"After which, from the bridge, Lieutenant-Commander Peace gave a series of course alterations at short intervals?"
Thinking of my navigation off the Skeleton Coast, that was a superb understatement.
"Yes, sir."
The prosecutor looked at him. "Please produce to the court your chart showing them."
This was the left hook to the jaw.
"There was no chart," he replied simply.
"No chart?" exclaimed the rear-admiral. "What do you mean, Lieutenant Garland?"
"I mean, sir, that Lieutenant-Commander Peace was navigating from a chart of his own, which he did not reveal to me. The log is here, though."
The old fighter behind the table eyed John severely.
"You have no idea where you were?"
"No, sir, not to this moment."
"Or what you were following?"
"No, sir."
"Or what the alterations of course were for?"
"No, sir."
"No idea at all?" he barked out.
"We must have been close to land, sir, because of the echo-sounder readings."
"And then Trout lay at the bottom of the sea at action stations for eight hours with torpedoes at the ready?"
The prosecutor flicked over several pages of notes to draw this further damaging conclusion.
"Yes, sir."
The log book was passed up to the main table. The rear-admiral peered at it intently for a moment and then threw it down with a snort of disgust. I probably would have too.
The judicial captain chipped in.
"Lieutenant Garland, if you were presented with this log book with these apparently unrelated changes of course — extreme changes of course — what would your interpretation of it be?"
John looked across at me, the first time he had done so. There was no compassion in that look, such as I had seen when he came in and found me laughing after I had decided to go in and sink NP I in her hide-out.
He replied firmly and without hesitation: "I would have said they were the work of a madman."
The Commander-in-Chief let out a faint sigh. My best friend had made the most damning statement yet before the court.
"So," said the prosecutor and I could see he was hating it, "in other words, you would say your commanding officer was mad?"
John looked at him squarely. "I did not say that, sir," he rejoined firmly. Even the judicial captain lost some of his detached air as the air of drama heightened.
"What I did say, sir, was that if such a log book were presented to me here in court, I would say it was the work of a madman. What I did not say was that I was there. I looked through the periscope. I saw what he was doing."
The prosecutor reddened. "There is no record of this vital piece of evidence…"
John brushed his words aside.
"I looked through the periscope," he repeated slowly as if every single breaker of that wave-lashed holocaust were living again before his eyes. "I saw the most fantastic welter of broken water that ever terrified a sailor out of his wits. It frightened the living hell out of me. I still dream about it. All I know is that until that moment I thought my commanding officer was… to say the least… suffering from battle fatigue. I thought so when I heard him laughing to himself. I thought the attack plan was all a figment of his imagination. I thought the torpedo settings were so shallow as to be crazy. I thought his action in standing watch alone on the bridge was near madness. I have no words for his course alterations and the soundings. But when I looked out and saw Trout among the breakers, I knew that he was sane beyond sanity, and he proved it by bringing us out alive. No one else could have done it. But for him we would all be dead men. There wouldn't be any court martial. I don't know to this day what he was doing, but I believe if he said there was an enemy, there was."
There was a long silence. The Cape mountains looked lovelier than ever. A tear splashed from the Wren's cheek on to her notebook and she dabbed hurriedly at it. John never looked across at me.
The Commander-in-Chief cleared his throat.
"Lieutenant Garland," he said, "if I ordered Trout to sea tomorrow with Lieutenant-Commander Peace in command, would you be prepared to sail with him?"
"Yes, sir," said John simply, "anywhere."
He cleared his throat again. "No further questions? Thank you, Lieutenant."
I smiled wryly to myself. John had convinced them I was sane all right, but if I was fully responsible for my actions, then what in heaven's name was I doing? It really weakened my own case. How could I answer the unanswerable questions about NP I? I knew the line I would have to take.
"Any more witnesses?" asked the gold braid.
The prosecutor grinned wryly. "I'm afraid that if I brought every one of the crew, they might say the same sort of thing. No, sir, I have a number of affidavits here which can be referred to if the court feels there should be oral evidence in clarification of various points, but in point of fact there is no dispute about the general facts. Unidentified noises were heard, an attack was mounted, H.M.S. Trout was damaged, there were a series of the wildest alterations of course and depth soundings, Trout was apparently in grave danger, there was a complete failure on the part of her commanding officer to notify his officers what he was doing and even where his ship was. I have discussed these points with the defence" — indicating my defending officer — "and they are not in dispute."
"Most irregular," sniffed the rear-admiral.
"In fact, your case is complete against Lieutenant-Commander Peace then?" asked the judicial captain.
My defending officer was on his feet in a trice.
"I cannot allow such admissions," he snapped out. "Lieutenant-Commander Peace is on trial on the most serious charges. It is only right that he should be heard in his own defence."
"He admits the facts, but has some explanation of them?" asked the Commander-in-Chief.
My defending officer shuffled. "Unfortunately, sir, I am not in the accused's — Lieutenant-Commander Peace's — confidence regarding his explanation. But he has a right to be heard, nevertheless."
The old sailor nodded and I was duly sworn. I could see them all eyeing me closely.
"Before you begin, Lieutenant Gander," said the C.-in-C., "there are a number of points regarding Trout which the court wishes to clear up before we go into detail regarding this… ah… attack. Commander Peace will answer them, since I must confess I am seriously at a loss myself. First, Commander Peace, who ordered you to take H.M.S. Trout to sea? I have signalled the Admiralty and I can find no authorisation — whatsoever — for your ah… mission."
So, I thought, those clever two never wrote down anything at all. The net was closing fast.
"I was ordered verbally by the Flag Officer (S) in the presence of the Director of Naval Intelligence. I was flown from Malta and briefed in person."
A ripple of incredulity ran through the court. All five officers stared at me from the dais.
"In that case, then," said the judicial captain levelly, "there will be a record of your briefing which will be available in your defence to substantiate what you say."
"No one else was present at the meeting," I said. "There was no record."
"You mean to tell me —" snapped the rear-admiral.
"Rubbish!"
"Even admitting it were so," said the judicial captain, "it must have been a matter of considerable secrecy for two officers of their rank to discuss it with you — in private?"
"It was," I said grimly, remembering the look in those Arctic eyes when he thought of his precious convoys and the battle-stained North Atlantic.
"What was it?" snapped the C.-in-C.
"I cannot answer that question, sir," I replied.
"My God!" he shouted. "You stand there like a schoolboy and tell me you can't say?"
There was no avoiding the blow much longer. In a moment, in a moment, I told myself, steeling myself for the inevitable.