*Chapter Five - The Court Martial*
'Necessity is the plea for every infringement'
William Pitt the Younger
*******
Cochrane was the first witness called. No doubt the tribunal wanted to hear the worst at once. And 'worst' was exactly how some of its members would regard his testimony. The presiding Admiral was Sir Roger Curtis, Gambier's old and close friend. Duckworth was another member, technically acceptable since, although Gambier's number two, he had not been at Basque Roads. Admirals Young and Sutton, both known to loathe Cochrane. Three more admirals and four captains - the latter would undoubtedly follow the lead of their superiors.
Gold braid glinted everywhere he looked within the great cabin of HMS Gladiator. Most of the captains who had been at Aix Roads, and a fair number who were not. The trial of a full Admiral was not something that happened everyday, and a court martial was a public business. Justice must be seen to be done.
Surprisingly, Cochrane was a poor witness, nervous and easily flustered. Still Curtis's attitude would be enough to fluster most men. He was treating the witness as though Cochrane were the accused and he prosecuting council. Yet that was hardly a surprise. What else could the Radical expect?
He was stubborn, no doubt of that. Angry and unsettled, still persisting in detailing the delay in sending in the ships, whilst the tribunal harassed and interrupted and insisted none of this was relevant, though the truth was it was all too much so.
"This has no sort of connection with the question which is asked and is only a series of observations of disadvantage to the prisoner," Young scolded, for all the world as though testimony against the prisoner was not the business of a prosecution witness.
"I wish to speak the truth," Cochrane fairly shouted, "the whole truth, and nothing but the truth!"
Fool. Losing his temper would only be to disadvantage. He was making himself ridiculous, appearing rash and prejudiced. And he was both this things in court, if not in action. The court was reprimanding him now for insolence. And so it went on.
"I have felt that if I had answered yes or no to all the questions which have been put to me, I ought to be hung: and that if a court martial was held upon me, and only the answers yes or no appeared to those questions I should be hung for them!"
And that was folly too, for although cutting short his answers, no-one had required him to answer merely yes or no. And no-one would be hanged here, although Cochrane might be excused for feeling as though on trial. But what *had* the man expected? Hornblower had tried to warn him. He could do no more.
The court was making a strangely detailed enquiry into the nature of the Boyant channel. Cochrane's charts had already been thrown out, the court insisting he could not prove them accurate, since some parts were based on captured French material. Curious.
The importance of this issue became clear when Cochrane's examination was concluded, and he left the court, still seething. The Admiralty produced the Channel Fleet's most senior ships' masters, and Masters Stokes and Fairfax testified that the Boyant channel was a bare mile wide and barred by a high reef of rocks, intensely dangerous for the great ships-of-the- line.
Hornblower sat up. This wasn't true! He knew it wasn't true, from his own soundings. The masters were claiming to have prepared the charts for Gambier, and the tribunal was making great play of the fact that both agreed. Yet how could they not agree, when Stokes had taken few soundings, as he frankly admitted, but relied on those of Fairfax. And Fairfax had gone no further than the channel's entrance, that too was admitted. So where did the further figures come from? Why, from a captured French chart!
Hornblower waited to see if anyone would ask why this chart should be counted more reliable than that used by Cochrane, who had at least been inside the channel, on more than one occasion. Or how, if the channel were so dangerous, four British battle-ships had got in and out with no harm done. But he was not surprised when no-one did. Too dangerous to go in, yes, that was a good defence.
Then came his turn to take the stand.
It was a fairly brief questioning, he was just a frigate captain, after all. And he had no doubts, no hesitations, never had had from the moment he knew he had been called. He knew where his duty lay, just as he had... before.
Yes. Gambier had done all that could be done. No, he did not think any earlier attack would have been practicable (and no-one will ask why an attack practicable in the afternoon should not have been so in the morning) and the channel was plainly very dangerous (if that was their story he would stick to it). No, he had nothing more to add.
He was the last witness called that day. The further encounter was pure chance, he had to go ashore, it was pure accident that he should meet Cochrane.
"And what is your payment this time, Captain?"
"I do not comprehend you," Hornblower said coldly.
"I know you had soundings taken. What was your price for silence? A ship- of-the-line?"
Hornblower stood stock still. "You go too far," he could not control the shake of rage. "I did my duty, neither less nor more. The thing was *done*, what possible gain from undermining the Navy in open court?"
"Only the chance of preventing it ever happening again. Only to expose an incompetent before he does more damage. Only to prevent undeserved praise carrying the man to higher positions still. He's spoken of as a future First Lord of the Admiralty, do you see nothing amiss with that? Or don't you care?"
"How *dare* you insinuate that I would sell my honour so? How *dare* you?"
"Do you deny you sold my cousin's reputation for your first command?"
The blood ebbed from his heart. "It isn't true!"
"I've read the court martial proceedings," Cochrane said, "you were denounced in court for insubordination, severely criticised by the tribunal. And yet, within days, you had a command. Those rumours about Sawyer... there could be many tales you might have told. And what would that have looked like for those complacent fools at the Admiralty who had failed to remove him? I hoped it wasn't true - but now I know."
"You hoped...," Hornblower choked, "you mean others believe.."
"That you were bribed to keep your mouth shut? Yes, of course." Cochrane laughed, without humour. "Had you really never heard the talk?"
"It isn't...." But was it true? Had he not been surprised, back there in Kingston? Publicly slated for insubordination one day, his own command the next, yes, he had thought it strange. Oh God, *was* it true? The notion had not occurred to him, not for a moment, but had it occurred to *them*? To those who offered the appointment? The old friend that could prove awkward, never mind, a command will soon stop his mouth; who would put a dead man's honour before promotion, especially if told clearly he might never get another chance? *Had* he taken a bribe, without even realising?
Dead and buried he had thought it all. Long blocked from memory. And now this man stood looking down on him with Archie Kennedy's eyes, and tearing the last seven years of his life to filthy shreds.
"You hadn't heard it, had you? I could tell you worse."
"Worse?" What could be *worse*?
"You and old Pellew are quite thick, aren't you? There were some thought it a plot between you, to throw the blame upon a badly injured man, a man weak and fevered, unable to resist pressure or persuasion...."
"*NO!*" Blessed fury came to his relief. "I would *not* do such a thing. *Never.*"
But Cochrane's expression was unrelenting, the look of a man who saw no shades of grey in others. If a man had done wrong once, he was wrong to the core. And to Cochrane the testimony Hornblower had just given could only, ever, be wrong.
"I had a *duty!*" he insisted "A duty to the service! Then and now, I had a duty...."
"To *what* service, Hornblower? To the fat, heartless fools who send good men out to be sacrificed? Or to those who fight and die, in the front line, often die for nothing? You can't always serve them both. Leave Gambier unchallenged, how much more damage will he do? How many more incompetents would be promoted? And Sawyer - he was gone, but those who had inflicted him upon that ship were still untouched. How many more unfit captains would be left in place? How many more good men condemned unjustly, because it is *convenient* for the Admiralty, because every time they make a disaster they can lay the blame on someone else and forget the whole affair?"
"I'd expect such talk from a revolutionary!" Hornblower said furiously.
"I'm not a revolutionary. I want reform, not revolution. But a country that insists on perpetuating injustice *will* suffer revolution. Sooner or later, it will come. Think on that, if you think of anything except your own advancement."
"I did *not* exchange truth for advancement. Not then and not now!"
"Why should I believe you?" Cochrane said.
'Necessity is the plea for every infringement'
William Pitt the Younger
*******
Cochrane was the first witness called. No doubt the tribunal wanted to hear the worst at once. And 'worst' was exactly how some of its members would regard his testimony. The presiding Admiral was Sir Roger Curtis, Gambier's old and close friend. Duckworth was another member, technically acceptable since, although Gambier's number two, he had not been at Basque Roads. Admirals Young and Sutton, both known to loathe Cochrane. Three more admirals and four captains - the latter would undoubtedly follow the lead of their superiors.
Gold braid glinted everywhere he looked within the great cabin of HMS Gladiator. Most of the captains who had been at Aix Roads, and a fair number who were not. The trial of a full Admiral was not something that happened everyday, and a court martial was a public business. Justice must be seen to be done.
Surprisingly, Cochrane was a poor witness, nervous and easily flustered. Still Curtis's attitude would be enough to fluster most men. He was treating the witness as though Cochrane were the accused and he prosecuting council. Yet that was hardly a surprise. What else could the Radical expect?
He was stubborn, no doubt of that. Angry and unsettled, still persisting in detailing the delay in sending in the ships, whilst the tribunal harassed and interrupted and insisted none of this was relevant, though the truth was it was all too much so.
"This has no sort of connection with the question which is asked and is only a series of observations of disadvantage to the prisoner," Young scolded, for all the world as though testimony against the prisoner was not the business of a prosecution witness.
"I wish to speak the truth," Cochrane fairly shouted, "the whole truth, and nothing but the truth!"
Fool. Losing his temper would only be to disadvantage. He was making himself ridiculous, appearing rash and prejudiced. And he was both this things in court, if not in action. The court was reprimanding him now for insolence. And so it went on.
"I have felt that if I had answered yes or no to all the questions which have been put to me, I ought to be hung: and that if a court martial was held upon me, and only the answers yes or no appeared to those questions I should be hung for them!"
And that was folly too, for although cutting short his answers, no-one had required him to answer merely yes or no. And no-one would be hanged here, although Cochrane might be excused for feeling as though on trial. But what *had* the man expected? Hornblower had tried to warn him. He could do no more.
The court was making a strangely detailed enquiry into the nature of the Boyant channel. Cochrane's charts had already been thrown out, the court insisting he could not prove them accurate, since some parts were based on captured French material. Curious.
The importance of this issue became clear when Cochrane's examination was concluded, and he left the court, still seething. The Admiralty produced the Channel Fleet's most senior ships' masters, and Masters Stokes and Fairfax testified that the Boyant channel was a bare mile wide and barred by a high reef of rocks, intensely dangerous for the great ships-of-the- line.
Hornblower sat up. This wasn't true! He knew it wasn't true, from his own soundings. The masters were claiming to have prepared the charts for Gambier, and the tribunal was making great play of the fact that both agreed. Yet how could they not agree, when Stokes had taken few soundings, as he frankly admitted, but relied on those of Fairfax. And Fairfax had gone no further than the channel's entrance, that too was admitted. So where did the further figures come from? Why, from a captured French chart!
Hornblower waited to see if anyone would ask why this chart should be counted more reliable than that used by Cochrane, who had at least been inside the channel, on more than one occasion. Or how, if the channel were so dangerous, four British battle-ships had got in and out with no harm done. But he was not surprised when no-one did. Too dangerous to go in, yes, that was a good defence.
Then came his turn to take the stand.
It was a fairly brief questioning, he was just a frigate captain, after all. And he had no doubts, no hesitations, never had had from the moment he knew he had been called. He knew where his duty lay, just as he had... before.
Yes. Gambier had done all that could be done. No, he did not think any earlier attack would have been practicable (and no-one will ask why an attack practicable in the afternoon should not have been so in the morning) and the channel was plainly very dangerous (if that was their story he would stick to it). No, he had nothing more to add.
He was the last witness called that day. The further encounter was pure chance, he had to go ashore, it was pure accident that he should meet Cochrane.
"And what is your payment this time, Captain?"
"I do not comprehend you," Hornblower said coldly.
"I know you had soundings taken. What was your price for silence? A ship- of-the-line?"
Hornblower stood stock still. "You go too far," he could not control the shake of rage. "I did my duty, neither less nor more. The thing was *done*, what possible gain from undermining the Navy in open court?"
"Only the chance of preventing it ever happening again. Only to expose an incompetent before he does more damage. Only to prevent undeserved praise carrying the man to higher positions still. He's spoken of as a future First Lord of the Admiralty, do you see nothing amiss with that? Or don't you care?"
"How *dare* you insinuate that I would sell my honour so? How *dare* you?"
"Do you deny you sold my cousin's reputation for your first command?"
The blood ebbed from his heart. "It isn't true!"
"I've read the court martial proceedings," Cochrane said, "you were denounced in court for insubordination, severely criticised by the tribunal. And yet, within days, you had a command. Those rumours about Sawyer... there could be many tales you might have told. And what would that have looked like for those complacent fools at the Admiralty who had failed to remove him? I hoped it wasn't true - but now I know."
"You hoped...," Hornblower choked, "you mean others believe.."
"That you were bribed to keep your mouth shut? Yes, of course." Cochrane laughed, without humour. "Had you really never heard the talk?"
"It isn't...." But was it true? Had he not been surprised, back there in Kingston? Publicly slated for insubordination one day, his own command the next, yes, he had thought it strange. Oh God, *was* it true? The notion had not occurred to him, not for a moment, but had it occurred to *them*? To those who offered the appointment? The old friend that could prove awkward, never mind, a command will soon stop his mouth; who would put a dead man's honour before promotion, especially if told clearly he might never get another chance? *Had* he taken a bribe, without even realising?
Dead and buried he had thought it all. Long blocked from memory. And now this man stood looking down on him with Archie Kennedy's eyes, and tearing the last seven years of his life to filthy shreds.
"You hadn't heard it, had you? I could tell you worse."
"Worse?" What could be *worse*?
"You and old Pellew are quite thick, aren't you? There were some thought it a plot between you, to throw the blame upon a badly injured man, a man weak and fevered, unable to resist pressure or persuasion...."
"*NO!*" Blessed fury came to his relief. "I would *not* do such a thing. *Never.*"
But Cochrane's expression was unrelenting, the look of a man who saw no shades of grey in others. If a man had done wrong once, he was wrong to the core. And to Cochrane the testimony Hornblower had just given could only, ever, be wrong.
"I had a *duty!*" he insisted "A duty to the service! Then and now, I had a duty...."
"To *what* service, Hornblower? To the fat, heartless fools who send good men out to be sacrificed? Or to those who fight and die, in the front line, often die for nothing? You can't always serve them both. Leave Gambier unchallenged, how much more damage will he do? How many more incompetents would be promoted? And Sawyer - he was gone, but those who had inflicted him upon that ship were still untouched. How many more unfit captains would be left in place? How many more good men condemned unjustly, because it is *convenient* for the Admiralty, because every time they make a disaster they can lay the blame on someone else and forget the whole affair?"
"I'd expect such talk from a revolutionary!" Hornblower said furiously.
"I'm not a revolutionary. I want reform, not revolution. But a country that insists on perpetuating injustice *will* suffer revolution. Sooner or later, it will come. Think on that, if you think of anything except your own advancement."
"I did *not* exchange truth for advancement. Not then and not now!"
"Why should I believe you?" Cochrane said.