the distant shrieking of the parson echoed up from the cockpit (he had made a determined attempt at suicide) and from the other the drone of the trial went on. They were all deeply affected by Jack’s concern, anxiety and rage: they had seen him unmoved so often and in such circumstances that his present emotion shook them profoundly, and disturbed their judgment. They could hear his voice now, formal, savage and much louder than the rest of the voices in the court, saying, ‘Did the enemy fire several broadsides at us and at what distance were we when they fired the last?’ Mr Daiziel’s reply was a murmur, indistinguishable through the bulkhead.
‘This is an entirely irrational fear,’ said Stephen Maturin, looking at his wet and clammy palm. ‘It is but one more instance of the . . . for surely to God, surely for all love, if they had wished to sink him they would have asked “How came you to be there?” ? But then I know very little of nautical affairs.’ He looked for comfort at the master’s face, but he found none there.
‘Dr Maturin,’ said the marine, opening the door.