Maddon's Rock (15 page)

“I have reports here from the Admiralty,” Jennings went on, “that suggest that the wind to the south of the Barents Sea between the time you took to your boat and the time you were picked up off the Faroes three weeks later was mainly northerly. This would suggest that by using your sails you could have been in the neighbourhood of the Dogger Bank within a week of the
Trikkala
being sunk.”

Halsey shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever the Admiralty may say about the winds at that time, all I can say is that we experienced varied winds. At one time we were as far south as latitude 68 and then we were blown as far north as the seventies. You are surely not suggesting that we enjoyed staying in an open boat half frozen and with insufficient food?”

I saw that the President of the court was no longer taking notes. Once or twice he looked at his watch. He was getting restive. Jennings put a question about the Chief Engineer. “Warrant Officer Rankin spent a lot of time in his cabin playing cards—would you describe your Chief Engineer as a drunk?”

Halsey replied, “A lot of sailors drink. All I can say is that he was an efficient officer.” And he muttered, “God rest his soul.”

That was the first time in the course of the evidence that I knew that Halsey was lying. But lying to save the reputation of a dead officer. If Jennings had proved that point it would not have helped us.

“I have only two more questions,” Jennings said. “At about midnight on the first day out you were on the bridge with your first officer, Mr. Hendrik. Hendrik said it would be dirty the following day. Do you remember what you replied?”

“No,” Halsey answered. “Conversations about the weather occur too frequently on board a ship for one to remember them.”

“I will refresh your memory then. You said, ‘It suits us.’ Would you explain why dirty weather suited you?”

Halsey leaned a little forward. “I don’t understand the point of this question. One of the prisoners I suppose has been listening with too much interest to conversations which have nothing to do with him. However, I can answer your question easily enough. The Russian convoy route passes a little too close for comfort to the northern tip of Norway where Germany has bases. Dirty weather is quite a good protection against U-boat attacks.”

“You said, ‘Well make it to-morrow night,’” Jennings went on. “And you then asked Mr. Hendrik whether he had switched the watches so that Jukes was at the wheel between two and four—it was between those times and on that night that the
Trikkala
was mined.”

“The suggestion behind your question is offensive, sir,” Halsey said sharply. He turned to the Court. “Have I got to explain every scrap of conversation overheard by people who could not understand what I was talking about? The watches were switched because we were short-handed. My remark about making it the next night referred, if I remember rightly, to the necessity for switching over duties so that the men would not be unduly taxed.”

“I am merely trying to show the effect of a scrap of conversation upon the mind of Corporal Vardy, knowing that he was in charge of a very important cargo,”
Jennings pointed out. “I have one other point I would like cleared up. And let me say in advance that this conversation was overheard by Miss Sorrel, and not by either of the prisoners. Shortly after you sailed from Murmansk, Captain Halsey, you said to Mr. Hendrik: ‘I’ll think up some reason to cover that,’ What did you mean by that?”

“I can’t say I remember the conversation,” Halsey replied. “But if that is what I said, I was no doubt referring to some stores we’d wangled from a Naval vessel.” And he gave a slight chuckle. The Court also chuckled. They understood the point.

“Immediately afterwards,” Jennings continued, “you quoted a passage from Shakespeare—from Hamlet. You said: ‘
Henceforth my thoughts be bloody or be nothing worth
.’ Why?”

“I often quote Shakespeare,” Halsey replied shortly, two little spots of colour appearing in his sallow cheeks.

“So I understand,” Jennings answered quickly. “I am also given to understand that you choose your characters to fit your mood: that morning you were Hamlet—and Hamlet in a mood contemplating violent action. And that, I submit, is an important point when you consider that had you known about the loose planks in Number Two boat a lot of lives might have been saved. One more question,” Jennings hurried on before Halsey could protest. “Were you by any chance the owner and master of a ship called the
Penang
in the China Sea before the war?”

It was then that Halsey’s black eyes flashed with unmistakable anger—anger and something else. That something else I realised later was fear. But I didn’t know him so well then as I came to know him later.

And whilst Halsey hesitated uncertainly, the prosecuting officer came belatedly to his rescue. “I protest,” he cried. “These questions have no bearing on the case.”

“I agree,” the Judge Advocate said.

“I will show that they have—later,” was Jennings’ reply and he sat down.

With Hendrik, who was the prosecution’s next witness,
Jennings had more success. He questioned him about the same scraps of conversation. Hendrik with his shifty eyes and white scar was not the type of man to impress the Court. But he was not easily put out, and though his replies differed from his Captain’s the difference was not great. And then Jennings sprang on him the question about the
Penang
and the scar became a livid streak in his ashen face. “Is it true,” Jennings rapped out, “that in the China Sea the
Penang
had a reputation for being in the neighbourhood of several ships that sank with the loss of all hands?” Whilst Hendrik was still searching confusedly for an answer and before anyone had time to protest, he said, “I understand, Mr. Hendrik, that you were working on Number Two boat with one of the crew whilst the
Trikkala
was in Murmansk. What was the work that had to be done to the boat?”

“On the Captain’s instructions I was carrying out a general overhaul of all boats,” was the answer.

“There was nothing definite that needed repairing?”

“No. Just a general overhaul.”

“Who was the member of the crew who was working with you?”

“Jukes, sir.”

That was all he asked Hendrik. The next witness was Jukes. As soon as Jennings came to cross-examine him, he said, “You worked on the boats with Mr. Hendrik whilst you were in Murmansk, didn’t you?”

“That’s right,” Jukes replied.

“Was your watch switched so that you were at the wheel at the time the explosion took place?”

“Yes,” Jukes said. But he was beginning to look worried.

Then Jennings suddenly leaned towards him. “Were you a member of the crew of the
Penang
by any chance?”

There was no doubt about it this time—Jukes was scared. He was the type of man that is scared in any court of law. His broken nose, tough features with missing ear lobe, were not calculated to impress a court. He was clearly a man who gravitated by nature to the shadier quarters of the ports he shipped in and out of.
He had not expected to be questioned about the
Penang
and he was frightened.

But Jennings had made his point. He had too little to go on to press it home. He let it go at that. Evans was never called. The case for the prosecution, being closed, Jennings opened for the defence. After a short speech, he had me give evidence on oath. Under his guidance I took the court through the whole story of those two days from my point of view. I kept nothing back. I told of my suspicions, my growing sense of uneasiness, what the cook had told me of the
Penang
, how I had actually felt the looseness of the planks of that boat. Here the Judge Advocate interrupted me to ask whether it was dark and if I had inspected them with a torch. When I had finished, Jennings called Bert to corroborate my story. And finally he called Jenny to show that my attitude to embarking in the boat had been so strong that she had felt convinced that a raft was safer.

That concluded the case for the defence. There followed the final speeches of defence and prosecution. And then the Judge Advocate gave his summing up.

Finally, at twelve-fifteen, the Court was closed for consideration of the finding. The only people who were allowed to remain in the court-room whilst this was happening were the two officers under instruction.

Back in the little waiting-room, Bert rubbed his hands together and grinned at me. “Cor! I wouldn’t’ve missed that for anyfink. Did yer see their faces each time Capting Jennings mentioned the
Penang?
Bet yer it was piracy they was up ter. And Miss Jennifer—she impressed ’em.”

I nodded. It had been exciting whilst Jennings had been cross-examining the witnesses for the prosecution. But all I could think of was the cold, factual summing up of the Judge Advocate. And now back in this dreary waiting-room with the military policeman at the door, all elation was stripped from me. Jennings had done his best. He’d tried to show the state of suspicion and uneasiness that had prompted our actions. But this wasn’t a civil court. There was no jury to impress. The
men who were sitting in judgment on us were Army officers, concerned primarily with the maintenance of discipline in a civilian army at the end of a long war. And against our frail case was the solid, factual statements of witnesses reporting what had actually occurred. Jennings had warned us not to expect an acquittal. And now that the case had been presented and we were out of the court-room, I realised how thin were our chances.

“Come’n, mate—’ave a fag,” Bert said in a chirpy voice. “You look as though we was hincarcerated in the beastly Glass’a’se already. I know the ruddy prosecution didn’t mince ’is words in ’is final speech. An’ the summing up of that Judge Advycate bloke—that won’t ’ave ’elped us much.”

“Oh, it was fair enough,” I said.

“Well, I reckon we got a chance, see. Jennings made Rankin look pretty cheap. Wot d’you fink?”

He was holding a packet of cigarettes out. I took one. I didn’t want to damp his cheerfulness, so I said nothing. “Oh, well,” he said, “maybe they’ll ’ave ter find us Guilty fer the sake of appearances. But I reck’n the sentences’ll be light.”

“Well,” I said, “we won’t know what the sentences are for some time. If we’re found Not Guilty they tell us right away. But if we’re Guilty we’re not told anything now.”

We smoked in silence for a moment. Then the door opened and Jenny and her father came in. With them was Bert’s missis. I don’t know what we talked about—anything but the trial. Jenny’s father was a gentlevoiced man with bright twinkling blue eyes and white hair. He was a Scot. He had great charm. Though they were not in the least like each other physically, he and Jenny had much in common; the same trick of looking constantly surprised with the world, the same easy almost childish delight in things, the same soft, musical voice. But where her father’s enthusiasm for life merely twinkled, hers sparkled gaily.

They were an odd contrast to Mrs. Bert, who was a solidly built, angular woman with a rollicking sense of
humour that shook the walls of that wood-lined room. She might have been a barmaid or kept a winkle stall in her youth. But now there was only the faintest trace of the buxom Cockney beauty she had once been. She was worn with work and cares. But beneath the wrinkled skin and faded clothes was a warmth that did me good. It was the warmth of a friendly nature that seemed to expect the worst from a hard world, accepted it and triumphed over it so that you felt in her that flood of good-neighbourliness that is the spring of happiness.

Time passed slowly. Conversation was not easy. It was like waiting for a train to go out. At a quarter to one our visitors were ushered out and we were marched back into the court-room. Nothing seemed to have changed. Everyone was seated in the same places. But there was a subtle difference. And the difference was in the attitude of the five officers of the Court. Their faces were no longer receptive. They had made up their minds. Their eyes watched impersonally as the court-room settled itself. I suspect they were impatient for their lunch. No doubt there were more cases to be dealt with and ours had taken longer than they expected. I felt a chill void inside me as we were ordered to stand to hear the sentence of the court.

Tobacco smoke drifted in a splash of sunlight. They had relaxed, smoking, whilst deciding our fate.

The voice of the President was cold and impersonal as he addressed us. “The Court has no announcement to make.” The signet ring flashed in the sunlight as he massaged his jaw. “The findings of the Court, being subject to confirmation, will be promulgated in due course.”

The court-room stirred restlessly. I felt cold and numb as though nothing could hurt me any more. The Judge Advocate turned to the prosecuting officer and asked, “Have you any statement to make with regard to the accused?”

The prosecuting officer produced our Army records. Jennings made a speech of mitigation, stressing our excellent record and the fact that our actions had been
prompted by good intentions. Once again the Court was closed, this time for consideration of sentence.

Ten minutes later we were taken in again. This time we were told, “The sentence of the Court, being subject for confirmation, will be promulgated later.” And then the President glanced round the room. “And, therefore, the proceedings now in Open Court are accordingly terminated.”

A buzz of conversation swept through the room. Chairs scraped. I found myself being marched out. I remember a brief glimpse of Jenny, smiling brightly, and then we were behind the wire cage of the three-tonner and roaring back along the road we had come.

Two weeks later the sentences were promulgated. I shall never forget the shock I experienced when I stood before the Camp Commandant and heard him say: “Corporal Vardy. At your trial, which took place at Exeter on 28th April, 1945, when you were charged with mutiny, you were found Guilty and sentenced to be discharged the Service with ignominy and to serve four years penal servitude. That sentence has been confirmed by the confirming authority, and findings and sentence are accordingly promulgated.”

Bert got three years.