"- and in addition you said that I'd nearly caused the death of your passengers and they were complaining to the Commander-in-Chief."
Yorke had gone white, and leaned back against the breech of a gun. He seemed almost stupefied at what he had heard, and it was a minute or two before he spoke.
"I begin to understand what you were talking about yesterday. I thought you were - well, overwrought. These men can do anything they please!"
Ramage shook his head. "No, not quite. But Goddard has got to get this trial stopped for the simple reason that he can't risk having you and the Duke prove that he and Croucher not only perjured themselves, but actually conspired together to bring false charges against me for which the only penalty was death. The only way of stopping you both is to stop the trial."
"But the Commander-in-Chief..." Yorke said lamely.
"I'm sure the Commander-in-Chief is just as anxious as Goddard. Don't forget that he signed the order for the trial. Don't forget Goddard is his second-in-command. Don't forget that any scandal concerning Goddard also reflects on Sir Pilcher..."
"But the Duke will tell the Governor what happened!"
"And the Governor will forward any letter to London without comment. Once the Government know the Duke is alive and safe, they won't give a damn about the affair of some wretched young lieutenant!"
"The Duke would never allow that," Yorke said firmly.
"The Duke won't have any say in the matter. It's what the Admiralty decides that matters to me, and I can tell you the Admiralty won't want a scandal; certainly not one concerning the Commander-in-Chief and his second-in-command."
"What are you going to do, then?"
"Listen politely to what's said in court tomorrow, and prepare myself for another visit from the judge advocate so that I can read the wording of the new charges over the loss of the Triton."
"Well, what can we do?" Yorke asked soberly.
Ramage held up his hands helplessly. "I wish I knew."
"Perhaps Mr Yorke and the Duke ought to come over to the Arrogant when the court convenes tomorrow," Southwick said quietly. "Just in case, sir. After all, you never know."
Ramage gave a cynical laugh as he rubbed the scar over his brow. "I think we know well enough. Still, if they wish..."
"We'll be there," Yorke said. "The Duke is a very angry man."
"So am I," Ramage said. "After all, it's my neck we're trying to save!"
Chapter Twenty
The Marine sentry outside the Arrogant's great cabin saluted smartly as Ramage followed Ransom through the door next morning. Although the early sun was bright and the sky clear, the ship still felt cool and, as he had done from the time he woke at dawn, Ramage tried to shut out all thought of the trial. He had slept badly - hope was hard to sustain in the darkness. Lying in his cot, a thousand pictures sped one after another through his mind; wild pictures that at any other time would come only with a high fever. Croucher standing on the Lion's quarterdeck and giving the order that would run Ramage to the fore-yardarm with a noose round his neck; his father receiving the news in Cornwall of his trial and execution; the Duke comforting a weeping Maxine ... But when sleep finally came it was soon chased away by a bleary-eyed steward with the inevitable weak coffee.
He had washed, shaved and dressed with great deliberation, studying every movement. He found it was the only way of preventing his mind racing back to the trial, and was surprised how many everyday things were done without conscious thought. Shaving the left side of his face before the right, putting the left leg into his breeches before the right, slipping his left arm first into his jacket. Did left-handed people use their right hands and legs in the same way?
In the great cabin nothing had changed from the previous day: Napier was already seated at the head of the table with the other captains in their places; Syme was shuffling papers at the foot of the table; Admiral Goddard was sitting in the same chair with Hobson just behind him. For a moment Ramage found it hard to believe that the previous day's events were anything more than a half-remembered dream.
Napier glanced up, nodded briefly as Ramage sat down, and then tapped the table.
"The court is in session - are there any witnesses present who have yet to give evidence?"
He glanced round but no one spoke.
"Very well, the deputy judge advocate will read the minutes so far, and then we will proceed, since everyone has already been sworn."
As Syme reached for a small pile of papers on the table in front of him, Admiral Goddard stood up and coughed. His face glistened with perspiration; his eyes darted nervously from side to side. Captain Napier glanced up questioningly.
"The prosecution -" Goddard paused for a few moments, as if out of breath. "The prosecution wishes to state - with the court's permission, of course - that it withdraws all the charges against Lieutenant Ramage."
For a moment there was complete silence in the cabin; a silence in which every one of the seven captains turned to stare at the Admiral, and Syme's spectacles slid almost to the end of his nose.
Even as he jumped to his feet Ramage realized that Goddard had taken the court by surprise; Napier must have kept the contents of the letter to himself.
"Sir, I must protest!" Steady, he told himself; that was too loud, too sharp, too aggressive. "Capital charges have been made against me, and much of the prosecution's supporting evidence has already been given. I submit the prosecution cannot now withdraw the charges without one word of my defence being heard!"
Napier held up his hand. "The court will be cleared. The prosecutor and the prisoner will remain."
As soon as everyone else in the cabin had left, Napier turned to Goddard.
"The court wishes to know your reasons for withdrawing the charges."
Goddard shrugged his shoulders and wiped his lips with a handkerchief.
"The charges were drawn up upon assumptions which have subsequently proved to be incorrect."
"What assumptions?" Napier asked.
"On the assumption that there were no survivors from the Topaz"
"What?" Napier exclaimed in surprise. "Do you really mean that there was only one assumption?"
"No, of course not," Goddard said hurriedly. "That was merely one of the assumptions."
Napier turned to Ramage. "What do you say to this?"
"Has the prosecution questioned any of the survivors of the Topaz, sir?"
Napier looked at Goddard. "Have you?"
"Well, no, not yet."
Ramage shrugged his shoulders and, looking directly at Napier, said quietly: "Then how can the prosecution possibly know that any survivor's evidence could alter the case, sir? I am accused of cowardice in action - how can the fact that the Topaz's people weren't drowned possibly affect that accusation?"
"Really!" Goddard exclaimed angrily. "That isn't the point at all. The prosecution has every right to withdraw the charges if it wishes!"
Napier looked questioningly at the deputy judge advocate. "Can it? What are the precedents for that, Syme? I've never met such a case."
Syme took off his spectacles nervously.
"I - er, I can find no exact precedent, sir. Yesterday, out of curiosity, I tried to find a similar case - simply out of curiosity, of course - and the nearest seemed to be the case of Admiral Keppel."
Napier looked puzzled. "I fail to see the connection."
"When charges were brought against Admiral Keppel by Vice-Admiral Sir Hugh Palliser, it was debated in both Houses of Parliament. However, the Admiralty insisted that they could not interfere; that once the accusations had been made, they were obliged to act ministerially, not judicially. They had to accept the accusations and give orders for the trial."