Tyger Page 6

  The witness looked helplessly at the president, who frowned.

  “Sir Home, I’m at a loss to understand where this is leading. Kindly explain to the court what you expect the witness to disclose by this line of questioning.”

  Popham breathed deeply. “I demand a precedent for the scandalous pre-judging of my case, by which I mean the charge, which contains an incitement to punish the defendant even before tried!”

  “I cannot know what you mean by that, sir!”

  “I quote from the charge, sir, read out in open court at the outset of this trial. It plainly states: ‘Whereas a due regard to the good of His Majesty’s service imperiously demands that so flagrant a breach of public duty should not go unpunished!’ This is not to be borne, sir!”

  “I beg to know what we have to do with that,” the president rapped. “The Admiralty have the authority to word the charge as they please. They are not to be arraigned for wording the charge as they see proper. I have sat on fifty courts-martial or more and never heard such quibbling.”

  Jervis looked sorrowfully at Popham. “And as learned counsel, my earnest advice is that censuring the Admiralty is not a way for the prisoner to defend himself.”

  “Quite, quite,” the president rumbled. “This seems a good point to end the day, I believe.”

  “What he said today didn’t help him, apparently,” Kydd said, tucking into more collops of fish. “Talk about Nelson and other great men leaving their station.”

  Bowden reached for the sauce. “He has a point, surely. They quit their rightful station without orders—this is a precedent if ever there was one.”

  “Not so! Consider the charge—it’s wonderfully crafted. They want to make sure of it, see him nailed to the bulkhead.” Kydd hesitated to say more in front of a former lieutenant in his ship. But he knew the young man could be trusted not to repeat what he said. “The charge is not for leaving station, it’s not for attacking South America, it’s not even for failing at Buenos Aires. It is that he’s guilty of sailing off and leaving the Cape undefended.”

  “So …”

  “You see, Nelson and all the other commanders had a battlefleet, which is meant to chase after the enemy. Popham had a fleet of sorts but its job was to stay in one spot to defend a territory, not sail off into the blue.”

  “Ah. Then what about his talking of Miranda, bringing in Pitt, the others?”

  “He nearly did it—pulled the court around, humbled ’em by showing how he’d been hobnobbing with high politicals. He even called Lord Melville and other grand ones to witness how he’d been thick with Billy Pitt actually planning an attack on South America.”

  “And it didn’t work?”

  “If he could show he’d orders or instructions for the taking of the Spanish colonies he’d be able to argue he was only being impatient—but none of ’em would say he had positive instructions to that effect. It really destroyed him and he ended up losing his humour.”

  Kydd leaned back. That such a brilliant mind was being slowly ground down was a sad spectacle, but how much was he bringing on himself? This talk of how he, a lowly post captain, had had the ear of the highest could only provoke resentment and fear among those his superior, and there was not much doubt that his disgrace would bring much satisfaction.

  The trial had gone on for considerably longer than the usual court-martial but the end must be soon. Unless Popham could meet the central charge with an unanswerable argument it would be all over for him.

  “Sir Home. Before we begin proceedings, I think I must mention, sir, you will feel that this court has listened to you with patient attention while many papers were read and examinations put that were wholly irrelevant to the question immediately before it. It has done so out of consideration of what you have alleged to be unfavourable prejudices in the public at large, which have gone abroad. With such the court has nothing to do. Thus I trust you will confine yourself to points necessary to defend against the charge now before us.”

  Popham was now back in possession of himself and spoke in a cool, wary manner. “I shall most anxiously endeavour to comply with the wishes of the honourable court and I beg to present thanks for the indulgent attention I have received.”

  He glanced once at the silent Jervis, now poised like a vulture awaiting its chance to fall upon a weakened prey.

  “I do call Mr Thomas Browne, Esquire.”

  A bulky man entered and came forward.

  “Mr Browne. Were you master attendant at the Cape directly after its capture?”

  “I was.” The voice was husky and indistinct.

  “Speak up, if you please,” the president snapped.

  “I was that, sir, yes.”

  “Do you remember when I sailed for South America?”

  “I do, sir.”

  “At that precise time, were the defences of Cape Colony in such a state as to offer sufficient security against any attempt of the enemy to retake the Cape—in your opinion, of course?”

  “Opinion has no place as evidence, if it please the court,” Jervis said, with heavy patience.

  “Sustained.”

  Popham smiled briefly. “Then it becomes necessary to lay before the court in detail the facts of the situation obtaining at the Cape in order they shall make their own appreciation.”

  “Is this really necessary, Sir Home?”

  “Sir, as you have made abundantly clear, the heart of the charge against me is that I left the Cape undefended to prosecute my attack on the Spanish settlements. By this I will show that it was far from the case.”

  Without waiting for an answer he launched into a detailed examination of the fortifications and other works one by one.

  The litany drew on.

  Jervis was attending with an air of superior confidence. Finally, he spoke. “If I could be permitted an observation?”

  “Of course, Mr Jervis,” the president said with relief.

  “The honourable judge advocate might correct me, but surely what is being attempted to be established is entirely beside the point. Whatever the honourable captain brings forward in military facts does not address the central issue: that it is for the Admiralty to adjudge the level of defences due a station, and in their wisdom they had appointed him and certain forces they deemed necessary to defend Cape Colony.

  “I would be interested to know what grounds the prisoner has for disputing the judgement of their lordships.”

  It was a savage blow and, for the first time, Popham’s face betrayed a stab of despair.

  “A valid and cogent remark, Mr Jervis. Sir Home, this line of defence is worthless to you. I strongly suggest you find a more reliable one.”

  “Very well, sir. Stand down, Mr Browne.”

  And then it was time. “Call Captain Sir Thomas Kydd.”

  Kydd entered and made his way to the table to be sworn in, conscious that every eye was on him.

  “Sir Thomas, how long have you been an officer in the Royal Navy?”

  He raised his eyes to meet Popham’s and saw only a controlled wariness.

  He braced himself: if the questions following attempted to implicate him as principal in the offence then not only would he most certainly earn St Vincent’s ruthless enmity but he might well end up with his own court-martial.

  “Since the year 1797.”

  “When you earned a field promotion at the battle of Camperdown.”

  “Yes.”

  “Your subsequent service saw you at both the Nile and Trafalgar?”

  “That is true.”

  The president interrupted: “Captain Kydd wears the star of a knighthood, Sir Home. We accept that he is a distinguished and gallant officer if that is your purpose.”

  “You were under my command as part of the Cape squadron.”

  “I was.”

  “Were you present at the capture of the French frigate Volontaire?”

  “That is so. I took possession of the vessel per your orders.”

  “Were you wi
th me at the examination of her papers?”

  “I was.”

  “Did they indicate that the vessel was part of a battle squadron?”

  “They did—but of the Willaumez force, bound for the West Indies.”

  “Thank you. Later you took the corvette Marie Galante. You returned with valuable intelligence. Pray tell the court its nature and the circumstances of its discovery.”

  “It was reliable information that the vessel was not part of any fleet at large in the Indian Ocean and that all other squadrons had sailed for France.”

  “And how was this intelligence obtained?” Popham prompted.

  “I had a Guernseyman in my crew who I set to be sentry over the prisoners. They talked freely before him, thinking him English. They revealed that—”

  Jervis raised his hand. “Sir Thomas, what rank was this Guernsey seaman?”

  “An able seaman so far as I can remember.”

  “And whose testimony may therefore not be acceptable in a matter of high intelligence.”

  The president raised his eyebrows. “The court will consequently ignore this last. Have you any more questions for this witness?”

  “Sir Thomas, at the time we sailed for South America did you at any time take the view that the Cape was open to descent from the French?”

  “Objection. The evidence takes the form of an opinion and—I beg pardon of the honourable captain—from a junior not to be expected to know the strategical situation.”

  Popham returned hotly, “This was the captain of a frigate entrusted with the responsibility of several independent cruises touching upon the defences of the Cape. I know not any who could be more cognisant about the reigning situation than such a one! Sir Thomas?”

  “In the knowledge of the quitting of all French squadrons from the adjacent seas I saw nothing to indicate there were hostile plans to be directed against the Cape.”

  “Did you have any reason to suppose there was on the other hand any internal threat obtaining?”

  “Objection! How is it at all possible that a naval officer, however distinguished, might be in a position to make comment on that?”

  Popham gave a tight smile of condescension. “The court may not know that this officer was centrally involved in the suppression of a French-inspired rising of the natives, the last threat of consequence to our holdings in the Cape.”

  “Sir Home, I fail to see—”

  “Now, Sir Thomas. You were present, were you not, when the American trader Waine arrived in Cape Town with information concerning the current state of Buenos Aires, its defences and politics?”

  “I was.”

  “Kindly tell the court your conclusions following our interview with him and the examination of the Buenos Aires newspapers he offered.”

  Kydd went cold. He remembered this well as the turning point when the fantasy Popham had conjured became a practical reality. There and then he had offered his support. Yet if it were taken that as a consequence he had thrown in his lot with the prisoner before the court things could turn very ugly.

  The inner truth was, of course, that he had gone with the scheme for its audacity and prospects but—

  “Sir Thomas?”

  He was only too aware of Popham’s intent gaze as he waited for the reply.

  “My conclusion at the time was that should orders be given for a move on Buenos Aires it would be difficult to conceive a better time.”

  Jervis struck like a snake. “Should orders be given … Then pray tell the court, Sir Thomas, what your objections were when an attack on the Spanish was formally proposed.”

  It was a loaded question and Kydd floundered for a reply. His very nature rebelled at anything other than a faithful account, but this would be to say that he did not in fact object and therefore he was in favour of an expedition.

  His next words could …

  “If it please the court, I found it difficult to object to the practicality of what was being put forward, which as we know did result in a success for His Majesty’s arms.”

  He dared a glance at Popham and from the slumped shoulders and bowed head realised that he’d failed him. It clutched at his heart. That long-ago time in the old Diadem’s cabin when they’d talked of being left to rot in a backwater station, the boredom and lack of a chance at distinction, then an opportunity for both of them—and now this.

  He opened his mouth to say something but nothing came.

  The president snapped, “Sir Thomas, thank you and you may stand down.”

  “Are there any further witnesses?”

  It seemed there were not.

  “I rule therefore that you should now look to closing your defence, Sir Home.”

  It was all but over.

  Popham had only a brief closing speech to make before the court retired for deliberation to a verdict.

  “I here close my defence and I throw myself on the wisdom and justice of this honourable court. My feelings and character have suffered severely but I trust to your judgement to relieve the one and rescue the other.

  “If I have, in the exercise of my zeal, exceeded the strict bounds of discretion, I hope it will be evident that I have been actuated solely by a desire to advance the honour, glory and interest of my country …”

  It was noble, uplifting rhetoric and concluded with a Shakespearean quotation from Othello, defending the Venetian state: “That the very head and front of my offending hath this extent—no more!”

  A stirring among the members of the court seemed to show that they were not unmoved, and as the prisoner was led away by the Admiralty marshal they all rose to their feet.

  “Clear the court.”

  As with all who had been present for the days of the trial there was a reluctance to leave the ship before the verdict was reached, and Kydd found himself pacing the upper deck with them, engaging in awkward small-talk as the time passed.

  It was not until hours later, when the sun was going down, that a sudden excited buzz from the cabin spaces indicated that the moment had arrived.

  They crowded into the great cabin where the president sat with a grim expression, flanked by the gold lace of the seven admirals who had made their judgement.

  “Bring in the prisoner.”

  Popham entered, his face pale but giving nothing away.

  “The court, having maturely considered the nature of the charges, heard all the evidence and having deliberated upon the whole of this case, are of the opinion … that the charges are proved against the said Captain Sir Home Popham.”

  He waited for a wave of murmuring to die then continued: “The court is further of the opinion that the conduct of the said Captain Sir Home Popham in withdrawing the whole of the naval force under his command from the Cape of Good Hope and proceeding with it to the Rio de la Plata was highly censurable.

  “In consideration of the circumstances, however, the court doth adjudge him to be only severely reprimanded, and he is accordingly severely reprimanded.”

  This time there was no holding back the excited babble as a stunned Popham was handed his sword and taken to the door.

  As he left, he looked once at Kydd but his expression was unreadable.

  The George was abuzz with excitement and speculation but Kydd wanted no part of it.

  He called for Tysoe. “I’m returning to London tomorrow. We leave on the first stage.”

  “Very good, Sir Thomas.” He moved forward to help Kydd out of his heavy full-dress uniform into the plain brown attire he’d come down in.

  “And if you’d find me a whisky …?”

  The dull roar from below wafted up in eddies. This had been the court-martial of the age and everyone had a view on it.

  He closed the window and sprawled in a brown study.

  His thoughts were disturbed by the arrival of Bowden. “The town’s in an uproar, Sir Thomas, and I’d hoped you’d—”

  “Come in, dear chap. Care to join me in a whisky?” Kydd said, with false gaiety.


  “That’s kind in you, sir,” Bowden said, and took his place in the chair on the opposite side of the fire.

  “They’re in quite a taking out there,” he said sombrely, picking up on Kydd’s mood. “Half are declaring it a victory and the other cry it down as a guilty verdict.”

  “Ah, yes.”

  “I’d be beholden should you share your views with me, sir.”

  “My views?” Kydd paused. “Naught that should be shared with a young officer who’s warm to daring and enterprise.”

  “Sir?”

  “No matter. I’ve the blue devils after that trial.”

  “You’re an admirer of Captain Popham, sir?”

  “In fine, I’m not. The man is manipulative, uses his cleverness to excess, is too slippery by half. Yet I find any who seizes the chance and dares to reach for glory to the benefit of his country one to applaud.”

  “Then how do you accept the verdict?” Bowden asked.

  “It’s contrived and it’s political and it’s very neatly done. To his friends he’s weathered the storm—not cashiered, dismissed the service, worse. To his enemies is thrown the satisfaction that he’s found guilty. Has he won? Not at all. The Admiralty have their verdict—and our Captain Popham will, very quietly, never be employed again.”

  Bowden looked shocked. “As if he’d been sentenced …”

  “Quite.”

  Tysoe silently freshened their glasses as they stared together into the fire.

  “If I might remark it, sir, at least your yardarm is clear, if you’ll pardon the expression,” Bowden observed.

  “As is no credit to myself. After my showing it seems I’m not to be made an accomplice, neither numbered among Captain Popham’s followers, and therefore have my hopes the doughty St Vincent will be contented.”

  “To be devoutly desired, I believe.”

  “Well, that’s the way of things, young fellow. I’m for London and society tomorrow.” He tossed back the whisky, then remembered that Bowden’s own future was now more than a little problematical. Without a ship … “I do wish you well in the article of finding a berth as lieutenant,” he said, with a twinge of sadness. “You’ve a good record but there’s others, of course.”